Another unedited story. My beta is bit tied-up at the mo.... :o) Anyway... enjoy it.
I was inspired to write when I saw how the fans of the originals Professionals call themselves.

Laverne and Chang were dead.

"Dead as a doornail." Bodie stated calmly, pushing back the safety pin on his gun and then he opened the door further.

"Your choice of words never ceases to amaze me." Doyle thrust his gun back into its holster and got round the back, where he started to fumble with the lock of the boot.

"Hey, Ray?"

When he looked up, he was just in time to catch a set of car keys, which Bodie had taken from the ignition and threw over to him.

"That might come in handy." Bodie smiled with an all-over smug expression on his face.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Doyle grumbled and inspected the contents of the boot while Bodie took a closer look at the dead bodies in the car.

One had smashed his head against the window screen - judging from the peculiar angle, he must have broken his neck. As the result of a shooting, the left side of the other one's face was completely gone, splattered all over the wheel and the dashboard. The greyish red gore slowly dripped down the hard plastic of the inner front.

Doyle whistled from the opened boot.

"Hey Bodie? There's enough arms in here to start a private army."

Bodie saw a big, deformed cane basket, wedged between the back couch and the front seats. A red and green chequered blanket was hiding its lethal contents from curious eyes and Bodie smiled satisfied, knowing they had hit the jackpot with this catch.

"There's more over he-"

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. The rest of what he was about to say, got stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and it must have shown that he was taken aback, because Doyle popped up next to him, curious as to Bodie's sudden silence.

"Well, I'll be…"

The CI5-agents exchanged a glance. There were no guns, no rifles and no hand-grenades in the basket.

The blanket had been covering a little child.

A baby.

*****

"Holy Jesus, baby Moses in the basket…" mumbled Bodie in a poor attempt to hide his initial shock and surprise. Who would have suspected an infant to be stashed away in the car of a couple of rough arms dealers?

"A kid. And a little one it is." Doyle said, slowly releasing his breath, which he had been holding from sheer amazement as well.

The child had been asleep, straight through the sound of gunfire and the crash when the car had hit the tree. But now it slowly woke up as Bodie had taken its warm cover away and the light of day tickled its eyes.

With little fists, as small as doll's hands, the baby began rubbing its face, with somewhat brusque movements, typical for such little children. With its little feet it began to trample when it saw the faces of the two agents, who were, a little sheepishly, still staring at the child.

"What do we do with him?"

Silence fell again between the two, while the subject of their attention gurgled and started playing with its socks.

"How old d'you reckon he is?" Doyle scratched somewhere between his thick curls.

"How the hell should I know?"

"Cowley'll get a heart attack if we walk in with a baby in our arms."

"We can't leave him here."

"I know that!"

"Maybe it's their kid." Bodie nodded his head to the two dead bodies in the front seats.

"Use your head, Bodie. One is black, the other Asian. And the kid…"

"Is white. I see your point."

"Well, where ever it is he came from - we can't just wait for the milk man to pick him up. Come on, get him out."

Bodie looked startled at Doyle, who gestured impatiently at him to stop lingering and get the little child out of the basket.

"No, not me. You do it. You keep telling me I don't know my own strength. What if I squeeze too hard?"

Doyle shook his head and shoved Bodie aside.

"You're hopeless. Step aside and I'll show you how it's done."

"Hello, kid." Doyle said friendly to the child, who rewarded him with toothless smile.

This can't be too difficult, Doyle thought with a faint feeling of pride. I can do this.

He bent over and carefully placed his hands under the armpits of the little child, then lifted it and got it out of the basket and the car.

"Hold on to his head!" Bodie squeaked uncharacteristically. To him, the baby looked as if it could break into two with just a snap of his fingers.

The child seemed to take Bodie's advice to the heart and immediately buried its little fingers in Doyle's curly hair.

"Aaww. Don't, kid. Aaaaww! Bodie! Help me!" Doyle exclaimed as the shrimp sized fingers held on to his hair and pulled so hard that it brought tears to his eyes.

Bodie began to laugh, silently at first, but unable to hide his amusement.

"Bodie!!" Doyle cried out a little louder. "For God's sake, get him out of my hair! Aaww!"

His snarl startled the kid, who began crying with a volume that was surprising and which resulted in an even firmer grasp of Doyle's curls.

Bodie decided to come to the rescue.

He placed his large hands around the little body and lifted him from Doyle's arm. Then he carefully tickled the little fists and got the attention of the child. It stopped crying instantly.

"Come here, Moses. Let go of Uncle Ray's hair."

He unravelled the hair that had entangled around the little fingers and at last, the hands let go and Doyle was freed. He grumbled something that wasn't meant for kid's ears and rubbed his head.

"It's a bit cold out here, 'ey Mose? I better put the blanket around you. You don't want to catch a cold, do you?" Bodie chatted with the child, whose crying had been dissolved in a look of sheer delight… at the sight of Bodie's eyebrows.

With tiny fingers the kid made the same movement over and over again, stroking one of the Bodie's eyebrows. It seemed to relax him because he rested his head against Bodie's face, put a little thumb in his mouth and kept on caressing the eyebrow with the index finger of his other hand. The bright eyes got a glassy gaze.

Doyle leant against the car wreck, still rubbing his head where the child had been holding on to his hair. His mood had turned from good to cynical.

"A Bodie-baby. Will you look at that? If you don't move, there's a big chance he might actually fall asleep. D'you want me to drive back to London and pick you up here tomorrow?"

But Bodie was just as surprised as Doyle was. He could handle children fairly well, but he hadn't often been around such a young one. With his free hand he draped the blanket around the tiny body that felt warm against his shoulder.

"See if you can get the basket out. It was stuck behind the seats. We can't keep carrying him around like this."

"Yeah. I guess we better take him to HQ. See what comes up there on missing children."

Doyle stepped over to front door of the car and wiggled behind the seats to get the cane basket to come loose. But it was stuck, dented and oval shaped because of the collision. Apart from the blanket, there was only a mattress in the basket, but nothing else - no signs that could lead them to the identity of the child.

As Doyle rose, the sound of a gunshot banged through the quiet country silence - and another. He could feel the first bullet grazing through the leather of his sleeve and heat scorched his upper arm, immediately followed by a second shot that hissed by, a mere inch from his face.

Bodie dropped to the ground, subconsciously protecting the baby with his body.

"Ray?! Are you okay?!" he screamed, his voice sounded unnaturally hard in the again silent afternoon.

"Yeah - I'm alright! Where did the shots come from?"

"Dunno… somewhere to the left, I guess. Can you get to the car?"

"Yes - stay put. Cover me."

Cover you? Bodie thought with disbelief - Cover you from what? I don't know where that came from in the first place.

There seemed to be only land, meadows and short cut fields around. Only higher up, at some distance, were the vague silhouettes of some bushes visible. Their gunman must be up there somewhere, logically - it was the only place that provided some shelter.

Doyle ran to the Capri, deeply ducked down, while Bodie held his gun ready with one hand and the baby with the other. He suddenly felt more handicapped than ever before in his life, the child preventing him from moving as freely as he usually did. The baby had begun crying, now that the sudden brusque movements had shaken it from its doze.

"Ssssh.." hushed Bodie, noticing to his relief that Doyle made it to the Capri in one piece, while again bullets were flying around. He slammed the gear in reverse and with screaming engine, drove backwards to where Bodie was crouching behind the car wreck.

Even before Bodie had dived into the car and onto the passenger's seat, Doyle already hit the gas and the car responded immediately to his wild kick.

Bullets hit the car - one drilled itself an inch below Bodie's leg, into the foam of the seat. Another hit the back of the car, maybe even two - and the bonnet of the Capri was also taken under fire.

Then the Capri came loose from the muddy soil and the tyres got grip on the tarmac. In just seconds Doyle had left the wreck with the dead men, the guns and a possible trace to the baby's identity, far behind.

*****

The baby cried louder and angrier and louder again.

Bodie struggled clumsily to soothe it and, while throwing worried glances in the mirror, Doyle tried to keep his impatience under control. The baby wriggled to all sides but refused to be hushed up.

"Bodie, can't you quiet him?! He's driving me crazy!" Doyle shouted to make himself heard over the loud crying.

The dark headed man threw him an angry look.

"Maybe he's scared." He shouted back.

"Wha'? Course he is. He could be hungry for all I care! Do something! I can't concentrate like this!"

Do something? Bodie thought with growing aversion to both the crying brat and his colleague, who shouted even harder at him than the baby. He frisked his pockets. Bingo! A sandwich… not very fresh, perhaps even stale, but maybe it would do. A child this little wouldn't know the difference between yesterday's leftovers and today's stuff, would it?

He pushed the piece of white bread into the baby's little hands, but by now the little one was so angry that it smacked the sandwich in Bodie's face. Not on purpose, but still…

"Babies need milk, not bread, Bodie!" Doyle snarled angrily, losing his temper rapidly.

Bodie grabbed the piece of bread, tore off the crust and pushed a little piece into the baby's wide-open mouth.

"Moses! Shut up and eat!" he raised his voice in despair.

To both men's utter surprise it was as if he had said a magic word - the silence that suddenly fell in the car was almost deafening.

With mumbled sounds the baby sucked on the crust, every now and then letting out a shuddered sigh as its little body released the tension from crying. Contentedly, it nibbled on the small pieces that Bodie broke off from the sandwich and opened up every time he held a new particle up for the child.

"Did you get hit?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing much. Superficial."

"See anything behind us?"

Doyle shook his head, tense lines around his lips showing his worry.

"No - but that was a rifle - a sniper's rifle. Who knows we were here?"

Bodie handed the child another minuscule piece and used the pause to get a small map out.

"Where are we?"

"I think about … here." He tapped on the map. Crumbs of bread fell next to his fingers, on the coloured lines that represented the English roads in this thin-populated area. "We caught up with them two hours ago."

