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2nd2ndalto · 5 months ago

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what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

(chapter 2 here)

Chapter 3

Nico’s hit by an unexpected jumble of emotions, watching the other man. Because yes, he’s appealing. There’s no question that he’s attractive. But Nico’s most surprised by the relief that he feels. It softens his shoulders and unclenches his jaw. Relief that Nico doesn’t have to do this all on his own. The nearly-forgotten joy of having someone to share this with. Someone, who, maybe, will hold this work just as close to their heart as Nico does.

November 1998

Will is pleased to find that he and Nico fall into a surprisingly easy rhythm over the next few weeks. Their days alternate between poring over files in the office, pinch-hitting for other departments, and of course, investigating their own possibly-paranormal leads. Nothing much comes of the latter over the next month, but Nico doesn’t seem deterred, simply moving onto the next hunch, scanning the newspapers spread over his desk, more than happy to answer whatever questions and arguments come to Will’s mind.

Will had expected Nico to be far more distrustful of a new partner, especially one ostensibly assigned to keep him in check, but that expectation dims steadily day by day until Will wonders why he thought it in the first place. While Nico can be almost comically close-lipped on personal matters, he’ll happily talk endlessly about case work. Will finds himself greeted at the door by on the daily, a cursory hello and then a run-down of whatever file Nico has pulled or news article he’s found, full of ideas and eager for Will’s input.

In between navigating his way around the stacks of files in the basement office and the endless trails of bureaucracy in the J. Edgar Hoover Building, autumn blurs towards winter almost without Will noticing. At some point, he realizes, he’s stopped the mental countdown to the end of each work week.

November 4th, 1998

The early-morning silence in the basement is broken by the slam of the fire door in the hall, and Nico glances at the clock and then the office door. Will’s right on time.

“Hey,” he says as his partner enters the office.

“Hey,” Will grins.

Will looks genuinely pleased to see Nico, despite the fact that they’ve begun most mornings with some variation on this exchange for the past almost-two months. Nico can’t quite make sense of it, and Will’s reaction is still a little jarring, every time. Not unpleasant, though.

Will’s gaze travels over the office. It’s undeniably in more disarray than usual; a messy stack of papers on Nico’s chair and another at his feet, drawers gaping on all four filing cabinets. Nico feels he’s in more disarray than usual as well, sweat beading on his forehead, shirtsleeves rolled, tie and blazer thrown over the top of his desk with his coat and overnight bag.

“This looks serious,” Will says, dropping his bag to perch on the edge of his desk, long legs swinging.

“Yeah,” Nico says, pausing to shove a hand through his hair. “It’s um – there’s a trial I have to testify at, in Richmond. I was involved in a murder investigation there last year. So I have to leave…” he glances at the clock again. “Well. I should have left already, honestly. And I’ll be gone until the end of the week, at least.”

“Oh,” Will says, visibly wilting a little. “I guess you don’t need a partner for that.”

Nico smiles. “No. I don’t think Reyna would go for it. Besides, it’ll be boring.”

Will nods, thoughtful. “Okay. That’s cool.” He’s still swinging his legs, but less energetically now, a quiet thump-thump of his shoes against the wood of the desk.

An unexpected rush of guilt dampens Nico’s momentum. “I should have told you I’d be leaving. I – I guess I’m still getting used to having someone else in here.”

Will shrugs. “That’s okay. Not a problem.”

But it kind of is a problem, isn’t it? Nico’s had partners before, occasionally. Those other partnerships hadn’t ended badly per se... but he can honestly say he never really missed any of those agents when they left.

It feels different, with Will. Like he fits here. He’s more invested than others Nico’s worked with, and Nico’s found himself warming to that without really meaning to. It’s like Will wants to be here.

Will has this knack for assessing a situation, understanding exactly what needs to be done, and just doing it. And that’s awfully nice, honestly. It’s reassuring knowing that someone else is always paying attention, that someone will remember to complete a task if Nico gets distracted, even when it’s something as simple as locking the door, or rescuing Nico’s coffee seconds before he knocks it to the floor.

And despite the differences in their backgrounds, Nico’s never had a partnership that felt so… collaborative. It’s sometimes even more like a mentorship, with Will still as green as he is, but it’s comfortable. Organic. Over the last two months they’ve become… maybe not friends, but friendly.

“Well.” Nico clears his throat. “I really should have told you. I’ll make sure to keep you in the loop next time.” He glances around, distracted. “You haven’t seen a notebook with a blue cover, have you? It was –”

“This one?” Will asks, leaning forward and seemingly plucking the thing from thin air. Nico sags with relief.

“Yes. Thank you.” He accepts the notebook, shoving it into his briefcase and grabbing his jacket from the desk. Nico glances around the chaos of the office. “I’ll uh… clean this up when I get back,” he offers, guilty.

Will’s mouth twitches.

Nico can feel Will’s eyes on him as he collects his things. “You’ll um… I’m sure you’ll be able to find enough to occupy yourself with, while I’m gone,” Nico says.

Will nods. “Yeah. No worries. Actually… I was thinking I’d reorganize the black filing cabinets while you’re gone.”

Nico gazes at the other man for a long moment, pained but trying desperately not to let it show on his face. The black cabinets, the case file cabinets… those are his. And the thought of one single file out of place makes him want to tear his hair out.

Will’s blue eyes are wide and guileless.

“Um,” says Nico, eloquent.

Will’s mouth twitches and he lets out a giggle.

Nico takes in a long breath.

“Sorry,” Will laughs, unable to maintain the facade a second longer. “You should have seen your face, though.”

Nico shakes his head, glancing back at his desk to make sure he hasn’t missed anything.

“I’ll keep myself occupied. Even if I’m not allowed to touch anything while you’re gone,” Will teases.

Nico huffs, embarrassed. “Not anything, just –”

“I know, I know. It’s okay,” Will laughs. “Drive safe, okay?”

November 10th, 1998

Nico leans back in his chair, stretching. His eyes flick to the clock on the wall. God. He’s only been here for an hour and already he thinks he’d rather listen to every single one of Will’s boy band CDs back-to-back than ever look at another expense report.

Sadly, he surveys the neat pile of documents he’s already completed – depressingly small – then the monster pile of random papers still awaiting his review.

It’s his own fault for letting it get to this point. Which isn’t consoling in the least. At least Will should be here soon. While that won’t make the work go any faster, at least it’ll be a good distraction.

With that buoying thought lingering, there’s the slam of the fire door, then a voice singing in the hallway. Something Disney. The tune is familiar now. Unfortunately. Will’s been raving over how good the acoustics are in the hall, even going so far as to drag Nico out there and listen. Nico shakes his head.

“Morning – oh.” Will closes the office door behind him, stopping short as he surveys the mess on and around Nico’s desk. And okay, there’s usually a mess on Nico’s desk, but Nico can tell from the way his partner’s face falls that Will recognizes this isn’t anything like a fun mess. Not a pre-road trip mess. Not a mysterious-lights-in-the-sky mess. Not even a Nico-misplaced-his-keys-again mess.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, glum. “Reyna wants these expense reports by the end of the day.” He gives the papers on his desk a half-hearted shove. “ And –” he waves a hand disconsolately to a box on the floor next to him, “those case reports.”

Will grimaces. He sets down his bag and opens his mouth to speak, but then the phone on his desk rings. Will hurriedly steps over a banker’s box, misjudging the distance and making a somewhat ungainly leap. Nico winces as his partner catches himself on the desk corner, barely managing to remain upright.

Nico returns his attention to the soul-crushing mountain of reports. He realizes his teeth are clenched, and focuses on loosening his jaw. It’s going to be a really fucking long day.

Will replaces the receiver, turning with a sigh. “Apparently I’m going to Fairbrook,” he tells Nico.

“What’s in Fairbrook?”

“Shortage of medical examiners, it seems. Bodies. Possible serial killer,” Will says, tearing off a sheet of notepaper and neatly folding it before shoving it into his pocket.

“Well that sounds a lot more fun than this,” Nico pouts. Now he won’t even have company. He kicks at a banker’s box, stubbing his toe hard enough that tears spring to his eyes. He curses under his breath.

“A serial killer sounds more fun than paperwork?” Will grins, scooping up his overnight bag. His gaze travels over the depressingly bureaucratic landscape of the office. He sighs. “Yeah okay, you’re right. Sorry – I thought maybe I could give you a hand.”

Nico huffs. “It’s really not your problem, Solace. Just my own procrastination catching up with me. Happens about this time every year. I appreciate the thought, though.”

“Well,” Will says, grinning. “I’m not sure how you’ll get through without the pleasure of my company.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Nico says, dry.

Will beams. “I know.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “See you when you get back,” he says, turning back to his desk. “Call me if you see anything spooky.”

Nico’s still at it just after seven pm. He’s hungry, stiff from hunching over his desk, his hand cramping from signing reports. But the stack of papers is shrinking steadily and it seems prudent to get everything over with tonight and make a fresh start tomorrow. Each time he finds himself in this situation, he swears this is the year he’ll stay on top of things, get everything filed the moment a case is done, instead of dropping random papers and receipts into the overflowing in-tray of doom. Once again, he makes this sacred vow to himself.

The office is silent, and Nico’s startled when his phone rings. He jumps up from his desk, sending a neatly stacked pile of reports cascading to the floor, and cursing as he digs in his coat pocket. He answers on the last ring.

“Di Angelo,” he says into the phone.

“Hey, Nico, it’s me.”

Through the speaker, Will’s voice sounds crackly and a bit uncertain. Vaguely, Nico’s surprised at how pleased he is to hear from his partner, whom he hadn’t expected to see until tomorrow at the earliest.

“Do you have a second?” Will says. “I’m sorry to bug you at home, but I wasn’t sure who else to ask.”

Nico makes his way back to his desk, attempting to gather the fallen papers one-handed, then quickly giving up. He drops back into his chair. “Yeah, of course. I’m actually still at the office. But it’s okay, I’m not busy. What’s up?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I performed two autopsies today. Two young women, both with the same cause of death - strangulation. Both deaths match the pattern of the murders they’ve seen here recently. The odd thing is, each victim was missing her pancreas.”

“That is odd,” Nico agrees, flipping over a discarded envelope to scribble notes. “The killer removed the organs?” He’s mostly listening to Will, but already scanning through his mental inventory of any historical case that might be similar.

“No, that’s what’s really odd. There’s no sign of the pancreas being removed,” Will says. “No scar tissue, nothing. It’s possible to be born without a pancreas, but it’s really rare, and there’s nothing about it in either woman’s medical history.”

“Huh.” Nico stares at the bookshelves across the room, trying to make sense of this. “That’s strange. Anything similar in the autopsy reports from the previous victims?”

“That’s actually what’s bothering me the most,” Will says, frustrated. “They won’t release the previous reports. I tried explaining that I can’t provide a comprehensive evaluation without information about the other victims, but they’re just being… I don’t know. Really obstructive. No one seemed the least bit concerned about the missing organs.”

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “Major Crimes? Those guys can be really proprietary. And it’s always a rush to the finish line with them. But that would raise some red flags for me, too.”

There’s silence on the line for a moment. “Also the pizza here sucks,” Will mutters, defeated, and Nico laughs. They’ve gotten in the habit of trying out the pizza in every small town they’ve visited in the last two months, Will’s reasoning being that pizza may not always be good, but it’s almost always edible.

Nico leans back in his chair, thinking. “You know, I know someone in the PD over there. I’ll make some calls.”

“Yeah?” Will says, sounding brighter.

“Yeah. I’ll ruffle a few feathers, see what I can come up with.”

“I hate ruffling feathers,” Will admits. “I pushed as much as I could, but it was pretty clear that they wanted me to file my report and leave town.”

“I’m fine with ruffling feathers,” Nico says. “Let me take care of it.”

It takes several more hours in the office and a promise on his firstborn to file all future paperwork in a timely manner, but Reyna agrees to authorize the trip, sounding only a little irritated when Nico calls her at home.

The next morning, Nico’s on the road just before sunrise. He arrives in Fairbrook a few hours later, heading directly to the Super 8 on the edge of town and rapping on Will’s door, the thrill of a new mystery buzzing in his veins.

Will’s face brightens as he opens the door. His white dress shirt is pristine, his tie a bright blue that makes his eyes seem sharper. “Hey. I didn’t expect you until closer to lunchtime.”

Nico shrugs. “Early bird gets the serial killer.”

