21st December 2020
Dec. 21st, 2020 09:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ci5hq‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
By TM Pearson
The hall clock said 11.45pm when Doyle squelched himself through his front door and dropped the keys on the table below. He slammed the door shut with a heartfelt, “Shit!”, trying to remove his sodden ripped jacket with one hand whilst setting the locks with the other. Both gloveless hands were frozen and he didn’t much like his chances of getting his gun out of its holster without dropping the damn thing and ruining the sight. At least with the safety on he couldn’t shoot himself in the foot. Given how bad the day had gotten that really would set him up for a wonderful Christmas.
Toeing of his shoes, he shuffled into the kitchen ignoring the lights coming from the living room. He didn’t want to see the brightly lit Christmas tree in the corner , glowing like – well a damn Christmas tree -; that was all Bodie’s fault. Bodie and his liking for electronic gadgets and Christmas tree lights on a timer. It couldn’t go off soon enough for Doyle. He glared at the hapless kettle, as he filled it up and plugged it in. This Christmas was setting up to be one of the worse of his entire life and given his history of shitty Christmases that was saying something.
It wasn’t all thanks to Terrance “ Terry” McQuire, bomb maker extraordinaire. Although our Terry was responsible for Doyle’s cracked ribs, battered body and head injury ( which wasn’t concussion but he’d probably not notice the difference tomorrow morning). Terry was also responsible for inadvertently saving Doyle’s life. Of course he hadn’t mean’t to but for a man clever enough to make the type of bombs Terry was famous for, he hadn’t twigged that Ci5 would have agent on the backstairs to ensure the startled bomber didn’t escape their clutches. They had grappled on the stairs, Terry had slipped heading downwards and dragging Doyle along with him. Terryhad barely a second to go “Fuck” on the landing when Doyle had landed right on top of him.
Well, Terry was going to have a Christmas he wouldn’t forget – a broken leg, three broken ribs , some spectacular bruising ( Doyle’s landing hadn’t been kind) and a Ci5 interrogation special by Agents who were already disgruntled at having pulled Christmas Duty this year and not adverse to taking it out on the hapless Terry.
No, it wasn’t all thanks to Terry that this Christmas had been ruined before it began. Doyle made his tea and carried it into the bedroom, by passing the living room again. He didn’t want to be reminded of yet another Christmas that wasn’t going to be all he hoped for. Stupid of him to hope in the first place, he thought placing the cup on the bedside table and heading towards the shower. He of all people should know better. What he really needed was to get out of his wet clothing, have a good hot shower and go to bed. He’d be able to deal with everything much better after some sleep. When was the last time he’d actually slept - in a bed? For longer than two hours? Two days ago? Three? He couldn’t quite remember. It seemed a long time ago.
No wonder his mind felt as numb as his body at the moment. It was bloody freezing out there. The rain of the past few days had given way to icy coldness and the hint of snow and he’d been in it for the last three hours - apart for the half hour in A&E getting patched up. With his luck they’d have a white Christmas and he’d be stuck in the flat with a thawing turkey , mince pies and a large Christmas pud for as his only company. That and the Queen’s Message. To think he’d thought their luck was in this year.
When the roster came up and both he and Bodie were not on it, Doyle had been shocked. They’d pulled Christmas Duty for the past four years. Apparently it had finally been noticed and the Cow had decided to be kind for once…well not so much kind as forced to by their own Ice Maiden, Dr Kate Ross. The good doctor had looked at the agents hours and discovered that a certain 3.7 and 4.5 had been constantly doing far more hours than any other agent for the past few years. Result three whole weeks off starting on 25th December. Bodie had been ecstatic and before Doyle knew what was happening, his fridge had been stuffed with the aforementioned turkey, mince pies, Christmas Pud plus a small Christmas Cake along with cheeses and other goodies that no self-respecting Christmas could be without. Bodie had invited himself to stay at Doyle’s on the understanding that Doyle was doing all the cooking. And Doyle had been looking forward to Christmas ever since. The first time he’d actually looked forward to a Christmas in twenty-four years.
Four days ago, it had all gone to hell in a hand basket. Doyle had been sent to accompany Murphy on wee side trip to talk to a snitch and he returned to HQ a couple of hours later to hear that Bodie had gone to parts unknown; on Private Personal Business and would be away until 8th January.
