Fevers

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Bodie/Doyle Fanfiction
Title: Fevers
Author(s): Pamela Rose
Date(s): 1983, 2003
Length: 83K
Genre: slash. Bodie/Doyle
Fandom: The Professionals
External Links: The Circuit Archive

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Fevers by Pamela Rose was originally a circuit story first distributed in 1983. It was posted online to The Circuit Archive on December 31, 2003. "Fevers" is a hurt/comfort story, a popular genre in The Professionals. The story sometimes appears on fans' Desert Island lists.[1]

In 2009, the story generated 100 comments at CI5hq, some of which are included below.[2]

Summary

In 2000, two fans Cassie Ingaben and Dagger compiled an index of many of the circuit stories. They also wrote brief summaries: "Dagger: Doyle, though sick, accompanies Bodie on a simple fugitive retrieval mission that goes awry. A car chase through a storm ends in a raging river, leaving Doyle exposed to the elements and Bodie to try and find shelter and medical aide for his partner."

Reactions and Reviews

1993

Well, of course, there's the excellent "Fevers" by Pam Rose, in which Bodie uses a teddy bear to comfort the injured/fevered Doyle, and it brings back painful memories for D. I don't care for bears in my stories, either, but this one worked.[3]
I can't remember the seducer in this either! (It's the high fever, I said faintly as I leaned back bonelessly in my office swivel chair and gently coughed consumptively), but I think it was Bodie. Suffering was Definitely Bodie. [4]

2006

Going on an op really isn't a good idea when you've got a cold. Underestimating women with guns is even worse. But at least Bodie is close by when Doyle needs him. A lovely hurt/comfort fic, nicely written, will have your heart just melting for them…[5]

2009

(This review contains many story spoilers.)

My summary: Sent on a "simple" pickup job by Cowley, things go quickly pear-shaped for the lads.

I'm sure this is much too long, but I enjoyed reading the story very much so I think I'll just leave it and you all can skim or skip if you get bored.

This story says it was an original paper circuit, 1983. With the joys of tapes and DVDs we all have, I don't know if this author had a single viewing or multiple viewings so I'm cutting her a break on things I don't see as canon. One example is she has Bodie think of Doyle as the "miserly little bastard that he was" concerning money, something I find fanon more than canon. But onward...

We begin with Doyle sick with a cold but as time moves on, Bodie starts to wonder if it could possibly be something worse:

Bodie observed him with a touch of worry, becoming concerned at the flushed face and the damp ring of curls that clung to his forehead. Lord, but his Raymond could look bloody pitiful when he felt a bit off. There were shadow smudges under his eyes and the lashes were still spiked with sneeze-tears. Curled up there in the seat, the light muted by the gloomy day and the rivulets of rain on the glass, he looked about nine years old--and scruffy with it.

This is such a great description from Bodie's POV of his partner.

The pickup turns deadly when a chit of a girl shoots a distracted Doyle. It brings Bodie running:

"What!" Doyle exploded, fighting the pain in his side and the rubbery feel in his knees. "How the hell? What were you doin', taking a fast kip out there?"

The blue eyes snapped open and he straightened, holding back his own temper by a thin thread. "No. I heard the shot and--"

"Oh, very nice," Doyle broke in furiously. "Let him walk right past you--"

The thread snapped. "And what were you doing in here then? Playing kinky games with the barmaid?! I thought you were dead, dammit!!"

Bodie didn't yell often, but when he did, Doyle listened. Usually. This time he heard all the things not said.

He looked down. "Sorry." Then in a different voice, "We'd better get after him then, hadn't we?"

The chase is on, but with the bad weather becoming even more deadly, Bodie doesn't see that the bridge is washed away until it's too late:

"Bodie?" Irritated now by his partner's refusal to answer, he found the strength to sit up. There was a flash of lightning that caused him to flinch. It was followed by a deafening peal of thunder that almost masked the sound of tearing metal as the force of the water rolled the Capri over again.

