Day 22 - A Story Contribution.
Thanks for making the month so very enjoyable. Have wonderful holidays and a joyful new year.
My contribution is a story with the word silent as its prompt.
Can be located here on A03On A Silent Night
or under the cut.
On A Silent Night
by krisser
The sunlight glistened off the steel pin as it separated from the army grenade. Bodie froze mid-movement to track the path and calculate its landing trajectory. He knew without a doubt that Doyle was in deep trouble.
Bodie tossed aside the subdued terrorist he had been restraining as he began to count the seconds. He ran at top speed toward Doyle. He launched himself full out into the air and tackled his partner to the ground. He instinctively covered Doyle's ears with his hands and pressed his elbows in tighter to minimise the damage.
Bodie heard the oomph forced out as he pressed his partner hard against the ground.
As soon as the grenade hit the snow-covered ground the explosion occupied all his senses. The blast boomed sending shock waves, debris, heat, dirt, rock, and snow, along with burning bits of grenade that rained over them. Bodie made sure that as much of Doyle as possible was protected from the burning debris that fell across his own legs.
Shortly after, the pain body-wide put Bodie out of commission.
Bodie woke slowly. He took stock of himself. His legs ached as if he'd done a parachute jump. His head ached as well as his ears. The one positive . . . no infernal machines with their endless bleeping. At least he wasn't in hospital. He closed his eyes and slept again.
The next time he reached consciousness Bodie saw a nurse tend to machines that were connected to him. Bloody hell! He was in hospital!
"Doyle?" Bodie croaked out through a raw throat and dry cracked lips. They must have bandaged his ears; he couldn't even hear his own voice. He lifted his hand to remove the bandage that was blocking the sound but found none. He startled in fear. He couldn't hear!
The nurse nodded her head in understanding. She pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled, 'the concussion of the blast knocked you out. Your hearing should return. Your friend is fine.' She nodded and smiled. "He's fine," she repeated aloud.
Bodie was asleep before she finished speaking.
---
It was difficult to feign sleep when the nurse was changing the dressing on his leg wounds. He swallowed the pain and opened his eyes to see Doyle watching the procedure avidly. He knew that Doyle would have been rubbing his hands in excitement if they had been alone.
When his partner noted his return to the living he raised his fist and shook it. A fist in the face said it all, and Bodie knew that meant he would get an earful when he regained his hearing. Ahh, but it was worth it. Doyle was standing here unblemished. All was good.
The door opened, and as the doctor entered Bodie grabbed an arm to halt Doyle's exit. It would be better if Doyle were here, then he wouldn't have to repeat it all.
"Good morning, Mr Bodie." The doctor's lips were moving as he entered the room. He gave his patient a hand acknowledgement before he turned to Doyle. "Dr McGinty." He extended his hand in greeting.
Doyle stuck out his hand and reciprocated. He tilted his head in Bodie's direction. "Ray Doyle. I'm his partner."
The door opened again and two porters rolled in a blackboard. It was filled with neat handwriting.
The doctor stepped next to the board and pointed to it. He indicated that Bodie should read, though he read it aloud. "First you should understand that tympanic membrane perforations and hearing loss due to blast effects like you experienced have individual patterns. I can't tell you exactly what happened.
"High-energy sound waves from this type of explosion can damage the ear by destroying nerve cells or ripping through the delicate eardrum tissue that separates the outer ear from the middle ear. Small holes in the eardrum usually heal on their own, but those with larger perforations may require surgery to restore their hearing. You fall, unfortunately, into the latter category. Tinnitus can occur alongside these injuries as well as on its own. Described by many sufferers as a persistent pulse beat, whooshing sound, or high-pitched ring, the condition is thought to result from damage to sound-detecting hair cells in the inner ear and has been seen to occur frequently in those near bombings."
"But it's fixable? I'll hear again?" Bodie spoke aloud in a booming voice.
The doctor nodded. "Yes, once the eardrum is closed by surgery, your hearing should return within several days."
Doyle wrote what the doctor relayed.
Bodie visibly relaxed.
The doctor left and the porters removed the blackboard. A nurse entered and spoke directly to Doyle. He listened then turned to face Bodie and mimed phone call and that he would return.
More nurses returned to change his bedding. They allowed him to limp to the toilet. He was exhausted by the time he returned to his fresh bed. He didn't know why, but he was ready for a kip.