Doyle had been aware only then of how much he had been looking forward to this Christmas and how much faith he had placed on Bodie being there with him to share it. He’d still expected to hear from Bodie – just a quick callwould have done. But so far nothing and it was now…. Christmas.
The only people out now would be the ones going to the late night Christmas church services. He’d heard the distance bells calling to each other, announcing the various services that would be on tonight.
Doyle finished his shower and knew he was warming up when the various bruises and injuries started to make themselves known in no uncertain terms. His head throbbed lightly and he fumbled for the paper bag that held the only painkillers he would actually take.
Swallowing them down with his now cold tea, he noticed the living room was now dark. The timer must have gone off at midnight and the only light in the flat now came from the street lamps through open curtains he couldn’t be bothered to close.
He crawled into bed and wondered what he had ever done in his past to keep getting stuck falling in love with the wrong people. There was a list a mile long; the last one of note was Ann Holly and she had only really been a distraction – a way of avoiding the deepening feelings he had for his partner. It hadn’t worked.
Their burgeoning relationship after a series of close calls, had seem them moved from good friends to lovers. Yet Doyle could not blind himself to the truth. Bodie saw their relationship as partners with benefits - he didn’t do steady or love and romance was for the girls; Doyle knew all that with his head but his heart couldn’t quite grasp the message. It was – as ever – his own downfall. His one big fault. He could never quite extinguish that last little ray of hope – that one last ray of sunshine. The thought amused him, given the number of times he’d been called Sunshine. But still he clung to the dreamt that perhaps, just perhaps Bodie felt more for him that he’d ever admit to.
At least he’d never let Bodie suspect there was anything more between them. Doyle had never let on that he loved his partner. Bodie would never know that little fact. It would mean an end to everything if Bodie ever found out. And with that depressing and uncomforting thought, Doyle fell asleep.
By TM Pearson
The hall clock said 11.45pm when Doyle squelched himself through his front door and dropped the keys on the table below. He slammed the door shut with a heartfelt, “Shit!”, trying to remove his sodden ripped jacket with one hand whilst setting the locks with the other. Both gloveless hands were frozen and he didn’t much like his chances of getting his gun out of its holster without dropping the damn thing and ruining the sight. At least with the safety on he couldn’t shoot himself in the foot. Given how bad the day had gotten that really would set him up for a wonderful Christmas.
Toeing of his shoes, he shuffled into the kitchen ignoring the lights coming from the living room. He didn’t want to see the brightly lit Christmas tree in the corner , glowing like – well a damn Christmas tree -; that was all Bodie’s fault. Bodie and his liking for electronic gadgets and Christmas tree lights on a timer. It couldn’t go off soon enough for Doyle. He glared at the hapless kettle, as he filled it up and plugged it in. This Christmas was setting up to be one of the worse of his entire life and given his history of shitty Christmases that was saying something.
It wasn’t all thanks to Terrance “ Terry” McQuire, bomb maker extraordinaire. Although our Terry was responsible for Doyle’s cracked ribs, battered body and head injury ( which wasn’t concussion but he’d probably not notice the difference tomorrow morning). Terry was also responsible for inadvertently saving Doyle’s life. Of course he hadn’t mean’t to but for a man clever enough to make the type of bombs Terry was famous for, he hadn’t twigged that Ci5 would have agent on the backstairs to ensure the startled bomber didn’t escape their clutches. They had grappled on the stairs, Terry had slipped heading downwards and dragging Doyle along with him. Terryhad barely a second to go “Fuck” on the landing when Doyle had landed right on top of him.
Well, Terry was going to have a Christmas he wouldn’t forget – a broken leg, three broken ribs , some spectacular bruising ( Doyle’s landing hadn’t been kind) and a Ci5 interrogation special by Agents who were already disgruntled at having pulled Christmas Duty this year and not adverse to taking it out on the hapless Terry.