Spurred by a sudden burst of terror, Doyle scrambled to his feet. "Bodie!" He screamed it out, all else paling at the growing horror that Bodie hadn't been able to jump free. He stood there, swaying in the beat of the wind and rain, unable to think, feeling numb--but not from cold. "No," he whispered, denying it. He was on the verge of leaping back into the torrent, uncaring of how futile it might be, only knowing that Bodie must be there...somewhere...and he had to find him.

Spying the van they were chasing also in the water, the lads figure the bad guy got washed away. Relief at being reunited, Doyle's illness rears up:

"So what do we do now, then?" Doyle slumped dejectedly, shivering even harder and putting more of his weight against Bodie than he realized. The temporary burst of energy born of fear was draining now, and he didn't think he had many resources left.

Bodie was also shivering in the icy rain, but Doyle was trembling like a leaf in a high wind. Bodie slipped his arm around his waist, bracing him up. "First thing is to get you out of this mess to somewhere warm and dry."

"Keep talkin' like that, darlin', and I'll follow you anywhere."

Trouble is, our lads find out that they're on the wrong side of the washed out bridge with a swollen stream between them and safety. With Doyle fading fast from the bullet wound and a fever, Bodie guides them down the dead end road they find themselves on:

Doyle stumbled and would have fallen if Bodie hadn't held him.

"Ray, easy... Lean on me more--"

Jerking away from the possessive hold, Doyle snapped, "Leave off, will you? I'm all right."

But Bodie wasn't in the mood for heroics and was too tired and worried to be very patient. "Shut up. Let me help you or I'll sling you over my shoulder and carry you!" He took a firmer hold on the smaller man. "Dammit, don't be an ass!"

Doyle subsided weakly against him, coughing. "Sorry...my fault. I wish..."

"Shut up," Bodie repeated, but his grip on Doyle was wonderfully gentle, holding him close to block the worst of the tempest, lending his strength to the weakening man.

Bodie finds dubious shelter in a burned out house. He manages a fire and in an old trunk, he finds a treasure of old quilts and other personal items left behind:

"Sorry, sunshine, but you'll be warmer with these wet clothes off you. That's it, steady on, old son." He tugged off the clammy clothing with Doyle hindering the operation by trying to help. Bodie could see him clearly now in the firelight, and was far from encouraged by what he saw.

Doyle's eyes were glazed, his movements slightly uncoordinated. The shivering had lessened, but his face was flushed and his flesh burned against Bodie's chilled hands. Finally able to check the wound, Bodie was relieved to see it wasn't too serious; a bit more than the graze Doyle had termed it, but the bleeding had stopped and it looked clean enough. He bundled the quilts around the trembling form and added a chair leg to the blaze, wondering what the hell else he could do.

I really like this paragraph from Bodie's POV of his partner:

Bodie's hand pressed over Ray's then slid down to circle the thin wrist. "Wasn't going far. Wouldn't leave you, would I?" Unable to meet those dazed, fever-seared eyes any longer, his gaze shifted to the arm he held, feeling the too fast, too light beat of the pulse. His own hand looked far too large and clumsy for the slender wrist it circled; he could snap it like a matchstick. And the hand; small, fine-boned--an artist's hand. Yet he'd seen that same hand, clenched to a fist, put down a six footer with one economical punch. Where did it come from, that spitfire fury that could explode with deadly results? What was the origin of that steel strength in this whip-thin body? Yes, the muscles were there, lean and wiry, superbly tuned and trained to precision--but it was a body built for grace and suppleness, not brute force. Somehow Doyle could manage that as well; Bodie had witnessed it often enough, had even experienced it first hand on occasion. There was some secret core of power in Ray Doyle that never ceased to startle. Now, seeing his partner so vulnerable and fragile, Bodie wondered at it anew, and found himself cherishing all the facets that made his Ray so special. And so beautiful.

