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gilda_eliseTitle: And Its Business Is Joy
Fandom: The Professionals - Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle, Kirk/Spock
Notes: Originally published as a stand-alone novella by Requiem Publications. A shorter and more K/S-centric version of this story was published in the K/S zine, T’hy’la 26, under the same name. Thanks to Kathy Resch for allowing its resubmission.
Bodie and Doyle are committed to each other, but struggling with the need to keep their intimate relationship a secret. Stopping to break up what looks like a burglary, they find that they've stumbled into something far bigger, something involving men from the future, who are struggling with an intimate relationship of their own. Each couple sees something of themselves in the other, and gain insights that help them make the most important decision of their lives: to stay or to go.
...And Its Business Is Joy
The doors to the bridge flew open to controlled chaos. Most of the first shift crew had arrived early, causing a slight traffic jam with those coming off duty. Kirk slipped past Henshaw and Potter, the third shift navigator and helmsman who had only grudgingly given up their posts, and took his seat.
After a few minutes everyone was settled and the bridge took on its normal quiet air of competence. Kirk looked around. Everyone there. Everyone except Spock, of course. Chekov sat at the science station; so close to home there was no reason Sulu would be unable to handle both helm and navigation.
Kirk frowned. It felt...wrong. Spock should be here with him. There wasn’t anything in the labs his first officer couldn’t have relegated to a subordinate. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Spock was deliberately avoiding him. That’s crazy. He gave himself a mental shake and turned his attention to the task at hand.
“ETA, Mr. Sulu?”
“We’ll reach the Sol system in seventeen minutes, sir.”
Kirk rotated his chair to face communications. “Uhura, contact Earth Central. Let them know we’ll reach dry dock in...” he glanced at Chekov.
“One hour, twenty-three minutes, Captain.”
“One hour, twenty-three minutes. Then get hold of Admiral Nogura’s office. Set up an appointment with him for this evening. Both Mr. Spock and I will attend.”
“Yes, sir.” The young woman gave her attention to her task, her fingers flying over the board with her usual expertise. After a moment, she frowned. “Captain, I can’t seem to make contact. Something’s interfering with the signal.”
“This close in?” Kirk felt a frisson of disquiet.
“Sir?” Chekov frowned. “Sensors are picking up a disturbance heading toward us at sublight speed.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“I’m not sure, sir.” Chekov continued to peer into the station’s viewer. “But there seems to be a cycle to it. One second it’s there, the next the area is clear.”
“Uhura, get Spock up here.” He didn’t think twice about it. He needed his science officer. He turned his attention back to the ensign. “What’s its trajectory?”
“Right for us, Captain.”
“From?”
Chekov straightened, a puzzled look on his face. “From Earth; right now it’s just this side of Neptune’s orbit. I don’t understand it, Captain. One moment it’s there, the next it isn’t. But it’s definitely coming our way.”
“Put it up on the screen, Ensign, extreme magnification.” Kirk swung his chair forward. The front viewer changed, replacing the normal field of stars with a gigantic maelstrom that winked in and out as it moved closer.
“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Sulu. Get us out of its path.”
“Yes, sir.” The helmsman used his controls to swing the ship around, changing their heading.
“It’s no good, Captain.” Chekov was again watching the storm from the viewer. “It’s still heading right for us.”
“Uhura, sound general quarters. Sulu, change course, forty-five degrees hard aport.” The ship lunged, fighting the drastic change in direction.
Kirk glanced over as he heard the turbolift doors open and acknowledged Spock with a nod. The Vulcan quickly took his station as Chekov moved back to his normal post.
“Spock, what the hell is that thing?” Kirk watched the storm fill more of the screen, getting closer with each reappearance.
“Unknown, Captain. Sensors are unable to ascertain composition.” The science officer was already scanning the incoming data, his earpiece firmly in place. “It appears to be slipping in and out of our space-time continuum, however, and heading straight for us.”
“And if it catches us?”
“There is a 95.672% probability it will take us...wherever it happens to go.” He looked at his captain. “I would advise a hasty retreat.”
“I am trying, science officer.” He frowned. “Warp two, Mr. Sulu.”
“Warp two, sir.”
The storm disappeared off the screen as the ship jumped into warp to be replaced with the safe and comforting stars. There was a general sigh of relief—until the thing reappeared the next second. It was now much closer.
Kirk’s eye went wide. The thing was monstrous. “Go to warp five.”
Sulu glanced back in surprise but followed Kirk’s order without a murmur. Kirk smiled grimly. He had a good crew.
The ship shot forward, the sound of the engines temporarily drowning out the normal background noises of the bridge. Kirk rubbed his jaw and waited out the next cycle. He tensed as the storm once more reappeared. It was gaining on them.
“Warp ei—”
“We cannot outrun it, Captain,” Spock interjected. “I have calculated its speed at warp twenty and I believe it can go faster still. Time and space seem to have no meaning for it.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?” Kirk snapped as he turned to glare at the Vulcan.
Spock’s gaze swung over to the viewing screen. “Hold on.”
^^^^^^^^^^
There was no jarring reaction, no bodies being flung from one side of the bridge to the other. The only reality was the unearthly wail, a screaming, shrill noise that filled the ship and sent Kirk to his knees. Even with his hands pressed tightly against his ears he could hear it, the sound thrumming through his body. And all around him his crew fought the same battle.
It was as if the storm had somehow entered the ship. Vision obscured by the sickly green fog that swirled around him, Kirk stumbled to his feet and over to the science station but even Spock was being affected. The Vulcan’s arms were wrapped around his head as he huddled in his chair. Kirk needed information but shouting was useless. Nothing could be heard over the banshee cry.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The quiet was complete, the crew silent as if they feared the slightest noise would bring the monster back.
Kirk brought his hands down and straightened. Around him his crew quickly pulled themselves together and remanned their stations. He turned to his science officer who was already busy at his computer. “Where did it go?”
Spock turned to face him. “Unknown, Captain. It seems to have disappeared as mysteriously as it originally appeared.”
“I think Starfleet is going to want to know more about it than that.”
“I am attempting to decipher the data obtained while we were within the disturbance but this is apparently a totally new and unknown phenomenon. Processing the information will take time.”
“Any damage to the ship?”
“Negative. The only thing affected seems to have been us.”
With a nod, Kirk moved back to the center chair. Whatever that thing was it had left them relatively unharmed. As much as he’d like to look for the damn thing, they had their orders. It was time to head home. “Mr. Sulu, take us back to our original heading, warp one.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Warp one.”
“How much behind schedule did this put us?”
“We only lost ten minutes, sir.” The helmsman smiled. “We can make the time up easily.”
Kirk grinned back. “Just a nice, steady pace, Mr. Sulu. We’re in no rush.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Any luck with that transmission, Uhura?”
Frustration colored her answer. “No, sir. The interference is gone but now I’m not getting anything. No signal, nothing.”
“Spock?” He looked at the Vulcan. “Could there have been damage to the instruments?”
“No, sir.” He flipped through the switches on his board, intently listening to whatever was coming through his earpiece. “She is correct, Captain. It is not that we are unable to receive the signal, it is that there is no signal to receive.”
“How can that be? We’re within shouting distance of Earth.”
“I do not know but all transmission bands normally used by Starfleet or the Federation are dead.”
“Okay, so how about those not used by Starfleet or the Federation? There’s got to be something out there.” Kirk turned back to his communications officer. “Uhura, start going through every wavelength there is. Find me someone to talk to.”
The woman turned to her duty and Kirk shared a look with his science officer. This whole situation was beginning to sound awfully familiar. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Spock almost grimaced. “The odds of one ship being thrown back in time seven times in a five-year mission does seem to go against the laws of probability.”
“Maybe so. But right now my gut is telling me that’s exactly what happened.”
“Sir,” Uhura broke in. “I’ve picked up a signal on a very low frequency.”
“On audio, Lieutenant.”
“...Poland's military rulers have declared a state of emergency after imposing martial law and placing leaders of the Solidarity trade union under arrest. The country is effectively sealed off from the outside world with the military insisting the action is necessary to prevent the country from descending into civil war. Borders with East Germany, the Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia have been closed and air space over Poland has been shut—”
“Turn it off, Uhura.” Kirk closed his eyes. Not again.
^^^^^^^^^^
“...Poland's military rulers have declared a state of emergency after imposing martial law and placing leaders of the—”
Bodie reached out and fumbled around with the radio until finally managing to turn it off. The controls on his own were much easier to use but he wasn’t in his own flat. They’d decided early on to take turns sleeping over. He glanced toward the window. It was still dark outside and the room was cold. He shivered and turned to pull the willing body next to him closer.
“‘S time to get up already?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘up,’ sunshine,” Bodie smirked as he buried his face into the mop of curls.
“Cowley will have a fit if we’re late again.”
Bodie imagined that was probably true. They’d been able to hide their situation from their boss so far; they’d actually only been late once before, well, recently anyway, and they’d managed to come up with a halfway reasonable excuse for it. But he’d caught the man giving them an odd look, the Scot naturally suspicious. Bodie sighed and rolled away from the warmth and out of the bed. He liked being employed.
He shrugged into his dressing gown and watched his lover as the other man sat up and stretched. Bodie grinned. Ray Doyle first thing in the morning was a sight. The hair that during the day haloed the round face was mashed on one side, a crease from the sheets ran down one side accenting the broken cheek, and his wide-set eyes were droopy and full of sleep. He was beautiful. Bodie shook his head and grinned. Christ, but he had it bad.
“What’s so funny?” Doyle drew his legs up and propped his elbows on his bent knees. One hand absently tugged at his hair.
“Nothing, just thought I’d better hide all the mirrors. Seven years bad luck, you know.”
“Bastard,” Doyle remarked without heat. He quickly slid out of bed. “Just for that, I’m getting the shower first.”
“Just don’t use all the hot water,” Bodie shouted as he made his way into the kitchen. Might as well get the coffee going.
He grabbed the kettle from the stove and yawned as he filled it with water. God, he was tired. Four hours sleep just wasn’t enough. He wasn’t the young lad fighting in the jungles of Africa anymore, making do with two or three hours snatched here and there. Not even forty, sometimes he felt ancient.
