Ray cracked open an eye and looked at the digital clock. The large red numbers glowed evilly in the room and announced that it was four a.m. He turned onto his back and scratched at his stomach, the unease spread over him like a shroud as he caressed the sleeping form of his partner.

Wisdom, he reflected, often perpetuates the myth of intelligence. He frowned, he knew he was not especially wise, but something had kept him alive. When others had perished in the dangerous game of mistrust and deceit, he had lived. There were times that he viewed his coming days with something akin to distaste. He knew that he could have a life away from all of the pain and darkness he was forced to walk with. Yet, to abandon the innocents to the hidden creatures that coiled sinuously around every moral and pleasant fibre of humanity was not something he felt he could do.

In retrospect it had been no surprise when he joined CI5, nor was it particularly enlightening that he had taken his partner as his lover. Perhaps, he mused, somewhere in the dawn of hope he had lost his own hope, knowing full well that to bring a wife and children into this life was unconscionable. He could not allow an innocent to become a pawn in the vicious battles, or worse still, leave them alone to fend for themselves. Knowing that any wife would have to work herself too hard to make sure that their child had a life, growing old before her time? No, he had seen that too many times before, had been the one to deliver the sorry speech to the widows. He was not, he reflected, a brave man where that was concerned.

Too young he had walked the mean streets alone. Too soon he had lost friends in the eternal war. Too easily he had walked the tightrope of self-destruction when his trust in mankind and himself had failed. Too many friends he had buried leaving grieving partners and children. The empty futility and lost hungry eyes turned to him, and in them he saw the bleakness they felt.

He turned and ran his hand again down his partner's sleep-warmed body, partly to dispel the shadows, mainly to remember how to believe. He saw the strength that lay beneath the velvet skin, he had seen the love in the eyes and the knowledge clear and determined that he would die for this man. Should God choose to be omnipotent then they would die together. That was a future he could envisage and now nothing else mattered.

Ray turned his face toward Bodie and away from the glow of the rising sun, the feeling nagged at him, scratched at a corner of his consciousness. The very wrongness of the events gave him some comfort; it was when they had a break in the case he knew that they were being manipulated. That someone else had control over what was happening and that someone had an agenda that did not bode well for any of them.

Christian was determined to destroy Napoleon and Illya, and they had somehow, inexplicably become entwined in his revenge. Ray felt himself drawn to the other men, seeing in their eyes the same love and trust mirrored in his own for his partner.

The first time he admitted that he was in love and it made him heady with delight. It was as if for a moment his heart had learned how to fly on its own and the simple joy of the moment, would never be foreshadowed. Bodie had never told him of his own feelings but still in his inimitable way had long before claimed him as surely as he was claimed now. That would never change, the trust had never been lost or compromised.

But within the mire of the past Bodie had moved passed the carefully built guards and shields he had constructed, past all the ability to cope alone and be strong in his solitude and had shown him, in a few short weeks what it was like to belong again.

Bodie moved in his sleep, his strong arm encircled his waist to pull him close, even in his dreams Bodie knew Ray was confused and offered that solid anchor which always brought him back to the real world.

Almost on the wings of comfort Ray soared, knowing that never again did he need to be alone, that never again did he need to fear for his partner, that surely life would be kind to both of them and they would emerge relatively unscathed.

For a moment, it was a dream he almost believed.

Bodie moved slowly, his breathing coming in shallower drafts announcing his return to wakefulness and Ray closed his eyes again, hoping that the questions would never be asked.

“Do you remember, Ray?” Bodie asked softly into his partner’s ear. The hot breathe tickling the fine hair and sent shudders across Doyle’s form.

“Remember what?” Ray drew his hand across his partner’s chest.

“The first time I told you I loved you?”

Ray laughed, somehow the fact he was known so well brought him to the verge of concern and then he would look into the trust filled eyes of his lover and know it was a good thing.

“How could I forget? You, sunshine, were so drunk.”

“I was drunk?” Bodie admonished pulling himself up on an elbow to stare down into the ethereal face.

“Okay, I was drunk.”

“Not only drunk. Blind, rolling, crying drunk.”

“Hey, I resent that.”

“Don’t.” Bodie answered as he fingered a heavy curl. “I came close to going after her for you.”

“To do what?” Ray opened his eyes and looked up into features as familiar as his own.