"I don't believe we've been followed. We would have noticed,"

"Would we?" Doyle said thoughtfully. "Neither Anson nor Murphy mentioned a tail. We assumed they were acting on their own, but what if there was someone else on their case?"

"An agency?" Bodie replied, surprised.

"No - they wouldn't fire like that. They'd go for a raid. Perhaps Laverne and Chang had done something wrong in their line of business and this was a retaliation?"

"Or perhaps it was Moses' daddy coming to take revenge." Bodie joked.

The two men exchanged a short glance. In the second Bodie had said that, they knew he had touched upon something.

Perhaps the baby's father had come to rescue his child.

*****

It had begun earlier that day. Driving back all the way from northern Scotland, where George Cowley had entered a conference and sent his escort back to London, Bodie and Doyle had stumbled straight into a case that was literally on their way.

Anson and Murphy were following two smugglers, who were suspected of transporting a large amount of heavy armoury over to Northern Ireland, all the way across England. C&E Hull had informed them and wanted their arrest, but Cowley had insisted they'd be left alone, so they might lead them to leading men in that business.

Doyle and Bodie had picked up the signal from Murphy and taken over when the scenery had changed so much that the first one couldn't keep up the tail without being spotted sooner or later. The suspects were driving a white Volvo, which they had stolen at a road cafe. Their own vehicle had been found abandoned at the parking lot.

Without any clear reason, one of the men in the car had suddenly started firing at them, after they'd been on their tail for some time. Later, when Doyle had seen the dead Negroid man, he understood. It was someone from his past in the Met - someone who had recognised him and got scared. One shot from Doyle's gun had hit the driver and put the car in an instant spin, turning around like crazy, only to come to a full stop against a thick oak tree. The passenger, who had not been wearing the safety belt, had broken his neck when he hit the window screen.

But the baby hadn't been in the scenario. Who was the kid? Where did he come from? How did he end up in the back of a gangster's car? Who and where were the parents?

*****

Doyle began to feel the heat in his arm and was secretly glad that Bodie had his hands full with the child and paid little attention to him. The wetness was warm inside his thick leather sleeve and he could feel the lining getting drenched with the blood. The hurt bearable still, but he knew from experience, that that would get worse soon too.

Bodie, pleased with his success to quiet the baby, threw his RT back into the glove compartment of the car.

"Out of reach. No-one."

"We need to contact HQ. Get them to clear up the mess. Find out about the kid."

"Sure do. There's a village about 20 miles further, if this map is correct."

He shifted the baby a little. It belched, then turned to a reddish purple and within a minute an aroma filled the car that made Doyle open the window. A cold winter's wind came in and chilled his wet arm.

"My God - he produces more stench than I do!" he said disgustedly.

Bodie looked uncomfortable, to say the least. He froze and grunted, his nose wrinkled from the smell:

"Get a move on. We need nappies too."

Despite the arm, the shooting, the chill and the penetrating smell, Doyle chuckled. Bodie would not forget this the rest of his life, and Doyle would make sure he would remind him often.

*****

They passed a petrol station, but the sign said 'out of order' and the place was abandoned, so they had to move on, heading for the nearest village on the map, hoping to find a phone and shop that could provide them with the necessary things for babies.

Doyle was definitely feeling worse now. When he had slowed down, driving up the entrance of the petrol station, sweat had formed on his forehead and a stinging behind his eyes told him he should give Bodie the wheel.

"Bodie?"

That was enough - his partner realised at once he was not feeling 'fine' anymore and took over without the usual biting sarcastic comment.

"Pull over, Ray. I'll take it from here."

Bodie carefully put the baby on the seat, and got over to the other side of the car. Just in time to catch Doyle, whose eyes turned glassy and whose knees gave away when he tried to get out of the driver's seat.

"Easy, Ray." Bodie said, worriedly, and pushed him back into the seat to examine the wound. With sensitive fingers he peeled the sleeve away. The lining was soaked with blood. He couldn't see too properly what damage the bullet had caused, but it was obvious his partner was losing too much blood too fast. From under the seat he took out the first aid kit and applied a firm bandage around the upper arm.

"I think it went straight through." Doyle muttered, his face twitching as Bodie tied the last knot. His face had a pallor that was alarming and shades showed in his face that hadn't been there earlier.

"Looks like it. You need a doctor, but this will do for now." Bodie wasted little time on further talking. He helped Doyle to the other side, but noticed to his pleasure that his pal already seemed to have pulled himself together and the bandage offered some comfort. He placed the baby with an apologising look on Doyle's lap, strapped the two of them in the safety belt, covered them with the chequered blanket, and then drove off to find them a village, a phone, a shop and a doctor.

*****

The evening darkness had come early in the afternoon. In the distance the lights of a small community became visible.

"Why is it so hard to find a town, when you need one." Bodie said softly, unpleasantly surprised by the vastness of land and the lack of villages in this area of Northern England. Doyle sat, eyes closed and head resting against the cold glass of the window, a bit slanted in the seat. The baby had assumed the same position they had witnessed earlier - cuddled up against the shoulder, a thumb in its mouth, the fingers of the other hand gently stroking the eyebrow of the adult.

After some time the baby's hand had dropped onto Ray's cheek when it had fallen asleep and it offered a catching, yet bizarre picture. Doyle was either unconscious or asleep, the baby curled up against his shoulder, held in place by the safety belt and the agent's supporting arm. Doyle's head had rolled sideways and the baby's blonde curls touched his.

While Bodie drove towards the little lights of Burlumpton, his mind ran down thoughts that he usually pushed away easily.

Children.

A family.

His entire adult life had been focused on battle and fighting. Angola, a mercenary, an SAS - too much to start reciting now. As a matter of fact, it looked like his entire world evolved around violence. Apart from regular dates with the opposite gender, he had very little friends. He just didn't trust people enough to allow them a steady place in his life. Look what happened to him when he had opened up to Marikka, the attractive German woman? She got killed in the end and Bodie died a bit too, then. Not that he would ever admit it, but cases like that pushed him to the limits. Even after getting even with the ones responsible, he had to hold himself in check to avoid doing something stupid.

Doyle had been getting to his nerves at first. Fresh from the Met, he had no respect for Bodie's background and especially his mercenary involvement had been a source of subtle, yet constant insults at first. But during the course of the months and their work together, Doyle gradually re-adjusted his view on matters and Bodie found in Doyle a partner he could count on. Now, today, Doyle was his best friend - his only friend perhaps - and he fully relied and trusted him.

Bodie glanced sideways to the sleeping man and child.

He had always, silently, thought that Doyle was the first one to get married and have kids. He would one day bump into an intelligent, beautiful girl and be completely head over heels with the One and Only True Woman. No matter the small prints that Cowley liked to recite, Doyle would probably be standing outside city hall one day, with the notorious piece of paper in one hand, his bride in the other. And Doyle was great with kids. Bodie had seen him often around them, playing football, at the pinball machine, in the youth hostels and how easy he could catch up with them. He would make a good father, one day. If he could hold that temper in check…

Bodie grinned behind the wheel.

Yet a steady life, a wife and children, just didn't seem to fit Bodie personally. They would rely on him to come home after a day's work, read bedtime stories and help out in the kitchen and the garden. While all along, he couldn't even make it to a simple dinner appointment seven out of ten times.

They'd be worried over him, the initial worry would turn to numbed fear after a while, and then, as years would pass, they would forget how to worry and find a substitute husband and father - in another man, or worse, in drugs or crime.

But this child, Moses - he would not let the child down. Never before had anyone been so depending on him, not consciously anyway. He had always been able to brush away the guilt trips after a while, dismissing them with the naive thought that most people got what they deserved and he only got around people who were mixed up in dubious affairs out of their own accord. That was not entirely true and deep inside he knew it, but it was a way of dealing with the mental problems that came with this line of work. He discarded the innocent victims with the same distance as he thought of people killed in traffic: occupational hazard - facts of life.

The child, however was something completely different. The baby could not be held responsible in any way for the situation it was in. It could only accept what was happening, without understanding, without choosing. The thought that such a kid was exposed to murder and violence was almost churning.

The baby stirred a little, producing a high, soft sigh. It brought Bodie back to the present.

*****

Doyle felt so light headed when Bodie had woken him up, that he needed the support of his partner's strong arm more than he was willing to admit. Although a veterinarian was the best the village could offer, the man proved to be quite a doctor as well.

Bodie had asked a farmer, passing by on a tractor where he could find a doctor and a shop that was still open, but the farmer had shaken his head and told him there was no doctor in this town. If he needed one, there was one about 15 miles down the B27. However, if he didn't mind a veterinarian to take a look, then he could try just 500 yards up ahead, the lime house on the left side of the road. Shops? Well, there was a shop, but that was already closed. Maybe the petrol station on the M6? But that was at least an hour drive from here.

We'll try the vet first, Bodie had answered curtly, thanked him and followed the pointed direction.

Bodie had started waving his ID, but that proved hardly necessary. The entire threesome was eye-catching as they came in: two men, one of who was hurt, the other holding a little child in his arms. The veterinarian had not hesitated one moment, when he saw the pale face of the man who was supported by his friend and the drops of blood that formed splatters on the tiles in the passage.

Bodie told in a few brief sentences what had happened, knowing that sometimes it was best to be honest, to get people to do what he wanted them to do. He wasn't disappointed.

The vet, who introduced himself as Henry Mansfield, had taken over Doyle instantly, displaying a natural authority and professionalism that was reassuring and Bodie had helped to lower his colleague to the steel treatment table. His partner flinched as the doctor began to cut away the emergency bandage that Bodie had applied earlier.

A soft voice, warm and concerned, had sounded from behind them, inquiring if they would like something to eat.

"A phone call and a napkin will do, ma'am." Bodie had answered politely, but the kind veterinarian's wife did not want to hear of such humble requests.

"While Henry works on your friend, I'll prepare you something to eat."

Bodie turned to his colleague, whose pale face was scaring him more than he wanted to admit publicly.

"Ray? I'll call HQ. I'll leave you to Henry, okay?"