As Doyle becomes sicker by the minute, Bodie makes a decision:

Laying there, holding Ray in his arms, Bodie began to realize that all of those protective instincts Cowley had been complaining about were worse than useless here. This was an enemy he didn't have the skill or weapons to fight. Doyle needed a doctor--or at least somewhere Bodie could tend to him properly. A few more hours in this damp, and increasingly cold rain, would push him past the edge. How would he bear that, watching Ray slip away by inches?

Desperation made Bodie angry. No! There had to be another way. Perhaps there was another house further down the road. He had to check it out; couldn't give up this easily.

When Bodie has to leave to find help, Doyle, in his fevered state, feels abandoned. Bodie remembers something he saw earlier in the trunk, so he gives it to his partner to hold onto:

Hoping for some stroppy comment or at least a weak grin of acknowledgement, Bodie was startled and strangely moved when Doyle simply clutched the (teddy) bear to him gratefully and buried his cheek into the worn fur.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bodie knelt down and touched the face tenderly. "Oh, Ray..." But Doyle's eyes had closed and he had slipped back into a fever dream of another bear and someone else he loved going away.

"You hang on for me, mate," Bodie said hoarsely, "just hang on."

I did find the POV switch mid-paragraph above a bit jarring and I had to reread it several times to make sure I understood that it was Doyle who had "slipped back into a fever dream of another bear and someone else he loved going away." But the few minor things I found didn't make my enjoyment of the story any less because of them.

Bodie finds help in the form of an elderly lady. He barrels into her house and blusters around, desperate to help Doyle. He doesn't listen to her until she finally makes him stop and think:

"Not so fast, sonny," she snapped. "Can your friend walk?"

Remembering how Ray looked when he left him, Bodie hesitated. "I'll carry him--" He broke off as he saw the keys dangling from her hand.

"Don't you think this'll be easier?"

"You've a car?" he said blankly.

"It's around back, if it starts up. Should; Jimmy takes care of it when he's home."

Feeling like a fool and worse, he took the keys. "Christ, I didn't even think to ask."

"Well, you look pretty done-up yourself, you know. I'll get a few things together while you're gone."

Left alone in the abandoned house, Doyle hallucinates that something is gathering in the shadows. He whispers "Mum" (information that is needed later in the story) and then finally Bodie is back:

Lifting Doyle up into his arms, he saw something tumble from the quilts. The stuffed bear. Impulsively, he decided to bring it as well. Balancing precariously, he managed to hook his thumb through the tattered ribbon around the bear's scruffy neck.

Once he's through the worst of his illness, Doyle wakes and sees his partner sleeping in a chair beside him:

Doyle felt a sweet warmth curling in his stomach. His partner looked terrible, pale and exhausted, dark circles etched under the long-lashed eyes. His usually immaculate hair had developed a definite cowlick at the back. Nurse Bodie. He wondered idly where he'd stuck the thermometer, and smiled at the thought.

I have a particular fondness for Nursemaid Bodie:

It suddenly occurred to Ray that he felt a deal too comfortable for someone who'd thrashed and sweated about for two days. As a matter of fact, he felt quite clean and the bedclothes were relatively crisp. Instinctively, he rubbed his smooth chin. "Christ, you've shaved me, have you?"

The blue eyes sparkled wickedly. "Bathed you too, my sweet-smelling petal. Trust me, you needed it. Ruddy good job I made of it, too. Not a single nick on your boyish cheek."

Vaguely recalling the experience very early that morning, Doyle snorted, "Enjoy yourself, did you? Playing nursing sister?"

"It had its moments."

Doyle knows Bodie barely left his side for two days so he orders him to shower, shave and eat. When Bodie returns to Doyle, he finds him napping once again:

It was some time before Bodie returned carrying a well-laded tray, clean shaven with hair still damp from his bath. Seeing the other man was sleeping, he eased the tray down and closed the door softly. He sat down and poured out a mug of tea, his gaze drifting back to his partner. God, but Ray looked adorable snuggled up to that ancient teddy, hair a pigeon's nest of tangles. And most beautiful of all, he was breathing--deeply, easily, painlessly--breathing. Just that simple, ordinary action gave Bodie more happiness than he would have thought possible to feel.