As the water heated, he spooned the instant coffee into their cups and leaned back against the counter, his eyes closed. They really were going to have to stop spending so much time in bed. Or at least start sleeping more of that time.
Bodie grinned. Doyle was a real firecracker in bed. Not that he’d been surprised; his partner did nothing by half. But though they’d never discussed it, Bodie had the feeling that he was Doyle’s first serious gay relationship, so he had expected a certain amount of diffidence on his part. What’d he had got couldn’t have been more different. Bodie didn’t care if he was Ray’s first male lover or not, whether his expertise in male-male sex was from experience or because he was a quick study. All that mattered was that when they were together, Doyle gave himself fully: mind, body and soul.
The shrill whistle of the kettle brought his eyes open and his attention back to the business at hand. He was pouring the water into their cups when Doyle strolled into the kitchen. He was already dressed but was still working the last of the water out of his hair.
Doyle pushed him aside with his hip and handed one of the cups to Bodie. “Go on, I’ll finish here.” He threw the towel he’d been using over one of the chairs and started pulling things out of the refrigerator.
Bodie didn’t waste any time. He headed for the bathroom and rushed through his morning ablutions, brushing his teeth, showering and drying his hair with quick economy. Doyle apparently hadn’t thought to turn on the heat and the warmth from the shower was dissipating by the time Bodie’d zipped up his brown cords and thrown on a white polo neck. He grabbed his gun and coat from the bedroom and slipped them on as he made his way down the hallway.
When he walked into the living room, Doyle had just finished buckling on his shoulder holster and was sliding his gun in and out of it, trying to get it positioned just right.
Bodie picked up one of the foil-wrapped packages on the coffee table, raising his eyebrows in question.
“Bacon and egg sarnie okay? We don’t have time for a proper breakfast.” Doyle pulled on his coat and waved his keys at Bodie. “Time to go.”
“It’s fine. We can pick up something later, after we’ve checked in.” He opened up the foil and started eating as he followed his partner out the door.
“What makes you think we’ll be leaving the office? Cowley’s probably got us spending all day in files. He’s not going to want us to start anything, knowing we’re taking time off.” Doyle turned to lock up, his food and drink precariously balanced against his chest. “There’s a game on the telly, tonight. I thought we could pick up some takeaway, spend the night at home and get an early start in the morning.”
Doyle was walking behind his partner, so he didn’t see the grimace that crossed Bodie’s face. He hadn’t forgotten about the fishing trip Doyle had dreamed up for their holiday, exactly. How could he? That’s all Doyle’d talked about for weeks. As if they ever really did any fishing. This time of year, it was too cold to be outside, anyway. But the cabin Doyle always managed to grab was a nice place to just relax and forget about CI5, George Cowley and the fact that they got shot at on a regular basis. Thing was, Bodie had made plans of his own for tonight.
He glanced over at Doyle as they got into the car. He was sure his partner had noticed his lack of response. As Doyle started the car and squealed out into traffic, Bodie could almost see the gears grinding about so wasn’t surprised when minutes later Doyle threw a disgusted look at him.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Don’t know what you mean, mate.”
Doyle scowled. “You forgot about our fishing trip, didn’t you? You might as well come clean now, Bodie, because you know I’m going to get it out of you eventually.”
Bloody hell. He knew he couldn’t hold Doyle off for very long but he’d hoped for at least a pleasant ride in. “I didn’t forget.” He tried to sound offended. “Isn’t like you would have let me, is it.”
“Don’t give me that. You like going up there as much as I do.” Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “It’s got to do with tonight, doesn’t it?” Then the light bulb went on. “You bastard, you’ve going out with a bird, aren’t you?”
Bodie turned to stare out the window. “Doyle, we’ve already talked about this. You know this is something we have to do.”
“Yeah, I know, but you seem to have an awfully lot of fun doing it, don’t you, Bodie? Can’t let a week go by without chatting up someone new. Who is it this time? Lauren? Kathy?”
“It’s not like that and you know it.” Christ, but he hated when Doyle got this way. As if things weren’t hard enough as it was. Why did Doyle have to make such a fuss over something that meant next to nothing? “You’re the only one I want to be with; you know that. But you know we’ve got to make it look like we’re still interested in birds.”
“Yeah, can’t let anyone know two of CI5’s finest are a couple of poofters, now can we?” Doyle bitterly shot back.
Bodie didn’t know how to respond to that, so the rest of the ride in was made in silence. They pulled into the car park and Doyle got out, slamming the car door and starting off without a word.
“Doyle!” Bodie quickly extricated himself from the vehicle. “Doyle, wait up!”
His partner didn’t even slow down. Bodie shoved his hands into his coat pockets and trudged toward the building. It was going to be a long day.
^^^^^^^^^^
“All right, Bones, you go first.” Kirk leaned back as he addressed his CMO. The two men, along with Mr. Scott and Mr. Spock sat around the large table in the main briefing room. He’d called this meeting to get answers and McCoy seemed the best place to start. Kirk’s concern for his crew was paramount.
“The crew’s in pretty good shape. A few complaints of ringing in their ears but that should pass. As loud as that thing was, there wasn’t any real damage done to the eardrum itself. Ramirez in engineering has a killer of a headache but that’s more from the spike in his blood pressure than anything else. He’s only been on the ship a few months, he was one of the replacements we picked up on Starbase seventeen, and this was his first time dealing with anything out of the ordinary.”
“He’ll be all right?”
“Oh, yeah.” McCoy nodded. “Kid that age bounces right back. I should be so lucky.”
“What’s the matter, ride too wild?” Kirk grinned at his friend.
“Let’s just say I could have done without one last adventure before I finally get off this tub—no offense, Scotty.”
Kirk switched his attention to his chief engineer. “How about the ship, Scotty?”
“Everything checks out fine, Captain: engines, transporter, communications, everything. All systems are up and working. But however we got here, the engines dinna engage. As far as they’re concerned, we’re right where we were before that crazy storm swept us up.”
“That is because we are, Commander Scott,” Spock noted.
“Explain.” Kirk swiveled to face his science officer, who sat at the far end of the table next to the computer terminal.
“We are exactly where we were when the ‘storm,’” Spock tightened his lips in obvious distaste at the inaccurate description, “was first noted by our sensors.”
“What are you talking about, Spock?” McCoy cut in. “That wasn’t Starfleet we were listening to earlier.”
“I did not say we were in the same time, Doctor, only the same place. The temporal anomaly has sent us back into your planet’s past. December 13, 1981 as calculated by the old Earth calendar, to be exact.”
“This temporal anomaly, is there any record of it having been this way before?” Kirk asked.
“Only by implication, Captain. There are reports of people on your planet going missing and then reappearing in a ‘cloud of noise’ sometime later. There is no record of it having been encountered in space, however. We are, unfortunately, the first. In any event, it was often the person who was taken who reported the matter. Usually that person was not believed and most instances were regarded as the result of hysteria or alcohol.”
“But you say they always returned.”
“I did not say that exactly, Captain.” Spock sat forward and rested his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled. “In every instance where the phenomenon has been reported, there is always a second sighting days, but sometimes, years, later. The people or persons swept up in it have not always reappeared with it, however.”
McCoy’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying there’s a chance we won’t get back?”
“Not necessarily, Dr. McCoy. Actually, the odds are definitely in our favor for doing so.”
Kirk brought up his hand to stop any response McCoy might have made and addressed Spock. “Why do you think that?”
“As I said, usually the reports were not believed. Why should they be? There was never any substantiated proof that what the person said had actually occurred—except for one time.”
“You have the floor, Science Officer.” Kirk leaned back, suddenly sure there would be a way back to where they had come because he could always tell when Spock had figured out the answer to something. The Vulcan was in his element and it showed.
“On July 13th, 1980, a US nuclear carrier disappeared off the waters of Pearl Harbor and reappeared approximately three days later. According to the exec, a Captain Matthew Yelland, the ship was thrown back in time over forty years, to December 6th, 1941.”
“Wait a minute—”
“Quiet, Bones. Proceed, Mr. Spock.”
“There was, of course, a board of inquiry. Captain Yelland had lost several men in those three days, including his air wing commander, whose body, by the way, was never recovered. Much of his story could not be corroborated; too much was supposition on his and his officers’ part. But what could not be denied, was the body of the Japanese pilot they had on board, a pilot whose identity was later verified through photographs and by those who had known him who were still alive. Petty officer Jiro Simura was thirty-seven when he and his plane disappeared while on long-range patrol for the Japanese task force, the Japanese task force that was at that moment preparing to attack Pearl Harbor. The body removed from Captain Yelland’s ship was that of a young man of the same age.”
“So you’re saying that, not only could we be left in this time if for some reason we’re not on the ship but that it would be possible for someone on board the Enterprise at the time of the anomaly’s return to be pulled through time with us.”
“Correct.”
“Well, there you go.” Mr. Scott happily slapped the table. “As long as no one takes it into their head to be leaving the ship, my engines can keep us going for however long it takes that...that, whatever you want to call it, to return.”
“There is, unfortunately, a vital reason to leave the ship.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “We should have known.”
Spock ignored the remark and proceeded. “In order for me to compute just how long it will be before the anomaly’s return, I will need the exact time of its last appearance and subsequent reappearance.”
Kirk frowned. “Wasn’t that information in the computer? I would think getting into the military’s database would be child’s play for you.”
“The information was removed.”
“But you know by who.” It was not a question.
“A Mr. Warren Lasky, systems analyzer for Tideman Industries happened to be aboard the carrier during its visit to the past; had, in fact, been ordered there by his employer. It was assumed at the time, because Lasky had designed the carrier’s computers, that he was there to oversee their use. Yet he had little contact with the computers during his visit. It was only after a subsequent visit, two days later, that the information went missing.”
Spock turned on the tri-view screen set in the middle of the table. A picture appeared of an elderly, balding man of approximately seventy-five years of age. “This is Richard Tideman, Mr. Lasky’s employer. This,” the picture moved to make room for a second picture, “is Commander Richard Owens, the carrier’s lost air wing commander.”
Kirk’s eyes widened as he realized what it was Spock had found. He glanced over and saw both McCoy and Scotty raptly viewing the screen.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” McCoy finally broke the silence, though he kept looking from one picture to the other. “It’s the same man.”