“Don’t know.” Bodie answered with a small shrug. “Maybe tear her heart out like she tore yours. All I remember was that look in your eyes, like a child who had just found out Christmas was real and then lost it brutally.”

“Oh, Bodie.” Ray caressed the strong jaw. “Ann is the one who lost, not me. I won you.” Ray tilted his head up to kiss his lover.

“You always had me Ray, from the start.” Bodie whispered into the tender lips that skimmed his own.

“Just too stupid to see I think.”

“No, it was a big step for you Ray, very big.”

Ray frowned as he curled against his partner’s chest.

“I never asked Ray, but I suspect I am the only man you have ever slept with.”

Ray felt the colour rise to his cheeks as he buried his face in the velvet soft skin. “Only one I wanted.”

“I often feel guilty about that.”

“What?” Ray asked startled by the frank admission.

“Oh, a lot of things, Ann hurt you. I mean really hurt you, and the same night I get you drunk and you wake up in my bed with me professing undying love to you. Sometimes I think I took unfair advantage of you.”

“That was a long time ago Bodie, besides, if you had I would not still be here.”

“Yes so you say. Oh hell, Ray.” Bodie rolled onto his back, “It would kill me if you left, but I would let you go, if that makes sense.”

“Go? To what?”

Bodie looked away, the morning sun gracing the room by steady degrees. “If you found a woman that you wanted. You know, kids and all that?”

“Hey love, nothing,” Ray guided his lover's face back with a gentle hand, “will ever take me from you. Not then, not now. Someday soon you will have to believe that.”

“I do believe it.”

“But sometimes it’s difficult?” Ray moved closer and snuggled into the warmth.

“Impossible,” Bodie admitted.

“I have never given you any reason to doubt me sunshine. You should know I would never dishonour you or myself for that matter by catting around.”

“I know, I know, but dammit, I see they way they look at you. The birds and the fella’s. You’re so beautiful, Ray.”

“I am?”

Bodie fell upon his partner and began to attack all the sensitive places on the writhing torso. They were a hairs breadth away from things getting interesting when Ray’s RT sounded. Bodie smiled as he watched the lithe body move across the bed and grasp it with one hand.

“Four Five.”

“Ah good morning gentlemen,” Cowley’s rich brogue cut through the room.

“Morning sir.” Bodie said into the speaker Doyle held up.

“A local pimp has reported two of his best boys have gone missing, supposed to be out for an all night with a gentleman. He almost fits the composite we currently have of Christian. Bank draft details have given us a lead which we are running now.”

“Almost sir?” Doyle asked.

“Aye this man could have been your suspect, hair colour has changed and it’s sketchy.”

“He paid by bankdraft? I didn’t know whores were so expensive.” Bodie muttered.

“Aye laddie, they are when they come from this particular stable.”

“O’Malley’s?” Doyle asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, running a hand through his dishevelled curls.

“Precisely. Rouse your two UNCLE agents and meet me at HQ immediately.”

“Yes sir.” Doyle pulled on his clothing. “Oh sir, any news yet from Murphy and Jax?”

“No, Murphy hasn’t checked in, Wilson is on it now. We’ll discuss it when you arrive.”

“Yes sir, running all the way, sir.” Bodie smiled grimly as he pulled on his clothes.

“Four five out.”

Clad only in his jeans and socks Doyle stopped by the window, his face pinched in lines of guilt and pain.

“Hey Sunshine, they’re not dead yet.”

“No, but I knew Bodie.”

“No you suspected, Sunshine.”

Ray looked up, “Bodie, I know this sounds daft but I knew when we got a break. This Christian has been so careful not to get caught up to now. He’s baiting us, giving us too many clues to work from.”

Bodie pulled on a cashmere sweater and turned to look at his partner. “You think he is running us?”

“I don’t think Sunshine, I know he is.”

“He could of course just be getting cocky.”

“No, I don’t think so. This one is too committed, too orchestrated. Everything he has or does is to a plan. We just don’t see it yet.”

“What about Murphy?”

“I spoke to him last night, said he was going in to take a look around Claude’s.”

“And has promptly failed to check in with you or base?”

“So it seems.”

