Thanks once again to Jennie for the beta. Jen, you're a marvel.

"Take these, Bodie, it'll reduce the pain." The Doctor handed 3.7 a small plastic tube containing about a dozen white pills. He took one out and gave it to Bodie, who obediently put it in his mouth and swallowed it with the water he was given.

"Don't drive, Bodie. A: one arm in plaster makes a lousy driver and B: you just took a drug that slows down your reaction speed. Call a taxi."

Bodie didn't answer but only curtly nodded. He had no intention of leaving the hospital right now. He had to find Ray and find out how he was doing. Clumsily he got to his feet, and still feeling a bit unsteady from the sudden weight of the plaster, made his way out of the First Aid Ward. It didn't take him long to find where Doyle had been taken to - a nurse showed him to the room where his partner and only true friend had been admitted.

At first sight Doyle looked deceivingly normal in between white bed linen and the pastel coloured blanket. A closer look revealed a very pale face, an almost glassy skin texture and an unnatural stillness. Bodie knew that Doyle was fighting a small war underneath the cloth. Just like several years before he again experienced a feeling of helplessness - the fact that he could do nothing to take his partner’s pain away made him feel angry in sheer frustration. That combined with his own misery made him feel particularly unhappy.

He took a chair and sat down next to the bed, facing the window. He could see that it was raining - and not just a bit. It came down as if it wanted to wash away the entire population of the country. He suddenly remembered Marikka, who loved to walk in the rain and once tried to teach him how to say that spring was in the air when you could smell the rain. It sounded like Früh--..., Frük--…, Frühstück? No, that was wrong, Frülung or Früling or something. Thinking about her, about Doyle and watching the grey rain added even more gloom to Bodie's mood.

His mind wandered off to other things that happened in the past. Strangely enough it always happened in these circumstances that old cases came back to haunt him. When a case was closed Bodie never gave it second thought. But somehow it always pushed itself to the surface in the most unexpected moments.

Clearly he recalled how they'd been exchanging thoughts in a hallway when they were on a job one night. They had talked about a will - no actually, Doyle had asked if Bodie had one. Without another thought Bodie had, at the time, put his signature beneath a declaration on one sheet of paper that dealt with all his affairs. After working with Doyle for a while, he had made an alteration in favour of 4.5. Doyle didn't know that, and there was no reason for him to. During his years before CI5 Bodie had seen many men dividing their belongings amongst their partners. Why bother about long forgotten nephews, nieces and cousins if the ones you relied on most were right beside you all the time?

He realised he didn't know if Doyle had one. Probably, yeah. Would he be in it? Would he be mentioned, would he be given that which was Doyle's? Would he be able to accept it? Would he be able to hold those tiny tin soldiers that Doyle collected, without losing his cool exterior? A sudden rush of morbid melancholy threatened to overwhelm him and he shook his head to chase the dark clouds away.

A nurse came in. He knew her, had even dated her a couple of times - her name was Susanne Young.

"Bodie? I heard about what happened. How are you?"

Grateful for the distraction, he replied, "As can be expected. Won't be doing much tennis for a while though."

She giggled. "As if you ever went to the club for tennis, Bodie." She turned to the pale man in the bed and performed the standard actions that Bodie had come to recognise over the years as a quick but thorough check up. "He does seem a little better than when they brought him in. He's not so cold anymore. However, it doesn't look like he’ll wake up today."

She turned to him and smiled gingerly. Her light blonde hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks gave her a healthy appearance, especially in this unpleasant environment. She put a hand on his shoulder and said gently: "Why don't you go home Bodie, and get some sleep? I'll promise to call you if there's any chance. But don't worry, I'm certain he'll pull through."

"I can't leave Susanne. I want to stay here. Be there when he wants to discuss my credo."

She raised a questioning eyebrow - clearly she couldn't follow him. But she was quick-witted and replied: "Well, he won't be able to do that for a while, so plenty of time to adjust it if you're conscience is bother you, Bodie."

"My conscience bothering me?" he said, surprised.

"You were the one who once said you believed in you, because you were born tall, dark and beautiful. Isn't that right?"

Bodie was dumbfounded. Where did she get that from?

"Obviously it doesn't take much to make you believe in others too." she concluded and lovingly and carefully ran her fingers through Doyle's hair. It was obvious that she'd been dating more than one CI5-agent.

"Go home, Bodie. He'll be awake tomorrow and you can talk to him until his ears fall off. Now get out of here."

"I won't be able to sleep," he complained.

"Then start counting sheep. Do multiplication tables. Think of a story. Recite your memoirs. Go home and get some rest."

She was right and he knew it. With a sigh he stood up, a bit off balance by the asymmetrical weight he'd gained. Susanne had lightened his heavy mood and he was grateful for it. He kissed her gently, suddenly overcome by a change of mood and whispered expectantly: "I am tall, dark and beautiful, don't you agree?"

But he had reckoned without his host. From the bed behind him croaked Ray's voice, thick with drowsiness.

"Yeah - and engagingly modest."

"Of course. Hullo Ray."

"Course. 'lo Bodie. Bye Bodie. Go count sheep."

In the corridor, on his way to the awaiting taxi, he suddenly knew it: "Es regnet - und riechst du das? Frühling ist in der Luft."

Elsa © April 2001   Feedback? Yes, please: mail me!