Doyle insists that Bodie also get some rest after taking care of him for two days. Fortunately for the reader, there is only one bed:

"I know you will. But you need to get some sleep, too."

"I'll be fine in the chair."

"Don't be a twit. Get in bed. There's plenty of room."

Too exhausted to think of a logical reason to refuse, Bodie nodded. "Okay, shove over then." He slipped the suspenders over his shoulders and the trousers dropped easily.

Sinking into the soft mattress, he shut his eyes and released a sigh of pure bliss. He could feel Doyle's bare skin against his side, but the bed was too narrow to move apart. Seemed silly at the moment to worry about it. Besides that, it felt so damn good.

Something plopped down on his chest and he opened his eyes to find the bear four inches from his nose.

"You c'n borrow it, if you like," Doyle offered generously.

"Sod it," Bodie replied succinctly, rolling over to put his arm around Doyle instead.

After a heart to heart about their miserable childhoods, which was my least favourite part of the story, (Yeah, I know, I'm hard-hearted at times. *g*) Bodie blurts out that he loves Doyle. Then he's annoyed that Doyle isn't a bit surprised at the revelation:

"Oh come on, Bodie, even you're not that thick. The way you used to look at me? You must be kidding."

Thoroughly irritated now, Bodie demanded, "And just how, exactly, was that?"

The smile was smugly sensual. "Like I was prime sirloin and you were a man with an appetite for meat."

I like the end when they've decided that they'll be there for each other, but after a few kisses, Doyle wants something more to seal their deal:

"Where the 'ell you goin'!"

"Fix us up some supper. Aren't you hungry?"

"Oh no, you don't," Doyle said with grim determination, realizing if he let Bodie out of his bed without something a good deal more definite than a few kisses, it'd be a hell of a lot harder to talk him back into it--and he fully intended to keep him there. "Not just yet, sunshine."

"Ray, you're still sick--"

"I'm not!"

Bodie looked at him.

"Well, I'm not," Doyle repeated stubbornly.

"Ready to take on Macklin, are you? A plate of soggy pasta maybe. Face it, mate you're not fit enough to--"

Doyle leaned forward and licked Bodie's nipple. At the resultant gasp, he smiled and slipped his hand under the covers and between the muscular thighs.

He could always talk Bodie into anything.

It's a great h/c story. The idea that Bodie will do anything he needs to, to save Doyle is canon and this just makes me all happy and giddy. The teddy bear isn't too off-putting in this story and the lads are very much as I see them with each other far away from Cowley's watchful eyes.

I hope you enjoyed this look at Fevers by Pamela Rose. Thanks for reading! This story was reviewed by LilyK aka sc_fossil on LiveJournal. It was posted to CI5 HQ on April 2, 2009 and is included in its entirety with the reviewer's permission. Archive.is (accessed April 9. 2013).</ref>
Despite the Americanisms and the fact that Doyle seems to be portrayed as so much smaller and slighter than Bodie (that scene where he's holding him in the burned out house...I can never get the logistics on that), I enjoy this story right up to when they drag themselves out of the river....the plot sort of dissolves away into a lot of feelings and thinking about feelings. I don't mind partner worry -- I enjoy partner worry -- but this seemed to be all the last quarter of the story was. And yet even that could have worked if it had been a little less sappy. The teddy bear snuggles and the mummy-left-me bit left me cold. As did the comparing rotten childhoods. Not that it -- heartfelt revelations and discovery of deepest, innermost feelings -- couldn't be believably done at such a time and in such dire straits, but I didn't feel it was well done here. Or at least it didn't work for me. But I do enjoy about three quarters of the story.[6]
Fevers is a story that *should* annoy me, but somehow it doesn't and I like it very much.

While the descriptions of Doyle sometimes get close to the type where I roll my eyes and dismiss this Doyle as totally non-canon, the Doyle in Fevers somehow doesn't do that. He may be sick, but he's still Doyle, trying to do his job and staying on top of things and being ratty with it.

The teddy bear concerned me a bit, but even that somehow worked for me, with the childhood memories being brought back when Doyle was really ill later on. And his reaction to finding the bear in bed with him later on seemed right on. Doyle doesn't act childish in "Fevers" when in his right mind, and that takes care of the bear worries for me....I like the old lady, and Bodie as the caretaker. The "bad childhood talk" wasn't really my cup of tea, and I can't see either character going there in canon and there were a few too many mentions about how young Doyle appeared for my liking, but over all I really enjoyed the story and it has been in my re-read folder ever since the first time I came across it.[7]
Despite the Americanisms and the fact that Doyle seems to be portrayed as so much smaller and slighter than Bodie (that scene where he's holding him in the burned out house...I can never get the logistics on that), I enjoy this story right up to when they drag themselves out of the river.

I really like the idea of the simple op gone very wrong -- believably, since Doyle is so under-the-weather -- and that things go from bad to worse when their car goes off the road. It's nicely action-packed, gently humorous, and -- as you say -- plenty of hurt/comfort.

For me, the story goes off the road and plunges into its own river when they reach the burned-out house. I was hoping that perhaps the villains would follow them...but the plot sort of dissolves away into a lot of feelings and thinking about feelings. I don't mind partner worry -- I enjoy partner worry -- but this seemed to be all the last quarter of the story was.

And yet even that could have worked if it had been a little less sappy.

The teddy bear snuggles and the mummy-left-me bit left me cold. As did the comparing rotten childhoods. Not that it -- heartfelt revelations and discovery of deepest, innermost feelings -- couldn't be believably done at such a time and in such dire straits, but I didn't feel it was well done here. Or at least it didn't work for me.

But I do enjoy about three quarters of the story.[8]
I thought I’d read it years ago and realised that I was mixing it up with another story where they’re ill (think it might have been an M Fae Glasgow fic). Not much to add to all the other posts here but just wanted you to know that I enjoyed it and thought it was sweet (not yukky sweet) and cosy and I loved the way the writer showed Bodie’s real concern that Doyle wasn’t just ill but very, very ill and that everything rested on him to get help, otherwise.......and, even though I often get annoyed with the way writers portray a Doyle who is more vulnerable than Bodie, I loved Doyle’s vulnerability in this story and felt it worked *because* he was so ill. And I felt even the 'teddy' incident worked – the writer just managing to get away with it because, in Bodie's absence, Doyle was desperate to cling to something, to hold on to something. After the accident the whole idea might have gone wrong, might have descended into something far more slushy had the writer not kept her wits about her and not maintained a fine balance between slush and non-slush. I think she managed to do this by keeping their feet on the ground, by having them care for each other deeply in the way that any close comrades-in-arms might but with that bit more because it’s them. Then she allowed this closeness to evolve into something more..... and I felt it was done in a very natural, plausible way.[9]
I didn't mind the overall story arc at all, I think it worked quite nicely that they started off in the big wide world, very large-scale movement out of London and into the country, then their world gets smaller in the village - it's the pub, it's the car on the small roads, and then the wildness of the river and the outside world takes over again - they're not in control, the external natural world attacks their normally tight-CI5 world. They battle with that through the river, and then into the burnt-out house, through Bodie realising that the natural world is going to win because it's not helping him to protect Doyle. He faces up to it, attacks it back by going out in it, and sure enough finds someone else who is fighting it in her own little corner - and in fact has something else "civilised" to help him in his struggle, her car. That civilised, controllable car saves the lads, and to consolidate the idea that they are safe, we're taken to a cosy, very controlled, very safe place where they're able to concentrate on themselves and in fact are unable to do anything but - they're cocooned together by the very natural forces that they originally fought against, the storm. So we see them turn to each other, and inward instead... It could have been better written to carry it off, yes - and the Americanisms made me *headdesk* in some places (attitudes, twists of thought more than specific words, in a lot of case) - but it didn't jar me, or make me feel rushed through or anything in the space that it took. And I liked how it moved from one scenario through to the other, because that's what we do as slashers - we take it further than the operational eps to the emotional side of things... A bit sappy in this case, a bit cliched maybe - but less so in 1983 when fans hadn't read the scenarios, emotional in particular and esp with B/D nearly as often as we've now done with an extra 26 years of fanfic to get through! (Wow, think of that... *g*) [10]
I think you tend to see the story more as I states. Reading this with 1983 eyes, it takes on a different light. I like the pacing, the idea that there is nobody to help, they're on their own, and have only their wits and each other. It's just the sort of story I love.[11]
Ahhh, yeah now that you point these [Americanisms] out, I get it. I just didn't bother with them when I read them. Again, considering it's 1983 and a circuit story, I'm going to guess she didn't have an editor (or a Brit Editor). I've heard some folks say they did edit over the phone back then, but if this gal is in the US, that would have been very costly! I do wonder how they saw/knew of Pros (cons, maybe?). It's so interesting since the show didn't "cross the pond" like Starsky & Hutch and many others, and vice versa. Tapes probably, sent by helpful friends.[12]
It's another of those annoying portrayals of Doyle as small and skinny, eep. The teddy bear stayed *just* on the right side of acceptable.

I bought most of the story except the final bed scene. I agree with firlefanzine, the old lady, Mrs Perkins, was great and it would have been nice to meet her again at the end and for the lads to thank her properly. I felt a bit bad that B/D were carrying on the bedroom upstairs where she couldn't go, and also that Bodie was quite mean about her, considering how wonderfully hospitable she was. It all seemed too much crammed in to one scene - like I imagine the lads crammed in to an old-fashioned bed, probably not exactly queen-size.

But one thing I've wanted to read in a fic, and this one delivers, is Bodie not from a poor background but Bodie as well brought up middle class. To me that is a better explanation for his manners and discipline.

Did anyone else feel a shock when Doyle punched the rather unimpressive girl on the chin and knocked her out? I tell myself she had just shot at him and was likely to again, and I suppose female baddies do end up shot and badly injured in Pros, but...

Finally, I'm fascinated that this was written in 1983. We're used to Pros as nostalgia, but for Pamela Rose it was contemporary, or nearly. Can anyone detect any signs of this? To me, it's Bodie wearing the son's baggy trousers with stockbroker's red braces, an iconic image of the 80s.[13]
The bit that really annoyed me most was the "bad childhood" bit, because I thought it was a BRILLIANT idea, with an exceptionally poor execution.

Let's face it, it seems that, in canon, other with respect to each other, both boys have a real commitment issue. None of them seems able, to sustain any sort of long term relationship. Not just with women, but with men too. Even before joining CI5.. Maybe Bodie has some excuse, as he spent much time in Africa and other places, but still, no real army buddies that make any regular appearances, etc..

In "Fevers", I though the writer had a really solid idea on explaining this, which was well thought out, but I would like to be able to "discover" the reason for myself, not be spoon-fed with it….then hit over the head with it, in case I hadn't noticed it the first time around… [14]
I did see those "story holes" in a bit of a different light. The idea that Bodie's so upset, that Doyle's so sick he doesn't realise what's going on, appeal to me so I did overlook things that in another light would have driven me crazy.

I'd say this story walks the edge of romance for me. In another writer, I'd have run away screaming. With Pamela Rose, I seem to be drawn into her romances and enjoy them. And I'll give her a bigger break since it was written in "real time" while the series was airing and with no internet to discuss characterisation. We have that hindsight whereas these early writers didn't.