“Grab some food, I’ll wake up UNCLE’s finest.” Bodie pulled his shoulder holster into place and slipped his leather jacket over the top.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Bodie pounded on the door across the hall for precisely ten seconds before he flung it open. As he made his way into the darkened room he was greeted with the business end of two UNCLE Specials. One pointed directly at his heart from Solo’s gun the other clicked into place next to his temple. Bodie didn’t move a muscle.

“Has anyone ever told you that suddenly waking an agent on active assignment can be bad for your health.” Illya asked as he put the gun away in its holster.

“Evidently not, don’t you two ever relax?” the tension eased out of Bodie as he stood in the room, only just realizing that both men were dressed and the bed was made.

“Not when we are on assignment. No matter how friendly the natives are,” Solo answered as he pulled on his tailored overcoat.

“I suspect that your Mr. Cowley has just informed you of the two boys gone missing from O’Malley’s,” Illya surmised.

“Good news travels fast,” Bodie muttered.

“Bad news even faster,” Illya added.

“Gets better, our agent Murphy went to take a look at Claude’s residence and has not been heard from since.”

“Didn’t he have back up?” Illya’s tone bordered on annoyed.

“Of course.”

“Then how?” Solo asked.

“That I don’t know, but the Cow wants us in his office immediately.”

“Then I suggest we don’t keep him waiting.” Solo smiled and stepped through the door.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

Cowley paused a few moments to look at the four men in his office, two sleek and elegant hunters sat comfortably at his desk. Solo and Bodie, both good men, dangerous yet capable of great loyalty and even greater anger. Especially when their partners were compromised. Doyle leaned against the window staring out into the watery hue of the car park, almost lost to the melody of the rain pelting down on the cars. Never underestimate that one, Doyle was sharp, in everything. Maybe one day sharp enough to take his place. And then the last, the slight man dressed in simple black, even down to the glasses that he currently wore. The white blonde hair shone against the dark attire.

Cowley had read their personal history files, as much as Alexander had wanted him to and was impressed. The Russian was not only the best marksman UNCLE NY had, but he held twin doctorates and was a trained scientist. Why he chose enforcement many could not fathom, but Cowley looked into the intelligent blue eyes and knew that it was a role he was born to. He understood the need to prove himself and he imagined that Illya had had a lot to prove to a lot of people, many of whom sought to control him simply because of how he looked. Like Doyle, underestimating Illya would be a grave mistake.

“Bank draft details have given us a surname, Langford, Christian Langford. Arrived in the country via France on the fourteenth of last month.” Cowley dropped the information onto his desk.

Illya looked up and took off his glasses, carefully folded them and put them in his pocket. “We have come across that name before. In Denmark from memory.”

“On the Andersson case.” Solo leaned forward and read the documents before him.

“Da. Andersson, he was the multi-national business man who found a way of immobilizing the telecommunications industry with his sonar.” Illya smiled.

“Aye, how did Langford fit in?” Cowley finally took his seat. It seemed to the assembled men, the old man had to pace when he was thinking, that to move, somehow helped him to rationalize things out. All of them saw the limp, and the pained expression he wore, none of them were prepared however, to comment on it.

“Langford was one of Andersson’s contacts for the sale of his device to THRUSH, we got there twenty minutes too late. His body turned up several days later at a bus depot,” Solo answered.

“Nice,” Bodie drawled, almost, but not quiet sarcastically.

“We’ll run the information through the UNCLE computers and see what other links we can come up with. Any word on your man going after Claude?” Solo asked as he gathered his information together.

Sadly Cowley shook his head, “Not yet.”

“Has anyone told his wife?” Doyle asked as he turned his back to the window.

“No.” Cowley answered distractedly as he put his glasses back on and flipped open a folder.

“Sir?” Bodie stood the light of anger beginning in his pale eyes. It was Doyle who stepped forward and touched him on the arm.

“To tell her what, Bodie? That he is missing? The wait would be harder.”

Solo nodded imperceptibly as he made for the door. The only person not moving was Illya. He stayed, held fast in his seat.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked.

“Mr. Cowley and I have some business we need to discuss first, Napoleon.”

Cowley raised a brow and took the dark framed glasses off again. “Aye, that will be all gentlemen.”

George Cowley’s tone was dismissive and arrogant as he resumed his seat at the worn timber desk and stared directly into a pair of cutting blue eyes.