Nico closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and following Will to the table by the window. He pulls off his coat and blazer and takes a seat, scanning over the papers spread over the table’s surface.

“I’ve got a copy of the autopsy report from yesterday,” Will’s saying, digging first through his bag, then a stack of files on a chair. Finally, he extracts a file and passes it to Nico. “And I managed to talk to one of the other medical examiners this morning, the one who did the second autopsy. She was sympathetic, but not much help. It sounds as if her examination was pretty thorough, and she hadn’t noted any missing organs. I took some notes.” Will crosses to the bedside table, returning with a notepad emblazoned with the hotel logo, several small pages of neat handwritten bullet points.

Will sits back, shoving a hand through his hair. He looks tired in the bright light filtering through the sheer curtains, hair mussed and purple shadows under his eyes.

Nico takes a moment to skim through Will’s notes, quiet in the hotel room.

His partner stands after a moment, stretching. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Danish?”

“Please,” Nico says.

A moment later Will’s passing him a small styrofoam cup, the flimsy plastic lid already thoughtfully peeled back. He offers a cardboard box of pastries and Nico takes one gratefully, trying to keep his now-sticky fingers off Will’s notes. Four female victims, between the ages of 19 and 22. Each had gone missing after nights out with friends. Each one strangled, the bodies later discovered by passersby.

“Killer appears geographically stable,” Nico mutters, his gaze flicking over Will’s careful notes. The guy’s got really nice handwriting. Nico’s a little jealous. Sometimes he has trouble deciphering his own notes, after the fact.

“Murders all took place within a three mile radius. Strangulation…” Nico glances through the pages, trying to slot the pieces together. “Could be just convenience, I suppose. Maybe he didn’t have easy access to a weapon. Strangulation is cleaner than using a gun or a knife. Or the killer could enjoy the process,” Nico muses. “Choking can be used as a torture method – strangling the victim untill they lose consciousness, but deliberately not killing them. The killer likes the degree of control it affords them, straddling that line between life and death.”

There’s no response to this and Nico glances up to see Will looking pale. He shakes his head. “Sorry. Just thinking aloud. Anyway, Major Crimes’ll know all that already.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Will says. “That’s – important information to have. Isn’t strangulation often used in sexually charged crimes?”

“That’s right. No sign of sexual assault for any of the victims?”

Will shakes his head.

“That doesn’t rule out some kind of sexual motivation, but…” Nico shrugs. “Do you think they’re close to catching this guy at all?”

“No idea. But everyone’s been so tight-lipped. For all I know he’s already been booked and fingerprinted.” Will sighs, frustrated. “So what do you think? Are you seeing a paranormal angle on this one?”

“Well, I took a look through some files last night,” Nico says. “There are some cases of organ-harvesting cults, but this doesn’t really line up. In 1956 there were reports of an Air Force sergeant, reportedly abducted by a flying saucer…”

Will raises an eyebrow, lips twitching.

“He was found later in the desert in New Mexico, body drained of blood. His tongue, eyes and anus had been harvested with surgical precision.”

Will’s eyes go wide, horrified. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “And then there’s the Dyatlov Pass incident –”

“I think I remember hearing about that one,” Will says, nose scrunching. “In the 1950s?”

Nico nods. “Nine Soviet hikers. Found variously missing eyes, tongues and eyebrows.”

Will looks slightly ill. “Eyebrows??”

Nico shrugs. “Not all of them.”

“Not all the hikers or not all the eyebrows?”

“Both. Neither,” Nico says, taking another bite of danish.

WIll watches him, maybe a little disturbed that Nico can appreciate pastry at a time like this. He shakes his head after a moment. “But wait – that was an avalanche, wasn’t it?”

Nico shrugs. “Maybe. Or a Yeti. Government interference.”

Will’s fighting a smile. “Government eyebrow interference?”

Nico waggles his, and Will laughs.

“Well, I don’t think this is related,” Will says. “All the victims had their eyebrows. As far as I know.” He lets out a breath. “So. No obvious connection to historical X-Files cases. Paranormal angle to be determined. No one working the case wants to talk to me. And now I’ve wasted half a day in a bad mood, filling up on caffeine and sugar, and I’m no further ahead than I was last night,” he sighs.

Nico nods, deeply sympathetic. “We’ve all been there.”

“So what do we do now?”

Nico shakes his head, mouth full of too much danish. Will waits as he finishes chewing, his expression drifting towards amused as Nico finally swallows. “Sorry,” Nico wipes his mouth. “Those are actually really good. And I forgot to eat before I left DC.”

Will grins, reaching for the open box and passing it back to Nico. Nico takes another.

“How about you tell me what we do now,” Nico says, sinking his teeth into pastry and icing once more.

Will’s eyebrows twitch upwards. “Me?”

Nico nods. “This is your case. I’m here at your invitation. At your service.” He makes a little bow.

Will breathes out a laugh, meeting Nico’s gaze for a moment before glancing away, a light flush coloring his cheeks. “Um. I don’t know.” The uncertainty in his face combined with the freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks suddenly make him look impossibly young.

“Yeah, you do,” Nico says, patient.

Will’s gaze drifts to the table. He reaches for one of the autopsy reports, the most recent victim. “Can we – I think I want to talk to the family. Of the woman murdered on Thursday. If they’ll talk to us.”

Nico’s chest warms, a small surge of pride. “Only one way to find out.”

Half an hour later, they’re making their way towards a squat, red brick bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined street. There’s a misty rain falling, and Nico pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders. Will’s been quiet since they left the hotel, something somber in the set of his mouth.

Nico can never quite shake the twinge of guilt, the feeling that he’s intruding, when he approaches a family who’s recently lost someone. He wonders if Will is having similar misgivings.

“It’s okay,” Nico murmurs. “We’re just doing our job. We’re trying to help.”

Will nods, shoulders relaxing a fraction.

The woman who answers the door is slight and angular, with graying brown hair pulled into a low ponytail and a thick brown cardigan wrapped around narrow shoulders.

“Mrs. Johnson?” Will asks, and she nods. “I’m Special Agent Will Solace and this is Special Agent Nico di Angelo. We’re investigating your daughter’s death, and we wondered if we could ask you a few questions.”

The woman nods immediately. “Yes, of course. Please come in.”

The house is cozy inside, the walls lined with formal family portraits and innumerable candid photos of a brown-haired girl with bright, laughing eyes, her life told in pictures; a toddler riding a bike, a child grinning from her father’s shoulders, a teen standing on the front steps in a prom dress.

The interview goes much as Nico would have expected. Mrs. Johnson has already been interviewed by Major Crimes and her answers to Will’s questions have a practiced, tired cadence to them. Will’s tone is professional, but warm. Nico can easily imagine him at a patient’s bedside.

“And did Angela have any medical conditions?” Will asks.

Mrs. Johnson shakes her head. She dabs at her cheek with a kleenex. “No, she was healthy. She always had so much energy.”

“Was she taking any medications?”

“No, just vitamins.”

Will continues with questions about birth history and medical history, uncovering nothing out of the ordinary. Nico rises after a while, taking in the details of the room, all the trappings of a busy family life. When Will pauses in his questions, Nico asks, “Do you have any other children, Mrs. Johnson?"

“No,�� the woman smiles sadly. “Angela was our little miracle. We tried to conceive for years before we had her. I had to have fertility treatments. But she finally came along – we were so happy.” Her face crumples and Will puts a hand on her shoulder, glancing to Nico, who nods.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Johnson. Thank you for your time. We can see ourselves out,” Will adds, when the older woman begins to rise. “Here’s my card,” he adds, placing it on the coffee table. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you think of any other information that might be relevant.”

They let themselves out and Will sags as the door closes behind them, running a hand over his face.

“Okay?” Nico murmurs.

Will nods, beginning to lead the way back to the car. “I couldn’t bring myself to go into specific detail about the autopsy. Do you think I should have?”

“Trust your gut,” Nico reassures him. “You’ve got this.”

Despite the fact that Will’s not sure he’s much further ahead than he was when he woke up this morning, it’s undeniably reassuring, having Nico here. Even if it’s only for the reminder that he’s on the right track.

Back in Will’s room, Nico unwraps his sandwich at the little table, making a careful barrier with the foil wrapper to avoid getting crumbs on the file he’s reading. “D’you want my pickle?” Nico asks absently.

“Yes, please.” Will reaches out a hand from where he’s stretched out on the bed surrounded by papers and his own lunch. He takes a bite of the pickle and hums in appreciation before leaning over the side of the bed for his drink.

Will takes a sip and makes a face. “I think I got your Dr Pepper.” Nico automatically reaches for the drink at his elbow and they swap.

The two men are still alternating between speculation and scouring files an hour later when Nico’s phone rings. Will drops his pen on the bed next to him, flopping down and stretching out his arms and legs, half-listening to his partner’s conversation. He yawns widely just as Nico drops the phone back onto the table.

Nico leans toward the bed, holding out a slip of hotel stationary. Will grabs it, blinking at Nico’s scribble.

“My friend from the local PD – he’s acquainted with a friend of Angela Johnson’s. The friend wants to help if she can,” Nico says.

Will pushes himself up, squinting at the paper.

“What do you think?” Nico asks.

“I think you have terrible penmanship,” Will says, solemn.

Nico huffs, snatching the paper back. “Jerk.”

Will grins. “We should go talk to her, though.”

The hotel room has gotten progressively messier over the course of the day, with the two of them working and eating in here; the tiny hotel trash cans overflowing, bags and jackets abandoned everywhere. Will feels a brief pang of annoyance that Nico’s room will still be freshly cleaned when he retires there this evening.

Will ducks into the bathroom, surveying his appearance critically, straightening his tie and doing his best to tame his hair. When he leaves the bathroom it’s to the sight of Nico looking around distractedly, pulling on a blazer that’s clearly too big for him.

Will pauses in the bathroom doorway, smiling to himself as Nico registers the too-long sleeves, shoulders much broader than his own. The sight makes something flutter in Will’s chest, involuntary, and he quickly tamps it down.

“This is yours,” Nico realizes aloud, and Will laughs.

“Yup.”

Nico hands the jacket over with a sigh. Will, spotting Nico’s blazer before he does, holds it up for the other man by the shoulders. Nico rolls his eyes, but allows Will to help him into the jacket.

“Much better,” Will says approvingly, a brief pat to Nico’s shoulder.

“It’s not nice to laugh at short people, Solace.”

“I would never,” Will says gravely.

Will’s feeling anxious as Bonnie Fletcher ushers him and Nico into her small apartment, but he relaxes by degrees as the meeting progresses. Bonnie’s tearful, but grateful for their help, and they fall into easy conversation. Nico seems more relaxed here too, Will thinks, and that helps. He finds himself relying more and more on Nico’s presence to smooth the rougher edges of situations such as these. There’s something about his quiet thoughtfulness that’s intrinsically reassuring.

Will lets his attention drift a bit as Nico and Bonnie discuss a concert coming to a nearby town, how both had tried and failed to secure tickets.

“They were Angela’s favorite band,” Bonnie says regretfully. “We’d seen them together a few years ago, in Philadelphia.”

Nico nods, sympathetic.

“How long had you and Angela known each other?” Will asks, taking the break in the conversation in what he hopes is a natural direction. He’s pretty good at interviewing patients for medical histories, he thinks, and this isn’t dissimilar.

In his periphery, he sees Nico settle back a bit. It’s the smallest movement, but Will takes it as a reassurance. That he can do this, that Nico thinks so too. It’s begun to feel like a dance sometimes; the two of them moving through the cluttered office together, through crime scenes and stakeouts. A dance in which the two of them feel more sure of the other all the time, an easy give and take.

Bonnie sighs, pushing dark blonde hair back behind her ears as an orange tabby winds around Nico’s ankles. He reaches down to scratch its head.

“We met in first grade,” Bonnie says. “We were fast friends. My mom had just gotten a new job and she was working nights - I ended up practically living at Angela’s half the time. Have you met her parents? They’re really lovely people. They were like a second family to me.”

Will nods, his heart sinking for this little constellation of humans, none of whom deserve any of this. “We talked to Mrs. Johnson earlier today. She was very kind.”

Bonnie smiles sadly, gazing at Will for a moment. “She really is. She said she’d spoken to some other FBI agents earlier this week. I offered to talk to them too, but I haven’t heard anything else about it.” There’s a sudden beeping issuing from the kitchen, a timer. Bonnie starts. “Excuse me one moment.”