“Correct, Doctor.”
“So why do you think he had the records removed?” Kirk managed to pull his gaze away from the image.
“That I do not know, though I would speculate to keep his old life from interfering with his new one. But from what I have managed to retrieve from Tideman Industries’ computers, whatever information was taken is now being housed in the company’s corporate headquarters, as is anything else dealing with the occurrence per Mr. Tideman’s orders.”
Kirk pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Sulu, sublight speed to Earth. Take us into orbit but keep us high enough to escape detection.” He toggled the next switch. “Uhura, contact ship’s stores. Have them bring clothing comparable to those of Earth, late twentieth century to my quarters for myself and Mr. Spock.”
“I knew it!” McCoy exploded. “Didn’t I tell you, Scotty, that these two would find a reason to beam down?”
“We need that information, McCoy. If that storm decides it’s not coming back for a couple of years, it might be a good idea to figure out some other way of getting home.” Kirk’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“Aye,” the engineer added worryingly, “there’s no way the ship’s power would last that long, not taking care of the whole crew. We’d run out of supplies in less than ten months and that’s assuming nothing went wrong with any of the systems.”
“So, why can’t someone else go?” McCoy protested.
“Because Spock’s the only one who knows what to look for.”
“Oh, and of course you have to go along to keep him in line, is that it?”
“McCoy, we don’t have time for this,” Kirk snapped. “Spock and I will be beaming down as soon as we make orbit. But I want you to get two transponders ready, just in case. We’ll swing by sickbay after we change.”
“I’ll get the transporter ready, then.” Mr. Scott rose and headed for the door only to stop at the entryway. “Where exactly am I beaming you, Mr. Spock?”
“London, England, in what was then known, or now known, as the United Kingdom. I will feed you the exact coordinates from here.”
“You have your orders, gentlemen.” Kirk stood up. “And time, as they say, waits for no man.”
^^^^^^^^^^
Bodie sat with his back to his partner, listening to the furious pounding of the keys of the typewriter as Doyle worked on another report. It was something Doyle had picked up while with the Met, doing a credible job of typing, unlike Bodie who still hunt and pecked his way through his paperwork.
He grimaced and tried to get his mind back on his own work. They’d been at it all day; Doyle had been correct in assuming their boss would keep them in the building, wasting a day pulling records for the other agents in the field. Bloody Cowley. Bodie could almost think the man had done it to punish them for daring to take leave time.
But it was hard staying on track, knowing that Doyle was deliberately not looking at him, was still fuming over their argument from this morning. Ray hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him all day.
He heard a snarled curse and glanced over just as Doyle pulled the sheet of paper from out of the machine, wadded it into a ball and threw it quite forcefully into the corner. Another sheet was hastily inserted and the pounding began again.
Bodie’s jaw tightened. He’d had enough. He turned around to glare at his partner. “You’re going to break that thing if you don’t stop that.”
“Sod off, Bodie.” Doyle didn’t even look up. “I’m trying to finish this.”
“What for? Murphy’s still on the case. It’s not like he’s not going to change half of the stuff you’re putting in there.”
“What’s the matter, in a hurry to leave? Well, don’t let me hold you up.”
“Oh, so we’re back to this again, are we? Christ, Doyle! You act like I want to go out with someone else!”
Doyle’s head jerked up and he looked wildly toward the door. “You trying to get us thrown off the squad?” he hissed.
“The place is like a tomb. No one’s going to hear us, even if there was still anyone down here. Besides, they wouldn’t know what I was talking about.”
“I don’t care, it’s not something we should take a chance with.”
“You’re a fine one to talk. You don’t think they’d start to wonder if both of us suddenly went off birds? And it’s not like you haven’t got your leg over a few times.” Bodie remembered all too well how hard it’d been to watch Doyle have his way with a couple of women. Hell, Ray had practically lived with one of them.
“That was the job and you know it.”
“You could have fooled me, mate. You certainly didn’t have any trouble squiring the lovely Miss Esther around. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had told me you were moving to Hong Kong with her.” Bodie had never been so scared in his life. He’d thought he’d lost Ray for sure to the woman agent who had suddenly come into their lives. Their relationship had been weeks old, started after what Bodie thought of as the ‘Holly fiasco.’ He’d been surprised at Doyle’s seeming return to women.
“It was an undercover job, Bodie! And Cowley’s the one who set up us living together. What was I supposed to do? Tell him, ‘sorry, sir, but Bodie wouldn’t like this, no, not at all’?”
“No, but you didn’t have to have quite so much fun while you were at it. Oh, and let’s not forget Miss Cabreros while we’re at it.”
Doyle just stared at him for a moment. “You said it didn’t bother you.”
“Well, I lied, all right?” Bodie took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. “Listen, it’s already going on seven. I don’t have to pick up...I don’t have to be anywhere until eight-thirty. Let me drive you home; we can talk in the car.”
“You think talking is going to make it go away? I hate this, Bodie. I hate not being able to touch you or say the things I want to say to you in public. I hate that I have to pretend to like some poor woman who doesn’t have a clue that I’m thinking about you while I’m with her. Even worse, I hate the feeling in my gut every time I know you’re going to be with someone else. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.”
Bodie ducked his head, afraid of what he’d see in his partner’s eyes. “You saying you want to end it then?”
The quiet frightened him, it lasted so long. So he was surprised by the feel of Doyle’s strong hands on his shoulders, the long, slender fingers holding tight. He looked up to see Ray smiling at him with tender affection.
“You dumb crud. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. Come on. I might even let you buy me a beer.”
Bodie smiled back. Doyle’s moods had always been transitory. “Since we’re going to your place, you’re on.”
Doyle shook his head in a ‘why me’ manner and started for the door.
Bodie got up, grabbed his coat and followed his partner out.
^^^^^^^^^^
Doyle impatiently waited next to the car. His partner had been right behind him as they’d taken the stairs, the lift being once again out of service. Next thing he knew, he was standing all alone in the car park. And Bodie had the keys.
The door to the building slammed open and Bodie sauntered out. There was a look of satisfaction on his face as he approached Doyle. He unlocked the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Come on, Bodie, it’s brass monkeys out here.” Doyle’s arms were wrapped tightly around himself. With a grin, Bodie flipped up the lock and Doyle hurried into the relative warmth of the car. “Took you bloody long enough. What the hell were you doing in there, anyway?”
“Had some plans to change.” Bodie only glanced at his partner, his attention on the street as he pulled out into traffic. “What you fancy to eat? Chinese okay?”
“I thought you didn’t have the time.”
“I’ll make the time,” Bodie responded, happily.
“Why not? There’s the place right around the corner from my flat; you seemed to like it last time.” Doyle hesitated. “Sure this is okay? I wouldn’t want you to be late. You’ve got little enough goin’ for you to begin with.” He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t mad anymore but he wasn’t going to let Bodie off that easily.
“Ta very much, mate. Actually, the lovely Karen will have to do without the benefit of my manly presence tonight. Poor dear was crushed, absolutely crushed.”
“What’d you do?” Doyle leaned toward his partner when no answer was forthcoming. “Well?”
“Gave her a ring, told her we’d been called out on an obbo.”
“Now why’d you go and do a thing like that for?”
Bodie looked ready to slug him. “You were the one—”
“I know what I said. But I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to be coddling me.” Doyle threw himself against the seat. “I’m not one of your birds, Bodie. I can look after myself.”
Doyle heard his partner take a deep breath before responding.
“Thought we’d get an early start, like you said. It’s what you want, isn’t it, Ray?” The words were said hesitantly, as if Bodie wasn’t sure if that was what Doyle wanted.
“Ah, Bodie.” Doyle shook his head. He was helpless against the little boy that seemed to reside within his lover. He sometimes thought that’s who he had fallen in love with first, the childlike side Bodie usually kept hidden behind his facade of indifference. He looked over to see his partner trying to watch the road and him at the same time. He chuckled. “Watch where you’re going, you bloody fool. And, yes, that’s what I want. As if I wasn’t as susceptible to your dubious charms as anyone else.”
With a smug smile, Bodie turned back to his driving. Doyle knew as far as his partner was concerned everything was fine now. But as the smile faded from his own face, Doyle wondered how many times they could have this same argument before it finally tore them apart?
He’d been more than ready to make a permanent commitment to his partner. He’d already entrusted Bodie with his life, handing over his heart had seemed easy enough. Especially since it had been a bit battered and bruised from his brief, albeit intense relationship with Ann Holly.
Doyle could think back on those memories without pain now. Bodie had given him that. Along with all the love and affection he’d saved up over the years and hid behind his bluff exterior. Doyle had been overwhelmed.
For those first few, heady days they’d pretended they didn’t live in the world the lived in, where this kind of relationship could get you fired—or worse. More so than before, they’d spent every free minutes together, needing and wanting no one else. It had taken only a passing remark by one of the other agents for their gossamer dreams to come crashing down around them.
After that, both of them had made the effort to see women. He more so than Bodie, he had to admit. But he knew his own heart, knew who owned it. None of those women had meant anything to him. None of them ever could. And he knew Bodie loved him, too—right now. But Doyle had quit seeing women several weeks ago; Bodie hadn’t.
Doyle had given his heart too many times, only to have it handed back to him, to trust that, this time, it was forever. What they had was so fragile and, denied the light, had to struggle in the dark. As they drove through the streets of London, he wondered if it could survive at all.
^^^^^^^^^^
“Since we have the time, take a right up ahead.”
They were a couple of streets from the takeaway but Bodie automatically took the turn. “Where’re we going?”
“Got a grass who might have some information on the robberies going on around here. It’ll only take a minute.”
“You know where to find him?”
“He usually hangs around the pub down the street.” Doyle hoped the man was there. As an informant, Steve left a lot to be desired but he’d brought him some good leads from time to time.
A street away, Bodie slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Doyle craned his neck around, trying to make out what it was his partner had spotted.
Bodie pulled the car over to the kerb and killed the engine. “Thought I saw someone moving around in there.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Bodie opened his door and got out, drawing his gun at the same time. “Over there, by the fire escape.” He started making his way down the darkened street.