Bodie didn't hear the door open but he felt the whoosh of air. He was not surprised that it was Mr Cowley. Of the many expressions that flashed across the man's face, concerned exasperation was the one that won out.
His boss picked up the writing tablet and printed his words precisely. 'Your bit of derring-do saved 4.5 from the same agony you're experiencing. Fool hardy with your well being.'
Bodie was amazed he could 'hear' Cowley's tone even though he only read the words.
"Report."
Bodie picked up the writing tablet. Cowley snatched it away. He lifted his hand and pointed to his mouth.
Bodie sighed and indicated the water. Cowley complied and Bodie gave a nod of thanks before he tried speaking. "Doyle had subdued O'Gowrie." Bodie stated matter-of-factly. He noticed the Cow's brow furrow and worked to lower his voice level.
Mr Cowley held up the tablet. 'From the beginning.'
"Acting on a tip from Murphy, Doyle and I headed to Manchester. We found The King's Arms pub and entered. We waited two hours before O'Gowrie showed up with two others. Neither one of us recognised the other blokes so Doyle took photos. We followed them back to a house on Lamber's Lane. Doyle called it in and we waited for back up. When we saw them preparing to leave with an explosive device, well, we had to act. Doyle subdued O'Gowrie, I took out the two we knew about. Three others exited and between me and Doyle we had them out or restrained. It was at that time a young kid came running out from the bushes with a grenade. He pulled the pin and lobbed it. Doyle was in its path, I reacted, and then it was lights out."
Mr Cowley listened and nodded much the same as he always did. He picked up the writing tablet. 'The doctor says you should heal nicely.' After Bodie had completed reading, Cowley flipped the page and wrote, 'they plan to operate tomorrow afternoon to repair the eardrum.'
Bodie nodded. The doctor had told him as much this morning
Mr Cowley readied himself to leave. "Headstrong as usual, but you did a good job, lad."
The exasperation that he missed in the voice, Bodie clearly saw on his face. He recognised the expression and read his lips. He knew that his boss thought he did a good job. Well of course he did a good job, he saved Doyle.
---
Bodie realised he was awake. One moment asleep, one moment awake. If he had dreamed, he remembered none of it. He sighed in disappointment; he still heard nothing, save for his heart pumping blood throughout his body. At least the pressure against his eardrums had lessened. He kept his eyes closed and created a world where he was the sole occupant.
Or he expected to be, but found he was not alone. A hand rested on his arm. A hand he recognised by just the touch. A hand he knew belonged to Doyle. The calluses felt rough against his skin, but not uncomfortable. It was actually quite comforting in an odd sort of way.
Bodie drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Doyle sat in a chair pulled close to his hospital bed. He didn't need to hear his greeting, it was written all over his face.
Bodie didn't resent his current situation one single bit.
Doyle, using his combination of hand gestures and chalkboard, was talking about the nurse on duty. His hands were rather explicit about her attributes. Though this was typical of their bedside behaviour, this time round was different. Bodie spent more time watching Doyle's eyes. This time round he caught the tightening about his eyes that spoke of pain.
Bodie might have thought that his partner was interested in her himself, but other than a perfunctory smile toward her on that first meeting, Doyle had all but ignored her. Bodie was unclear why that gave him such satisfaction, but it did.
"Oi!" Bodie spoke out as much to change the topic as to check if he could hear his own voice yet.
Doyle's hand indicating that he should lower it only confirmed his own test.
Still nothing.
Doyle picked up the writing tablet and scribbled, 'too soon.'
Bodie nodded petulantly, his dejection clearly evident. He didn't feel comfortable talking when he couldn't hear himself. So he let Doyle ramble, point, mime, scribble and then laugh at his own jokes.
Bodie tilted his head, and closed his eyes less than a tick of a second. He realised with startling clarity that he truly missed Doyle's voice, and his laugh.
How many stake outs had he survived successfully all because Doyle would ramble on with one story or another?
How many times had he fallen asleep listening to that voice? Doyle's voice was almost like a safety net enfolding him.
Not hearing Doyle's voice again would be worse than not hearing music again.
Bodie sighed deeply. His head fell back as he furrowed his brow. Bodie felt depressed again. He refocused on Doyle, knowing that would make him feel better.
Doyle gave him water before he asked, kept a miniature Swiss roll or two in his pocket, had sweet-talked the nurse into letting him use their kitchen to fix tea just the way he liked it. Best of all, Doyle kept a hand physically connected much of the time. As if he understood what the loss of verbal communication was costing him.