No, it wasn’t all thanks to Terry that this Christmas had been ruined before it began. Doyle made his tea and carried it into the bedroom, by passing the living room again. He didn’t want to be reminded of yet another Christmas that wasn’t going to be all he hoped for. Stupid of him to hope in the first place, he thought placing the cup on the bedside table and heading towards the shower. He of all people should know better. What he really needed was to get out of his wet clothing, have a good hot shower and go to bed. He’d be able to deal with everything much better after some sleep. When was the last time he’d actually slept - in a bed? For longer than two hours? Two days ago? Three? He couldn’t quite remember. It seemed a long time ago.
No wonder his mind felt as numb as his body at the moment. It was bloody freezing out there. The rain of the past few days had given way to icy coldness and the hint of snow and he’d been in it for the last three hours - apart for the half hour in A&E getting patched up. With his luck they’d have a white Christmas and he’d be stuck in the flat with a thawing turkey , mince pies and a large Christmas pud for as his only company. That and the Queen’s Message. To think he’d thought their luck was in this year.
When the roster came up and both he and Bodie were not on it, Doyle had been shocked. They’d pulled Christmas Duty for the past four years. Apparently it had finally been noticed and the Cow had decided to be kind for once…well not so much kind as forced to by their own Ice Maiden, Dr Kate Ross. The good doctor had looked at the agents hours and discovered that a certain 3.7 and 4.5 had been constantly doing far more hours than any other agent for the past few years. Result three whole weeks off starting on 25th December. Bodie had been ecstatic and before Doyle knew what was happening, his fridge had been stuffed with the aforementioned turkey, mince pies, Christmas Pud plus a small Christmas Cake along with cheeses and other goodies that no self-respecting Christmas could be without. Bodie had invited himself to stay at Doyle’s on the understanding that Doyle was doing all the cooking. And Doyle had been looking forward to Christmas ever since. The first time he’d actually looked forward to a Christmas in twenty-four years.
Four days ago, it had all gone to hell in a hand basket. Doyle had been sent to accompany Murphy on wee side trip to talk to a snitch and he returned to HQ a couple of hours later to hear that Bodie had gone to parts unknown; on Private Personal Business and would be away until 8th January.
Doyle had been aware only then of how much he had been looking forward to this Christmas and how much faith he had placed on Bodie being there with him to share it. He’d still expected to hear from Bodie – just a quick callwould have done. But so far nothing and it was now…. Christmas.
The only people out now would be the ones going to the late night Christmas church services. He’d heard the distance bells calling to each other, announcing the various services that would be on tonight.
Doyle finished his shower and knew he was warming up when the various bruises and injuries started to make themselves known in no uncertain terms. His head throbbed lightly and he fumbled for the paper bag that held the only painkillers he would actually take.
Swallowing them down with his now cold tea, he noticed the living room was now dark. The timer must have gone off at midnight and the only light in the flat now came from the street lamps through open curtains he couldn’t be bothered to close.
He crawled into bed and wondered what he had ever done in his past to keep getting stuck falling in love with the wrong people. There was a list a mile long; the last one of note was Ann Holly and she had only really been a distraction – a way of avoiding the deepening feelings he had for his partner. It hadn’t worked.
Their burgeoning relationship after a series of close calls, had seem them moved from good friends to lovers. Yet Doyle could not blind himself to the truth. Bodie saw their relationship as partners with benefits - he didn’t do steady or love and romance was for the girls; Doyle knew all that with his head but his heart couldn’t quite grasp the message. It was – as ever – his own downfall. His one big fault. He could never quite extinguish that last little ray of hope – that one last ray of sunshine. The thought amused him, given the number of times he’d been called Sunshine. But still he clung to the dreamt that perhaps, just perhaps Bodie felt more for him that he’d ever admit to.
At least he’d never let Bodie suspect there was anything more between them. Doyle had never let on that he loved his partner. Bodie would never know that little fact. It would mean an end to everything if Bodie ever found out. And with that depressing and uncomforting thought, Doyle fell asleep.
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no subject
Date: 2020-12-21 09:27 pm (UTC)Is it?
Date: 2020-12-21 10:46 pm (UTC)Re: Is it?
Date: 2020-12-22 08:35 am (UTC)RE: Is it?
Date: 2020-12-22 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-12-22 01:52 pm (UTC)Well
Date: 2020-12-22 06:44 pm (UTC)She doesn’t post on public sites so rather hard to recommend but I liked the fic🤣
Re: Well
Date: 2020-12-27 09:41 pm (UTC)