Will glances at Nico. The other man is looking displeased, a twist to his mouth. Will raises an eyebrow, questioning.

Nico shakes his head, a brief glance in the direction Bonnie disappeared. “Seems as if they could have come and talked to her too,” he says quietly.

“Maybe they haven’t had time?”

“Could be.”

Bonnie returns a moment later, dropping something into a yellow medical waste container on a corner table Will hadn’t previously noticed.

“Damn vitamin injections,” she sighs, offering him a half-smile. “You said you were a doctor, right?”

Will nods.

“It’s such a hassle taking them twice a day. Unless I set timers, I forget, and then I feel like shit.”

Will frowns, diverted. “Vitamin injections? Like, B12?”

Bonnie grimaces. “Not sure, to be honest. All I know is the doctor prescribes them and I take them. Ever since I was a kid.”

Will’s mind is suddenly in overdrive, trying to make sense of this bit of information. Nico must notice, because he smoothly takes over the interview while Will sifts through his own thoughts.

“... but Agent Solace would know more about that than I would,” Nico is saying suddenly, and Will blinks, looking up. Both Bonnie and Nico are watching him expectantly.

“I’m so sorry,” Will says, feeling his face warming. “I completely spaced out there for a second.”

“The autopsy?” Nico prompts. “Bonnie was asking what you found.”

Most of the details have already been made public, and Will summarizes his findings, back on familiar ground for a moment, still puzzling over the injections in the back of his mind. It’s hard to sugarcoat the examination of a violent death, but he does his best to be succinct and kind. Bonnie simply nods, accepting, as if it’s nothing more than she expected.

“Again, I’m very sorry for your loss,” Will says into the silence that follows.

“Thank you,” Bonnie says, thickly. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Will clears his throat. “This… isn’t related to Angela’s death and you’re certainly not obligated to tell me – but I’m curious about the injection you gave yourself earlier.” He can’t quite help himself. Even before he attended medical school, Will’s had a particular grievance with any medical provider whose practices are less than evidence-based, and this is troubling to him.

“Oh,” Bonnie says in surprise. “Actually, I suppose it could be related to Angela, at least somewhat. She took the same injections.”

Will feels a jolt of unease. “She did?”

“Yeah, we’d both been taking them for years. We weren’t the only ones – I have other friends who did as well.”

And then Bonnie’s up and disappearing into the other room again. Will and Nico share a glance, concerned.

“Here,” Bonnie says a moment later, returning and pressing a small vial into Will’s hands. “This is what I take. Angela, too.”

“There’s no label on it,” Will says, discomfort prickling, as he turns the little bottle over in his hands.

“Oh, that’s because Dr. Marcus gets it at a discount,” Bonnie explains.

“And you’ve been taking this twice daily? For years?” Will says, hoping he’s keeping his voice neutral.

“Yes. It’s a vitamin supplement, like I said. Dr. Marcus says it’s something to do with a deficiency particular to this area of the country.” Bonnie frowns. “I guess I never really thought much about it, I’ve been taking it for so long. Do you think I should stop?”

Will shakes his head immediately. “No, no. I’m not a practicing physician, and I’m obviously not your physician. This is…” he holds the vial up to the light. “This isn’t a treatment I’m familiar with, though, and I wouldn’t mind looking into it a bit more.”

Bonnie nods. “Sure, of course. You can take that with you, if you want. I just stocked up. And the doctor – well, he’s everyone’s doctor in town, really. He has an office on Third Street, right next to the Dairy Queen. If you wanted to ask him about it.”

Will nods. “Thank you.” At his shoulder, he sees Nico scribbling all of this down.

“What do you think?” Nico asks, a sidelong glance at Will as they make their way back to the car.

Will chews on his lip. “I’m not sure. Mysterious supplements? Twice daily for years? That seems awfully sketchy. I’ve never heard of any vitamin deficiency that requires daily injections.” He shoots a glance at Nico, who’s watching him, intent. “This might not have anything to do with the murders, but I’d really like to investigate further.”

Nico is quick to agree. “I trust your judgment. Let’s look into it.”

“It’s really odd that they’re not labeled at all,” Will muses as Nico pulls away from the curb. “On one hand, I’m all for making medication more affordable. If this doctor is playing the system somehow and getting all these people discount meds… I don’t want to be the one to mess that up for them.”

Nico hums thoughtfully. “That’s a valid point. And people don’t even always understand what their medication is for, right? I remember reading that it’s some really low percentage of patients who understand everything their doctors tell them. Maybe it’s not a vitamin deficiency at all. Maybe that’s how Bonnie understood it years ago and no one ever bothered to ask any more questions.”

“That’s definitely a possibility,” Will agrees. Maybe this is nothing at all, just random loose ends. He wonders about the utility of wasting their time and resources on a hunch. But he doesn’t think he can let this one go.

“We could go talk to this Dr. Marcus?” Nico glances at the clock on the dash. “It might be too late to catch him at the office, but we could swing by and check.”

Will turns the little vial in his hands, thinking hard. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I think… I think I’d like to find out exactly what’s in here before we go asking any more questions.” He makes a face. “What do you think? Am I being too paranoid?”

Nico shoots him a grin. “You can never be too paranoid, Solace. Nice to see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Three hours later Nico’s just finished today’s field report – on time, for once – when there’s a knock at the door.

He opens his door to the sight of his partner, clad in swim trunks and a soft green t-shirt, blond curls ruffled. There must have been a logo on the t-shirt once, but it’s faded beyond recognition, maybe something with palm trees. The shirt hugs the planes of Will’s chest, a pleasant stretch over pleasantly broad shoulders. Will looks glowy and sunkissed, despite the fact that they’ve had nothing but cold rain in DC for weeks. He’s got yellow flip flops on his feet and god, how are his legs so fucking long?

Nico cringes inwardly, feeling short and pale and overdressed, not to mention completely out of line for noticing any of this. Briefly, Nico wonders if Will frequents one of those tanning places that have popped up all over DC, then remembers that he’s been party to Will’s views on melanoma. Must be just good genes, then.

“Hey,” Will grins. “You up for a swim? I just checked the pool, it’s pretty empty. I thought I might do some laps, decompress a bit.”

Nico considers the relative merits of leaving his room and stretching his legs versus staring at the TV for a few hours until he passes out. It’s a tough choice. He was just about to put on his pjs.

“They have a hot tub,” Will says, light wheedling.

Nico huffs. “Fine. I guess. Meet you there?”

It’s almost half an hour before Nico leaves his room, most of that time having been spent trying to talk to anyone from Major Crimes who’ll tell him anything at all. He’s irritable and twitchy, half-considering just hiding out in his room – who knows if Will will even still be at the pool – but he forces himself into trunks and a t-shirt, then out into the corridor, shivering as the too-high air conditioning immediately wicks the all the heat from his exposed skin.

The pool area is visible from the hall as Nico approaches. It’s decent-looking, clean and bright, a red and blue spiral slide descending from near the ceiling. The water’s surface is smooth, untouched, a striped, inflatable tube floating serenely at the surface. Nico feels a brief pang of disappointment that he’s missed out on Will’s company. Kind of silly, considering they’ve just spent all day together. Considering they spend most days together.

But he hears voices raised in laughter as he pushes the door open, and a glance across the room reveals his partner, hair damp and even more tousled now, seated at a table in the corner with two others: a woman in a dark green hijab and a man with a mess of bright blond hair. Nico makes his way towards them, cautious at first, then quicker as he recognizes them both. All three faces turn and smile as he approaches, and Will nudges his chair over, making room.

“Hey, I didn’t know if you were going to make it,” Will grins, eyes bright. “I hear you already know Sam and Magnus?”

The man across the table rises with a grin, wavy blond hair overlong and falling over his forehead. He extends his hand to shake. “Agent di Angelo. Good to see you.”

“Agent Chase,” Nico says, then puts his hand to his chest and nods to Sam. “Agent al-Abbas. Small world.”

Nico takes the chair next to Will. He’d been looking forward to the hot tub, but this is good, too. Nico briefly worked with Magnus during his tenure at Violent Crimes, then grew to know Sam when Magnus was transferred and partnered with her. They’re good agents, thorough and thoughtful, both lacking the ego that seems to trail so many of his colleagues.

“You know I’ve been trying to track down someone from Major Crimes for the last hour,” Nico says, light. “Guess I should have thought to check the pool.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, and Magnus knows Nico means present company to be excluded from the complaint. “Yeah, they excel at making themselves unavailable.”

“Did you need anything in particular?” Sam asks, a quick glance around to make sure there’s no one to overhear. “Magnus and I have only been in town since yesterday afternoon, but we can try to help.”

The four agents share their findings with each other, Sam and Magnus managing a concise summary of the case thus far, much more informative than what Will had managed to cobble together from whomever had filled him in.

Sam and Magnus work so well together, Nico thinks as he listens to them. Seamless. One picking up the other’s thread, finishing each other’s sentences, affirming each other’s opinions and building a story, back and forth like a game of tennis. Something to aspire to.

They’re no closer to catching the perpetrator than Will had surmised, but it’s good to have confirmation from a closer source - and both Magnus and Sam agree that the mystery vitamin vials are worth investigating further.

“When I finally managed to talk to someone from the lab here, they said it would be at least three days for processing,” Will is saying, frustrated.

Sam nods thoughtfully. “You know, I might know someone who could get it done faster.” She glances at her watch. “It’s too late tonight, but I’ll make a couple of calls first thing tomorrow, Will. Check with me before you head out in the morning.”

Nico’s woken the next morning by a knock at the door. He’d been deep in sleep and it takes him a moment to make sense of the sound, then his surroundings. He flops over and squints at the clock on the nightstand. 5:57. Too early.

There’s another knock.

“Nico?”

Nico groans, throwing off blankets and pushing himself up, scrubbing at his eyes. “One second,” he yells, voice scratchy. He stumbles across the room, not bothering to turn on any lights. He’s pretty sure his breath is terrible, but that’s on Will for waking him at this ungodly hour.

Nico’s not sure why he checks the peephole, since he knows very well who it is, but there’s Will, distorted by the fishbowl lens and looking irritatingly wide awake. He’s fully dressed, tie and white shirt immaculate under his navy blazer.

Nico unlocks the door, opening it just enough to stick his head out, eyes watering in the sterile, too-bright light from the hallway. He squints one-eyed at his partner.

Will smiles, a teasing twinkle to blue eyes. “Hey. I know it’s early. They called me in for another autopsy.”

“Oh. Shit,” Nico croaks. He clears his throat. “They think it’s the same guy?”

Will nods. “Yeah, I got that impression. The examination’ll take me at least a few hours, so I wanted to pass this over to you in case Sam has any luck contacting a lab that can process it.” Will holds up the little vial they collected from Bonnie yesterday.

Nico grunts, accepting the bottle. “‘Kay. Got it.”

Will’s smile broadens, his eyes darting to the darkened room behind Nico. “Not a morning person, then?”

Nico scowls. “It’s not morning for at least another hour, you monster.”

Will laughs, far too pleased.

Nico squints into the over-bright hallway and then at the vial in his hand. “This is supposed to go to Sam, right? Why didn’t you wake her up at the ass crack of dawn?”

Will shrugs, unrepentant. “Dunno. Maybe just because you’re special.” And then his hand darts forwards and he pinches Nico’s cheek, grinning like an idiot.

Nico startles a half-second later, reflexes dulled by the early hour. “Did you just pinch my cheek?” His voice sounds aghast, croaky and incredulous in the mostly-empty hallway, but Will’s already gone, leaving nothing behind but a thread of laughter and the bright scent of the hotel shampoo.

Nico scowls hard, shoving the door shut with more force than necessary and scrubbing at his tingling cheek.

If there’s been another murder, that means there’s an active crime scene, and after contemplating this for another half hour in his darkened room, Nico finally gets up and heads for the shower.

The crime scene is flooded with agents. Nico lingers on the periphery, wondering where the fuck all of them were last night when he was desperate to get some information. With Will still mid-autospy, Nico’s caught a ride here with Magnus. They’d dropped Sam and the vitamin vial off at the university on their way.

Magnus gives Nico a half-smile as he lopes back towards him. “Victim was male,” Magnus says, planting himself next to Nico, hands in his pockets. “Twenty-one, murdered on his way home from his shift at the Kroger down the street.”

Nico frowns. “Doesn’t quite fit the profile of the previous victims. Interesting. Was he strangled?”