It was probably costing Doyle as well.
He wondered why.
Bodie was swamped with the uncomfortable sensation of a door cracking open that was strictly forbidden. He wanted to shut it, forget, but he didn't have much to distract him at the moment.
They were partners. Partners had each other's back, looked out for one another, took care of each other.
He thought of Lucas and McCabe: they did all right by each other on the job, but other than darts night at the pub they didn't spend their down time together, injured or not.
He would hate that. He'd come to look forward to the time off the job when they would head out of the city on the motor-bikes. They'd grab a pub meal, or a pint, whether on or off the job. They'd go to the pictures, or stop for takeaway. They double dated more times than not. Hmm, not so much recently-- actually neither had been dating much lately.
Bodie was brought up short in his own thoughts. He wasn't missing the birds. He'd choose time with Doyle over a bodacious bird . . . any bird in fact. If only . . . warnings that this was dipping down a dangerous path made him pause, but onward into treacherous territory he forged. If only what? If only he could get a leg over with Doyle? He sat back against the pillow hard. Somehow, he just didn't like using that crass expression to describing it with Doyle.
He poked fun at himself. 'So how would you describe it, old boy?' he thought to himself. Make love . . . WHAT! Make love? He screeched his thought associations to a halt. Stopped them dead in the water, jumped off the train.
He looked over at the object of his thoughts, expecting that the ugly mug of his partner to put him right off this track, but it didn't. Looking at Doyle refreshed him instead. Doyle was still nattering on about something that pleased him, but his eyes were engaged in something else altogether. They were watching him with a tenderness that might have been missed if Bodie had been listening to his tale.
Bodie was quite happy that he caught that tenderness. He felt it as well. Bloody hell! It all made sense.
"I love you!" Bodie stated aloud.
Bodie didn't need his hearing to see Doyle's eyes light up and his lips mouth, "Finally!"
Bodie took in a pleased little breath that quickly changed to a breath of wonder as Ray Doyle leaned down and kissed him with a passion that left no question of his feelings.
Bodie heard a clamour of joyful bells ringing loudly in his head.
fin
Written for the Discovered in a Live Journel Christmas Challenge 2014. My prompt was "silent".
Many thanks to my betas.
Title: On A Silent Night
Author: KrisserCI5
Archive to Pros Lib: Yes
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
My contribution is a story with the word silent as its prompt.
Can be located here on A03On A Silent Night
or under the cut.
On A Silent Night
by krisser
The sunlight glistened off the steel pin as it separated from the army grenade. Bodie froze mid-movement to track the path and calculate its landing trajectory. He knew without a doubt that Doyle was in deep trouble.
Bodie tossed aside the subdued terrorist he had been restraining as he began to count the seconds. He ran at top speed toward Doyle. He launched himself full out into the air and tackled his partner to the ground. He instinctively covered Doyle's ears with his hands and pressed his elbows in tighter to minimise the damage.
Bodie heard the oomph forced out as he pressed his partner hard against the ground.
As soon as the grenade hit the snow-covered ground the explosion occupied all his senses. The blast boomed sending shock waves, debris, heat, dirt, rock, and snow, along with burning bits of grenade that rained over them. Bodie made sure that as much of Doyle as possible was protected from the burning debris that fell across his own legs.
Shortly after, the pain body-wide put Bodie out of commission.
Bodie woke slowly. He took stock of himself. His legs ached as if he'd done a parachute jump. His head ached as well as his ears. The one positive . . . no infernal machines with their endless bleeping. At least he wasn't in hospital. He closed his eyes and slept again.
The next time he reached consciousness Bodie saw a nurse tend to machines that were connected to him. Bloody hell! He was in hospital!
"Doyle?" Bodie croaked out through a raw throat and dry cracked lips. They must have bandaged his ears; he couldn't even hear his own voice. He lifted his hand to remove the bandage that was blocking the sound but found none. He startled in fear. He couldn't hear!
The nurse nodded her head in understanding. She pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled, 'the concussion of the blast knocked you out. Your hearing should return. Your friend is fine.' She nodded and smiled. "He's fine," she repeated aloud.
Bodie was asleep before she finished speaking.
---
It was difficult to feign sleep when the nurse was changing the dressing on his leg wounds. He swallowed the pain and opened his eyes to see Doyle watching the procedure avidly. He knew that Doyle would have been rubbing his hands in excitement if they had been alone.