“Wait up!” Doyle hissed. He climbed out of the car and hurried to catch up to his partner.
Cautiously, almost back to back, they worked their way further into the shadowed side street. Every so often Doyle would glance up at the windows that stared down at them from both sides. This would be a lousy place to get caught in.
It was unnerving, the dead quiet of the place, broken only by the low moan of wind as it blew intermittently. When the sound of metal crashing on metal broke the stillness, both men dove for cover. Doyle saw Bodie duck behind a large rubbish bin pushed up against one building while he himself made for the alcoved door on the other side of the street. He waited, breath held, for whoever it was to make a move. He was about to call out when he heard laughter and saw Bodie stand up and walk toward him.
“It’s a bloody moggy.” Bodie’s eyes sparkled as he pointed toward where the sounds had come from. “See? You can just make out his eyes.”
Doyle peered into the darkness. At first, all he could see were two yellow orbs that seemed to float by themselves in the gloom. But then, as if annoyed with the two humans who had invaded his domain, the large and surprisingly well-fed cat got up and scampered away. Doyle grimaced in disgust and holstered his weapon. “Leave it to you to get us sidetracked by a bloody animal. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Oi, look at this.” Bodie had turned toward the door.
Doyle squatted down and picked up one of the pieces of metal on the ground. It was part of what used to be the door knob. “Looks like it’s been burned off. Maybe we should investigate it. You want to call it in?”
Bodie patted his jacket. “Must have left me RT in the car. Where’s yours?”
“If I had it with me do you think I’d be asking you to call?” Doyle had done Bodie one better; he’d left his radio transmitter on his desk.
Bodie wagged his finger at him. “No need to get touchy, Goldilocks. Looks like we’re on our own.” He pulled open the door and started in.
With an exasperated sigh, Doyle pulled out his weapon once again and followed his partner.
^^^^^^^^^^
They stairwell was dark, lit only by the exit signs which hung above each door. At each floor they quietly opened the door and listened for the slightest sound. It wasn’t the most thorough way of doing it but slowly checking each floor would take them all night, though if this didn’t work Bodie could see them doing just that. Either that, or one of them would have to leave to call for backup.
At the top of the stairs, Bodie opened the door a few inches and partially stuck his head out.
“Anything?” Doyle whispered.
Bodie grimaced and waved him quiet. He thought he’d heard noises coming from the left. After a minute, he was sure of it. He pulled the door all the way open and cautiously slipped out into the hall, motioning Doyle to follow. The emergency lights cut the gloom just enough for them to see where they were going.
They made their way down the hallway, checking each door as they passed. All were locked.
Doyle grabbed his arm as they came to a juncture. “I don’t hear anything,” he hissed.
Bodie strained to recapture the sounds he’d heard. He shook his head. Nothing. He pointed to Doyle, then to his right. With an understanding nod, Doyle started down the passage and away from his partner.
Alone, Bodie tried listening again. It was the sound of a door closing that alerted him, coming from beyond the next turn. Bodie sidled forward and peeked around the corner. The second door on the right was open.
From where he stood, Bodie could see right into the office. A man around his own age and build, though shorter, walked over to the receptionist’s desk. He pulled something out of his pocket and aimed it at the middle drawer.
Bodie’s eyes widened. Whatever that thing was, it had taken care of the lock with no effort at all. When the man returned it to his pocket and grabbed the drawer with both hands, Bodie made his move.
“All right, mate, just let it go, nice and gentle.”
The man froze and looked up at the barrel aimed directly at him. He slowly let go of the drawer and raised his hands. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Sure it isn’t. But you’re going to come around here and spread your hands on the desk, anyway.” Bodie emphasized his words by motioning toward the desk with his gun.
With a resigned sigh the man went around the desk and laid his hands on its surface.
“Doyle, get in here!” Bodie yelled toward the outside hallway, hoping his partner was close enough to hear him. He warily approached his captive and kicked the man’s feet further apart. With his gun in his right hand, he began to pat the man down with his left.
“I’m not armed.”
Sure you’re not, mate. Bodie didn’t respond but continued searching his captive.
“Bodie, where are you?”
He was about to respond when he felt more than saw his partner join him. Doyle eased into the room and over to Bodie’s side.
“Need any help?” Doyle asked.
“No, this one won’t be any trouble. But check the back room just to be on the safe side.”
“I’m alone,” the man interjected.
Bodie grabbed him by the collar and spun him around. “Well, then you shouldn’t mind if we look for ourselves, should you? Now, sit.”
“Is that your partner?” The man nodded his head toward the back room as he took a seat on the desktop.
Bodie just glared at him. That’s all he needed, some stupid berk who wouldn’t keep quiet.
They heard a crash and both men instinctively started for the door. Bodie caught himself in time and brought his gun back to bear on his captive, bringing the man to a halt.
“Doyle?” Bodie kept his eyes on the man in front of him but his attention was directed to the back. “Doyle, what’s going on? Bloody hell.” He started inching toward the door, his eyes darting between his captive and the back office. “You stay right there,” he warned.
Bodie was almost to the door when it flew open wide. Another man stood just on the other side, one arm holding an unconscious Doyle against him, his other hand gripping the back of Doyle’s neck. One quick twist is all it’d take.
Bodie froze, knowing as he did the mistake he’d just made. The first man lunged up from the desk and kicked out, sending the gun flying. At the same time, the second man pushed Doyle’s limp form at Bodie, effectively preventing him from retrieving the weapon first.
His erstwhile captive picked up the gun and pointed it at him. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Sit over there, out of the way.”
Bodie dragged Doyle over to the wall. He lowered himself to the floor and cradled his partner in his arms. “Doyle? Ray, wake up.” He glared at the man. “What’d he hit him with?”
“I assure you, sir, I did not strike your companion,” The second man said as he moved over to join his accomplice.
“Well, he didn’t faint, now did he?” Bodie lightly tapped at Doyle’s jaw. “Come on Doyle, wake up.”
“He’ll come around in a couple of minutes.” The first man grimaced. “He’ll have a hell of a stiff neck and a killer headache but he’ll be fine.”
Bodie didn’t answer but continued to try to wake his partner. The two men had walked back a few steps and were speaking quietly to each other, though Bodie was well aware neither had forgotten about him and Doyle. At one point, what he recognized as Doyle’s ID was handed to the first man. Bodie tried to make out what they were saying but his attention was drawn back to his partner when Doyle let out a loud groan.
Doyle grabbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “It feels like someone tried to twist my head right off.”
Bodie helped him to his feet. “Take it easy, mate.”
Doyle opened his eyes as he finally managed to stand on his own. He squinted at their captors and then glared at Bodie. “That’s your gun, innit? Nice going, Bodie.”
“Well, I don’t see yours anywhere around.”
“All right you two,” the first man interjected. “Just calm down and everything will be just fine.”
Bodie and Doyle both turned and glared at him.
“What do you plan on doing with us?” Doyle asked.
“Why, letting you go, of course.”
“Of course.” Bodie smiled.
“Look, we got what we came for. We didn’t plan on anyone interfering.”
“Hear that, Bodie? We’re ‘interfering’ with their nice little robbery.” Doyle shook his head in disgust.
“Whatever our reason for being here, we’re ready to leave now. So if you two would kindly be quiet, we’ll be moving along. Spock, would you see our guests to the door?”
“Gentlemen?” The one called Spock stood aside and motioned them toward the exit.
Neither budged.
”What about our weapons?” Bodie finally asked.
“I’m afraid not. You might try to do something we’d all regret. You can have this, though.” The man handed his ID back to Doyle.
Doyle took it and glanced at Bodie who only shrugged. At the moment, he had no idea what to do other than go along and hope for a break.
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.” The man waved the gun around and then looked at his companion. “We’ll watch them from the stairwell landing. Once they’re outside, we can come back here.”
Spock nodded and fell in behind his companion. They walked slowly, keeping a safe distance between themselves and Bodie and Doyle until they reached the stairwell. Spock held the door open, while the other man kept the gun trained on them. “On your way, gentlemen.”
Grudgingly, they gave ground and started down the stairs.
“Now what?” Bodie asked when they’d passed the first landing.
“How the hell should I know? You’re the one who managed to let ‘im get the drop on you.”
“Me?” Bodie’s voice rose in indignation. “Wasn’t me who got himself knocked out, now was it. Goin’ in like an amateur. The man didn’t even have a weapon.”
Doyle grimaced and grabbed his neck.” He must have had something; me bloody neck’s on fire.”
“You goin’ to be all right?” Bodie asked solicitously. He couldn’t stay mad at the daft bugger if he tried.
“Yeah.” Doyle smiled. “Feel better once we get our guns back.” He tried to look up and flinched. “Feel even better when I give that bloke some of his own back.”
“Only one way out of here.” Bodie pondered their next move. “We could always wait for them outside.”
“They still have our guns, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but did you see how he handled it? Me granny could probably shoot straighter.”
“Still, might be better to call for back up,” Doyle remarked hesitantly.
“Only if we have to. The lads get wind of how we managed to be overcome by a couple of amateurs and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
They got to the bottom of the stairs and hesitated.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Bodie asked.
“Just head out the door and close it behind you.” They heard the man shout from up above.
“Keep your bloody knickers on,” Doyle groused.
“Well?” Bodie reiterated.
Doyle sighed and motioned his head toward the exit. Bodie nodded and opened the door.
Once outside, Doyle pulled him away from the door. “I’ll stay here and barricade the door while you go call for back up.”
“That’s it? That’s your great plan? And why am I the one who’s got to go back to the car?”
“Because it’s my idea. Besides, it’s your RT.”
“Don’t like leavin’ you alone, not with them armed and us not.”
“It won’t be a problem if you get to it. Come on, Bodie, we don’t have all night. They’ll be coming down soon.”
Bodie didn’t like it, but he knew that set look of Doyle’s; there’d be no changing his mind. Reluctantly, he moved out into the street. That’s when he saw the flash of light against the far building. He turned and started in that direction. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Over there.” Bodie had got to the edge of the kerb when what felt like a kick to his chest had him on the ground. He couldn’t get his breath and there was a burning pain spreading from the point of impact. He felt Doyle’s arms around him. Tears from his lover. Then nothing.