Magnus nods, his gaze on the mass of agents within the police tape a few yards away. The crisp morning breeze ruffles his shaggy hair. “From what I gathered, yeah. Guess we’ll hear more once Solace is done. How’s that working out, anyway?” Magnus asks, turning to Nico. “Your new partner,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. He’s…” He’s a pre-dawn cheek-pincher. He looks like a hot surfer crossed with a hot camp counselor.

He makes me happier to go to work in the morning.

“He’s a good guy,” Nico says, finally. “A decent agent. He’s still learning, but… so far so good.”

Magnus nods. “That’s good to hear. Last time we talked, it sounded like they were closer to shutting you down than adding a second agent.”

Nico nods. “Yeah. You know, I think they were hoping he’d discredit me. Seems like he missed that memo, though.”

Two hours later Nico’s back in his room, still no sign of Will. Magnus and Sam have been corralled into fingerprint processing, Nico having been made to feel superfluous by the onsite special agent in charge. He supposes he can’t really blame them; it’s not as if he was invited, and Will is only still welcome as long as the bodies continue to accumulate.

Feeling a little bored and useless, Nico stares at victim profiles for another twenty minutes until the words start to blur in front of his tired eyes. His eyes drift to the notes he took as they were talking to Bonnie. Dr. Marcus...

Nico’s up in a second, crossing to the desk, yanking open the drawer and flipping through the thin phone book. He finds the listing quickly, a quarter-page ad, black ink on yellow. Dr. Robert Marcus, M.D.

He hesitates. Maybe he should talk to Will first… but then again, time is of the essence. Nico pulls his phone from his pocket, dials the familiar number. The line connects on the second ring.

“Hey, Hazel. Is Frank around?”

There’s a knock on his door not fifteen minutes later. Nico scrubs at his eyes, embarrassed to realize that he was close to drifting off, and reluctant to be caught sleeping twice in the same day. A quick glance in the mirror next to the door tells him he’s presentable enough.

“Hey,” Will greets him, not waiting for an invitation before walking into Nico’s room and throwing himself down onto the bed, face up. He stretches long arms above his head, hands clasped. “My feet are killing me,” he announces.

Torn between telling the other man to get the fuck off his bed and dropping down there himself, Nico huffs, opting for the swivel chair by the desk. Will sighs, closing his eyes.

Nico clears his throat after a long moment, and Will’s eyes pop open, a cheeky grin.

“So?” Nico asks, impatient, “did you have any useful information to share, or have you just forgotten that you have your own bed three doors down?”

Will beams. “The second one.” He pulls up his legs, rolling onto his side and making himself comfortable.

Nico aims a pencil at his partner. Eraser first, because he’s feeling magnanimous. It bounces off Will’s shoulder harmlessly, but Will sits up, ruffling his hair. “Sorry,” he yawns. “It really was an early start today.”

Nico huffs. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Did you get the vitamin injection to Sam?” Will asks, suddenly all business.

“Yeah, she’s got a friend at the university. She was hopeful they’d get it tested today.”

“Amazing.”

“How was the autopsy?”

Will sighs. “Long. Interesting, though. So, Mr. Lucas Parsons, age twenty-one – he was in possession of his pancreas, but missing his spleen.”

Nico frowns. “Really?”

Will nods, reclined back on his elbows on Nico’s - Nico’s - bed. “He seemed to be in perfect health otherwise - aside from having been strangled to death.” Will yawns again. “The strangulation pattern was identical to Angela Johnson’s. And again, the spleen – just gone. No sign of it ever having been removed. No scar tissue, no nothing. Bizarre, right?”

“Bizarre,” Nico agrees. His phone rings and he reaches for it, glancing at the call display. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey. I just got the results from the lab. Okay if I come up?” Sam says.

“Yeah, of course. See you in a minute.”

“Sam’s got the results of the chem analysis,” Nico says, flipping his phone shut and replacing it on the table.

Will’s face brightens, like a fucking meteor.

“And get off my bed, Solace,” Nico adds, nettled. “Housekeeping was just in here and you’re messing it all up.”

“It was insulin?” Will says. “Insulin?”

“Pretty decisively, yeah,” Sam agrees, extracting a printout from her bag and pushing it across the table.

Will’s quiet for a long moment, scanning the report. “This dosage – Bonnie’s been taking 40 units, twice a day. She’s – she must be diabetic. And she thinks she’s been taking vitamins. And maybe Angela, too.” Will continues to gaze at the paper in his hand, brow furrowed.

Nico waits as long as he can stand it before speaking. “The pancreas has a role in insulin production, right? That’s about all I remember from my anatomy classes.”

Will nods, slow. “Yeah, the pancreas produces insulin. It regulates blood sugar levels.”

“So it makes sense – however bizarrely – that Angela would need to be taking insulin regularly if she didn’t have a pancreas.”

Will blinks, finally looking up. “Well, yeah. Definitely. If you have your pancreas removed – or, there’s a congenital condition called pancreatic agenesis – either way, the end result is diabetes. But you’d need regular, ongoing medical care. She’d need to be testing her blood sugar. It just doesn’t make sense that these women could be diabetic and not know about it.”

Sam takes the lab report from Will’s limp grasp, eyes scanning the page. “And what would happen if you regularly took this dose of insulin and you weren’t diabetic?”

Will shakes his head. “You couldn’t. It would make you very, very sick. Like, death-by-hypoglycemic-coma-sick.” His gaze flicks to Nico. “Bonnie – she said she’d been on these injections since she was a kid, right?”

“Yeah. And Angela had, too. And other friends, she said. Does that – could they all be missing a pancreas?”

Sam frowns. “That would be awfully strange, wouldn’t it? I mean, even just assuming all these folks were diabetic. How common is that?”

“Somewhat common in kids, I guess.” Will shrugs. “One in four hundred, I think?”

“Not common enough for half a dozen diabetic kids of the same age to all know each other in a small town though, right?” Nico asks. There’s a knot beginning in his stomach. “If these kids – what if the others are at risk, too?”

Sam raises her eyebrows. “At risk of what? Being strangled? You think someone’s going around murdering diabetics?”

Will looks uncertain. “The victim today had a pancreas. I double-checked. Although I suppose he could have been diabetic. I did a blood draw, but the results won’t be back yet.”

“Maybe there’s something weird in the town water supply?” Nico suggests.

“Causing diabetes? Or birth defects? I guess it’s possible,” Will says. “Though it seems like it would be more widespread.”

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I’m trying to think of something that would affect a portion of the population like that. It makes me of lead paint…”

“Or thalidomide,” Sam supplies.

“Yeah, right,” Will nods. “That’s…” he pauses, staring towards the window. “I want to talk to Bonnie again. And Angela’s mother. The doctor must have known. And… can we –” he turns to Nico. “Can we subpoena Dr. Marcus’ records? Is that going to take three days as well?”

Nico grimaces. “Yeah, it might. But I had another idea.”

Frank has come through as he always does, and when Will and Nico return to the hotel after dinner a few hours later, Nico opens his email to find pages upon pages of scanned documents.

Will leans over his shoulder, watching. Will smells like the fresh, misty air outside, with the accompanying lingering scent of the taco place they found for dinner. And as if that wasn’t appealing enough already, there’s this heat radiating off of Will like he’s some kind of freckly, portable furnace.

“How did you - this is incredible.” Will breathes. He leans even closer, his chest brushing Nico’s shoulder, and Nico gives up, having abruptly reached the limits of his personal space bubble. He lifts the laptop and hands it to Will.

“Are you sure?” Will asks.

“Yeah, of course. You can probably make sense of it quicker than I can anyway.”

Will takes the laptop carefully, perching on the edge of the bed and gazing at the screen. He abandoned his jacket and tie a couple of hours ago, the top two buttons of his shirt open, sleeves rolled. He’s focused, intent, and Nico can almost hear the gears turning as his gaze flicks over the computer screen. It’s a good look on him, honestly.

Not that that’s relevant in any way.

“So we’ve got admission and graduation records from every college Robert Marcus attended,” Will murmurs, half to himself. “There’s… this is a listing of all the doctors licensed in Maryland, and the District of Columbia…” Will pauses, then his intense focus falters and he grins. “Hey, there I am.” He flips the laptop towards Nico, who leans forward to peer at the screen. He smiles when his gaze catches on Will’s name.

“William Andrew. Nice. Classy.”

Will laughs. “I think you mean boring. My dad thought it sounded neutral enough that I could be a doctor or a musician.” He turns the laptop back around, greenish light cast on his freckled face.

“Those were your options?” Nico asks.

A quick smile. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

There’s a story there, Nico thinks. It catches him off-guard to realize how much he’d like to hear it.

It can be a struggle, keeping people at arm’s length. Nico’s a bit of an expert, though. He can joke around, divert, enjoy people’s company. The trick is to know when to pull back. It’s a little lonely, sure. But it’s safe. Two months in, he can already see it’s going to be harder with Will. Will, with all his proximity and cheek pinching and open smiles. For fuck’s sake, they’d barely known each other 48 hours when Nico brought up Bianca. But he’s being more careful now. Nico can do this. He’s had years of practice.

“Criminal records, vital statistics, court proceedings, state malpractice registry… wow.” Will blinks up at Nico. “Do I want to know how you got all this?”

Nico shrugs, pleased. “Well. It’s all publicly available information. It just wasn’t obtained through official channels, in this instance. I happen to have a friend who’s… very skilled at finding those kinds of things very quickly.” Frank’s been a godsend for Nico’s cases on more than one occasion. He really needs to take the guy out for dinner again soon.

Silence falls, and Nico decides it’s as good a time as any to complete his field report for the day. Twenty minutes later he’s scanning over what he’s written, making sure he hasn’t omitted any important details.

“Nico?”

“Hmm?”

Will finally looks up from the laptop screen, a crease between his brows. “I can’t find any record of a Robert Marcus having graduated from the University of Central Florida.”

“Really? Could he have changed his name?”

“Maybe, but he’d have to have his current name listed in the physicians’ registry, and it’s not in there either. I thought maybe I’d just missed it, but I’ve been over it three times. Can you take a look? I feel like my eyes are crossing trying to read through all this tiny print.”

Will hands Nico the laptop back and crosses the room to drape himself across the loveseat, long legs dangling over the armrest. Nico takes note of the fact that Will does not collapse onto the bed this time, and feels the tiniest twinge of guilt for scolding him earlier.

Will’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, and after about fifteen minutes of silence, Nico wonders whether he’s fallen asleep. He clears his throat and Will immediately looks up. “Find anything?” he asks.

“No…” Nico frowns at the screen.

“And he definitely graduated in 1970?” Will asks, pushing himself up.

“Yeah. Hold on.” Nico reaches across the table for his legal pad, flipping through ink-smeared pages. “Yes, 1970,” Nico confirms. He holds out the notebook and Will crosses the room to accept it.

“University of Central Florida, class of 1970, license number 243209, M.D., Ph.D…” Will reads aloud. “Wait. We haven’t – has Major Crimes already spoken to Dr. Marcus? Where did you get this information?”

Nico blinks. “Um. Magnus gave it to me.” He and Will gaze at each other for a moment. “I can’t actually remember if he told me where he got it from. We were at the crime scene this morning talking to some of the other agents, and then Sam called for a ride… I guess I got distracted.” Nico checks his watch. “It’s not too late to call, is it?” But he’s already reaching for his phone.

“Hey, Magnus?” Nico says. “Yeah. Is it okay if I put you on speaker? It’s just me and Will.”

Over the speaker, Magnus sounds keyed-up, wide awake, and Nico and Will are treated to about ten minutes of crime scene recap and a side-rant about fingerprint processing policy before they can get a word in.

“Magnus, you gave Nico some contact information for Dr. Robert Marcus earlier,” Will says finally, when Magnus pauses for breath. “We were wondering – has Dr. Marcus been interviewed yet?”

“Oh.” There’s a moment’s pause, and then Magnus’ voice crackles over the line. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Nico and Will trade a glance. “Where did the information about his credentials originate?”

“Oh! It was on the first autopsy report.”

Will frowns. “It was? Why?”

“Did I not mention? Dr. Marcus conducted the first autopsy.”

Will feels absolutely wide awake, a dozen possibilities racing through his mind, but after an hour of shared speculation, Nico practically pushes him out the door, telling him firmly that it’s too late to do anything more tonight and they’ll pick up their investigation again in the morning.

