The world stops. Doyle hangs over me at a peculiar angle but he doesn't move. Murphy, I can see him from this place, is standing on the quay and does… nothing. They are motionless. I feel how the water, so cold it doesn't even seem real, paralyses my body. It's not restricted to that part of me that is in the water - no. It creeps up, squeezes my heart like pliers and takes my breath away. It has come as high as my arm pits already.

Doyle, Ray! Do something, man! What are you standing there for, looking like a fool? Get that glassy look from your face and move that arse of yours. Wiggle the jack and get me out before I join my mother in the here after.

This is unbelievable. I'm going to drown or freeze to death and Doyle here just waits, watches and sees it happen. And he does… nothing. Thanks for nothing, buster. If ever I have to rescue you from a bunch of terrorists who break your ribs or shoot you in the arm, don't count me in any more.

I don't believe this! Hey! Doyle! Wake up!

My God, is this water cold. I could do with a nap, despite the cold. Why now? Now, of all moments, I want to sleep now? What's that sound I hear? My heart? My teeth? I can't remember that drumming - must be on the radio. No, the radio wasn't on. Must be my heartbeat then. Sounds like a little drummer boy…. nice title to a Christmas song. Yeah - you want to produce a hit for Christmas - call Bodie. 3.7.

I can't resist. I have to close my eyes. Just have to - for ten seconds.

Doyle was experiencing a strange sensation that he could not understand. Was it the cold or the fear that made his movements so slow? And why didn't Murphy move? Something he had seen on TV once, popped to the surface: La Linea. A little bloke on a line, impatient and hot-tempered, drawn in one curve with the ground, that moved the way the artist wanted him to.
Doyle felt the same. It was as if somebody else was telling him what to do, and he couldn't control his own motions. His limbs were like lead, losing every sense of touch as he remained with one arm in the water. The fabric of Bodie's trousers caressed his hand.

"Bodie." Even his voice didn't sound like his own, coming from far away and having a peculiar curve to it.

But Bodie's eyes were fluttering, the blue of the irises hidden by the eyelids and the long dark lashes. He didn't answer, he only shivered and hissed and breathed erratically.

"Bodie, stay awake. Don't you dare go to sleep while I'm doing the work." Doyle grunted and with every effort he could rise, he moved the jack. Up and down, up and down, up and down. He tried to keep the clattering of his teeth under control and visualised the warmth that would be released in his body from this hard labour.

"Murph! Get me a rope! Help me!" he tried to scream but again his voice had no strength and from the corner of his eyes he could see Murphy still standing there, immobile, unchanged.

Hey… he's here again. He's moving the jack, I can feel it. His arm moves slowly and he's cursing and screaming at me, I think. Sure, the position is very uncomfortable but don't forget Ray, that *I* am the one suffering here? There's no need to scream. I *did* hurt my ankle this morning you know. And besides - Nathalie wasn't even there. We have a date tomorrow. Lovely… of course she could not resist my handsome features and ever so loveable presence, right? Eat your heart out, Doyle. I've got her before you do. She's nothing for you, way out of your league. Heehee.

Will you get a move on! I'm cold. I'd give the world for a hot cuppa now… or the warm legs of Nathalie around me.

Doyle saw Bodie swallow and felt a surge of relief for a second or two. He was still around, he hadn't fallen into a state of indifference yet.

"Bodie?"

Very faint an answer came.

"Wha'?"

"It's almost loose, I've almost got you free. Hang on, Murph is coming with blanket."

"You're l-l-lying through your t-t-t-teeth, Doyle. Murph hasn't m-m-moved an inch since… since…" Bodie's voice was so soft, Doyle could hardly hear it. Rattling sounded as his teeth hit each other in a spasm of cold.

"Murph! Murphy! Get a blanket!" Doyle screamed.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?" Despite the chill Doyle perspired from the excertion. But he thought he could feel the steel moving and stubbornly moved the jack up and down.

"If you get-t-t me out of-f-f-f here…"

"Then what?"

"I'll m-m-make your t-t-t-tea for the rest of m-m-m-my life."

Doyle grinned, despite the situation.

"I don't like your brew. Tastes likes old shoes."

"C-c-c…cold." Bodie stammered, barely audible, his head only five inches from the icy water.

"Yes - it is. Damn cold. Hang in there."

"I've got it!" Doyle felt jubilant as Bodie's leg suddenly came loose and the pressure on the jack held the dented car far enough apart to pull the agent out.

Doyle wasn't sure anymore who was colder - him or Bodie. Even though he had been perspiring, he couldn't stop shaking from the bitter sting that ran through his soaked clothing and froze the skin beneath. But Bodie… the eyes, that had opened just minutes earlier, the mocking smile that played around the corners of his blueish lips - they had lost their depth.