It's almost impossible to imagine seeing a show you love all alone, with only the post and possibly a phone to correspond with to qush over your perhaps new loves! And waiting for weeks for a letter from another fan to wax poetic over the lads.[15]
I'm wondering...did anyone ever put together a list of the authors who wrote in "real time"? Is that a fairly small portion of authors? Would Sebastian or Kate MacLean or HG have been real time authors? I'd love to see a list or a chronology of who was writing when...of just the better known writers (because anything else would be impractical, that much I realize).

That could make for some fascinating discussions in characterization and story types.

[16]
I do know from zines I have and the dates on The Circuit, that a lot of writers did write in those years of the first run and immediately after. And here were cons and gatherings to exhange thoughts and ideas about this programme as well as others. We're spoiled, aren't we? *g* [17]
I quite enjoyed it. Damning with faint praise? Yes. When I'd finished it I thought hard about why it hadn't made more impact and decided it was the rate at which everything had gone 'pear-shaped'. We got the sudden illness, the shooting, the chase gone wrong, the narrow escape from the river, the fever in the burnt-out house, the old lady,the fact that she was a nurse, the teddy-bear and quilts in the chest, the childhood memories, and the love declarations in such a short space of time and in such a short story. I was expecting the old lady's Jimmy to be one of the villains and was almost disappointed that there wasn't any further 'op' to deal with and that there was no moral dilemma over her hospitality. Maybe too many of the plot devices were just conveniently there? (And there were too many of them.)I didn't have a problem with any of them as I was reading - just a feeling that I'd been given candyfloss instead of a meal when I'd finished. I watched the series in 'real' time as it aired (yes, I'm a dinosaur) and still tend to prefer 'episode' type fics, so the start of this one pleased me, but I thought the ending was weak.[18]
"Professional Dreamer" by Pamela Rose is one of my favorite stories. This one was OK. I really like the way it starts out, with the descriptions of a miserably sick Doyle, and the easy mission that goes sideways quickly, and the drama of the car plunging into the river, with Doyle thinking that Bodie didn't make it out of the river. Interesting, well-paced, suspensful.

But I kind of agree with those who felt it got a little too sappy after they get to the burned out house. Also, there was too much focus on Doyle being small and delicate in appearance. Even though Bodie notes that his appearance is deceptive when it comes to a fight, I just don't see Doyle as looking like a delicate, effete guy. He's thinner than Bodie, but he's wirey and looks tough. And they're pretty close in height.

I found a lot of stories in Pros fic that feature teddy bears, which I found a bit puzzling. I decided there must have been some big fic challenge in which the writers had to include teddy bears. I do not care for most of these stories. However, this one is a huge improvement over those from the bear's POV, or with the bear telling the story. Here, it seems to just be a plot device to make Doyle more pitiful, and to look into their respective childhoods. I don't know that I see their imaginary backgrounds in the same way, so that wasn't a particularly appealing part of the story. (I found Bodie's story especially unconvincing).

I did like the old lady with the shotgun, though. And the description of Bodie, shirtless in huge pants with red suspenders holding them up. And the ending, with Doyle's determination to seduce Bodie.

Overall enjoyable, with a very good beginning, and a fine ending, but a somewhat weak middle.[19]

2011

I was trawling ITV4 and there they were! And then I discovered a whole world I never knew existed and I found 'Fevers' by Pamela Rose and there was no going back..... The lads are my world.[20]

References

  1. Close Quarters Desert Island Episode/Zine/Fic dated July 18, 2009; reference link.
  2. archive is for these comments
  3. alexfandra's post to the Virgule-L mailing list dated March 8, 1993 (quoted with permission).
  4. Sandy Hereld, quoted with permission at Virgule-L, February 26, 1993
  5. rec50 post dated June 29, 2006.
  6. comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq dated April 2, 2009; Archive.is (accessed April 9. 2013).
  7. comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq dated April 2, 2009; Archive.is (accessed April 9. 2013).
  8. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq; archive is
  9. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  10. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  11. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  12. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  13. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  14. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  15. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  16. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  17. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  18. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  19. 2009 comment in the Reading Room review post at ci5hq
  20. 2011 comments at How did you get into Pros fandom?