Doyle nodded, shivering, obviously from the cold table he was on. Or maybe something else caused it, but Bodie refused to think about that. He took of his warm coat and covered Doyle with it, without interfering Henry's work.

"Yeah, you go on ahead. I'll be fine."

I'll be fine, echoed Bodie quietly and absentmindedly as he followed Rachel Mansfield through the house. She showed him to a telephone and offered to take over the baby, but Bodie shook his head, feeling overprotective all of a sudden, but nevertheless holding on to the baby as if it was his only possession in life.

Rachel seemed to understand, because she nodded her head once and left him with some privacy in the salon of the house, while she disappeared into the kitchen.

*****

Doyle felt faint as a new-born kitten. His legs felt like if they were made of rubber and the fingers of his right hand were on strike now, as they seemed hardly responsive. The room kept moving in a confusing merry-go-round of sounds and visions.

Henry Mansfield was a practical man. He performed rapid surgery on his, for this table, unusual patient. He cleansed the wound, disinfected the arm and began repairing the vein that had been torn by the shot.

"You lost quite some blood. I take it you are dizzy and you feel weak?" he stated rhetorically when he noticed that his patient was still watching his moves.

"Very. But don't tell my partner."

Henry grinned, amused by Doyle's words.

"Mother hen?"

"Very."

"Is that his child?"

"No. It was in the back of a car we found. We're trying to get it back to its parents."

"I see. Hang on, this might hurt a little."

The veterinarian stopped talking when Doyle's head fell sideways.

"That's good, young man. You sleep and you will feel better in the morning." He mumbled softly, more to himself than to the curly headed, pale unconscious man on the cold table.

*****

"And? Any luck?" Rachel asked when Bodie came into the cosy, warm kitchen, where a delicious smell of soup reminded him he hadn't eaten for hours and automatically his stomach began to protest.

"Yes. They know now."

She pointed to a table on the side. A set of napkins, some baby clothing and a bottle stood there, ready for use.

"Great." Bodie smiled. He tickled the child, who had silently been staring around all the time from the moment he had been lifted from Doyle's shoulder.

"A clean nappy, Mose. And a bottle."

"You can give him to me now, mister Bodie." Rachel insisted kindly. "While you eat, I'll change the wet things."

"Bodie." Bodie corrected her as he reluctantly placed the baby in the woman's care.

Rachel had placed a tray with bread and a bowl with steaming hot soup on the table and Bodie attacked it as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"What's his name?" she asked as she professionally put the child down on the towel at the side table and began unbuttoning the baby suit.

"Moses." Bodie said between bites. "At least, that's what we call him. There was no card…"

"Err… Mister Bodie?"

"Bodie. Without the mister. What is it?"

"The name is a bit strange… It's a girl."

A girl… a baby girl. Bodie wasn't sure if it was the thought or the soup that made him feel so warm inside.

*****

When Doyle woke up, he was lying in room with flowers on the curtains and abstract shapes on the wallpaper. It took a while before the events of the previous day came back to him. The last thing he could recall was a veterinarian - he remembered the middle aged bearded man with the kind eyes and the Welsh accent. So, was he still in that house? Probably, yeah.

After some time he began to distinguish sounds coming from downstairs. He heard voices, people talking and barking of dogs and other sounds of animals. A veterinarian - of course. The man was already at work, attending to business as usual.

He took in his surroundings, and then noticed the fresh, clean bandage around his arm. It felt painful, but better than yesterday. Actually, he could hardly feel anything at all. Henry - that was his name, yes - Henry had done a good job, from the looks of it. Doyle's head felt stuffed with cotton balls. He was thirsty too but above all he felt drowsily - the way he had experienced before after waking up from anaesthesia.

Next to a glass of water and his watch, on the bedside table, he saw an envelope. It simply said 'Doyle' and Ray knew that Bodie had left him a message, so he must be gone already.

His right hand still didn't answer to his head, and he knocked over the glass when he picked up the envelope with his left. He certainly wasn't ambidextrous - about time he took up some practise for his left hand.

The message was short as well: Off to London. Back tomorrow to pick you up. Bodie must have been up early. There was something else… - the Bodie-baby, the kid that Bodie kept on calling Moses. Where was the child?

There was a knock on the door and a middle-aged woman with thick white hair and a pair of friendly grey eyes peered around the edge. The shattering glass must have alarmed her.

"Good morning, Mr. Doyle. How do you feel?"

"' morning." He tried to sound healthy and awake but his mouth refused to pronounce the words clearly. I must sound like a moron. "A bit light headed. Who are you?"

She got in, wiping her hands off on her apron.

"I'm Rachel Mansfield. My husband Henry treated you yesterday. Do you remember that?"

"Err… yes. I can't remember how I got here, though. What time is it?"

"A little after eight. We had expected you to sleep in. D'you fancy something to eat?"

"Come to mention it, yes - yes I do." Doyle thrust the blanket aside to get up, but the horizon wasn't parallel with the bed anymore and he had to fight the upcoming darkness.

"Don't get up yet. First you have to eat a little. You'll feel better once your stomach is filled." Rachel promised while gently pushing him back into the pillows.

The feeling subsided slowly - too slowly to Doyle's liking.

"When did Bodie leave?"

"About half an hour ago. He was up quite early. Must have been around seven thirty when he headed for London."

"And the baby? Did he take him along?"

At first he couldn't understand why she laughed so cheekily.

"Yes. He took HER with him." She answered and left a surprised Doyle alone in the room.

*****

Rachel and Henry had not only been excellent hosts, they also had a vast amount of baby supplies in the attic, remains of a pregnancy of their own daughter. There was a baby carrier that could be strapped onto the back seat of the car, bottles, nappies, and cloths - everything was available. Amidst the things Bodie discovered a little doll, with brown stiff curls that reminded him immediately of Doyle. The baby did exactly the same as she had done to Ray's hair the previous day: she buried her fingers in the curls and started tearing at them with enthusiasm.

A Doyle-doll for a Bodie-baby, the dark headed CI5 man had thought, mildly amused - Ray would curse me stiff if I would say it out loud.

Rachel had prepared a few bottles of milk for the girl, which Bodie stubbornly kept calling Moses. Another name didn't seem to fit right now - he had found her in a basket and she would be safe and sound in the end, just like the story in the bible. The effect his appearance had on the baby girl was stunning. As soon as she saw him, the girl would laugh, all smiles on that little face, and move her hands and feet enthusiastically until he would pick her up. Then she'd go for his eyebrow, her thumb and be the sweetest baby around.

It moved Bodie. He wouldn't admit it, but secretly he felt damn proud that she did that. As little as she was, she felt confident enough around him to relax immediately.

Long forgotten words, spoken by Doyle in the past, re-surfaced and brought a smile to his face. Underneath that hard shell, you're a big softie, Ray had said once. A big softie, right…

Doyle had been sound asleep when Bodie had checked on him early that morning. Henry had told him he had to stay in bed that day, at least until he had eaten something. It wasn't likely he would wake up very soon, as he was still sedated. The blood loss had been considerable and his body needed time to recover. But Doyle was safe there, perhaps even safer than on any well-known turf.

Bodie decided he couldn't wait. Things needed to be settled, and his testimony was vital. A phone call this morning to HQ, had informed him of a woman whose child had been abducted.

He grabbed his things together, strapped a well-fed little girl in the baby seat in the back of the car, kissed Rachel and shook hands with Henry.

"Thank you for taking care of Ray. I'll be back tomorrow to pick him up."

"He'll be quite alright here." Henry promised and Rachel nodded in agreement. Bodie said with a twinkle in his eyes:

"Don't give him the soup you got me yesterday. You'll never get rid of him again."

Then he jumped in the Capri and drove off to London, off to meet Moses' mother and a stack of paperwork to fill in.

*****

Rachel was just buttering the last sandwich for Doyle when the doorbell rang. She walked to the front door, expecting a client with an animal to come to visit her husband but got the scare of her life, when a man brutally forced his way in. He grabbed her, twisted his arm around her throat and hissed in her ear:

"Where is your husband?!"

She was paralysed, unable to do or say anything for a moment.

"I said - where is your husband!"

"In his office..!" Rachel squeaked frightened with a pinched voice.

"Show me!" he rudely pushed her further inside and forced her to get over to Henry's office and the vet's practice room.

Henry was just catching up on paperwork and didn't look up at first when the door swung open.

"Henry…!" was the frightened whisper that Rachel could push from her lips. "Henry…!"

The man, who held her, placed a gun against her temple. He squeezed his arm so tightly that Rachel got trouble breathing. Dark spots began to circle in her field of vision.

"You!" he shouted at the veterinarian. "Where are they?"

Henry Mansfield looked with a numb look of non-understanding at the intruder in the dark clothes, who was threatening his wife and waved a gun around the room.

"What?" he muttered without apparent comprehension and put his hand on the desk to push himself up.

"Don't fool me! I know they were here!" hissed the man on loud tone. "You have ten seconds before I will hurt your wife. Ten - nine - eight…"

With an unexpected and quick step forwards, he reached the stunned Mansfield and hit him in the face with the but of the gun. Henry slammed back into his seat, tasting blood from a split lip, the blow causing pain that sent tears to his eyes.

"The next one is for her. Seven - six - five.."

"They drove off with the baby." Mansfield whispered, barely audible.

"Where to? Come on, come on!"

Through the haze Rachel met his eyes, brave but scared for her and she understood his dilemma.

"London. "

"Where in London?!"

'A headquarters. CI5 or something."

"When?"

"Fifty minutes ago." Grumbled Mansfield painfully. Bravo Henry, said Rachel's eyes. He had not given away the fact that one of the two men was still in the house.

As sudden and fast as he had gained entrance to their house and the information he needed, the man gave Henry another blow to the head, sending him knock out instantly. He waited until Rachel's body lost her struggle and then lowered her to the floor. In a few seconds he had left the veterinarian practice room and disappeared as rapidly as he had come in.

*****

Totally unaware of the tragedy that was unfolding in the village, Bodie drove to London, whistling to the music he had turned on. In the back of the car Moses was enjoying herself with the little toy that looked suspiciously much like Doyle.

"Your dolly's got the same hair as Uncle Ray." He remarked cheerfully. Then he chuckled, pleased with himself and the entire world. "There's a name for you, sweetie: Doyle-doll."

The entire journey Bodie had been in a good mood. The day was bright and cold, the sun leaving rays of light that were filtered through the leafless branches. The surroundings here were beautiful and with the satisfied sounds of the girl in the baby seat and the radio on, Bodie felt better than he had done in a long time. He couldn't exactly tell why. Maybe it was because Doyle was all right and in good hands. Possibly the kind reception at the Mansfield place had restored his faith in people a little. Perhaps his unusual little travel companion had defrosted his chilly protective layer. The idea of uniting her with her mommy soon, gave him a warmth inside that he found agreeably cherishing. Finally something good emerged in his daily struggle with the scum of the earth. These little sparks of life lit up the darkness that was sometimes so hard to escape from.

And right now, his spark sat in the back of the car. A spark of light with blonde, thin curly hair, big brown eyes and an interest in eyebrows and curls.

*****

Rachel had felt the pressure on her throat rising and when the black and red spots had taken over, her legs had given up and she had passed out momentarily. She returned to the land of the living with a shock - Henry! Bodie! The child!

Henry was slowly coming round, slumped sideways in his chair, but responding to her frantic movements. Rachel pulled the phone towards her, tried to dial - but the line was dead. Then she dragged herself up the stairs, while swaying from left to right, finally reached the bedroom where Doyle was and staggered inside.

Doyle had fallen asleep again, dozed off after their short conversation. Rachel ran to the side of the bed.

"Mr. Doyle! Ray! Wake up! Bodie and Moses are in danger!" the worried woman cried out, frantically trying to make her guest to respond. Had the anaesthetic been stronger than expected and had his wake-up only been a short lived one? She began to shake him to wake him up.

But then the green eyes were suddenly open and alert. She started pulling him by his arm.

"Ma'am - Rachel? What's wrong?"

"Get up, please!" she pleaded almost, tears of fright running down her cheeks. "There was a man - he hit Henry and threatened to kill me - and he wanted to know about Bodie and the baby. And - and - " she lost control of her own flow of words, took a deep shivering breath and said slower:

"You have to get up. Get a message to Bodie or your HQ. He had a gun."

It took a second or two before the message struck home but then Doyle sat up, pushed himself out of the bed and holding on to cupboards, walls and the banister he made it downstairs, helped by Rachel Mansfield, who was in control again.

A young man with red cheeks from the winter cold, stepped in through the front door. He carried the smell of fresh air and Doyle's observant eyes saw the resemblance between this man and his hostess.

"Ray - this is my son Roy. Roy, Mr. Doyle needs to get to London."

"My car is outside." Roy Mansfield simply nodded, expecting no further explanation and offering his service without questioning the motives.

"Wait - !" Rachel said and in ten seconds she came back from the kitchen with a few things to eat.

"Eat while Roy drives. It'll reduce the dizziness and you'll get your strength back faster."

Practical housekeeping in every circumstance, Doyle thought a little sarcastically. Then he felt the supporting hands of the sturdy son, helping him to the brown Austin that waited with running engine and before he had time to realise what was actually happening, they had already left the veterinarian's house far behind them - in pursuit of Bodie and the Bodie-baby.

*****

Bodie had to stop once during his trip to London. Moses had produced another odorous napkin, so he decided to combine the necessary with the agreeable, stopped at a motorway restaurant and ordered coffee and a roll for himself and gave the waitress a bottle to warm up for Moses.

Clumsily, but not so inexperienced as the day before, he changed the nappy the way he had done earlier that morning too, under the friendly supervision of Rachel. You're turning soft on your old age, Bodie, he reprimanded himself but it couldn't take away the joy he had with the little girl. She laughed and gurgled, blew bubbles of spittle and reacted to him with an enthusiasm that lifted his spirits even higher. A young mother, also changing her child's nappy, chatted up to him about parenthood and the strange glow that settled inside found its way to his face. The woman's words that he was a proud papa to his daughter, were the pearl in the crown.

"Daddy to my girl", Bodie repeated softly to Moses, "how much do they know, 'ey Mosey?" The little girl cried out in sparkling laughter when he tickled her neck.

He got back to the restaurant, where the waitress had placed his coffee and a warmed bottle on the table, and while feeding the baby - and himself - Bodie's mind run off to London.

If Moses' mother had turned up, then he'd better make sure she could identify herself properly. And she had to produce evidence, good solid evidence, that she was Moses' mother. He suspected Cowley to have been informed already and taken proper precautions, even though he was somewhere high up in the north of the country. He supposed Murphy would have taken and checked and double-checked the statement from the woman already - it was very likely she would be in HQ by the time Bodie and the baby would arrive.

A sting of regret clouded his thoughts for a second. Handing over this tiny girl, was not something he actually looked forward to. Of course, she should be with her parents, but still… He liked her - she was a sweet baby, with apparently a cheerful and sunny character. Odd that he would think about her that way, where as normally he wouldn't have given a kid like this a second glance.

Moses fell asleep, the un-emptied bottle dropping from between her lips. Bodie lifted her carefully and after putting her back in the baby seat, he headed for London, which he expected to reach within the hour.

*****

Roy Mansfield drove, skilfully and fast. Doyle fumbled with one hand to get his shoelaces tied, but let go of them with a frustrated grumble. He had tossed the sling aside but right hand was still stiff and the fingers were unresponsive to his efforts.

"Give it some time. I take it my father has put a sedative in your arm, hence the numb feeling and the loss of control. It'll come back soon enough, but you can't force it."

"How did you get to your parents' house so fast?" Doyle wanted to know. He chewed one of the sandwiches that Rachel had hastily pushed in a brown paper bag.

"There's coffee behind your chair, in a thermos." Roy pointed with his thumb and shifted gear to speed up on the M6. "I live only a few hundred yards from my parents. I'm learning to be a vet as well, so I work a lot with my dad. I was just coming back from a visit. Dad warned me with the walkie-talkie. He said the phone was dead."

"He cut the wires." Doyle said slowly, sinking away in deep thoughts. This entire case was getting weirder by the minute. Who was the Bodie-baby and why was she so important?

It was as if the quiet, hospitable young man had been reading his mind. Up till now he had not asked anything, nor demanded to know what was going on - he had set himself to his mother's request with a calm acceptance as if she'd asked him to buy apples at the local grocery store.

"May I ask what is so special about this baby?"

"I haven't got a clue." Doyle sighed. He drummed impatiently with the fingers of his left hand on his leg. "We found her in the back of a car, driven by a couple of arms smugglers."

"And it isn't their child." Roy made the conclusion easily.

Doyle shook his head.

"No, that much is certain. They ended up dead. We - my partner Bodie and I - were discussing what to do with the child, when somebody took a shot at us."

"Us? Bodie and you? Or was it aimed at the baby?"

"Nah - us. He hit me in the arm." Doyle bit his lower lip. Roy's words echoed through his mind. Or was it aimed at the baby? Had she been the target?

"You ended up at my father's place, with the shotgun wound and Bodie and the baby."

The way he said 'Bodie', clarified one thing to Doyle.

"You've already met him, haven't you?"

The young man nodded and grinned, not taking his eyes of the road for one second.

"Yesterday evening. He and my father were trying to get you up the stairs. You were rather… err.. unresponsive. I helped to get you in the bedroom."

Doyle grunted, not unfriendly. Of course, things must have been happening when he was out cold in the bed. For all he knew, Bodie could have been shagging the daughter or the milkmaid, while he was counting sheep.

He didn't know if he'd been talking out loud, or that the sensitive young man had picked up his thoughts.

"Charming character. My sister would have loved him."

"I bet - all sisters do. He has that effect on women."

Darkness clouded the modest face of the driver.

"She died, shortly after the birth of her child. Car accident. The baby too. Mum just couldn't throw the things away and stored it in the attic."

"I'm sorry." Doyle said sincerely. "That must have sounded rude."

A silence fell. Then the agent asked:

"Where's your brother in law? Does he live around here?"

A little smile again, obviously the sad memories were chased away by Ray's words.

"Oh no - I haven't got a brother in law. My sis was an Unmarried Single Mother by Choice - with capital letters. Very modern, very forwarding and very up to kicking everyone's behind who would lecture her otherwise."

He chuckled.

"She may have liked Bodie, but I'm not sure about the other way around."

"She would have given him a hard time." Doyle grinned, visualising Bodie arguing with a feminist who would give him a sermon on women's rights. "And would he be helpless…"

"Oh yes. He would." laughed Roy. It flashed through Doyle how transparent his partner's behaviour some times could be. Not all the time, but when it came to women…

With a bolt he forced him back in the present - time to be philosophical later.

"Step on it, Roy."

*****

Bodie lifted the sleeping girl from the carrier and walked inside the inconspicuous HQ of CI5. The building was a common as any other building, hiding for the outside world its vast network of highly trained agents and extremely intelligent minds that tried to keep crime in check. Bodie knew the place like the back of his hand. Against his shoulder, Moses stirred but didn't wake up.

Assuming Murphy to have set up the necessary work already, he headed straight for his colleagues' table. Murphy was working out a report on his type-writer.

"'Morning, Bodie."

"Murph. What have you got for me?"

Murphy let his eyes slide over the little girl, dozing against the agent's chest. The little doll was still hooked in the crook of her arm.

"Has Ray seen that doll?" he nodded. "Speaking of which - how is he doing?"

"You know Ray - finds a place in the countryside, a couple of horses and some nice company and it's bye bye Bodie."

Murphy grimaced to Bodie's unspoken answer. He stood up from behind his desk and walked with Bodie to one of the interrogation rooms.

"She checks out alright but it's not the mother. The mother died some time ago - it's her legal guardian. Her name is Marian Blythe."

Bodie peered through the square window in the door of the interrogation room and felt overcome by confusion for a moment or two. He saw a tall, slender posture, leather bomber jacket, tight faded blue jeans, Adidas sneakers and a mass of thick brown curls. The hands were thrust deeply into the pockets and the person was looking out through the barred window. It was as if he was looking at Doyle.

But then the person turned to the sound of the door and the resemblance with Ray vanished when Bodie saw her face. Huge dark brown eyes looked at him from behind spectacles, a little nose and feminine lips were enough to make that instant comparison fade away.

She was tearing up a paper tissue into tiny bits, spilling them all over the ground. She nervously pushed her sneakers through the mess on the floor, took out another tissue and the cycle began again.

Bodie had watched her for a few minutes. Moses was curled up against him, had taken the by now well-known position and he could feel the tiny body warm and relaxed against his shoulder. The little finger ran through his eyebrow again.

Bodie took a deep breath and whispered to the baby:

"Hey Mose, I think your auntie is here." The little girl stirred, hardly noticeable, but remained in the same position. With Murphy next to him, he walked over to the woman.

She saw him before Murphy could do the introductions. She walked over, brushed against a chair, tipping it over, which made it fall with a clattering noise to the ground. Her tensed face, pressed lips and tear filled eyes were the things in which Bodie saw it - worry, genuine, true crazy worry.

"Nicolette?" she whispered.

Murphy nodded silently to Bodie. He left and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Nicolette?" she asked again and now almost afraid to approach him, she took a step forwards.

"Hey, sleeping beauty." Bodie said in a cheerful tone, a desperate attempt to break through the heart breaking tension. "Wake up. Here's someone to see you."

He moved his arm, causing her to wake up. The little girl protested noisily, but then she was awake and looked with big brown eyes at the world around her. For an instant, which seemed to last longer than a lifetime, she stared at the woman with no visible chance in her face.

But when the recognition struck, her laughter brightened up the place, causing the woman to grab her from Bodie and hug her and kiss her, totally unaware of the dark headed man's difficult swallowing.

The guardian and the girl had been reunited.

*****

"I want to know everything." The woman exclaimed in ecstatic joy that radiated from every single move she made. Baby Nicolette crowed happily and wiggled in Miss Blythe's arms.

"You start first." Bodie suggested "and I'll continue where it stops for you."

She nodded, caressing Nicolette's blonde curls thoughtlessly but with apparent affection.

"Nicolette is the daughter of Regina Dinard, one of my closest friends. She died when Nicolette was just a week old, from a long and exhausting illness. She was not married and didn't have a boyfriend - in fact, the pregnancy had been an …err… accident… But once she felt life kicking inside, Regina grew accustomed to the idea of a child and when she died, she was very happy she had been able to witness her daughter to see the light of day.

We had decided months before the birth, that I would become the legal guardian to Nicolette. I'm single and therefore cannot adopt a child - but I promised to take care of her like she was my own, so we chose the 'guardian' option. Plus Regina made up a will that more or less secured Nicolette's future up to the age of eighteen."

Bodie listened silently - so far, it sounded acceptable.

"Regina came from a wealthy family and died rich. When she died, her capital went into a trust for Nicolette and I received a fair amount to give her daughter a good life. The problems started when a man appeared in my life, claiming to be Nicolette's father."

All about money, Bodie thought, feeling disdain rise slowly, it's all about money and that little cute thing is right in the middle.

"Claiming to be her father - and have a right to the inheritance, I suppose?"

Marian Blythe sighed. She couldn't take her eyes off of Nicolette, who by now pushed her tiny fingers in the bubble curls of her doll and looked with fascination how the nylon hair sprung back when she let go of them.

"Hm - he pleaded he wanted to take care of Nicolette's upbringing. Said he was her father and thus entitled to his child."

Bodie nodded, pouted his lip and asked:

"Was he, I mean is he?"

"He isn't, I know for sure. But I don't know the father's identity, to tell you the truth. Regina never told anyone about the father. Not even to me. Misplaced shame or something - but the one thing she did tell me was he came from France - hence the name. And this Brad Hiller, that's what he said his name was, is English alright."

"You spoke to him, person to person?"

"Yes, two weeks ago he suddenly showed up on my doorstep. Wanted to know all about Nicolette, about me and all kinds of other things. He was a creep and I closed the door to him. Luckily my family - I have three older brothers - were staying over at my place, otherwise he might have tried to do something right then."

"So how did Mos- Nicolette end up in the backseat with two thugs?"

Slowly she shook her head, pressed her lips together and a shadow of renewed worry came over her face again.

"That was my car - the white Volvo. But I guess you already know that, right? Last week I returned from the mainland as I had been there for my work. I took the ferry from Rotterdam to Hull and Nicolette was with me, as I usually take her along on such trips. She's a very sweet child and I like to have her around."

Bodie smiled faintly to her last words. Yes, she was sweet and he too, liked to have her around.

"I had not been feeling well from the moment I'd eaten breakfast. I got more and more nauseous as I was driving, and after about an hour or so, I had to pull over. Just in time I reached the ladies room of a small road cafe and-"

"Where was this?" Bodie interrupted.

"'m Not sure. Didn't recognise the name - to be honest, I paid little attention. I don't think it was close to a town, it seemed pretty isolate. I suppose you know how desolate the areas up north can get."

Bodie nodded.

"Go on." He encouraged her, while listening with a deep frown on his forehead.

"You can understand why I ran inside without Nicolette - how could I hold on to her when I was hanging over the toilet…? Anyway, she was sound asleep and I was only in there for a few minutes and I didn't expect anything like - like"

"Like this to happen." Bodie saw how she blushed, feeling uncomfortable from admitting having left the baby alone.

"Right. After I cleaned myself up a bit, I felt a considerably better and wanted to go back to the car. It was gone. There was another car in the parking lot, but mine was gone. With Nicolette."

"Did anybody see anything?"

"No - as I said, I had already driven into a rather desolate area. There was hardly anyone in the cafe. Only a local and the owner."

She sighed and ran a slender hand through her thick curly hair.

"The manager of the place was quite friendly. He called the police for me, and a few hours later, I was told the abandoned car in the parking lot belonged to somebody who was already being followed by the police. They assured me it wouldn't be long before they would apprehend him. Later I was told some kind of special branch was also chasing the car - you lot, CI5."

Miss Blythe kissed the forehead of Nicolette and continued with a weary look on her face:

"Next thing I got was a phone call, from London, yesterday evening late. I took a night train and arrived very early this morning."

She shrugged, a silent sign that she had told about everything she knew. Nicolette began to get impatient - hungry and tired probably.

"Local police contacted Scotland Yard, who in their turn, phoned with the harbour police of Hull. They sent the report to CI5, as they knew we working on a gun smuggling case." Bodie informed her. He told her in crude lines what had happened, leaving out details that were not meant for outsiders to hear. The fact that Chang and Laverne had nicked a car with a baby inside, was pure coincidence. If she'd been awake, they had probably noticed the infant. Their choice of the common, inconspicuous Volvo had been randomly. Miss Blythe had had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he finished, a silence fell. Then Marian Blythe looked him in the eyes and said:

"Could I put her in your trust for just a little longer? I need to go to the ladies room."

Bodie offered his most charming smile when he took over Nicolette. The girl smiled, all toothless and cute, at him.

"'ullo Mose! Back to Bodie again." Nicolette curled up against him in familiar mode now.

*****

"Roy, stop at that petrol station. I want to call HQ." Ray pointed to an old and dilapidated place.

"I need to re-fuel anyway. You make the call, I'll fill her up." The young man nodded. His looks had become a little grimmer during the ride, infected by Doyle's obvious concern for what was happening.

"Can't you use the RT yet?"

"Nope - still out of reach. It's high tech - but there is a limit."

"One day, Mr. Doyle, we'll be carrying wireless phones and we can reach each other from different parts of the worlds in seconds."

"I'm not sure I find that a very appealing prospect. My boss is breathing down my neck far too often already. Hate to think of what he would do with a device like that."

Both men chuckled shortly in mutual understanding. Then Roy drove up to the pumps while Doyle jumped out of the car and ran to the nearest telephone.

He ran inside, where the sloppy owner of the place annex fish-and-chips baker looked at him with bloodshed eyes and not a single shred of interest.

"CI5 - I need to make a phone call." Doyle burst out, panting from the run that showed he wasn't all fit again.

"Pay phone 's outside." The baker muttered moodily.

"I NEED to make a call, here and now!" Doyle bit at him.

"CI5? Don't mean shit to me. You can use the pay phone or none at all." The baker replied sullenly.

Doyle jumped over the counter, pushed the baker aside to run to the back - only to find himself in a kitchen that was so greasy and filthy it nearly made him lose his balance on the smeary tiles.

He saw about a dozen of kitchen tools, racks for storage and lots of plates - but no phone.

Behind him the fish-and-chips baker crossed his arms with a smug smile of self-arrogance.

"Told you - ain't no phone here. Pay phone - outside."

Damn! Doyle cursed below his breath and if he weren't so pressed for time he would have gladly planted his fists on the baker's nose.

He slipped through the kitchen, rushed out the door and spurted to a small, battered booth that would provide his connection to HQ.

But he was wrong.

The receiver was gone. Wires, loosely hanging down from the apparatus, a telephone book with all pages ripped out and the blackened remains of a recent fire were all he found in the booth.

Damn!

He ran back to the car, where Roy just finished to re-fuel.

"I still have to pay." he protested as Doyle jumped in the car.

"No, you don't." grumbled the CI5-man angrily. "Not to that sod, you don't. Go!"

Roy hit the gas before he had even pulled the door of the car shut.

"I take it you had no luck? No phone call?"

"No luck - right. No phone. Damn!"

*****

When she returned from the ladies room, Miss Blythe had washed her face and looked considerably better. The initial shock had turned into a mixture of fatigue and immense relief. She looked puzzled at Bodie and the girl and then smiled and said:

"You're great with kids. She obviously adores you."