^^^^^^^^^^
On to Part 2
Fandom: The Professionals - Star Trek (TOS)
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle, Kirk/Spock
Notes: Originally published as a stand-alone novella by Requiem Publications. A shorter and more K/S-centric version of this story was published in the K/S zine, T’hy’la 26, under the same name. Thanks to Kathy Resch for allowing its resubmission.
Bodie and Doyle are committed to each other, but struggling with the need to keep their intimate relationship a secret. Stopping to break up what looks like a burglary, they find that they've stumbled into something far bigger, something involving men from the future, who are struggling with an intimate relationship of their own. Each couple sees something of themselves in the other, and gain insights that help them make the most important decision of their lives: to stay or to go.
The doors to the bridge flew open to controlled chaos. Most of the first shift crew had arrived early, causing a slight traffic jam with those coming off duty. Kirk slipped past Henshaw and Potter, the third shift navigator and helmsman who had only grudgingly given up their posts, and took his seat.
After a few minutes everyone was settled and the bridge took on its normal quiet air of competence. Kirk looked around. Everyone there. Everyone except Spock, of course. Chekov sat at the science station; so close to home there was no reason Sulu would be unable to handle both helm and navigation.
Kirk frowned. It felt...wrong. Spock should be here with him. There wasn’t anything in the labs his first officer couldn’t have relegated to a subordinate. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Spock was deliberately avoiding him. That’s crazy. He gave himself a mental shake and turned his attention to the task at hand.
“ETA, Mr. Sulu?”
“We’ll reach the Sol system in seventeen minutes, sir.”
Kirk rotated his chair to face communications. “Uhura, contact Earth Central. Let them know we’ll reach dry dock in...” he glanced at Chekov.
“One hour, twenty-three minutes, Captain.”
“One hour, twenty-three minutes. Then get hold of Admiral Nogura’s office. Set up an appointment with him for this evening. Both Mr. Spock and I will attend.”
“Yes, sir.” The young woman gave her attention to her task, her fingers flying over the board with her usual expertise. After a moment, she frowned. “Captain, I can’t seem to make contact. Something’s interfering with the signal.”
“This close in?” Kirk felt a frisson of disquiet.
“Sir?” Chekov frowned. “Sensors are picking up a disturbance heading toward us at sublight speed.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“I’m not sure, sir.” Chekov continued to peer into the station’s viewer. “But there seems to be a cycle to it. One second it’s there, the next the area is clear.”
“Uhura, get Spock up here.” He didn’t think twice about it. He needed his science officer. He turned his attention back to the ensign. “What’s its trajectory?”
“Right for us, Captain.”
“From?”
Chekov straightened, a puzzled look on his face. “From Earth; right now it’s just this side of Neptune’s orbit. I don’t understand it, Captain. One moment it’s there, the next it isn’t. But it’s definitely coming our way.”
“Put it up on the screen, Ensign, extreme magnification.” Kirk swung his chair forward. The front viewer changed, replacing the normal field of stars with a gigantic maelstrom that winked in and out as it moved closer.
“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Sulu. Get us out of its path.”
“Yes, sir.” The helmsman used his controls to swing the ship around, changing their heading.
“It’s no good, Captain.” Chekov was again watching the storm from the viewer. “It’s still heading right for us.”
“Uhura, sound general quarters. Sulu, change course, forty-five degrees hard aport.” The ship lunged, fighting the drastic change in direction.
Kirk glanced over as he heard the turbolift doors open and acknowledged Spock with a nod. The Vulcan quickly took his station as Chekov moved back to his normal post.
“Spock, what the hell is that thing?” Kirk watched the storm fill more of the screen, getting closer with each reappearance.
“Unknown, Captain. Sensors are unable to ascertain composition.” The science officer was already scanning the incoming data, his earpiece firmly in place. “It appears to be slipping in and out of our space-time continuum, however, and heading straight for us.”
“And if it catches us?”
“There is a 95.672% probability it will take us...wherever it happens to go.” He looked at his captain. “I would advise a hasty retreat.”
“I am trying, science officer.” He frowned. “Warp two, Mr. Sulu.”
“Warp two, sir.”
The storm disappeared off the screen as the ship jumped into warp to be replaced with the safe and comforting stars. There was a general sigh of relief—until the thing reappeared the next second. It was now much closer.
Kirk’s eye went wide. The thing was monstrous. “Go to warp five.”
Sulu glanced back in surprise but followed Kirk’s order without a murmur. Kirk smiled grimly. He had a good crew.
The ship shot forward, the sound of the engines temporarily drowning out the normal background noises of the bridge. Kirk rubbed his jaw and waited out the next cycle. He tensed as the storm once more reappeared. It was gaining on them.
“Warp ei—”
“We cannot outrun it, Captain,” Spock interjected. “I have calculated its speed at warp twenty and I believe it can go faster still. Time and space seem to have no meaning for it.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?” Kirk snapped as he turned to glare at the Vulcan.
Spock’s gaze swung over to the viewing screen. “Hold on.”
There was no jarring reaction, no bodies being flung from one side of the bridge to the other. The only reality was the unearthly wail, a screaming, shrill noise that filled the ship and sent Kirk to his knees. Even with his hands pressed tightly against his ears he could hear it, the sound thrumming through his body. And all around him his crew fought the same battle.
It was as if the storm had somehow entered the ship. Vision obscured by the sickly green fog that swirled around him, Kirk stumbled to his feet and over to the science station but even Spock was being affected. The Vulcan’s arms were wrapped around his head as he huddled in his chair. Kirk needed information but shouting was useless. Nothing could be heard over the banshee cry.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The quiet was complete, the crew silent as if they feared the slightest noise would bring the monster back.
Kirk brought his hands down and straightened. Around him his crew quickly pulled themselves together and remanned their stations. He turned to his science officer who was already busy at his computer. “Where did it go?”
Spock turned to face him. “Unknown, Captain. It seems to have disappeared as mysteriously as it originally appeared.”
“I think Starfleet is going to want to know more about it than that.”
“I am attempting to decipher the data obtained while we were within the disturbance but this is apparently a totally new and unknown phenomenon. Processing the information will take time.”
“Any damage to the ship?”
“Negative. The only thing affected seems to have been us.”
With a nod, Kirk moved back to the center chair. Whatever that thing was it had left them relatively unharmed. As much as he’d like to look for the damn thing, they had their orders. It was time to head home. “Mr. Sulu, take us back to our original heading, warp one.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Warp one.”
“How much behind schedule did this put us?”
“We only lost ten minutes, sir.” The helmsman smiled. “We can make the time up easily.”
Kirk grinned back. “Just a nice, steady pace, Mr. Sulu. We’re in no rush.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Any luck with that transmission, Uhura?”
Frustration colored her answer. “No, sir. The interference is gone but now I’m not getting anything. No signal, nothing.”
“Spock?” He looked at the Vulcan. “Could there have been damage to the instruments?”
“No, sir.” He flipped through the switches on his board, intently listening to whatever was coming through his earpiece. “She is correct, Captain. It is not that we are unable to receive the signal, it is that there is no signal to receive.”
“How can that be? We’re within shouting distance of Earth.”
“I do not know but all transmission bands normally used by Starfleet or the Federation are dead.”
“Okay, so how about those not used by Starfleet or the Federation? There’s got to be something out there.” Kirk turned back to his communications officer. “Uhura, start going through every wavelength there is. Find me someone to talk to.”
The woman turned to her duty and Kirk shared a look with his science officer. This whole situation was beginning to sound awfully familiar. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Spock almost grimaced. “The odds of one ship being thrown back in time seven times in a five-year mission does seem to go against the laws of probability.”
“Maybe so. But right now my gut is telling me that’s exactly what happened.”
“Sir,” Uhura broke in. “I’ve picked up a signal on a very low frequency.”
“On audio, Lieutenant.”
“...Poland's military rulers have declared a state of emergency after imposing martial law and placing leaders of the Solidarity trade union under arrest. The country is effectively sealed off from the outside world with the military insisting the action is necessary to prevent the country from descending into civil war. Borders with East Germany, the Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia have been closed and air space over Poland has been shut—”
“Turn it off, Uhura.” Kirk closed his eyes. Not again.
“...Poland's military rulers have declared a state of emergency after imposing martial law and placing leaders of the—”
Bodie reached out and fumbled around with the radio until finally managing to turn it off. The controls on his own were much easier to use but he wasn’t in his own flat. They’d decided early on to take turns sleeping over. He glanced toward the window. It was still dark outside and the room was cold. He shivered and turned to pull the willing body next to him closer.
“‘S time to get up already?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘up,’ sunshine,” Bodie smirked as he buried his face into the mop of curls.
“Cowley will have a fit if we’re late again.”
Bodie imagined that was probably true. They’d been able to hide their situation from their boss so far; they’d actually only been late once before, well, recently anyway, and they’d managed to come up with a halfway reasonable excuse for it. But he’d caught the man giving them an odd look, the Scot naturally suspicious. Bodie sighed and rolled away from the warmth and out of the bed. He liked being employed.
He shrugged into his dressing gown and watched his lover as the other man sat up and stretched. Bodie grinned. Ray Doyle first thing in the morning was a sight. The hair that during the day haloed the round face was mashed on one side, a crease from the sheets ran down one side accenting the broken cheek, and his wide-set eyes were droopy and full of sleep. He was beautiful. Bodie shook his head and grinned. Christ, but he had it bad.
“What’s so funny?” Doyle drew his legs up and propped his elbows on his bent knees. One hand absently tugged at his hair.
“Nothing, just thought I’d better hide all the mirrors. Seven years bad luck, you know.”
“Bastard,” Doyle remarked without heat. He quickly slid out of bed. “Just for that, I’m getting the shower first.”
“Just don’t use all the hot water,” Bodie shouted as he made his way into the kitchen. Might as well get the coffee going.
He grabbed the kettle from the stove and yawned as he filled it with water. God, he was tired. Four hours sleep just wasn’t enough. He wasn’t the young lad fighting in the jungles of Africa anymore, making do with two or three hours snatched here and there. Not even forty, sometimes he felt ancient.