Will forces himself into bed, but he’s buzzing with questions, staring wide-eyed at the dim ceiling, gaze tracing over the sprinkler head, the line of light seeping between the curtains. Magnus had made some calls after they spoke, finally able to discover that Dr. Marcus wasn’t asked to perform subsequent autopsies in this case because his initial report was “lacking in detail.” What does it all mean? Will eventually sleeps, but it’s in fits and starts, and at six am he decides he’s done for the night.

Half an hour later, showered and dressed, he’s burning to take another look at the documents he and Nico had been sifting through last night. Nico had forwarded the emails, but unfortunately Nico’s room is the only one with an ethernet port. Will grabs his laptop and heads downstairs to the business center.

He stops in at the continental breakfast on the way, stomach gnawing at itself. It’s a disappointing selection - the muffins and danishes look as if they’ve been there for a few days. But the doughnuts are tantalizingly fresh, plump and shining with glaze. Will grabs two in a paper napkin and heads across the lobby to the narrow room housing a few desktop computers and a tired-looking printer. He plugs his laptop in and waits for the machine to boot up, gazing idly across the lobby out the front door of the hotel, the sun just starting to cast the parking lot in pinkish orange light.

Finally logging in, Will sees the documents Nico forwarded and several new emails, too. He smiles to himself as he scrolls down to read the thread from the beginning. Nico, apparently unable to follow his own advice, had begun trading messages with his mysterious information-gathering friend nearly an hour after Will left his room. He scans through a few messages from a Frank Zhang, who promises to send Nico whatever he can find, and then – two new messages arrive as Will’s reading the previous ones, both from Frank, addressed to Nico and carbon copied to Will.

Found this, the message body reads. Wanted to call and get your reaction, but it’s early. Talk later, F..

Will waits anxiously for the painfully slow download, then opens the documents. He blinks, hardly able to process. He reads through them twice more before he’s made sense of what he’s looking at.

Three rejection letters from the University of Central Florida, each dated a year apart. An acceptance letter from the New Eden School of Natural Health and Herbal Studies the following year, then a record of Robert Marcus’ expulsion from the New Eden School only a few months later, for reasons of academic integrity violations, plagiarism, and inappropriate behavior. Then one final document, city records showing that Robert Marcus purchased the building on Third Street and set up his practice in Fairbrook a few months later.

When Will meets Nico in the hallway of the fifth floor, the dark-haired man is already dressed and looking frantic.

“Did you see Frank’s –” Nico begins.

“Yeah, I just saw –”

“So we get a warrant, right? Charge him, bring him in for questioning and –”

But Will’s already shaking his head, grim. “No, we can’t do that, not yet.”

“What? Why not? He’s committing a felony. He’s been committing a felony for decades!” Nico’s wide-eyed and frazzled-looking.

“It’s not a felony in the state of Maryland.”

“It’s not?” Nico asks, incredulous.

Will grimaces. “He’ll get a fine, but they can’t necessarily hold him on anything. And I’m not –” he glances up and down the hall. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

Will barely waits for the door to close before he’s continuing the conversation, tension buzzing across his skin. “We need to talk to the families again, first,” he says in a rush. “What if –”

A look of understanding passes over Nico’s face, his eyes intent. “You suspect he’s got something to do with the murders.”

“Yeah,” Will admits. “I don’t know what, and I could be wrong, but –”

“No, I’m with you,” Nico says, immediately on board. “Something’s not adding up.”

“Or adding up too much.”

“Exactly.” And the tension in Nico’s face relaxes into a smile for the first time that morning. “Trust your gut, Will,” he says, his voice warm.

Will lets out a breath, anxious and caught out. Nico watches him for a moment longer, something pleased and proud that makes Will’s heart throb.

“Come on. Let’s go wake Sam and Magnus.”

There’s the sound of raised voices in the hall outside Nico’s room, and Nico trades a glance with Magnus where they're seated together at the table. Seconds later, Will and Sam crowd into the room.

“She had no idea she was taking insulin,” Will announces, disbelieving, before he’s even completely through the doorway. Sam shoos him the rest of the way into the room, casting a glance down the hallway before pulling the door shut behind them.

“Bonnie, I mean,” Will adds. He’s flushed, looking a little nauseous, Nico thinks. “None, no idea,” he says, his voice rising, incredulous. “For years, twice a day. Living her whole life with a serious medical condition and she had no idea. Fuck.” Will spares a glance for Sam. “Sorry,” he says, a half-laugh. “Sam’s been very patiently listening to me rant for half an hour already.”

“It’s all right, you’re entitled,” Sam says.

Will drops onto the edge of Nico’s bed, elbows on his knees. “I just can’t believe it. How did he hide this from his own patients? It’s just so incredibly irresponsible, so fucking unethical…”

Sam perches on the bed next to Will, glancing over to Nico and Magnus. “So that was our morning,” she says, dry. “What did you two uncover?”

Will’s eyes widen as he turns towards the two other men. “Shit, sorry. How did it go with Angela’s mother?”

“Well,” Magnus glances at Nico, who nods. “Much the same, I think. Angela had been taking… supplements,” Magnus grimaces, “for her whole life. Mrs. Johnson said they did some blood tests when she was born, and Dr. Marcus told her it was a vitamin deficiency – no big deal, but she’d have to take the injections indefinitely. The word diabetes was never mentioned. The doctor – Marcus, whatever – never said anything about Angela missing her pancreas. No relevant family history. Mrs. Johnson said she knew a few friends of Angela’s who were taking the supplements as well, never thought anything of it.”

“Jesus.” Will shakes his head. “Did you get the names of the friends?”

“Yup.” Nico rises, fishing in his pocket. “And we got these, too.” He holds up two little bottles of clear liquid. “This is what Angela was injecting. I guess we’d have to have it tested, but –”

“Can I –” Will rises too, plucking one of the vials from Nico’s hand. He pries off the little metal cap, then holds it to his nose and inhales. He grimaces.

“It’s insulin. Obviously it’ll have to be tested to be sure, but – see? Smells like bandaids.” He holds out the open bottle to Nico, who leans towards it, sniffs. Sure enough, it does.

Will closes the vial, looking unhappy. He drops back down beside Sam.

Sam clears her throat. “We advised Bonnie to keep taking the insulin,” she glances at Will. “And we told her we’d be in touch about next steps.”

“And we asked her not to mention the details to anyone for the moment. We don’t want Dr. Marcus getting wind of it yet,” Will finishes. “Sorry – Robert Marcus.”

“Oh!” Sam says, glancing to Will again. “And Bonnie said –”

“Right!” Will interrupts eyes widening. “I almost forgot. About –”

Sam’s nodding. “Right, about Amber.”

Nico frowns. “Amber Collins? The first victim?”

“She contacted Bonnie the week before she was killed,” Sam explains. “Bonnie said she hadn’t spoken to Amber since high school, she thought it was odd to get a call out of the blue – especially considering Amber was murdered a week later.”

“Shit,” Magnus says. “That’s… certainly a coincidence. What did Amber want from Bonnie?”

“No idea,” Sam says, frustrated. “They made a date to meet for coffee, but by the time that date came around, Amber was dead.”

“That’ll put a damper on coffee plans,” Magnus observes. “Wait – had she told the local PD about that? Or someone from the Bureau?”

Will lets out a sharp breath, annoyed. “Well she would have, but apparently no one ever came to talk to her.”

“Yikes,” Magnus says. “And oops.”

There’s a moment of silence in the room.

“Well, we’ve definitely got enough on Marcus now to get the big guns involved,” Magnus says.

“Will?” Nico prompts.

“Yeah,” Will says slowly. “I think we’ve done as much as we can from this angle. We should definitely be able to get a warrant to search his home and his clinic… probably make some charges stick, too.” He glances at Nico. “Yeah?”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

“Okay if I make some calls then?” Magnus asks.

Will nods, and Sam and Magnus rise as one. “We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything,” Sam tells the other two agents just before the door closes.

Will flops backwards onto the bed, then immediately sits up again, looking guilty. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to desecrate your freshly-made bed.”

Nico watches him for a long moment, then sighs, defeated. “You know what? Go ahead. Desecrate away.”

Will’s lips twitch. “Yeah?”

Nico rolls his eyes, hard-done-by. “Yeah. I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Will beams.

“Good work today,” Nico says, only a little grudgingly, and Will beams wider, dropping back on the bed again and rubbing his shoulders against the horrible bedspread like a cat on hot cement.

Nico watches, half amused, half horrified. “Gross,” he supplies after a long moment. “I’m sleeping on the loveseat tonight.

Will laughs.

As much as Nico likes ruffling feathers when he has the opportunity, he’d hate to do anything that might reflect poorly on Magnus or Sam, and thus all he and Will can do now is wait – either until they’re summoned by Major Crimes or told to go home.

Nico’s fully prepared for the next few hours to be excruciating – there’s almost nothing he hates more than just waiting around. But it’s tolerable, in the end. After leaving the hotel to grab lunch, he and Will return to his room together, both too twitchy to bear the silence and solitude of their individual rooms. Will paces, chattering and radiating nervous energy until Nico’s ready to make him into the sixth strangulation victim. But then they unearth a pack of playing cards in the drawer of the desk and they settle themselves at the coffee table, Will cross-legged on the carpet, Nico on the loveseat.

“Okay, what are we playing?” Nico asks as he shuffles the deck – okay, maybe showing off a little, using all the tricks Bianca taught him when they were kids. Will’s gazing silently at his hands, head tilted. It makes Nico feel off-kilter, and he fumbles the cards.

“Well.” Will clears his throat. “I know Go Fish. And Crazy Eights.”

“Are you serious?”

Will shrugs. “Pig?”

“What the fuck is that?”

Will grins. “When you get four of a kind, you put your finger on your nose…” Will taps an index finger to his freckled nose, then leaves it there, falling silent, blue eyes drifting out of focus. “Actually, I think we need at least one more person to play Pig.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “We’re playing poker.”

Will’s eyebrows rise. “I don’t know how to play poker.”

Nico grins. “Lucky day for me, then.”

Will grasps the basics pretty quickly, but Nico beats him again and again. “You have no poker face, Solace,” Nico groans as he wins yet another hand.

Will giggles.

Nico shakes his head. “I rest my case.” He drops his cards onto the table.

“No offense, but it’s kind of… a boring game? Don’t you think?” Will asks, hesitant, as he watches Nico re-shuffle the deck. “Maybe it’s more fun if you’re playing for cash,” he muses.

Nico pauses in his shuffling, quirking an eyebrow at Will.

Will grins. “Absolutely not. Hey, teach me how to shuffle, instead,” he suggests suddenly, seemingly unreasonably excited by the prospect.

It’s as good an idea as any, although it turns out Will’s hand-eye coordination isn’t any better than his aptitude for inscrutability, and half an hour later Will’s punch-drunk and giggly over his repeated failures to have the cards behave the way he wants them to. He masters himself enough for another attempt, looking exceedingly intent, tie thrown over his shoulder, lip bitten and brow furrowed. He splits the deck, lines up the halves. Nico realizes he’s holding his breath.

Will glances up, a long look at Nico. There’s a blond curl sticking up at an odd angle at the crown of his head. “You’re making me nervous,” Will says, finally. “Close your eyes.”

Nico huffs. Just as he’s about to comply anyway, the cards fly in an unlikely, spectacular explosion, landing on the floor, the loveseat and all over the coffee table.

Nico shakes his head, bewildered. “You’re a doctor”, he says, disbelieving. “I can’t believe they let you use a scalpel.”

“Well, usually only on people who are already dead,” Will grins, unabashed.

Will collects the cards from the floor, Nico grabbing the others within reach. Nico knocks the cards into a neat pile and reaches across the coffee table for the little box they came in.

“Wait, no, show me again,” Will protests, laughing. “I almost got it that time.”

“Absolutely not, You’re cut off,” Nico says, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an effort to maintain his own poker face. They’ve been shut up in this room for too long and everything is starting to seem unreasonably funny.

Will drops onto the carpet, dramatic, throwing an arm over his eyes. ‘When are they going to call us?” he groans. Then he drops his arm, looking up at Nico. “Hey, you wanna go to the pool while we wait? I can swim some laps and you can… soak moodily in the hot tub,” he finishes, trying and completely failing to maintain a straight face.

Nico’s just opened his mouth to splutter at Will, who’s fully beaming at him from the floor, curls spilling onto the probably-really-unsanitary carpet, when Nico’s phone rings.