When his partner noted his return to the living he raised his fist and shook it. A fist in the face said it all, and Bodie knew that meant he would get an earful when he regained his hearing. Ahh, but it was worth it. Doyle was standing here unblemished. All was good.
The door opened, and as the doctor entered Bodie grabbed an arm to halt Doyle's exit. It would be better if Doyle were here, then he wouldn't have to repeat it all.
"Good morning, Mr Bodie." The doctor's lips were moving as he entered the room. He gave his patient a hand acknowledgement before he turned to Doyle. "Dr McGinty." He extended his hand in greeting.
Doyle stuck out his hand and reciprocated. He tilted his head in Bodie's direction. "Ray Doyle. I'm his partner."
The door opened again and two porters rolled in a blackboard. It was filled with neat handwriting.
The doctor stepped next to the board and pointed to it. He indicated that Bodie should read, though he read it aloud. "First you should understand that tympanic membrane perforations and hearing loss due to blast effects like you experienced have individual patterns. I can't tell you exactly what happened.
"High-energy sound waves from this type of explosion can damage the ear by destroying nerve cells or ripping through the delicate eardrum tissue that separates the outer ear from the middle ear. Small holes in the eardrum usually heal on their own, but those with larger perforations may require surgery to restore their hearing. You fall, unfortunately, into the latter category. Tinnitus can occur alongside these injuries as well as on its own. Described by many sufferers as a persistent pulse beat, whooshing sound, or high-pitched ring, the condition is thought to result from damage to sound-detecting hair cells in the inner ear and has been seen to occur frequently in those near bombings."
"But it's fixable? I'll hear again?" Bodie spoke aloud in a booming voice.
The doctor nodded. "Yes, once the eardrum is closed by surgery, your hearing should return within several days."
Doyle wrote what the doctor relayed.
Bodie visibly relaxed.
The doctor left and the porters removed the blackboard. A nurse entered and spoke directly to Doyle. He listened then turned to face Bodie and mimed phone call and that he would return.
More nurses returned to change his bedding. They allowed him to limp to the toilet. He was exhausted by the time he returned to his fresh bed. He didn't know why, but he was ready for a kip.
Bodie didn't hear the door open but he felt the whoosh of air. He was not surprised that it was Mr Cowley. Of the many expressions that flashed across the man's face, concerned exasperation was the one that won out.
His boss picked up the writing tablet and printed his words precisely. 'Your bit of derring-do saved 4.5 from the same agony you're experiencing. Fool hardy with your well being.'
Bodie was amazed he could 'hear' Cowley's tone even though he only read the words.
"Report."
Bodie picked up the writing tablet. Cowley snatched it away. He lifted his hand and pointed to his mouth.
Bodie sighed and indicated the water. Cowley complied and Bodie gave a nod of thanks before he tried speaking. "Doyle had subdued O'Gowrie." Bodie stated matter-of-factly. He noticed the Cow's brow furrow and worked to lower his voice level.
Mr Cowley held up the tablet. 'From the beginning.'
"Acting on a tip from Murphy, Doyle and I headed to Manchester. We found The King's Arms pub and entered. We waited two hours before O'Gowrie showed up with two others. Neither one of us recognised the other blokes so Doyle took photos. We followed them back to a house on Lamber's Lane. Doyle called it in and we waited for back up. When we saw them preparing to leave with an explosive device, well, we had to act. Doyle subdued O'Gowrie, I took out the two we knew about. Three others exited and between me and Doyle we had them out or restrained. It was at that time a young kid came running out from the bushes with a grenade. He pulled the pin and lobbed it. Doyle was in its path, I reacted, and then it was lights out."
Mr Cowley listened and nodded much the same as he always did. He picked up the writing tablet. 'The doctor says you should heal nicely.' After Bodie had completed reading, Cowley flipped the page and wrote, 'they plan to operate tomorrow afternoon to repair the eardrum.'
Bodie nodded. The doctor had told him as much this morning
Mr Cowley readied himself to leave. "Headstrong as usual, but you did a good job, lad."
The exasperation that he missed in the voice, Bodie clearly saw on his face. He recognised the expression and read his lips. He knew that his boss thought he did a good job. Well of course he did a good job, he saved Doyle.
---
Bodie realised he was awake. One moment asleep, one moment awake. If he had dreamed, he remembered none of it. He sighed in disappointment; he still heard nothing, save for his heart pumping blood throughout his body. At least the pressure against his eardrums had lessened. He kept his eyes closed and created a world where he was the sole occupant.