As the water heated, he spooned the instant coffee into their cups and leaned back against the counter, his eyes closed. They really were going to have to stop spending so much time in bed. Or at least start sleeping more of that time.
Bodie grinned. Doyle was a real firecracker in bed. Not that he’d been surprised; his partner did nothing by half. But though they’d never discussed it, Bodie had the feeling that he was Doyle’s first serious gay relationship, so he had expected a certain amount of diffidence on his part. What’d he had got couldn’t have been more different. Bodie didn’t care if he was Ray’s first male lover or not, whether his expertise in male-male sex was from experience or because he was a quick study. All that mattered was that when they were together, Doyle gave himself fully: mind, body and soul.
The shrill whistle of the kettle brought his eyes open and his attention back to the business at hand. He was pouring the water into their cups when Doyle strolled into the kitchen. He was already dressed but was still working the last of the water out of his hair.
Doyle pushed him aside with his hip and handed one of the cups to Bodie. “Go on, I’ll finish here.” He threw the towel he’d been using over one of the chairs and started pulling things out of the refrigerator.
Bodie didn’t waste any time. He headed for the bathroom and rushed through his morning ablutions, brushing his teeth, showering and drying his hair with quick economy. Doyle apparently hadn’t thought to turn on the heat and the warmth from the shower was dissipating by the time Bodie’d zipped up his brown cords and thrown on a white polo neck. He grabbed his gun and coat from the bedroom and slipped them on as he made his way down the hallway.
When he walked into the living room, Doyle had just finished buckling on his shoulder holster and was sliding his gun in and out of it, trying to get it positioned just right.
Bodie picked up one of the foil-wrapped packages on the coffee table, raising his eyebrows in question.
“Bacon and egg sarnie okay? We don’t have time for a proper breakfast.” Doyle pulled on his coat and waved his keys at Bodie. “Time to go.”
“It’s fine. We can pick up something later, after we’ve checked in.” He opened up the foil and started eating as he followed his partner out the door.
“What makes you think we’ll be leaving the office? Cowley’s probably got us spending all day in files. He’s not going to want us to start anything, knowing we’re taking time off.” Doyle turned to lock up, his food and drink precariously balanced against his chest. “There’s a game on the telly, tonight. I thought we could pick up some takeaway, spend the night at home and get an early start in the morning.”
Doyle was walking behind his partner, so he didn’t see the grimace that crossed Bodie’s face. He hadn’t forgotten about the fishing trip Doyle had dreamed up for their holiday, exactly. How could he? That’s all Doyle’d talked about for weeks. As if they ever really did any fishing. This time of year, it was too cold to be outside, anyway. But the cabin Doyle always managed to grab was a nice place to just relax and forget about CI5, George Cowley and the fact that they got shot at on a regular basis. Thing was, Bodie had made plans of his own for tonight.
He glanced over at Doyle as they got into the car. He was sure his partner had noticed his lack of response. As Doyle started the car and squealed out into traffic, Bodie could almost see the gears grinding about so wasn’t surprised when minutes later Doyle threw a disgusted look at him.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Don’t know what you mean, mate.”
Doyle scowled. “You forgot about our fishing trip, didn’t you? You might as well come clean now, Bodie, because you know I’m going to get it out of you eventually.”
Bloody hell. He knew he couldn’t hold Doyle off for very long but he’d hoped for at least a pleasant ride in. “I didn’t forget.” He tried to sound offended. “Isn’t like you would have let me, is it.”
“Don’t give me that. You like going up there as much as I do.” Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “It’s got to do with tonight, doesn’t it?” Then the light bulb went on. “You bastard, you’ve going out with a bird, aren’t you?”
Bodie turned to stare out the window. “Doyle, we’ve already talked about this. You know this is something we have to do.”
“Yeah, I know, but you seem to have an awfully lot of fun doing it, don’t you, Bodie? Can’t let a week go by without chatting up someone new. Who is it this time? Lauren? Kathy?”
“It’s not like that and you know it.” Christ, but he hated when Doyle got this way. As if things weren’t hard enough as it was. Why did Doyle have to make such a fuss over something that meant next to nothing? “You’re the only one I want to be with; you know that. But you know we’ve got to make it look like we’re still interested in birds.”
“Yeah, can’t let anyone know two of CI5’s finest are a couple of poofters, now can we?” Doyle bitterly shot back.
Bodie didn’t know how to respond to that, so the rest of the ride in was made in silence. They pulled into the car park and Doyle got out, slamming the car door and starting off without a word.
“Doyle!” Bodie quickly extricated himself from the vehicle. “Doyle, wait up!”
His partner didn’t even slow down. Bodie shoved his hands into his coat pockets and trudged toward the building. It was going to be a long day.
“All right, Bones, you go first.” Kirk leaned back as he addressed his CMO. The two men, along with Mr. Scott and Mr. Spock sat around the large table in the main briefing room. He’d called this meeting to get answers and McCoy seemed the best place to start. Kirk’s concern for his crew was paramount.
“The crew’s in pretty good shape. A few complaints of ringing in their ears but that should pass. As loud as that thing was, there wasn’t any real damage done to the eardrum itself. Ramirez in engineering has a killer of a headache but that’s more from the spike in his blood pressure than anything else. He’s only been on the ship a few months, he was one of the replacements we picked up on Starbase seventeen, and this was his first time dealing with anything out of the ordinary.”
“He’ll be all right?”
“Oh, yeah.” McCoy nodded. “Kid that age bounces right back. I should be so lucky.”
“What’s the matter, ride too wild?” Kirk grinned at his friend.
“Let’s just say I could have done without one last adventure before I finally get off this tub—no offense, Scotty.”
Kirk switched his attention to his chief engineer. “How about the ship, Scotty?”
“Everything checks out fine, Captain: engines, transporter, communications, everything. All systems are up and working. But however we got here, the engines dinna engage. As far as they’re concerned, we’re right where we were before that crazy storm swept us up.”
“That is because we are, Commander Scott,” Spock noted.
“Explain.” Kirk swiveled to face his science officer, who sat at the far end of the table next to the computer terminal.
“We are exactly where we were when the ‘storm,’” Spock tightened his lips in obvious distaste at the inaccurate description, “was first noted by our sensors.”
“What are you talking about, Spock?” McCoy cut in. “That wasn’t Starfleet we were listening to earlier.”
“I did not say we were in the same time, Doctor, only the same place. The temporal anomaly has sent us back into your planet’s past. December 13, 1981 as calculated by the old Earth calendar, to be exact.”
“This temporal anomaly, is there any record of it having been this way before?” Kirk asked.
“Only by implication, Captain. There are reports of people on your planet going missing and then reappearing in a ‘cloud of noise’ sometime later. There is no record of it having been encountered in space, however. We are, unfortunately, the first. In any event, it was often the person who was taken who reported the matter. Usually that person was not believed and most instances were regarded as the result of hysteria or alcohol.”
“But you say they always returned.”
“I did not say that exactly, Captain.” Spock sat forward and rested his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled. “In every instance where the phenomenon has been reported, there is always a second sighting days, but sometimes, years, later. The people or persons swept up in it have not always reappeared with it, however.”
McCoy’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying there’s a chance we won’t get back?”
“Not necessarily, Dr. McCoy. Actually, the odds are definitely in our favor for doing so.”
Kirk brought up his hand to stop any response McCoy might have made and addressed Spock. “Why do you think that?”
“As I said, usually the reports were not believed. Why should they be? There was never any substantiated proof that what the person said had actually occurred—except for one time.”
“You have the floor, Science Officer.” Kirk leaned back, suddenly sure there would be a way back to where they had come because he could always tell when Spock had figured out the answer to something. The Vulcan was in his element and it showed.
“On July 13th, 1980, a US nuclear carrier disappeared off the waters of Pearl Harbor and reappeared approximately three days later. According to the exec, a Captain Matthew Yelland, the ship was thrown back in time over forty years, to December 6th, 1941.”
“Wait a minute—”
“Quiet, Bones. Proceed, Mr. Spock.”
“There was, of course, a board of inquiry. Captain Yelland had lost several men in those three days, including his air wing commander, whose body, by the way, was never recovered. Much of his story could not be corroborated; too much was supposition on his and his officers’ part. But what could not be denied, was the body of the Japanese pilot they had on board, a pilot whose identity was later verified through photographs and by those who had known him who were still alive. Petty officer Jiro Simura was thirty-seven when he and his plane disappeared while on long-range patrol for the Japanese task force, the Japanese task force that was at that moment preparing to attack Pearl Harbor. The body removed from Captain Yelland’s ship was that of a young man of the same age.”
“So you’re saying that, not only could we be left in this time if for some reason we’re not on the ship but that it would be possible for someone on board the Enterprise at the time of the anomaly’s return to be pulled through time with us.”
“Correct.”
“Well, there you go.” Mr. Scott happily slapped the table. “As long as no one takes it into their head to be leaving the ship, my engines can keep us going for however long it takes that...that, whatever you want to call it, to return.”
“There is, unfortunately, a vital reason to leave the ship.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “We should have known.”
Spock ignored the remark and proceeded. “In order for me to compute just how long it will be before the anomaly’s return, I will need the exact time of its last appearance and subsequent reappearance.”
Kirk frowned. “Wasn’t that information in the computer? I would think getting into the military’s database would be child’s play for you.”
“The information was removed.”
“But you know by who.” It was not a question.
“A Mr. Warren Lasky, systems analyzer for Tideman Industries happened to be aboard the carrier during its visit to the past; had, in fact, been ordered there by his employer. It was assumed at the time, because Lasky had designed the carrier’s computers, that he was there to oversee their use. Yet he had little contact with the computers during his visit. It was only after a subsequent visit, two days later, that the information went missing.”
Spock turned on the tri-view screen set in the middle of the table. A picture appeared of an elderly, balding man of approximately seventy-five years of age. “This is Richard Tideman, Mr. Lasky’s employer. This,” the picture moved to make room for a second picture, “is Commander Richard Owens, the carrier’s lost air wing commander.”
Kirk’s eyes widened as he realized what it was Spock had found. He glanced over and saw both McCoy and Scotty raptly viewing the screen.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” McCoy finally broke the silence, though he kept looking from one picture to the other. “It’s the same man.”
“Correct, Doctor.”
“So why do you think he had the records removed?” Kirk managed to pull his gaze away from the image.
“That I do not know, though I would speculate to keep his old life from interfering with his new one. But from what I have managed to retrieve from Tideman Industries’ computers, whatever information was taken is now being housed in the company’s corporate headquarters, as is anything else dealing with the occurrence per Mr. Tideman’s orders.”
Kirk pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Sulu, sublight speed to Earth. Take us into orbit but keep us high enough to escape detection.” He toggled the next switch. “Uhura, contact ship’s stores. Have them bring clothing comparable to those of Earth, late twentieth century to my quarters for myself and Mr. Spock.”
“I knew it!” McCoy exploded. “Didn’t I tell you, Scotty, that these two would find a reason to beam down?”
“We need that information, McCoy. If that storm decides it’s not coming back for a couple of years, it might be a good idea to figure out some other way of getting home.” Kirk’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“Aye,” the engineer added worryingly, “there’s no way the ship’s power would last that long, not taking care of the whole crew. We’d run out of supplies in less than ten months and that’s assuming nothing went wrong with any of the systems.”
“So, why can’t someone else go?” McCoy protested.
“Because Spock’s the only one who knows what to look for.”
“Oh, and of course you have to go along to keep him in line, is that it?”
“McCoy, we don’t have time for this,” Kirk snapped. “Spock and I will be beaming down as soon as we make orbit. But I want you to get two transponders ready, just in case. We’ll swing by sickbay after we change.”
“I’ll get the transporter ready, then.” Mr. Scott rose and headed for the door only to stop at the entryway. “Where exactly am I beaming you, Mr. Spock?”
“London, England, in what was then known, or now known, as the United Kingdom. I will feed you the exact coordinates from here.”
“You have your orders, gentlemen.” Kirk stood up. “And time, as they say, waits for no man.”
Bodie sat with his back to his partner, listening to the furious pounding of the keys of the typewriter as Doyle worked on another report. It was something Doyle had picked up while with the Met, doing a credible job of typing, unlike Bodie who still hunt and pecked his way through his paperwork.
He grimaced and tried to get his mind back on his own work. They’d been at it all day; Doyle had been correct in assuming their boss would keep them in the building, wasting a day pulling records for the other agents in the field. Bloody Cowley. Bodie could almost think the man had done it to punish them for daring to take leave time.
But it was hard staying on track, knowing that Doyle was deliberately not looking at him, was still fuming over their argument from this morning. Ray hadn’t said more than a dozen words to him all day.
He heard a snarled curse and glanced over just as Doyle pulled the sheet of paper from out of the machine, wadded it into a ball and threw it quite forcefully into the corner. Another sheet was hastily inserted and the pounding began again.
Bodie’s jaw tightened. He’d had enough. He turned around to glare at his partner. “You’re going to break that thing if you don’t stop that.”
“Sod off, Bodie.” Doyle didn’t even look up. “I’m trying to finish this.”
“What for? Murphy’s still on the case. It’s not like he’s not going to change half of the stuff you’re putting in there.”
“What’s the matter, in a hurry to leave? Well, don’t let me hold you up.”
“Oh, so we’re back to this again, are we? Christ, Doyle! You act like I want to go out with someone else!”
Doyle’s head jerked up and he looked wildly toward the door. “You trying to get us thrown off the squad?” he hissed.
“The place is like a tomb. No one’s going to hear us, even if there was still anyone down here. Besides, they wouldn’t know what I was talking about.”
“I don’t care, it’s not something we should take a chance with.”
“You’re a fine one to talk. You don’t think they’d start to wonder if both of us suddenly went off birds? And it’s not like you haven’t got your leg over a few times.” Bodie remembered all too well how hard it’d been to watch Doyle have his way with a couple of women. Hell, Ray had practically lived with one of them.
“That was the job and you know it.”
“You could have fooled me, mate. You certainly didn’t have any trouble squiring the lovely Miss Esther around. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had told me you were moving to Hong Kong with her.” Bodie had never been so scared in his life. He’d thought he’d lost Ray for sure to the woman agent who had suddenly come into their lives. Their relationship had been weeks old, started after what Bodie thought of as the ‘Holly fiasco.’ He’d been surprised at Doyle’s seeming return to women.
“It was an undercover job, Bodie! And Cowley’s the one who set up us living together. What was I supposed to do? Tell him, ‘sorry, sir, but Bodie wouldn’t like this, no, not at all’?”
“No, but you didn’t have to have quite so much fun while you were at it. Oh, and let’s not forget Miss Cabreros while we’re at it.”
Doyle just stared at him for a moment. “You said it didn’t bother you.”
“Well, I lied, all right?” Bodie took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. “Listen, it’s already going on seven. I don’t have to pick up...I don’t have to be anywhere until eight-thirty. Let me drive you home; we can talk in the car.”
“You think talking is going to make it go away? I hate this, Bodie. I hate not being able to touch you or say the things I want to say to you in public. I hate that I have to pretend to like some poor woman who doesn’t have a clue that I’m thinking about you while I’m with her. Even worse, I hate the feeling in my gut every time I know you’re going to be with someone else. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it.”
Bodie ducked his head, afraid of what he’d see in his partner’s eyes. “You saying you want to end it then?”
The quiet frightened him, it lasted so long. So he was surprised by the feel of Doyle’s strong hands on his shoulders, the long, slender fingers holding tight. He looked up to see Ray smiling at him with tender affection.
“You dumb crud. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. Come on. I might even let you buy me a beer.”
Bodie smiled back. Doyle’s moods had always been transitory. “Since we’re going to your place, you’re on.”
Doyle shook his head in a ‘why me’ manner and started for the door.
Bodie got up, grabbed his coat and followed his partner out.
Doyle impatiently waited next to the car. His partner had been right behind him as they’d taken the stairs, the lift being once again out of service. Next thing he knew, he was standing all alone in the car park. And Bodie had the keys.
The door to the building slammed open and Bodie sauntered out. There was a look of satisfaction on his face as he approached Doyle. He unlocked the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Come on, Bodie, it’s brass monkeys out here.” Doyle’s arms were wrapped tightly around himself. With a grin, Bodie flipped up the lock and Doyle hurried into the relative warmth of the car. “Took you bloody long enough. What the hell were you doing in there, anyway?”
“Had some plans to change.” Bodie only glanced at his partner, his attention on the street as he pulled out into traffic. “What you fancy to eat? Chinese okay?”
“I thought you didn’t have the time.”
“I’ll make the time,” Bodie responded, happily.
“Why not? There’s the place right around the corner from my flat; you seemed to like it last time.” Doyle hesitated. “Sure this is okay? I wouldn’t want you to be late. You’ve got little enough goin’ for you to begin with.” He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t mad anymore but he wasn’t going to let Bodie off that easily.
“Ta very much, mate. Actually, the lovely Karen will have to do without the benefit of my manly presence tonight. Poor dear was crushed, absolutely crushed.”
“What’d you do?” Doyle leaned toward his partner when no answer was forthcoming. “Well?”
“Gave her a ring, told her we’d been called out on an obbo.”
“Now why’d you go and do a thing like that for?”
Bodie looked ready to slug him. “You were the one—”
“I know what I said. But I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to be coddling me.” Doyle threw himself against the seat. “I’m not one of your birds, Bodie. I can look after myself.”
Doyle heard his partner take a deep breath before responding.
“Thought we’d get an early start, like you said. It’s what you want, isn’t it, Ray?” The words were said hesitantly, as if Bodie wasn’t sure if that was what Doyle wanted.
“Ah, Bodie.” Doyle shook his head. He was helpless against the little boy that seemed to reside within his lover. He sometimes thought that’s who he had fallen in love with first, the childlike side Bodie usually kept hidden behind his facade of indifference. He looked over to see his partner trying to watch the road and him at the same time. He chuckled. “Watch where you’re going, you bloody fool. And, yes, that’s what I want. As if I wasn’t as susceptible to your dubious charms as anyone else.”
With a smug smile, Bodie turned back to his driving. Doyle knew as far as his partner was concerned everything was fine now. But as the smile faded from his own face, Doyle wondered how many times they could have this same argument before it finally tore them apart?
He’d been more than ready to make a permanent commitment to his partner. He’d already entrusted Bodie with his life, handing over his heart had seemed easy enough. Especially since it had been a bit battered and bruised from his brief, albeit intense relationship with Ann Holly.
Doyle could think back on those memories without pain now. Bodie had given him that. Along with all the love and affection he’d saved up over the years and hid behind his bluff exterior. Doyle had been overwhelmed.
For those first few, heady days they’d pretended they didn’t live in the world the lived in, where this kind of relationship could get you fired—or worse. More so than before, they’d spent every free minutes together, needing and wanting no one else. It had taken only a passing remark by one of the other agents for their gossamer dreams to come crashing down around them.
After that, both of them had made the effort to see women. He more so than Bodie, he had to admit. But he knew his own heart, knew who owned it. None of those women had meant anything to him. None of them ever could. And he knew Bodie loved him, too—right now. But Doyle had quit seeing women several weeks ago; Bodie hadn’t.
Doyle had given his heart too many times, only to have it handed back to him, to trust that, this time, it was forever. What they had was so fragile and, denied the light, had to struggle in the dark. As they drove through the streets of London, he wondered if it could survive at all.
“Since we have the time, take a right up ahead.”
They were a couple of streets from the takeaway but Bodie automatically took the turn. “Where’re we going?”
“Got a grass who might have some information on the robberies going on around here. It’ll only take a minute.”
“You know where to find him?”
“He usually hangs around the pub down the street.” Doyle hoped the man was there. As an informant, Steve left a lot to be desired but he’d brought him some good leads from time to time.
A street away, Bodie slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Doyle craned his neck around, trying to make out what it was his partner had spotted.
Bodie pulled the car over to the kerb and killed the engine. “Thought I saw someone moving around in there.”
“I don’t see anything.”
Bodie opened his door and got out, drawing his gun at the same time. “Over there, by the fire escape.” He started making his way down the darkened street.
“Wait up!” Doyle hissed. He climbed out of the car and hurried to catch up to his partner.
Cautiously, almost back to back, they worked their way further into the shadowed side street. Every so often Doyle would glance up at the windows that stared down at them from both sides. This would be a lousy place to get caught in.
It was unnerving, the dead quiet of the place, broken only by the low moan of wind as it blew intermittently. When the sound of metal crashing on metal broke the stillness, both men dove for cover. Doyle saw Bodie duck behind a large rubbish bin pushed up against one building while he himself made for the alcoved door on the other side of the street. He waited, breath held, for whoever it was to make a move. He was about to call out when he heard laughter and saw Bodie stand up and walk toward him.
“It’s a bloody moggy.” Bodie’s eyes sparkled as he pointed toward where the sounds had come from. “See? You can just make out his eyes.”
Doyle peered into the darkness. At first, all he could see were two yellow orbs that seemed to float by themselves in the gloom. But then, as if annoyed with the two humans who had invaded his domain, the large and surprisingly well-fed cat got up and scampered away. Doyle grimaced in disgust and holstered his weapon. “Leave it to you to get us sidetracked by a bloody animal. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Oi, look at this.” Bodie had turned toward the door.
Doyle squatted down and picked up one of the pieces of metal on the ground. It was part of what used to be the door knob. “Looks like it’s been burned off. Maybe we should investigate it. You want to call it in?”
Bodie patted his jacket. “Must have left me RT in the car. Where’s yours?”
“If I had it with me do you think I’d be asking you to call?” Doyle had done Bodie one better; he’d left his radio transmitter on his desk.
Bodie wagged his finger at him. “No need to get touchy, Goldilocks. Looks like we’re on our own.” He pulled open the door and started in.
With an exasperated sigh, Doyle pulled out his weapon once again and followed his partner.
They stairwell was dark, lit only by the exit signs which hung above each door. At each floor they quietly opened the door and listened for the slightest sound. It wasn’t the most thorough way of doing it but slowly checking each floor would take them all night, though if this didn’t work Bodie could see them doing just that. Either that, or one of them would have to leave to call for backup.
At the top of the stairs, Bodie opened the door a few inches and partially stuck his head out.
“Anything?” Doyle whispered.
Bodie grimaced and waved him quiet. He thought he’d heard noises coming from the left. After a minute, he was sure of it. He pulled the door all the way open and cautiously slipped out into the hall, motioning Doyle to follow. The emergency lights cut the gloom just enough for them to see where they were going.
They made their way down the hallway, checking each door as they passed. All were locked.
Doyle grabbed his arm as they came to a juncture. “I don’t hear anything,” he hissed.
Bodie strained to recapture the sounds he’d heard. He shook his head. Nothing. He pointed to Doyle, then to his right. With an understanding nod, Doyle started down the passage and away from his partner.
Alone, Bodie tried listening again. It was the sound of a door closing that alerted him, coming from beyond the next turn. Bodie sidled forward and peeked around the corner. The second door on the right was open.
From where he stood, Bodie could see right into the office. A man around his own age and build, though shorter, walked over to the receptionist’s desk. He pulled something out of his pocket and aimed it at the middle drawer.
Bodie’s eyes widened. Whatever that thing was, it had taken care of the lock with no effort at all. When the man returned it to his pocket and grabbed the drawer with both hands, Bodie made his move.
“All right, mate, just let it go, nice and gentle.”
The man froze and looked up at the barrel aimed directly at him. He slowly let go of the drawer and raised his hands. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Sure it isn’t. But you’re going to come around here and spread your hands on the desk, anyway.” Bodie emphasized his words by motioning toward the desk with his gun.
With a resigned sigh the man went around the desk and laid his hands on its surface.
“Doyle, get in here!” Bodie yelled toward the outside hallway, hoping his partner was close enough to hear him. He warily approached his captive and kicked the man’s feet further apart. With his gun in his right hand, he began to pat the man down with his left.
“I’m not armed.”
Sure you’re not, mate. Bodie didn’t respond but continued searching his captive.
“Bodie, where are you?”
He was about to respond when he felt more than saw his partner join him. Doyle eased into the room and over to Bodie’s side.
“Need any help?” Doyle asked.
“No, this one won’t be any trouble. But check the back room just to be on the safe side.”
“I’m alone,” the man interjected.
Bodie grabbed him by the collar and spun him around. “Well, then you shouldn’t mind if we look for ourselves, should you? Now, sit.”
“Is that your partner?” The man nodded his head toward the back room as he took a seat on the desktop.
Bodie just glared at him. That’s all he needed, some stupid berk who wouldn’t keep quiet.
They heard a crash and both men instinctively started for the door. Bodie caught himself in time and brought his gun back to bear on his captive, bringing the man to a halt.
“Doyle?” Bodie kept his eyes on the man in front of him but his attention was directed to the back. “Doyle, what’s going on? Bloody hell.” He started inching toward the door, his eyes darting between his captive and the back office. “You stay right there,” he warned.
Bodie was almost to the door when it flew open wide. Another man stood just on the other side, one arm holding an unconscious Doyle against him, his other hand gripping the back of Doyle’s neck. One quick twist is all it’d take.
Bodie froze, knowing as he did the mistake he’d just made. The first man lunged up from the desk and kicked out, sending the gun flying. At the same time, the second man pushed Doyle’s limp form at Bodie, effectively preventing him from retrieving the weapon first.
His erstwhile captive picked up the gun and pointed it at him. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Sit over there, out of the way.”
Bodie dragged Doyle over to the wall. He lowered himself to the floor and cradled his partner in his arms. “Doyle? Ray, wake up.” He glared at the man. “What’d he hit him with?”
“I assure you, sir, I did not strike your companion,” The second man said as he moved over to join his accomplice.
“Well, he didn’t faint, now did he?” Bodie lightly tapped at Doyle’s jaw. “Come on Doyle, wake up.”
“He’ll come around in a couple of minutes.” The first man grimaced. “He’ll have a hell of a stiff neck and a killer headache but he’ll be fine.”
Bodie didn’t answer but continued to try to wake his partner. The two men had walked back a few steps and were speaking quietly to each other, though Bodie was well aware neither had forgotten about him and Doyle. At one point, what he recognized as Doyle’s ID was handed to the first man. Bodie tried to make out what they were saying but his attention was drawn back to his partner when Doyle let out a loud groan.
Doyle grabbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “It feels like someone tried to twist my head right off.”
Bodie helped him to his feet. “Take it easy, mate.”
Doyle opened his eyes as he finally managed to stand on his own. He squinted at their captors and then glared at Bodie. “That’s your gun, innit? Nice going, Bodie.”
“Well, I don’t see yours anywhere around.”
“All right you two,” the first man interjected. “Just calm down and everything will be just fine.”
Bodie and Doyle both turned and glared at him.
“What do you plan on doing with us?” Doyle asked.
“Why, letting you go, of course.”
“Of course.” Bodie smiled.
“Look, we got what we came for. We didn’t plan on anyone interfering.”
“Hear that, Bodie? We’re ‘interfering’ with their nice little robbery.” Doyle shook his head in disgust.
“Whatever our reason for being here, we’re ready to leave now. So if you two would kindly be quiet, we’ll be moving along. Spock, would you see our guests to the door?”
“Gentlemen?” The one called Spock stood aside and motioned them toward the exit.
Neither budged.
”What about our weapons?” Bodie finally asked.
“I’m afraid not. You might try to do something we’d all regret. You can have this, though.” The man handed his ID back to Doyle.
Doyle took it and glanced at Bodie who only shrugged. At the moment, he had no idea what to do other than go along and hope for a break.
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.” The man waved the gun around and then looked at his companion. “We’ll watch them from the stairwell landing. Once they’re outside, we can come back here.”
Spock nodded and fell in behind his companion. They walked slowly, keeping a safe distance between themselves and Bodie and Doyle until they reached the stairwell. Spock held the door open, while the other man kept the gun trained on them. “On your way, gentlemen.”
Grudgingly, they gave ground and started down the stairs.
“Now what?” Bodie asked when they’d passed the first landing.
“How the hell should I know? You’re the one who managed to let ‘im get the drop on you.”
“Me?” Bodie’s voice rose in indignation. “Wasn’t me who got himself knocked out, now was it. Goin’ in like an amateur. The man didn’t even have a weapon.”
Doyle grimaced and grabbed his neck.” He must have had something; me bloody neck’s on fire.”
“You goin’ to be all right?” Bodie asked solicitously. He couldn’t stay mad at the daft bugger if he tried.
“Yeah.” Doyle smiled. “Feel better once we get our guns back.” He tried to look up and flinched. “Feel even better when I give that bloke some of his own back.”
“Only one way out of here.” Bodie pondered their next move. “We could always wait for them outside.”
“They still have our guns, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but did you see how he handled it? Me granny could probably shoot straighter.”
“Still, might be better to call for back up,” Doyle remarked hesitantly.
“Only if we have to. The lads get wind of how we managed to be overcome by a couple of amateurs and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
They got to the bottom of the stairs and hesitated.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Bodie asked.
“Just head out the door and close it behind you.” They heard the man shout from up above.
“Keep your bloody knickers on,” Doyle groused.
“Well?” Bodie reiterated.
Doyle sighed and motioned his head toward the exit. Bodie nodded and opened the door.
Once outside, Doyle pulled him away from the door. “I’ll stay here and barricade the door while you go call for back up.”
“That’s it? That’s your great plan? And why am I the one who’s got to go back to the car?”
“Because it’s my idea. Besides, it’s your RT.”
“Don’t like leavin’ you alone, not with them armed and us not.”
“It won’t be a problem if you get to it. Come on, Bodie, we don’t have all night. They’ll be coming down soon.”
Bodie didn’t like it, but he knew that set look of Doyle’s; there’d be no changing his mind. Reluctantly, he moved out into the street. That’s when he saw the flash of light against the far building. He turned and started in that direction. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Over there.” Bodie had got to the edge of the kerb when what felt like a kick to his chest had him on the ground. He couldn’t get his breath and there was a burning pain spreading from the point of impact. He felt Doyle’s arms around him. Tears from his lover. Then nothing.
On to Part 2