"Comes with the job, miss." Bodie said with a quasi-modest smile.

She smiled and was suddenly amused. "I thought that came with the hormones."

He grinned - she did too. She was nice - behind those thick glasses the eyes looked at him intelligently. With a little care she could be rather beautiful too, he thought.

"I should get back home, back to Beverley." Marian sighed a little held-back. She showed remarkable acceptance of Bodie's care for the little girl. Obviously she judged him a good baby sitter.

"I don't think that's a good idea, miss." Bodie replied thoughtfully. "Not while your attacker is still on the loose. Until we find him, it's better we find you a safer place."

He saw the shadow of worry and disbelief appearing. For God's sake, she had to take his advice on this. She would, wouldn't she?

"Bodie is right, miss Blythe."

A voice, coloured with a beautiful soft Scottish accent, betrayed the quiet entry of Cowley. Bodie was surprised, even though he knew he could have been expecting this. Cowley had the cunning ability to show up at the most unexpected moments and places, even when he was not supposed to be anywhere in the vicinity. He had been in Scotland yesterday morning - so naturally he must have been informed and driven back straight away. Maybe he even flew in, with a helicopter. Cowley could move heaven and earth if that was necessary. And when one of his men was shot, he used every bit of power he had.

"Sir." He curtly greeted his boss, who walked over to Marian Blythe and shook her hand, whilst introducing himself. "I would like you to take our advice to the heart. I've already put a few of my men on your case. Nicolette is back in your care but as long as your life and hers are still in danger, I cannot allow you to leave here without proper protection."

He nodded to Bodie, perching on the corner table with Nicolette on his arm.

"4.5?" From the way he said the name and the look in his eyes, Bodie knew he was practically fully up to speed. The question was just a final reassurance.

"Fine, sir. Having a beauty sleep. He's still in Burlumpton."

Cowley nodded, satisfied for the moment and then he stepped over to Bodie and the girl. A smile softened his face, his light blue eyes lit up for a second, giving him a warmth that most people, who worked for him, didn't witness very often.

"Now there, lass. You seem to be thriving with Bodie, 'ey?" he asked quietly, characteristically rolling the "r" in his voice.

"They could stay at my place, sir. A safe house is fine for an adult, but I don't think it's very suitable for a baby like this."

"Five months, she is. Just beginning to crawl - it looks more like swimming on dry land." came Marian's voice from behind Cowley. Her eyes flew over to Bodie - he did not miss the plea. She had said it so casually, but meanwhile chose her words carefully. A kid like that should be able to move around, crawl and dabble over the floor and not being confined to the boredom of a safe house that had nothing to offer but a bed and a TV.

Cowley's short smile was gone again. He rubbed his aching leg, absentmindedly, and then with an impatient gesture of his hand he approved of Bodie's proposition.

"Alright, Bodie. Get going."

The CI5-commander turned around, said his goodbyes to Miss Blythe and left the room.

Bodie gestured with his free hand to the door.

"This way. My car is right outside."

*****

He let Miss Blythe go out first and looked at her backside when she took the few steps down, while he followed her. From the back, Marian Blythe resembled Doyle in a stunning way. She even walked a bit like him.

Something began to occur to Bodie, slowly and vaguely. He hesitated on the steps for a second, trying to get the spider's web in his head to let go of the thought it just caught.

The brown curls, a few yards from him, waved in the winter wind. It was still cold, crystal clear and sunny outside. The CI5-man's instincts ran on full alert mode.

He leaped over to her in three big steps. On his arm, Nicolette giggled contentedly over the kangaroo-like jumps.

"How much, miss Blythe?" He said while pulling her sleeve. "How much is 'some money' to guarantee Nicolette's upbringing?"

She looked at him, non-understanding and puzzled to this belated question.

"A hundred and twenty thousand pounds."

"Wha'?!"

"Per year."

"What?! And you call that 'some money'? People get paid less in fifteen years."

What if this Brad Hiller had taken Doyle for Blythe? Had he seen the white Volvo, had he awaited her somewhere in the bushes and had he been unable to distinguish the differences between Doyle and Miss Blythe because of the distance?

Damn. Both Marian and Moses were indeed still in danger. Suddenly he knew it with stunning certainty.

The shooter had not been shooting at Bodie and Doyle - but at the baby and Marian Blythe.

*****

Doyle tried his RT once again. He must have been hitting the connect button at least two dozen times in the past twenty minutes. As they were rapidly approaching London, he calculated the miles ahead, the possible reception at this distance, how long would he still be out of reach, and why Bodie didn't answer his RT…

Already they were in the London suburbs. The miles disappeared beneath the tyres of the car. Not that many blocks, and the road to HQ would be in view.

Suddenly the voice of a woman came through loud and clear.

"This is HQ. Come in."

Thank God, there's life on this planet, Doyle thought as the edge of despair lost its sharpness.

"This is 4.5. Has 3.7 arrived yet?"

"Come in, is that you, 4.5?"

"Sue, it's me, Ray. I can hardly hear you?"

"4.5 is that you? Acknowledge, please."

Roy pulled at the wheel, taking the U-turn in the road skilfully, worthy of any future CI5-recrute. Doyle had to hang on to the handle at the car ceiling. His arm protested vigorously.

"Yes 4.5, it's me, Susan." The RT was functioning poorly. Batteries were low… or the dark spots had not been just stains, but blood, that had seeped inside the delicate technique and ruined the wiring.

"Roger, 4.5."

"Sue, is Bodie in? I repeat, is 3.7 in?"

A silence. More static noise. Then Susan's voice.

"Bodie? I don't know, really. Haven't paid attention. Hang on, I'll check."

Doyle chewed on the tip of his thumb. Move, come on, come on.

"4.5? Yes - he arrived about an hour ago."

"I need to speak to him. Tell him to stay in the office. It's very urgent!"

"What's that, 4.5? I can't hear you."

Frustration quickly growing, Doyle had to fight the urge to scream in the RT. He knew he had to stay calm, talk slowly and clearly - shouting would do no good.

"Keep him inside!"

"4.5. Come in, please."

"Sue! Shit! Sue!"

Crackle. Silence. More silence, while Doyle listened, every fibre in his body focussed on action. Roy, next to him, had unnoticeably taken over the same attitude - lips pressed tightly together, eyebrows knotted together in a deep frown, fists clenching the steering wheel until the white of his knuckles showed.

****

Behind the switchboard Susan tried to get 4.5 back. The connection had been terrible. She had understood from the fragments, which came through, that Doyle had asked if Bodie was there, at HQ. She tried to patch him through to Cowley, knowing 3.7 to be around him somewhere, but 4.5 was gone again.

She bit her lip for a second, then called the commander.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Susan?"

"Is Bodie with you, sir?"

"No, he just left. I think you'll find him on the stairs, if you run."

She could hear her boss standing up, could picture him walking over to the window, limping a little as his old knee wound kept playing tricks again. She imagined she could even hear him slightly shoving aside the translucent curtains. Maybe it wasn't her imagination at all… for suddenly she heard the screeching of tyres and breaks being hit hard.

*****

Brad Hiller had been waiting, neatly parked, at the end of the street in the shade of some houses, for any of the three to get out of the building - Marian Blythe with baby Nicolette or the dark headed man. Or preferably all three.

It was such a shame he hadn't been able to approach them at a closer distance, he thought bitterly. The bushes had been the only shelter and he had needed them to avoid being spotted. Things were a bit confusing, however.

After patiently waiting the previous day, he had picked up a glimpse of the white car just outside the Hull harbour and it had been a piece of cake to follow it. He knew she would drive up to Beverley, through places where no-one lived for miles around. It was going to be a piece of cake to take her out somewhere in that vast amount of space.

Quite unexpectedly he had seen her stop at a cafe, running inside. He used the opportunity to take a leak himself. He had been only just in time to see her spurt off again, jump into his Rover and catch up with her. She seemed to be in a hurry as she drove a lot faster suddenly. As she was driving further into the country, Hiller began to wonder where she was off to. Certainly not to Beverley - that much was clear. It looked as if she was heading more in northwestern direction. His surprise had been complete when a Capri had overtaken him and around the bend of the corner gunfire had sounded.

The Blythe-woman had not been in her own white Volvo he had been following - but in that Ford Capri, which had been close behind the Volvo. He recognised the curls as they spurted by. And she was not alone anymore. A dark headed, tall man had been in the car as well.

Immediately when the shots sounded, he had taken a different corner and from the bushes higher up he could spot the white car, smacked against a thick tree. The Capri had stopped in the meadow, Blythe and the unknown man getting out. Quickly Hiller had jumped out of his car, taken a rifle from the boot and then rapidly scanned the bushes for a spot where he would not be noticed. He fiddled with the visor, re-adjusting its settings a bit more and then placed the heavy arms against his shoulder and slowly but thoroughly began to take aim at his target, a few hundred yards further, down the slope.

The curly hair of Marian Blythe had come into his visor. He let the crosshair slowly slide from her slender posture to the man she was with. She was taller than he remembered. She held the baby, while the dark headed man seemed to try to release the child's fingers from her hair.

And who the hell are you? Hiller mumbled to himself, taking in the features of the man in the dark leather jacket who by now had been able to free Blythe's hair from the kid's hands. She rubbed her head, then turned and got to the dented car.

Beautiful. I've got you. Hiller thought. Bye bye Blythe, Hello money.

Almost tenderly, he caressed the trigger as she got up from the inner side of the car. He could see her stagger as the first shot hit her - but with unexpected swiftness she dropped to the ground, while the man who held the baby did the same. How she got to the car without him hitting her again, was a mystery to him. She was faster than he'd expected. But she did - and so did the person with the child on his arms. She hit the gas, driving off at a crazy speed.

If he didn't know better, he could have sworn a man was driving that Capri.

*****

The feeling in the fingers of his right hand had come back during the ride to London, much to Ray's relief. He could shoot left handed, if needed, but he was not a class A marksman where that was concerned. Fortunately his fingers and the ligaments all seemed to respond to his commands. Thanks to the food Rachel had prepared him, he did feel considerably better than earlier when he had just woken up.