Or he expected to be, but found he was not alone. A hand rested on his arm. A hand he recognised by just the touch. A hand he knew belonged to Doyle. The calluses felt rough against his skin, but not uncomfortable. It was actually quite comforting in an odd sort of way.
Bodie drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Doyle sat in a chair pulled close to his hospital bed. He didn't need to hear his greeting, it was written all over his face.
Bodie didn't resent his current situation one single bit.
Doyle, using his combination of hand gestures and chalkboard, was talking about the nurse on duty. His hands were rather explicit about her attributes. Though this was typical of their bedside behaviour, this time round was different. Bodie spent more time watching Doyle's eyes. This time round he caught the tightening about his eyes that spoke of pain.
Bodie might have thought that his partner was interested in her himself, but other than a perfunctory smile toward her on that first meeting, Doyle had all but ignored her. Bodie was unclear why that gave him such satisfaction, but it did.
"Oi!" Bodie spoke out as much to change the topic as to check if he could hear his own voice yet.
Doyle's hand indicating that he should lower it only confirmed his own test.
Still nothing.
Doyle picked up the writing tablet and scribbled, 'too soon.'
Bodie nodded petulantly, his dejection clearly evident. He didn't feel comfortable talking when he couldn't hear himself. So he let Doyle ramble, point, mime, scribble and then laugh at his own jokes.
Bodie tilted his head, and closed his eyes less than a tick of a second. He realised with startling clarity that he truly missed Doyle's voice, and his laugh.
How many stake outs had he survived successfully all because Doyle would ramble on with one story or another?
How many times had he fallen asleep listening to that voice? Doyle's voice was almost like a safety net enfolding him.
Not hearing Doyle's voice again would be worse than not hearing music again.
Bodie sighed deeply. His head fell back as he furrowed his brow. Bodie felt depressed again. He refocused on Doyle, knowing that would make him feel better.
Doyle gave him water before he asked, kept a miniature Swiss roll or two in his pocket, had sweet-talked the nurse into letting him use their kitchen to fix tea just the way he liked it. Best of all, Doyle kept a hand physically connected much of the time. As if he understood what the loss of verbal communication was costing him.
It was probably costing Doyle as well.
He wondered why.
Bodie was swamped with the uncomfortable sensation of a door cracking open that was strictly forbidden. He wanted to shut it, forget, but he didn't have much to distract him at the moment.
They were partners. Partners had each other's back, looked out for one another, took care of each other.
He thought of Lucas and McCabe: they did all right by each other on the job, but other than darts night at the pub they didn't spend their down time together, injured or not.
He would hate that. He'd come to look forward to the time off the job when they would head out of the city on the motor-bikes. They'd grab a pub meal, or a pint, whether on or off the job. They'd go to the pictures, or stop for takeaway. They double dated more times than not. Hmm, not so much recently-- actually neither had been dating much lately.
Bodie was brought up short in his own thoughts. He wasn't missing the birds. He'd choose time with Doyle over a bodacious bird . . . any bird in fact. If only . . . warnings that this was dipping down a dangerous path made him pause, but onward into treacherous territory he forged. If only what? If only he could get a leg over with Doyle? He sat back against the pillow hard. Somehow, he just didn't like using that crass expression to describing it with Doyle.
He poked fun at himself. 'So how would you describe it, old boy?' he thought to himself. Make love . . . WHAT! Make love? He screeched his thought associations to a halt. Stopped them dead in the water, jumped off the train.
He looked over at the object of his thoughts, expecting that the ugly mug of his partner to put him right off this track, but it didn't. Looking at Doyle refreshed him instead. Doyle was still nattering on about something that pleased him, but his eyes were engaged in something else altogether. They were watching him with a tenderness that might have been missed if Bodie had been listening to his tale.
Bodie was quite happy that he caught that tenderness. He felt it as well. Bloody hell! It all made sense.
"I love you!" Bodie stated aloud.
Bodie didn't need his hearing to see Doyle's eyes light up and his lips mouth, "Finally!"
Bodie took in a pleased little breath that quickly changed to a breath of wonder as Ray Doyle leaned down and kissed him with a passion that left no question of his feelings.
Bodie heard a clamour of joyful bells ringing loudly in his head.
fin
Written for the Discovered in a Live Journel Christmas Challenge 2014. My prompt was "silent".
Many thanks to my betas.
Title: On A Silent Night
Author: KrisserCI5
Archive to Pros Lib: Yes
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle