Pros: the keys to unexpected things

2015-03-05T15:52:52Z

I was in a souvenir/junk/antique shop today and saw a key. An old key. Some of you may remember my interest in keys thanks to Cowley's interior decorator. So I decided to buy it, as a different sort of souvenir of my holiday [I was in Malta], and the lady in the shop wanted to know why.

Ah, I said, anticipating complications. Well, there's this series, the Professionals. Oh, yes, she remembered that. Martin Sheen, no, Shaw. Yes! I said. And he did that other thing, she said, that Judge thing. Yes, Judge John Deed. Oh, yes, she wished he'd done more of those *wistful sigh*. No, no more of those, but did she watch him in George Gently? George Gently? What's this? Is it recent? Oh, yes, they've just finished filming another series so it should be on soon. BBC? Yes, BBC1. And she clapped, and laughed, and twirled round in the shop with delight. And when I gave her the money for the key, she gave me a wink and a significant discount :)

Pros pics for you!

2014-09-03T21:21:22Z

Okay, I wasn't just swanning around London enjoying myself, honest! I was thinking of Pros when I was taking photos. So here you are.

I have a comparison of my hotel room (eta: at the Millenium Gloucester) and Marikka's room (yes, okay, I know all hotel rooms are the same, but I can convince myself that it's similar *g*) - and I hope the lovely sunray45 won't mind that I've borrowed one of her screencaps here:

Exactly the same - apart from Bodie, Marikka, the baddies, the decor... oh, well.

And then I was very pleased to see that they have finished renovating Trinity Square and taken all the wraps off. Look:

It was a covert op because I was with non-Pros types (well, C understands a little, but the other two wouldn't), so I had no RT, no backup, no communication with Base - I was out there on my own. But I managed to slip a little Pros-y time into my weekend, so I was happy.

The Watcher - resolved

2011-07-30T09:08:32Z

Title: The Watcher - resolved
Author: Murphybabe
ProsLib / Circuit Archive: No
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2000
Warnings: None
Notes: A bit of un-beta’d fluff.

Disclaimer: Sadly, they’re not mine, so no copyright infringement intended

Written for the Weekly Obbo Challenge 106(B) Hats/Watch

Doyle shivered in the cold air, and Bodie put a hand on his arm.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Doyle nodded. They turned away from the scene, but before they could move towards the waiting car, Cowley spoke.

“3.7, 4.5 – where d’you think you’re going?”

Bodie turned back. “I’m taking Doyle home, sir. We’re all finished here.”

“You might be, but I’m not. I need a word with you two. Wait for me in my office.”

Damn. No escape, then.

They watched him as he limped back to the CI5 head of Security. The blue flashing lights of the patrol car were turned off at an impatient gesture, and the two unfortunate coppers who had responded to the 999 call shuffled their feet, uncertain of their role in the drama.

Bodie shepherded Doyle towards the entrance, avoiding the red-swathed body and the ambulance attendants. They flicked their ID at Fred, still guarding the door even if it was in splinters, and headed up the stairs without speaking.

The building was dark and silent. By common consent they avoided the ops room, where Jax was on duty and would no doubt be eager to discuss the juicy details of the night’s happenings.

They reached Cowley’s office and Bodie pushed Doyle towards a chair.

“Want a coffee?” Doyle shook his head.

“Look, we need to think about what we tell Cowley.” A nod.

Bodie looked at his partner. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Another shake of the head.

“Will you bloody well talk to me! You’ve hardly said a word since – “

Doyle sprang to his feet. “And what do you want me to say? That I didn’t notice what was happening? That I was so wrapped up in you – in us! – that I didn’t see what that twisted little shit was getting at? What else did I miss? Who else is watching us?”

Bodie grabbed him by the shoulders. “We both missed it! But the more important question at the moment is Cowley. I don’t think he’s gonna approve, do you? Two of his A-Squad suddenly revealed as shirt-lifters?” He squirmed, thinking of Cowley – Cowley! – confronted with the news of their relationship.

Doyle twisted away from his grip, scowling. “So what do you want to do, Bodie? Do we deny it? What do you want?” He swallowed, looking at the man who meant more to him than any other.

“Of course I want to deny it! It’s private, our business. But I won’t, if that’s what you want.” He brushed a finger down Doyle’s face, smiling wryly. “Only I hope you have some ideas on alternative careers, sunshine, ‘cos I think we’re busted from here!”

Doyle closed his eyes, relief flooding through his body. “I… dunno. Thought you might want to give it up. Didn’t know if it was worth it to you.” He sniffed ferociously. “Oh, Bodie…”

Bodie pulled him close and pressed his lips gently to Doyle’s forehead. “Nah, mate. Just got you trained to change the bog roll and put the cap back on the toothpaste. Think what I might achieve in the next thirty years.”

The corner of Doyle’s mouth tugged up. “Well, at least this way we might have thirty years. If we can survive the next hour, anyway.”

Bodie grinned. “Don’t worry, he won’t flog us.” He sobered. “Look, we could still deny it. Say it was about something else, something that happened off duty. A quarrel over a girl, perhaps.”

Doyle looked at him doubtfully. “We’d better think of something quick, then, because he’ll be here in a minute”.

“We could – “

They could hear footsteps tramping along the corridor. The door opened, and their boss stormed in.

“Och, what a mess. At HQ, as well. Police everywhere, passers-by reporting gun shots. And for what, eh? One of my agents dead? You two have some explaining to do, and it had better be good.”

He seated himself behind his big desk, and looked at his two agents shrewdly.

“Well, gentlemen? Let’s have your version of events.”

“We were at the fun fair, sir, following McCarthy as per your instructions. While observing the subject we came across agent 7.1 who stated that he was also following the subject and that we were stood down. We left the fun fair and proceeded to –“

“Bodie, I don’t have time to listen to the formal version.” Cowley glared at Bodie. “Why did Turner try to run you over with his car?” he snapped.

Doyle spoke up, wearily. “It was my fault, sir.”

“Your fault?” Cowley looked at Doyle, eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“Turner… thought I might…“ Doyle’s voice trailed off. He looked at his partner for inspiration. What should they say?

“Turner fancied Doyle, sir. He thought that if I was out of the way –“ Bodie broke off, not having worked out where the rest of his sentence was going to take him.

Cowley stared, incredulous. “Do you mean to tell me that Turner – agent 7.1 - Turner wanted… what, exactly? To work with Doyle?”

Doyle sighed. “No, sir. He thought we were… close.”

“And were you?” Silence.

“Are you? Close?”

More silence.

“Well, dammit, man, answer me!”

“Our working relationship may have developed into a more… personal one, sir.”

A personal relationship? Did they mean…? Unbelievable. Or was it?

Cowley considered the two men in front of him. They had always worked well together, sharing an uncanny knowledge of what the other would do. Their wordless communication served them well on operations, where instructions and queries were exchanged with a glance or a gesture. This was, after all, what made them his top team.

Was he surprised, then, that their working partnership had turned into more? He brooded, thinking of Dr. Ross’s latest reports, and of a comment Macklin had made after their last refresher course.

He looked at them, standing shoulder to shoulder, Bodie slightly in front of his partner as if to protect him. Doyle was slouching, eyes down, but Bodie was alert, pugnacious and challenging. Solid, then. Or a temporary fancy? That was what needed to be established, before he could decide how to proceed.

But why was Turner dead? That was the big question. Why did one of his agents try to kill another?

“Answer me very carefully, gentlemen. Why did 7.1 try to kill Bodie, and why did he think that Doyle was … available?”

Doyle stirred, and looked up at Cowley. “He’s been watching us for a long time, sir. He came on to me once, but I turned him down. He said – in the car park, just before – well, he wanted…” Doyle’s voice tailed off again.

“He said, sir, that he’d tried and tried to make Doyle see him, but I was always in the way. He said he’d given Ray enough chances and now the chances were over. He said that he’d finish me and then take Doyle away to play with, before sending him to burn in Hell with me. Sir.” Bodie was flushed and breathing heavily, his face stormy.

“When did all this start?”

Doyle drew a deep breath and sat gracelessly in the nearest chair. “I never thought anything much about it, sir. When I was with Ann... He was with Bodie, on stake-out. He thought we were close then, although at that time we weren’t… um. Well. Anyway, he was on a couple of ops with us, and always hanging round at the pub later.”

“Yeah, and always too close, sunshine. Always smarming round, “Are you okay, Ray? You look tired, Ray. Want a lift home, Ray?” Creep!” Bodie clenched his fists in anger.

“If you thought it was odd, why didn’t you say so?” Doyle turned on his partner, eyes blazing.

“Hindsight is always perfect,” Cowley interrupted. “Carry on, Doyle. Just when did this escalate into something else?”