"Bodie!" With every last bit of energy still left in his body, Doyle dragged his partner away from the wreck and the dark water. Murphy stood on the quay, holding a blanket in his arms. But further than that, he resembled a salt pillar more than a human.

And Doyle too, felt exhausted. He was so tired, so cold and so close to throwing in the towel, that it struck him as he panted for air. His legs gave way when he tried to move further away, towards the quay. He wrapped his arms around Bodie in a last weak attempt to offer his partner some warmth, or even some comfort maybe.

"Murhp…" Doyle's voice sounded weak. Their life line - what was happening? Who was cutting the spinal cord and allowed them to die on this sheet of frozen Thames water?

The darkness that descended on Doyle was almost warm and welcoming.

"Doyle…"

Nothing.

"Ray…."

Still nothing.

"F-ff-for P-p-pete's sake… Ray! Get-t-t off-ff m-m-me."

I feel his body, the thick leather jacket with the teddy fur lining against my hands. He's a good lad, Ray Doyle, but he fusses too much. That is, by the way, what he keeps telling others about me. Or so I'm told.

God, am I cold. I suddenly realise I'm lying on ice. And it occurs to me that Doyle is not very responsive.

"'ey, Ray?" I try to shake him but my hands refuse service. I want to push him aside with my legs and feet, but they don't answer my calls either.

"Ray! Wake Up!" I cry angrily. "D-d-don't s-s-s-leep in C-c-c-Cowley's time." I can't help stuttering, it comes with the cold. My jaw rattles like I'm on old man with false teeth.

Then, the curls stir, as the head moves slowly.

A green eye opens and looks at me in vague confusion.

"Get-t-t me out-t-t-t of here." I rattle.

I hear him grumble and curse.

"I didn't pass out. I never pass out. That was something else, controlling me."

Huh?

He gets to his hands and knees, then a little unsteadily to his feet and finally he stands up and pulls me by my arms to the quay. I leave a red trail - I'm bleeding from one of my legs.

I don't feel it. It's absolutely numb.

But not for long. As Murphy covers me with a blanket, which has as little effect as a drop of water in an endless ocean (but still, it's the thought that counts) life starts pouring back into my muted limbs.

I can't help moaning. My legs have been jammed, wedged between steel plates and ice and now that the blood circulation is starting to work again, it feels like somebody is pricking me with thousands of needles. I'm losing it - I'm gonna pass out.

"'ey… - I'm gonna pass out."

"No you're not."

You bet your life, I am…

*

After being treated for hypothermia, Ray Doyle left for home. Bodie needed some stitching and had to stay the night for observation. His silent acceptance proved he wasn't feeling very well, otherwise he would have grunted crabbily and escaped the hospital in the first possible moment.

Outside the hospital parking lot, he found, to his surprise, Cowley waiting.

"A lift, Doyle?"

"Thanks, sir."

"You and Bodie have been able to lose yet another Capri from our car park?"

"'m afraid so, sir. It's on the bottom of the Thames."

"Murphy tells me you and Bodie were nearly there as well."

"Jax?" Doyle quickly stepped over Cowley's remarks.

"Alright, although he'll be out of service for a few weeks."

"Good. And the IRA-men in the black Volkswagen?"

"Dead, all three of them."

Doyle yawned, he was tired to the bone and couldn't hide it from his boss.

"Well done, Doyle. It was a close call. For both Murphy and Bodie, so I'm told."

"They had heavy weapons sir. Murphy wouldn't have lasted much longer. And as for Bodie… It was so damn cold, you wouldn't believe it."

Cowley's face was gentle all of a sudden. He pointed to the glove compartment.

"There's some fine malt in there. That'll warm you up."

Doyle opened the lid and found the little flask Cowley had been referring to. He unscrewed it and took a sip. The strong liquor burnt his stomach and left a warm tingling sensation.

"Bodie doesn't give up easily. Must have been hell in that water."

"No, Ray, he doesn't give up easily. That's for sure."

Skilfully he manoeuvred the car through the traffic.

"I offered you a sip, not the entire bottle. "

"Yes, sir. No, sir."

"Did you know, by the way, that tomorrow Bodie already has a date with nurse Nathalie?"

"Emm… yes sir, he told me."

"So the ankle was an excuse?"

"No sir. I think it was the real thing."

For a few minutes, Cowley didn't reply and kept his eyes on the traffic lights. Then he continued:

"It doesn't have to do with the fact that you have a date with her tonight, does it?"

Doyle had closed his eyes and leant his head against the head rest. There was no beating Cowley, he should have known. That ought to teach him a lesson.

Exhaustion took over as the winter sun shone on his face. Even without noticing he slipped into the soothing embrace of sleep. Cowley saw him drifting off, the pale face finally regaining a little of its colour and the tensed lines between the eyes softening by the sleep.

"You don't give up easily either, Ray." he mumbled contentedly.