The tight grip of worry however, set by the alarm that went off inside, had only become worse. The shot had been meant for the baby. And somebody had come to get back at her, and her mommy and Bodie was there too, ignorant of their tail. Unaware of the danger.

With little words he directed Roy Mansfield to HQ. Left, again left, straight forward, turn right here…. He could find it with his eyes closed, and still he was worried he'd miss one exit and force them to turn around and lose valuable time over wrong driving.

"There!" he almost shouted. He pointed to Bodie, at the end of the street, who was just hopping down the stairs, over to someone with a lot of brown curly hair that wavered in the wind. That person wore blue jeans and a brown leather bomber jacket. Much like Ray's own…

And at that very moment, when the dark blue Rover left a parking space and suddenly increased its speed, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The curly woman - somebody had taken him for her. The shot had been aimed at her, not at him. She was the baby's mother and she needed to be taken out. And Bodie, what was he doing? Had he seen the same picture? Was he taking her over to a safe house? Was he aware of what was happening? His body language told Doyle more than words - he was asking her something, something that made him think hard and deep. Even from that distance Doyle recognised it.

The Rover accelerated. Going straight for his partner, who was holding the bundle on his arm and the person he was talking to.

"Bodie!" Doyle screamed, through the windshield of the car. He had already turned down the side window, hung out and aimed at the car, which was speeding up towards the three figures. Doyle felt the ricochet of the gun as he pulled the trigger.

"Bodie!"

Tyres screeched. Shots sounded. Steel screamed as it got pressed together like fumbled paper. Glass shattered and littered the street. A street light folded and doubled down to kiss the pavement. When the silence came back it was emphasised by a penetrating stench of burnt rubber.

Doyle and Roy Mansfield jumped out of the car. On the ground, amidst the fragments of a headlight and bumper shards, a curly headed woman lay with blinking eyes on her side, dizzily trying to get up. The young veterinarian sunk to his knees beside her and offered her first aid, while Doyle ran to his partner.

Wedged between the grille of the blue Rover and the street light, Bodie was stuck. He couldn't move. Gruesomely sandwiched between vehicle and heavy iron, he held on to the little girl as he had done before. She was alright, shocked this time and cried - quietly and upset. Her little fists held on to Bodie's collar as if she would never let go of him again.

"Bodie?!" Fast, but carefully Ray took in what he saw. The driver was dead, hit by the bullet from Doyle's gun. The car was folded around the street light, the front deeply dented in. And Bodie was in between, his body being the buffer. His legs were under the car. His head hung down, unresponsive. He had thrown himself between Marian Blythe and the upcoming car, unable to move as freely and swiftly as he normally would have because of the baby on his arm.

Even though the state he was in, he still held her.

"Bodie? Come on, give her to me. She's safe - it's over. Hold on, buddy. Ambulance is on the way." Ray spoke quietly. Worried like crazy for his partner's uncooperativeness, his silence, his unresponsive attitude, fearing the injuries. His throat turned dry at the thought of the extend of damage to his partner's body. "Come on, Moses. Let go of Bodie." He said, but his voice sounded less confident than he hoped it would.

The little girl reluctantly let go of the big man. But she did seem to recognise his voice, or maybe the tenderness in it, because she hiccuped a few times and stopped crying.

"Comes with the job…" he heard behind him. The words had been spoken unsteadily, shaken.

When Ray looked up, he saw the curly headed woman next to him, supported by Roy Mansfield. Big dark eyes behind spectacles were filled with tears, brought on by shock and fear. Her face was as white as linen. A nasty gash ran across her forehead.

"He said it comes with the job." Was all she said, over and over again.

*****

Kate Ross walked to the waiting room in the hospital. How many times had she been here? She had lost count of all the times she had helped "the sick and the needing", as she would sometimes secretly call the injured agents of the CI5 squad who ended up here.

Her job was to evaluate their progress. How much stress could a person take before he would crack? When was the danger zone close at hand? How long before the agent could be up and about again, without a mental break down being a potential risk?

Rather than dealing with the physical problems and the recuperation, Kate Ross had to take care of the complex inner mind of the people, connected to the crime squad. Psychology had been a great study major and her work so far a good learning school, but this was still harder and tougher than any five year study could teach her.

Doyle was asleep, slumped sideways over a couple of chairs, with his feet up on the arm rests. She looked at him, knowing he'd risk the wrath of Cowley by staying here, right beside his mate. Cowley would tell him he'd be of no use to Bodie or the service and would direct him home to get some sleep.

Sleep alright. Well, he did, finally. Kate reckoned he must have been awake for at least thirty six hours before mister Sandman had finally taken over. She looked at him for a second or two, decided to leave him the way he was and then turned around to see if she could find someone who could tell her more about Bodie.

"He's still not out of the woods." said Doyle, before she could take another step. Foolish of her to think he'd actually not notice her. These men had a sixth sense, a guardian angel on their shoulder to alert them.

"He's hurt pretty bad, Kate." Doyle continued, in vain trying to bring some decency into his crumpled appearance and his wild mop of hair. Red lines, imprints from the chairs, on his pale cheeks showed where how deep asleep he had been.

His green eyes searched hers for a moment. She saw the mixture of hope and despair, written in those expressive mirrors of the soul. Bodie had been a difficult chapter to read, but Doyle was easier, though more complex. Bodie was closed, much to himself and, although at first he seemed rather superficial, there was a lot of sensitivity beneath that carefully engineered layer of indifference. As far as Kate had been able to understand, Bodie was the "here and now is what counts"-kind of guy.

The equally sensitive Ray Doyle, on the other hand, was more the one to keep fretting about things. His mood could turn from good to terrible in just seconds. But that, to Kate, seemed a predictable state. She knew, she had witnessed, that his sense of justice justified those almost irrational angers. And because of that, they just didn't seem so irrational or unpredictable anymore. In contradiction to Bodie's withheld and even mannered attitude, she found Doyle's company agreeably pleasant and enjoyed being around him. She had to admit though, that most fun she had, was when she had been on a double date with Ray and Bodie once. It was as if Bodie's true self had become visible at that moment, briefly but surprisingly nice. She began to vaguely understand what Doyle must see.

That was the moment she had realised how close they were. Of course, in this line of profession partners grew closer than in other jobs, but still - it was remarkable to see how fully they understood each other. A blink of an eye, a nod with the head, an almost unnoticeable gesture - and the other caught the message. The way they talked to each other also showed how much their appreciation and respect for the other had developed. How much they depended on each other to save their hides.

What am I doing here? She suddenly wondered. Ask Ray if he's alright, while all he wants is to have Bodie up and about? How can I offer any support when he's balancing on a high rope and I have no net to catch him when he falls?

"Sit down, Kate." Doyle mumbled. "Glad you could come."

"I came to see how you are."

A deep sigh preceded his words. "Dunno. I'm tired, but I can't go home now."

"Of course you can. The hospital will call if there's any chance."

"No Kate, I can't. I can't sit at home just waiting for the bloody phone to ring."

"Ray - one day it will happen, have you ever thought of that?" Kate knew she came in hazardous water now.

He looked at her, appalled, shocked from her harsh words. A shade of darkness flashed in the tired eyes.

"One day, yeah. When we live in an old people's home. But not today and not tomorrow."

"One day he will get killed in the line of duty. If you don't go first."

His temper rose quickly, he became intoxicated by the thought she was feeding him.

"I won't go first because Bodie will be around to save me. Like he's done before and he'll do that for years to come."

"Right now Bodie is in no condition to save himself, let only you." Kate felt sorry for bringing out the words. She saw the anger flickering in the twitching of his lips.

"For God's sake, you make it sound like I'm married to the guy!"

"Ray, try to understand what I'm telling you. Try to take a step back, try to distance yourself from it. If Bodie dies, it'll kill you if you don't."

She was going to lose this battle, she could see it clearly. He rose, his hands clenched to fists, his body ready to explode.

"Oh, you make it sound so easy, doctor Kate." The disapproving tone is his voice was too clear to be misunderstood. "You think I go home at night and sleep peacefully and be happy next morning at CI5, doing what it is I'm supposed to be doing there."

He hit the wall with his flat hand. A light cloud of white chalk whirled down.

"Well, let me tell you something. I don't. That man in there is the only one who keeps me from losing my sanity. Because he's around to watch my back. Because he picks me up and brings perspective back in things. He's the only one I trust with my life. And if you think I can just walk out of here, pretending I'm alright while Bodie is fighting for his life, then you're wrong…. Doctor Ross."

The 'Kate' had swapped places with 'doctor Ross'. Kate knew it was over. Gone were the trust and confidence she had built up through the months she had known him, smashed instantly in this warm and stuffed waiting room.

Bloody Cowley. Why on earth did I get myself talked in to this? She thought rebelliously. She wiped her hands at her skirt. They felt sweaty.

"Ray…"

"Get out. Get out before I'll escort you out myself." He bit at her. "Turn your psychological crap on someone else." He turned around, left the waiting room and disappeared into the men's room.

Leaving Kate with an overall feeling of sadness, remorse and disdain. A tiny voice whispered inside: comes with the job. But somehow that didn't offer the comfort it usually did.

*****

Slowly Bodie reached the surface of the benevolent warm dark surrounding he was in. Darkness began to fade and turn into a bright light that seemed to come from somewhere above him. The silence that had been tangible, disappeared and its place was taken by beeping and humming.

Voices came from around.

"Look - he's coming round."

"Bodie? Bodie, it's Cowley. Can you hear me?"

"Bodie, if you can hear me, wiggle your fingers." Cowley asked.

But wiggling his fingers was not as easy as it sounded - damn! It took all his concentration to do so. All of a sudden the darkness seemed very tempting again.

The voices of Cowley and - who was that? Ray? - were hovering around him and reached him through a filter of thick clouds.

"That's it, Doyle. Go home, get some sleep. You're of no use to Bodie when you're not fit."

"But sir…". Yes, definitely Doyle. Always counter-arguing.

"No, Doyle. You've been here too long. Go home, that's an order. Tomorrow Bodie will be awake again, and you'll have plenty of opportunity to listen to his complaints about the food and the ugly nurses."

Again Cowley's voice, even further even.

"Bodie? You'll be alright. We'll be back tomorrow."

Another voice, much closer.

"Bodie? You heard the man, gotta go."

Ray, good old Ray. The stuffed feeling was taking over fast - and so was the pain in his entire torso. Sleep, that's what he needed.

"Marian Blythe and Nicolette are okay. Good job."

Marian Blythe? Nicolette? Through the rapidly increasing haze, his mind searched for answers. In a flash it came back, a very short but painfully detailed picture: the approaching Rover, the wild twist when Doyle hit the driver, the frightening upcloseness of the grille, the leather of the woman's coat under his hand, the tight grip on the child he held in his arm, the pain that he witnessed a split second before the lights went out.

Nicolette. Moses. The Bodie-baby.

*****

"Ah, come here you gorgeous. How's my big little girl?"

The girl smiled, showing two little teeth that hadn't been there before.

"Will you look at that? You're growing teeth, Mosey."

In reply she gurgled, smiled and pulled herself steadily up to a standing position, holding on tight to Bodie's hands. She wiggled like a drunkard, squealed happily and then lowered to her behind with a soft bump.

"She's grown. She looks good!" he stated contentedly to Marian Blythe. "So do you, by the way."

She nodded her thanks.

"How do you feel since the last time I visited you?"

"Almost back to my old self." Bodie replied. He was far from feeling 'his old self' but there was no need for Marian to know. The face that had been staring back in the mirror, pale, deep dark circles beneath his eyes and lines around his mouth that he could not remember having seen before, spoke volumes. He was not feeling as usual, but much better than before and not before long he would start on a program to get back in shape and endanger the female section of CI5 again.

And by now, Nicolette's presence cheered him up enough to forget about the pain that still bothered him. Marian looked good indeed - her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were glowing. Even the curls in her hair seemed curlier than before. Nicolette had not forgotten about him. As soon as she sat on his arm, she bundled up again and searched for his eyebrows, like she had done, several months ago. All had turned out well in the end. He had not broken his vow to this little one.

"I'm moving." She announced, when the girl was satisfied against Bodie's shoulder.

"Moving?"

"Yep. Away from Beverley. I found a place in Burlumpton."

He did not miss the reddish glow on her cheeks. He smiled to her obvious embarrassment and couldn't resist the temptation of heating up the fire a bit more.

"That wouldn't happen to do with a certain nice young veterinarian in training, would it?"

She looked caught and shrugged her shoulders with an apologising look.

"He's …errr…he's.."

"He's a great guy. You're lucky with him." Bodie filled in for her. Her relief was so clear that they laughed both. "No need to feel awkward about that."

She started collecting the things in the room that were hers.

"I won't be able to visit you, at least not shortly. I have a lot to do, as you can imagine. And I found a new job, as a teacher. So, I'm kind of pressed for time, I suppose."

Bodie nodded while caressing Nicolette's hair. She was dozing off. He could feel her relaxing as she was taken by sleep. He would miss her, he knew.

"If ever you're around…"

"Sure. Same goes for you."

She picked up the sleeping girl from Bodie's arm. Then she kissed Bodie on the cheek, found his blue eyes and said softly:

"Well, that's it. We'll keep in touch, okay? Bye, Bodie. Take care."

"Goodbye Marian." He kissed her and then placed his lips tenderly on Nicolette's warm temple. "Bye, Nicolette." Don't forget me, Moses. Take care.

A cheeky look reached her dark eyes.

"If ever you should want to take up babysitting as a day time job… don't forget us. I doubt if I can ever find one as good as you."

Bodie grinned. "Comes with the job, ma'am." He saluted stiffly, which made her chuckle.

"Comes with the job. Yeah. Sure." She echoed, her lips curling to the smile he liked.

They left. He hobbled with his crutches to the window. His eyes followed them outside, to where a brown Austin was waiting for them. The man inside, Roy Mansfield, waved. Bodie nodded, unable to let go of the crutches. A curt sound from the car horn and off they were, back to Burlumpton, more than 500 miles to the north.

Bodie swallowed hard. No need to get musty now. She would be fine, that little girl. A dad and the greatest grandparents any child could ask for.

With a sigh he waggled back to the door. Time to go work on his shape again.

*****

Doyle stood in front of the flat, the bouquet of roses in the green wrapper in one hand, a bottle of Chardonnay in the other. He owed somebody an apology.

He had been overreacting, back then in the waiting room of that hospital. Kate Ross had been right. Maybe she had chosen a poor moment to confront him with his own vulnerability, but still - he had crossed a line and things needed to be set straight.

The roses were the front portal to the door that she would open for him. He knew she was not vindictive and a long time ago, when he had dated her on a more frequent base, he had come to know her as warm personality, who was generally interested in him. He did not expect her to close that door in his face. She was susceptible to his charms too, but right now, he knew he had to tell her he had been too hard on her.

Bodie was doing better every day. His progress had taken the mental sting of pain away from Ray's mind. The confusing fish eye lens on society had shape-shifted back to the normal glass through which he viewed the world. Soon, Bodie would be back and Doyle would feel part of a complete team again.

Kate had seen it correctly. One day, one of the two would die. And, looking back at the trouble they had both been in, Ray figured Bodie would be first. Because he would be around to watch his back, and get caught in the crossfire eventually.

He shook himself mentally. Dark clouds were gathering again and he had no intention of having this evening ruined by sombre moods and pitch-black thoughts.

He rang the doorbell. There was plenty of light on in her apartment, so she must be at home. Roses, good wine, some music, a well chosen apology… Kate would forgive him. The thought of her warm body, sleeping against his own, suddenly gave him a pleasant shiver.

The door swung open. A man, dressed in a hastily put on gown, glanced suspiciously at him.

"Yes?"

Doyle was taken aback. Of all the possible lines he had rehearsed, none matched this occasion.

"Err… I'm ..err… is..?" he stuttered faintly.

Behind the man, Kate appeared. She too, was dressed in a gown, night blue, as Doyle remembered it to be. It would hang from a nail in her bedroom door.

Both people did not know how to break the painful silence. The man, obviously aware of the awkwardness of the situation, stepped back and disappeared in the house.

"Ray." Kate looked uncomfortable with her own appearance.

"Kate. I…err… I came to..."

Silence again. Blast, Doyle thought angrily.

"This is not convenient. I'm sorry." He said curtly. He turned on his heels and quickly stepped down the small stairs.

"Ray…! Please… Ray!"

Disappointed, he felt no need to answer her anymore. He threw the roses in an old battered waste bin and jumped in his car. Her voice, calling his name, accompanied him until he left the street where she lived. His jaws hurt from the tension. The sweat that had formed on his back, cooled him off and again he shivered, but this time there was no pleasure.

He drove straight to the rehab where Bodie was placed temporarily. If he were to drink the contents of this bottle, he might just as well do it with the subject of the initial quarrel. His partner sat on the bed, practising with weights when he came in.

"Chardonnay? What have I done to deserve that?"

"Don't ask. Where's the corkscrew?"

"Touchy, are we?"

"Shut it, Bodie. Or I'll drink it alone."

"I'll smack you with my crutches."

"Not if I take them from you first."

"Nag nag nag. Some bedside manners you have."

"Stop whining. How do I get bottle to open?"

"You can shoot of the top. Or use my pocketknife. It's in that cupboard, I think."

Doyle pulled the door open, searched between the neatly folded clothes and personal belongings that had moved with the patient from the hospital to this centre and found the knife. Just as he was about the slam the doors shut again, something caught his eye.

It was a small doll with curly brown hair and glass green eyes.

He took it out.

"What's this, Bodie? I know you can be desperate for female company sometimes, but this…"

Then the coin fell.

"Wait a minute. You bought this for Nicolette, didn't you?"

"Nope." Bodie answered with a smug grin on his face. "Rachel Mansfield had that between the baby stuff. Marian forgot it the other day. Don't you see?"

"See? See what?"

"The striking resemblance between that hair and yours. No wonder she liked to push her fingers in it so much."

"Get that grin from your face. That doll doesn't look like me at all." He threw it on the bed.

"Oh yes it does. That's why I called it the Doyle-doll."

Doyle fetched two glasses from the kitchenette and uncorked the bottle. He took a plastic chair next to Bodie's bed and offered his partner a drink. Bodie seemed miles away, pulling slowly one of the doll's curls until the length of the hair was visible, then let go and watched it jump back to the stiff shape it should be.

"You okay, Bodie?"

"Hm?"

"Great. I'm looking for company and find the woman of my dreams in another man's arms and my partner lost in daydreams. Wonderful."

"I'm not lost - ah, never mind. I was just thinking about…."

Doyle looked at his partner, the face reflecting his inner thoughts.

"About kids, right?"

"Right. She's a sweet child. Gonna make someone really happy one day."

"Sure is. A real Bodie-baby."

"My choice of women is excellent, as usual. And Nicolette is no exception to the rule." Gone was the serious tone, back was the witty spark in the blue eyes.

"Of course. Drink your wine, Bodie."

"A toast then. To a Bodie-baby and a Doyle-doll."

"A toast then. To women and us."

"Cheers, Ray."

"Cheers, Bodie."

"Ray?"

"What?"

"Next time you pay me a visit to drink away your misery, do me a favour?"

"A favour? What?"

"Leave the Château Migraine at home. A few cans of lager will do just nicely."

"Right."

"Bodie?"

"What?"

"If you show that doll to anyone…"

"If I show that doll to anyone… then what?"

"Bodie-baby…"

"Doyle-doll…"

"Shut up, Bodie. Drink your wine."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Doyle, sir."

"Shut up, Bodie."

Elsa, November 2000