“You should get that,” Will says, suddenly completely serious, wide-eyed and innocent.

Nico huffs, quickly rising and crossing the room to retrieve his phone.

“Di Angelo.” Nico raises his eyebrows at Will as he takes in what Magnus is telling them, and Will pushes himself up with a questioning look.

816 Third St. is a modestly-sized blue house with white trim, long since converted into a medical office, with a residence in the back. Will and Nico are very much not in the forefront of its ensuing raid, which suits Will just fine.

By five pm the agents from Major Crimes have surrounded the building with the intent of formally detaining Robert Marcus for questioning and serving a warrant to search the premises. Marcus puts up a bit of a fight – Will’s not sure if he hasn’t noticed the two dozen agents fanned out across the street or if he’s just that desperate – but he foolishly attempts to make a break for it, shoving aside one of the agents at his front door. Magnus, waiting at the bottom of the steps, is quick on the uptake, immediately giving chase and expertly tackling Marcus to the ground before the man reaches the end of his property.

Will shares a quick glance with Nico, impressed. “Nice moves,” Will comments under his breath.

Nico nods. “First in his class in defensive tactics. I sure wouldn’t want to jump him in a dark alley.”

With agents from Major Crimes assigned to execute the search warrant and conduct the interrogation, Will and Nico linger in the police station in the aftermath, eager for updates.

Will can’t decide if he’s hopelessly keyed up, exhausted, or a worrying combination of both. He and Nico have spent over an hour on speculation and terrible vending machine coffee when Sam appears from a hallway to their right, spotting the two and making a beeline towards them.

“He confessed,” she says quietly.

“Really? To what?” Will asks.

“To the murders.”

Will feels his eyes go wide. “Really? All of them?”

Sam nods.

“But why?”

Sam shrugs. “It’s not clear at this point. He’s refusing to say anything else until his lawyer gets here. I’m getting the feeling we won’t find out much else tonight.”

“And he confessed, just like that?” Nico asks.

“Pretty much. He folded pretty easily under questioning. He won’t give us any information about his medical background – or lack thereof – or the unauthorized treatments he was providing. But they’ve got enough to hold him now.” Sam shrugs. “So. Go team. Well done. Hit the showers.”

Will laughs.

“Actually a bunch of us are going out to celebrate in a couple of hours,” Sam adds. “That sports bar across from the Super 8?”

Nico nods. “Yeah, definitely. We’ll see you there.”

Nico’s feeling much more refreshed after a shower and an hour in his room during which he talked to absolutely no one. Will, on the other hand, is looking uncharacteristically unrefreshed when Nico knocks on his door, bleary-eyed and rumpled.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Nico says.

Will pulls a face. “I don’t know. I’m actually kind of wiped. I was thinking of just heading to bed.”

“What? No, we caught the bad guy. This is the good part, Will. You have to enjoy it.” Nico focuses on the truth of this, rather than his own reflexive disappointment at the thought of celebrating without Will.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Will says, still sounding uncertain.

“I’m always right. Come on. Sam said she’d save us seats.”

Will disappears into his room, returning a moment later with his jacket, then kneeling to tie his shoes. They’re both still dressed for work, but it’s likely half the bar will be celebrating FBI agents, so no one really has any hope of blending in with the locals anyway.

“I don’t drink much,” Will says as they wait for the elevator, a glance over to Nico.

“That’s not a problem,” Nico says immediately. “Sam doesn’t drink at all. Magnus will stay dry to keep her company. We can too, if you want.”

That’s not quite what happens, as it turns out.

Magnus, Sam and Nico stick to soda, but at some point Sam decides it’ll be funny to buy Will shots. By midnight, Will’s flushed and even more giggly than he was during his ill-fated card shuffling lesson, and he and Sam are singing along to some of the most abominably poppy boy-band music Nico’s ever had the misfortune to experience.

Nico props himself up against the bar beside Magnus, a wry smile as he watches Sam and Will at their table singing heartfeltly into each other’s faces, Will with a salt shaker as an improvised microphone. They collapse into laughter as the song ends, Sam nearly as giddy as Will despite having consumed nothing but Diet Coke all evening.

“Your partner’s a lightweight,” Magnus comments.

“Yours is a bad influence,” Nico shoots back.

Magnus grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They make their wobbly (on Will’s part) way back to the hotel after the bar closes. Will’s walking on his own, but he makes a random grab for Nico’s arm several times to steady himself.

“Ow, fuck,” Nico protests when Will grabs him for the third time, a bruising grip to his bicep.

“Sorry,” Will says, immediately chastened, eyes wide.

Nico sighs. “It’s okay, Solace.”

They bid farewell to the other agents on the second floor, Will hugging Magnus and blowing kisses to Sam as Nico rolls his eyes, propped against the open elevator door.

Then there’s an unscheduled detour back to the lobby when Will decides he needs a Gatorade. Nico leans against the doorway of the little vending machine nook and yawns, watching his partner’s bleary attempts to feed a dollar bill into the drink machine. Nico supposes he could have let Will manage this little expedition on his own, but supervision feels prudent at this point.

Nico finally huffs, grabbing the bill out of Will’s hand and jostling him out of the way. He gets the machine to accept it on the first try, turning to quirk an eyebrow at his partner. He’s rewarded with a soppy smile that makes his ears heat.

Finally back in the elevator, Nico punches the button for the fifth floor. Will leans into the corner, head tilted back, eyes closed. He startles when the elevator chimes at their floor.

“I should not have had all those shots,” Will groans.

Nico snorts. “It really wasn’t that many.”

“I’m not going to get in trouble for drinking on the job, am I?” Will asks, nose scrunching as he digs in his jacket for his key.

“You weren’t on the job, so no. But you are going to develop a reputation as the FBI’s cheapest drunk,” Nico says, dry.

Will giggles.

A grown man, giggling. By all rights it shouldn’t be appealing at all. Should it?

Well.

There’s nothing Nico can do about that.

“Make sure you drink the Gatorade,” he tells Will sternly, as the other man gets his key in the lock.

“Okay, mom.” Will gives him a wobbly smile.

Nico shakes his head, trying for disappointed and probably coming much closer to amused. He manages to pull up just short of fond, he thinks, if only by a razor’s edge.

“And hey,” he adds, as Will tilts into the door frame, a warm and somewhat drunken gaze aimed in Nico’s direction. “Good work this week.”

Will smiles. “Yeah. You too.” He reaches out, a gentle squeeze to Nico’s arm. “Night, Nico.” And he disappears into his room.

Nico ducks around the crime scene tape and walks up the stairs of 816 Third St., a paper bag under his arm. It’s breezy out, but mild for mid-November, wispy clouds drifting in and out of sunlight and dry leaves crunching underfoot as he makes his way up the front walk. He nods to a couple of the agents he recognizes in the front room, a core group of them still processing the mass of evidence at Robert Marcus’ clinic. Nico follows a narrow hallway to the back of the building, finding Will exactly where he expects him to be, blond curls just visible behind heaps of charts and boxes in the file room.

“Hey,” Nico calls as he enters. “I come bearing lunch.”

Will’s head pops up over the mess, and he pulls a lollipop out of his mouth to grin at Nico, lips tinted red. “You’re a godsend. I’ve been surviving on sugar-free candy for the last hour.”

Nico huffs. “I can see that. You sure those are safe?”

“I found them in the storeroom. Sealed box.” Will shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out. I don't think they had anything to do with any of Marcus’ home brews. I’ll let you know if my pancreas goes missing."

The team of agents has discovered, over the past week, that Robert Marcus spent most of his tenure in Fairbrook practicing as an amateur chemist. The insulin, mercifully, was straight from the supplier, but over the years Marcus has experimented with acne remedies, weight loss medications, and, most devastatingly, fertility treatments. The latter seem to have been the culprit of the missing organs and other congenital anomalies.

“How’s it going in here?” Nico asks. Will passes a crate of files into Nico’s arms, trying to clear a path for himself. Nico accepts it, adding it to the pile in the corner that Will’s already processed. “Any new insights? I went to your room to get you for breakfast this morning, but you were already gone.”

Will nods, shoving a box aside with his foot, lollipop still dangling from his mouth. “I wanted to get an early start,” he says, words distorted around the paper stick between his lips. “I know they’re replacing us with agents from the field office tomorrow, but I can get through this stuff quicker than they can, and I’m familiar with all Marcus’ secret codes now.”

It’s been hard work, making sense of Marcus’ notes. The guy had clearly tried to cover his tracks over the years. With some details grudgingly pulled from Marcus himself and the help of Will’s medical background, he’s managed to make sense of most of it.

There are half a dozen rolling shelves on tracks taking up most of the room, filled floor to ceiling with files. Much of the remaining space on the floor is now littered with boxes and bins.

There’s enough space for a makeshift picnic near the back of the room, however, and Nico and Will settle themselves with sandwiches on their laps, facing each other, backs against the mobile shelves. Will’s legs stretch almost all the way across the gap, Nico’s falling short.

Will reaches long arms above his head, hands clasped, then flops forward, groaning, fingertips grazing the toes of his shoes. He stays there for a moment, folded in half, eyes closed. Nico’s eyes catch on Will’s broad shoulders under his crisp white shirt, fabric heaving a little with every inhale.

“These shelves are locked in place, right?” Nico asks, a sudden need to fill the silence. He twists slightly, grasping the shelf behind his shoulder and giving it a shake.

Will pops up grinning, face flushed. “Yeah, they’re locked. You worried we’re going to be crushed? Shut down all the garbage mashers on the detention level,” he intones.

There’s a moment of silence. Nico blinks at him.

“Star Wars? No?” Will’s expression fades from teasing to appalled, blue eyes wide. “You have seen Star Wars, haven’t you?”

Nico frowns. “Maybe… maybe one of them? I honestly can’t remember. How many are there?”

“Oh my god. How have you not seen Star Wars?”

Nico shrugs, a little defensive under Will’s sudden, intense scrutiny. Despite his professional interests, he’s never really liked watching sci-fi. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy.”

“Since 1977, Nico?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Yes, Will, I’ve been busy since 1977.”

Will shakes his head, solemn. “Well. We need to remedy that.”

Nico snorts, reaching for the paper bag next to him. He passes Will his can of Coke, glancing at the text scrawled on the sandwich wrappers.

“Thanks.” Will pops the can open and inserts a straw. “You know the original trilogy is on TV all the time. You really have no excuse.”

Nico opens his own drink, forgoing the straw and lifting the can to his lips. It’s perfect; icy cold and sweet.

“How about next time we’re on an overnight? Star Wars marathon. You and me.” Will says around the straw in his mouth, bumping Nico with his foot.

“Fine. I’ll consider watching Star Wars.”

Will looks impossibly pleased at this and Nico forcefully pushes down the warmth in his ribcage. When did he become such a pushover? He unwraps his sandwich, still hot, condensation on the inner paper wrapper. He takes a bite.

“Isn’t there a Star Wars thing on the National Cathedral?” Nico asks, trying to remember the details. “A sculpture or something?”

Will’s eyes light up. “Yes! The Darth Vader grotesque. We can take a little detour on our way home tomorrow. I’ll show you.”

Nico nods, his mouth too full of sandwich to answer.

“Hey, I got two pickles,” Will says in surprise, staring down at his sandwich.

“Oh, yeah.” Nico looks up. “I just told them to give you mine. Since you always get it anyway.”

He reaches for his Dr Pepper again, then glances at his partner. There’s something unreadable on Will’s face, his head cocked.

“What?” Nico asks, bemused. “Is that not okay?”

“No,” Will says, soft, a bit uncertain. “No, it’s good.”

They finish the rest of their meal in relative silence. Will balls up his wrapper and tosses it overhand to the garbage can. Nico watches as the foil ball misses the can by a good six inches, skittering across the floor. He snorts.

“I’ll get that later,” Will says, dismissive. He folds his hands behind his head, letting out a sigh and leaning against the shelf behind him – and then sliding backwards as the shelf begins to roll with his added weight. Will’s gaze shoots to Nico, eyes wide and guilty.

“Not so locked after all?” Nico asks, suppressing a smile.

Will lets out a giggle, nervous, hopping up and carefully stepping over Nico’s outstretched legs. A second later Nico hears the heavy clunk of the shelf locking in place.

“It’s okay,” Will reassures him, sounding unconvinced. “People hardly ever get crushed in these things.”