Doyle sighed. “I’m not really sure, sir. Like Bodie says, he was always just there. Then one night I was cleaning up after an op, getting some stuff out of my locker, and he came into the changing room. I’d cut my arm, and it was still bleeding slightly. He cleaned it up for me, really carefully. I thanked him, and he tried… well, he tried to kiss me. I didn’t… I wasn’t interested. Bodie and I’d just… well… um…” His voice tailed off. Bodie took up the story.

“We’d just started… um… together, sir.” He stared straight ahead. Talk about embarrassing!

Cowley looked at them both. “Och, sit down, the pair of ye. I’m not going to sack you for that – I’ll not have any prejudice in my organisation. Causing the death of another agent, though…”

Cowley considered. Thinking back, he could probably pinpoint when the affair had started. Doyle always had an expressive face, unlike Bodie’s impassive countenance, and there did seem to be a time when he looked sunlit from within, big eyes soft, mouth dreamy. Cowley had put it down to a new girlfriend and just been brisker than usual when issuing instructions.

“So what happened tonight?” His voice was sharp.

“We came back here to finish our reports and we were just leaving when Turner arrived. He was screaming at us” – perhaps no need to explain that he’d had his hand on Bodie’s bum and Bodie was fondling Doyle’s cock through tight denim – “and dived into his car. He drove straight towards us, so we split, and I shot at him, sir.” No need to explain either, the violence and speed of the car coming towards them, the frantic leap to the side, and the automatic twist and stretch as the gun left the holster, a shot snapped off almost without thought, and the crash of the car hitting the entrance to the building.

“This relationship. How serious is it?”

His two top agents looked at each other. Doyle shrugged. “It’s serious, sir.”

“To the point that you’d resign over it?”

“Yes, sir.” No hesitation at all in Doyle’s answer. He looked at Bodie. Bodie just smiled. Cowley had long suspected that he’d lost Bodie’s first allegiance, and he had never been entirely sure he’d had Doyle’s.

He sat, thinking.

“I can’t decide tonight. You’d better go home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They stood, and he thought they looked dejected and uncertain.

“If I let you stay, I’ll have to come up with an explanation for the Minister.”

They brightened slightly. “Shouldn’t be difficult for you, sir”. That was Bodie, charm to the fore again.

“Don’t you get clever with me, laddie.” Cowley looked at Doyle, resigned to the situation. “At least you didn’t shoot him. Even I couldn’t have explained that one away.”

Doyle looked up. “I thought…”

“No, he went through the windscreen when the car hit the building.” Doyle looked relieved.

“Not like you to miss, sunshine.” Bodie nudged his partner. “Come on, time for bed.” He paused, horrified, and looked at Cowley. “Erm… that is…”

“Och, get out of here!” Cowley roared. They left the office at speed, and he listened to their footsteps dying away down the corridor. He sighed, and got up to pour himself a drink. He took it over to the window, savouring the taste of the malt as he looked out on to the deserted car park. The car embedded in the main doorway had been removed, and the door was boarded up. He watched as two figures left through the side door and headed over to the lone car. One figure was trudging, head down, and the other circled back, putting an arm around the slumped shoulders. They spoke for a few seconds, heads together, then the comforting hand dropped down to pat the rounded buttocks. They both got into the car and drove sedately out of the car park.

Cowley watched them go. It was a hard life, and likely a short one. Surely they deserved what comfort they could take from each other? He smiled, and turned away. He’d think of something for the Minister.

Fic: The Watcher

2011-07-30T09:05:31Z

Title: The Watcher
Author: Murphybabe
ProsLib / Circuit Archive: Yes
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 100
Warnings: None
Notes: Thanks to byslantedlight for the beta and the encouragement.

Disclaimer: Sadly, they’re not mine, so no copyright infringement intended

Written for the Weekly Obbo Challenge 106(B) Hats/Watch

They were together again. Standing close, one stealing breath from the other. A casual trailing of hand over arm, a look from slanted green eyes to the other’s sculptured mouth. A scuffle, ostensibly to remove a wallet from an inside pocket, but hands linger, stroking.

They stagger off the ride, leaning dizzily on each other, still flying high with love and laughter.

Watch. Wait. Choose the perfect moment to bring them down, so the memory of pitying rejection will be cauterised by the miser’s joy of close-held secret satisfaction. No more loving.

“Having fun, lads?” Lying lips, a traitor’s smile.

murphybabe

Pros: the keys to unexpected things

Pros pics for you!

The Watcher - resolved

Fic: The Watcher