Before Nico can come up with a retort, the door to the file room swings open.

“Hey, Solace?” Magnus’ voice calls.

“Back here,” Will says, and a second later Magnus’s face appears around the corner, followed shortly by Sam’s.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Sam says, pleased. “We’ve got news.”

“The first victim, Amber Collins?” Magnus asks, hopping up to sit on the counter at the end of the aisle. Sam takes the chair at his side.

“It turns out she figured out what Marcus was up to,” Sam finishes, glancing to her partner.

Nico blinks as Will slowly says, “... oh. So then –”

Magnus nods. “So Marcus decided he had to keep her quiet.”

“Shit,” Nico says. He shakes his head. “Shit. What a waste.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. I guess Amber was having some other health problems –”

“She went out of state,” Magnus supplies, “wasn’t happy with the answers she was getting from Marcus. Sounds like she was a pretty bright kid. She put two and two together and went to confront Marcus about it, told him what she suspected, threatened to go public. Marcus flipped out, lost it. Strangled her and then managed to make it look like it’d been a random attack.”

“Jesus,” Will says, with feeling.

“From what Marcus said, he was trying to mend his ways,” Sam says, sharing a skeptical glance with Magnus. “He told us he’d felt guilty about the fertility treatments for years, said he’d been doing his best to do things by the book, attending conferences and reading medical journals and everything.” She shrugs.

“Too little, too late,” Nico supplies, bitter.

“Doesn’t quite make up for the murders.” Magnus agrees.

“Anyway,” Sam says. “All that’s to say we’re pretty much wrapped up here. You gentlemen heading back to DC tomorrow?”

Will nods. “Yup. You too?”

Magnus nods. “First thing. We’ve got a department meeting right after lunch. Right back into it.”

“I have a plan for tonight, though,” Sam says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Sam’s been asking around, apparently, and there’s a karaoke bar the next town over. So, against all of Nico’s better judgment, the four make their way over there later that evening.

The place is a hole in the wall - dingy and nearly empty mid-week, allowing Will and Sam mostly free rein over the small stage. Nico is opposed to karaoke on a spiritual level, and Magnus begs off too, claiming he can’t carry a tune in a bucket.

Magnus and Nico have a beer apiece, but otherwise they all stick to soda, Will in particular fervently refusing any and all alcohol, citing slippery slopes. But he and Sam seem to have a certain effect on each other regardless, exponential and escalating, and by the end of the evening Nico thinks Will’s nearly as giddy as he was after four shots a few nights earlier. Nevertheless, he’s steady as they head back to their rooms at the end of the night, and they make plans for an early start the next morning.

The four agents meet in the lobby for one last continental breakfast just as the sun’s rising, and an hour later Nico’s easing the car back onto the freeway, heading west.

The quiet in the car is comfortable, wrapped in the freshness and sleepy peace of early morning, a blurry mist hanging over the fields on either side of the highway.

“Have you ever tackled anyone?” Will asks after a few minutes of silence.

Nico glances over, amused. “You mean like Magnus did when they arrested Marcus? Like, in a professional capacity?”

Will laughs. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know - have you ever tackled anyone in a personal capacity?” He quirks an eyebrow at Nico, grinning.

Nico can feel himself blushing. “Fuck off. Yes. A couple of times.”

He glances over at Will, who’s looking intrigued.

“At work,” he adds firmly. “For work.”

Will grins.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Nico shrugs, trying to will away the color in his cheeks. “Woke up the next day feeling like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs.”

Will nods thoughtfully. The sun’s properly risen now, a blaze on the horizon in the rear-view mirror. Wordless, Will leans forward in his seat, snagging Nico’s sunglasses from the dash with a crook of his finger and passing them over.

“Why,” Nico asks, “you wanna see if we can find someone for you to tackle, next case?”

Will laughs. “Nah. I don’t think it’s my thing. I can’t imagine it ending well.” There’s silence for another moment. “Did you ever play football?” he asks Nico.

Nico huffs. “Pretty sure no one’s ever asked me that before. Do I look like I’ve ever played football?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I was just thinking about tackling.”

“I definitely did not. Why, did you?” Will looks like he could have, Nico thinks, with those broad shoulders, a gratifying sturdiness to him.

Will hums. “Not really. Mostly just with my older brothers and my dad. I sucked though. I usually wound up getting heckled. Sent to the sidelines to keep score.”

Will says this lightly enough, but Nico thinks he can hear the hurt under the words. It takes him by surprise, the way it makes his heart ache. Unbidden, his mind conjures a young Will, freckle-faced, tousled curls. Left out and heartsick. It’s hard enough navigating those slights as an adult, Nico knows. As someone with agency and experience.

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Nico offers, not sure what else to say, but wanting to say something.

“Oh no, I definitely was. I didn’t just acquire my clumsiness as an adult.” Will laughs, light and self-deprecating. He falls silent.

Something twinges. Nico casts his mind back over the last week, sifting through his own words and actions. There’s a prickle of guilt when he remembers. “Sorry, I –” Nico clears his throat. “Sorry for teasing you about your… card-shuffling skills,” he says gruffly.

Will laughs, surprised. “Oh. No, it’s okay. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking of that. I don’t blame you, anyway. It was funny.”

But still.

It’s such a small thing, but it feels important to repair. Nico’s quiet for a mile or so, trying to put words to what he wants to say. “Sometimes cops… FBI… it can be kind of an old boys’ club. Which I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Nico tries. It’s a sharp pull in his chest, torn between needing Will to know, and needing Will not to know him.

“It can…” Nico trails off. “In cultures like that there’s that teasing going on where it’s presented as everyone having a laugh together, but really, if you don’t appreciate being the target of a particular joke, there’s no recourse for that.”

Will nods like he sees where Nico’s going with this. “Right. Like schoolyard bullies, all grown up. Everyone else piling on whether they want to or not. Then if you can’t laugh it off, you’re a poor sport.” Will sighs. “Yeah. I felt like that sometimes, as a kid.”

“Like it’s your fault if your feelings get hurt, because you can’t take a joke, right? And it’s not…” Nico frowns, “it’s just not kind. It’s not respectful. I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I never intend to behave that way.”

His face is heating the way it does sometimes when he rambles on about something that’s not directly related to a case. Something too close to home. “So if I ever come across like that, it’s not – it’s never meant to be hurtful. It’s just because I have terrible people skills,” he laughs, thin, too exposed. He wishes for a moment that they were driving back home in the evening, safe under the cover of darkness. “I know I can’t just issue a preemptive blanket apology for whatever idiotic things I might say in the future, but…” he shrugs, out of words.

A furtive glance over at Will shows Nico that same look on his face, the one directed his way when Will discovered two pickles in with his lunch. A smile, soft. A bit more certain now than it was over a foil-wrapped sandwich. Nico’s not sure he understands it. It feels warm in a way he’s sure he doesn’t deserve.

“I know you’re not like that,” Will says, gentle. “I know you weren’t trying to be a jerk.”

“I can be a jerk sometimes,” Nico says, eager to move onto firmer ground, somewhere he’s not in danger of breaking open. “I’m just not that kind of a jerk.”

Will breathes out a laugh. “Good to know. Me either, I hope. I can be too sensitive, I’ve been told.” He gazes out the windshield for a moment. “Maybe we’re the softer side of the FBI.” A quick half-smile twitched towards Nico.

Nico huffs. “That sounds about right.”

“Sam and Magnus too, I think,” Will adds. “I liked working with them.”

Nico nods. “Definitely. Me too. They’re good people.”

Will takes a deep breath, stretching, then reclining his seat by a few inches. There’s a lane closed up ahead, and Nico maneuvers around the barricade, slowing his speed. Neither of them speaks again until they’re past the construction zone and Nico nudges the car back up to speed.

“I was so relieved when you showed up,” Will says suddenly.

“Hmm? When?” Nico’s gaze flicks to the right where Will is systematically dissembling his empty styrofoam coffee cup, tearing off bits of the rim and dropping them inside.

“Last week, I mean.” Will scrunches up his nose. “When you drove out here from DC. I did that autopsy and then… suddenly things weren’t adding up. I felt like I was in way over my head.”

Nico considers this.

“You had it handled though, Will. You knew what to do. You took the lead as soon as I got here, and you saw it right through to the end. They wouldn’t have caught Marcus as quickly if it hadn’t been for you. He would have killed more people.”

Will still looks unsure. “Maybe,” he says after a moment.

“Not maybe,” Nico says, more vehement than he intended. He feels a little sweaty, off-balance.

Is this just how it’s going to be, with Will? Are they going to end every second case with Nico feeling as if he’s had all his internal organs extracted and gently squeezed a few times before they’re set back in place? The stupidest part is that the whole process isn’t nearly as painful as Nico would have expected.

It’s not exactly comfortable. But it’s not bad.

Nico swallows. “Anyway. You weren’t supposed to handle it all on your own. That’s what… that’s what teams are for, and partners. That’s why they pair us up.”

“You’ve been handling it on your own, though,” Will points out. “Isn’t that exactly what you were doing before I got here?”

Nico shrugs, eyes on the road, far too aware of the little space in the car, his heart throbbing in his chest.

He supposes he can contribute one more thing to this heart-to-heart before changing the subject. He hasn’t harassed Will nearly enough for his musical selections on this trip, for instance.

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah. But maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

December 1998

“This looks interesting. What are you working on?” Nico leans over the coffee table to get a better look at the papers Hazel’s got laid out in piles. It’s late Sunday afternoon and they’ve just finished dissecting Nico’s latest case.

“It is interesting.” Hazel reaches for her laptop. “I’ve been trying to hack into the Zoion Labs database. Last night I almost breached their mainframe. So close. I got booted out at the last second.” She shakes her head sadly. “Frank’s been putting in long hours checking in on their government contacts. We’re pretty sure there’s a story there. We just haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.”

Nico scootches closer to his sister as she pulls up a file. Hazel’s tried to teach him some elementary coding over the years, giving him at least a rudimentary understanding of the document she’s brought up on the screen. She leans back, giving him a chance to make sense of her work. Just then, Nico’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out, glancing at the call display.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” he murmurs, jumping up with the phone to his ear. “Hey, thought you said you were taking the whole weekend off.” There’s a pause and then Nico laughs, loud. “I should have sent you straight to voicemail,” he says, his voice light and teasing.

Hazel blinks. There’s more laughter as Nico paces down the back hallway. He’s too far away for her to hear what he’s saying now, but his manner is so unexpected that it stops her in her tracks. Frank appears from the hallway a moment later, a confused expression on his face that Hazel thinks probably mirrors her own.

“Who’s he talking to?” Frank asks when he’s close enough not to be overheard.

Hazel shakes her head. “I have no idea.”

“Is he… seeing someone?” Frank asks. Because yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like.

“I – he hasn’t mentioned anyone.”

Frank sits down in the armchair with his own laptop and they share a glance, giggling. Hazel turns back to her own work, but half her mind is buzzing with questions she’s going to ask Nico the second he returns. The trick, she knows, is not to be too obvious.

Nico’s back a few minutes later, dropping onto the couch again, a half-smile lingering on his face.

Hazel clears her throat and glances over at Frank, who hides his face behind his computer.

“Everything okay?” Hazel asks her brother lightly. She notices Frank roll his eyes in her periphery, a smile tugging at his lips. He clearly knows she’s rather violently holding herself back.

Nico glances up. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just… seemed like an important phone call,” Hazel offers.

Nico shrugs. “Just work stuff.”

“Was it Reyna?” Frank asks and Hazel turns to beam at her boyfriend. Usually he prefers not to get involved in such discussions. She appreciates his support during this difficult time. Frank shakes his head, avoiding her gaze and grinning behind his screen.

Nico laughs, short. “No. Not Reyna.”

“And everything’s okay with Reyna?” Hazel cuts in, unable to help herself. Inquiring minds want to know, okay?

Nico frowns, blinking at his sister. “I think so?”

“Okay, that’s… good to hear,” Hazel says, a little desperate.

Nico tilts his head, clearly lost. He turns and grabs a sheet of paper from the coffee table, scans it for a moment and then holds it out to his sister. “Is this the company you mentioned earlier? Because I think they were involved in a case I was looking into last year.”

Hazel ignores the paper in favor of gazing at her brother, beginning to lose patience.

“What,” Nico asks, bewildered. “Why are you acting weird?”

Frank sighs, stretching out long legs to prop them on the coffee table. “Hazel wants to know who you were talking to,”

Nico blinks. “What, on the phone?”

“Yes, on the phone!” Hazel throws her hands up, exasperated.

“It was just Will – my partner. At work. I told you about him, right?” Nico asks, confused. “The forensic pathologist? The one they assigned to work with me a few months back?”

“Oh. That was Will?”

“Yeah, that was Will.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Hazel says, turning back to her laptop. Frank snorts.

“Okay, what is going on?” Nico laughs, tossing the papers he’d been holding down on the couch next to him.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hazel says breezily, clicking through a document. “Will is a… platonic partner?”

“Hazel, I just said, we work together.”

Hazel finally abandons all pretense. “And that’s all? Because it really sounded like something more than that.”

“What?” Nico laughs. “That’s what all this weirdness is about?” He waves his arms in their general vicinity. “He’s – we work together. He’s my partner. At work. Why would you think – we were talking about work.” Nico’s voice starts to go a bit squeaky, which Hazel privately thinks isn’t really helping his case.

“Work,” Hazel says. “On a Sunday?”

“He had some ideas about a case we were discussing on Friday afternoon. And he just called to get my opinion,” Nico says, defensive.

Hazel continues to gaze at her brother.

“What?” Nico asks again, louder.

“Nothing.” Hazel turns back to her screen.

Nico blinks at her for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Nothing. It is nothing. Tell me more about Zoion. I think I might be able to help. How did you guys first hear about–”

“It really didn’t sound platonic,” Hazel interrupts.

“Well it is,” Nico says, now sounding annoyed.

“Is he cute?” Frank asks unexpectedly from his spot in the corner. Hazel giggles.

And shockingly, like a gift from above, Nico goes completely red. Hazel’s eyes go wide with glee.

“Shut up,” Nico mutters to Hazel when she beams at him. There’s silence for a moment and then Nico groans, throwing himself back against the couch and scrubbing his hands over his face. “Shut up,” he says again when the silence in the room continues.

“Sorry,” Hazel laughs, reaching out to squeeze her brother’s knee. “Sorry for teasing. And prying.”

Nico sighs, his posture softening a bit.

“It’s just that your whole demeanor changed when you started talking to him,” Hazel says gently. “It just surprised us. You sounded really happy. Even Frank noticed.”

“Hey!” protests Frank.

Hazel shrugs. “Sorry, sweetie. You’re just not usually as in tune with that sort of thing.”

Frank looks pensive for a moment then shrugs, conceding.

Nico lets out a long breath. “Thanks for your concern,” he says. “And yeah, we get along really well. Better than I was expecting. But there’s nothing else going on. Okay?”

(chapter 4 here)

Notes:

1. Thanks as always to @rosyredlipstick for the beta! 2. The best thing about posting a chapter is I CAN FINALLY STOP EDITING IT 3. BWAHAHAHAHA 4. As much as I do love writing, I cannot deny that comments are incredibly motivating and I cherish each one 5. Sorry for any medical inaccuracies. I did my best. 6. vampires are up next!

#my writing #x-files au #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #reyna ramirez-arellano #casefic #conservatively rated teen for now #alternate universe - fbi #magnus chase #samirah al-abbas

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2nd2ndalto · 9 days ago

Text

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

(chapter 6 here)

Chapter 7

July 1999

There’s a crash somewhere in the distance, and Will startles awake.

Another crash. Will sits up, blinking into the mostly-dark hotel room. It sounds like someone in the hall. There’s murmured conversation and then the ding of the elevator. Very likely nothing worth waking up for. He sinks back down with a groan.

The blackout blinds are drawn tight across the window, but Will’s pretty sure that’s daylight seeping in at the edges, not just the glow of streetlights from the parking lot. His head is lightly throbbing. Not too bad though, considering the beers he had right before bed. He doesn’t actually remember going to bed, come to think of it.

The end of the night is a little blurry. Mostly, Will remembers laughing a lot. More than he has in a while. He remembers feeling light, for the first time in so long. He doesn’t think it was just the alcohol. Now, his memory offers up flashes of Nico’s fond gaze from across the room, eyes crinkled at the corners, half-propped up on the mountain of pillows on his own bed.

Nico.

There’s no sound or movement from the bed across the room. Will squints, then sits up for a better look. It doesn’t look as if Nico’s there at all. Will confirms this as he hauls himself out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. His mouth feels gross and cottony.

Cups. Weren’t there cups in here last night? Will can’t quite bear to turn on the lights for a better look, instead sticking his head under the tap and gulping down water until he thinks he might be partially rehydrated. Clumsy, he squeezes too much toothpaste onto his toothbrush and then scrubs at his teeth until his mouth feels the way it’s supposed to.

He fumbles in his overnight case for Tylenol. Fuck. The bottle’s empty. Maybe Nico has some? Will reaches across the counter for the little bag. Damn. Nothing in there either.

Wait. Nico’s overnight bag. Will’s pretty sure he heard the rattle of pills when he brought their bags in yesterday.

Will shambles back into the bedroom. He manages to locate Nico’s bag in the mostly-dark room. He hauls it up onto Nico’s bed, fumbling through it one-handed, various items presenting themselves to his fingers. Socks. A paperback. A small, cardboard box. Yes, finally, a small plastic bottle. Will holds it up to his face, squinting. Bingo.

He shakes two pills into his palm, and, spotting a bottle of water on Nico’s nightstand, knocks them back. He flops down onto the bed. God, he’s still so tired. What time is it, anyway? And where the fuck did Nico go? But Will’s eyes fall shut and he drifts towards unconsciousness before he can consider the matter any further.

“Hey.”

That’s Nico’s voice, Will registers, as he slowly surfaces. He blinks his eyes open and Nico’s face swims into view, the familiar contrast of dark hair and pale skin. There’s a little more light in the room now, shining from the open bathroom door. Nico looks sweaty, a few damp strands of hair falling over his forehead, a light sheen to his skin. Right. He said he might hit the hotel gym in the morning. That must have been where he was when Will woke the first time.

“Hey,” Will mumbles. He closes his eyes again.

The bed jostles, Nico dropping down beside him, a shove to Will’s shoulder. “Did you get lost on the way back to your own bed?”

Will opens one eye. Nico looks amused, a quirk to his lips. Belatedly, Will realizes that yes, he is in Nico’s bed.

“Oh. Sorry.” Will rolls onto his stomach, yanking at the blanket until Nico snorts, shifting off so Will can pull it over himself. Much better. Will closes his eyes again, snuggling in. The blanket smells like Nico. Will can’t think of anything he’d rather bury his nose in.

“Is there any particular reason you’re in my bed, Solace?”

Will groans. Do they really have to talk about this right now? Will’s so comfortable, and his headache is mostly gone now. He thinks he could probably sleep for another hour at least.

There’s a long pause and Nico grumbles something that sounds like lightweight. A moment later, Will hears the bathroom door close and the shower start up.

Will’s not sure how much time has passed when he wakes again, but now the curtains are open and Nico’s on the bed next to him, digging through his bag. Will scrubs at his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Nico snorts. “You sure?”

Will rolls to his side, watching Nico with half-lidded eyes. God, he looks good. All clean-haired and freshly-shaven.

“Hey,” Nico says after a moment, “were you… looking in my bag?”

There’s something hesitant in Nico’s voice. Nervous?

“Um. Yeah.” Will pushes himself up. “I was just looking for Tylenol. I ran out and I – sorry,” he says, a little thrown by Nico’s reaction. “For going through your stuff. I didn’t really think about it.”

It’s never been an issue in the past. The boundaries between their things are becoming more and more blurred as the months go by – more than once Nico’s asked Will to grab something out of his luggage for him. On their last overnight, they ended up sharing a tube of toothpaste when Nico ran out. That’s a level of intimacy Will doesn’t even share with his sister.

“No, it’s not a big deal.” Nico turns away. “I um – I noticed a couple of pairs of socks on the bed and I just wondered –”

“Oh, sorry,” Will says again. “I was half asleep – I hadn’t even turned the lights on and I was just feeling around in there for the bottle, and then apparently I passed out in your bed –”

Nico laughs, though he still sounds a little off. “No, it’s fine. I – it’s fine.”

Will watches Nico reorganize his bag, careful about it. Things are better, three months on. Since Tooms. Better than they have been, anyway. April and May felt like a write-off to Will, like he stumbled through those weeks in a daze that he’s still emerging from. There are significant chunks of cases they worked and solved in those months that he can barely remember.

The worst part about that time, though, is that it felt as if he and Nico had suddenly lost all the ease they’d gained with each other. Everything felt stilted, clunky, like trying to feel your way around blindfolded. Things have definitely gotten easier since then, even some of those perfect, heart-settling moments when they’re completely, utterly in sync. But somehow the occasional awkward moments between them feel even more awkward. Less acceptable. Even when it’s something as small as this. Will desperately scans his mind for a neutral topic of conversation.

“How was your workout?” he settles on.

“It was good. No one else was in there, so I got to watch MTV.” Nico turns, shooting Will a grin.

“Nice. Was it arm day?” Will’s gaze drifts to Nico’s biceps, appraising. They’re heading back to DC today, so Nico’s not dressed for work. He’s wearing a band tee Will hasn’t seen before. Placebo, it says. It’s just a little big on him, maybe not shrunk in the wash yet, and that combined with the still-damp hair and the clean-shaven face makes Nico look an awful lot like this cute punk kid Will had a crush on in tenth grade. Absently, he wonders if Nico has a skateboard.

Nico laughs, a little self-conscious. “Maybe.”

“Mmm,” Will grins. He gives Nico’s arms a more lingering, pointed look, making sure Nico notices.

Nico huffs out a laugh. “Stop checking out my arms, Solace. I think that’s workplace harassment.” He looks pleased though, and Will smiles to himself, tearing his gaze away. A little light flirting usually serves to disperse any tension gathering between them, he’s found. And if a side effect of that is he’s getting better and better at flirting with Nico – well, that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

“Hey, you’ve got something –” Will notices, gesturing at Nico’s face. He pushes himself up, rounding the bed. When he cups a hand on Nico’s shoulder, dark eyes go wide and color fills Nico’s cheeks.

Oops.

“Shaving cream,�� Will explains quickly, brushing a thumb over Nico’s cheek to wipe it away. Will’s half-sure sparks have ignited across the path his thumb has traveled, and he feels his own face heat.

“Oh,” Nico says, hoarse. “Thanks.”

Their eyes lock and Will’s heart picks up speed. Nico opens his mouth, then closes it again. Will’s hand is still on Nico’s shoulder and he’s sure Nico’s eyes flick to his mouth.

“Do you – do you want a muffin?” Nico asks, turning away abruptly. His shoulder disappears from under Will’s hand, making Will stumble.

“A – muffin?”

“Yeah, I took a quick look at the continental breakfast on my way back from the gym,” Nico’s talking fast, already heading back for the door. He pulls on his shoes, doesn’t lace them. “I’m gonna grab muffins. And coffee. Do you want coffee?” And he’s gone, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Will blinks, standing exactly where Nico left him. He scrubs a hand over his face, then grabs a change of clothes and heads for the shower. He turns on the hot water, dropping his pajamas to the floor and stepping into the steaming spray. Will lets out a soft moan, feeling every muscle in his body relax.

He’s been feeling unsure and wrong-footed ever since April. Twitchy, sometimes. That’s probably normal. Right? Will’s working on it, as best he can. Mostly he’s just trying to carry on, because that seems to be what Nico’s doing. And if nothing else, he’s learned that following Nico’s lead has rarely steered him wrong.

In lower moments, Will’s been feeling the way he did when he started this job last September – worried that he’s too much. Too much trouble. Too soft, too needy. At those times when it feels so untethered between them, he’s sure Nico must be thinking back to when he used to do this all on his own. How much easier it must have been. How much happier he’d be if Will just… went somewhere else. Sure, they almost kissed at the hospital – but why would Nico even want that, when Will’s such a mess? When he can’t tell where he is from day to day, moods and emotions swinging wildly? It’s exhausting. Dispiriting.

Nico tried to bring the subject of the Tooms case up once, near the end of June. He’d sounded tentative, half-terrified. Will had known, even then, that they probably should talk about it, that it would probably even help to get things out in the open. But he’d felt crushed under the weight of it, completely overwhelmed. He’d made a joke, changed the subject so quickly it made his own head spin. Nico hasn’t brought it up again.

They’re still good friends. Will still looks forward to going to work, most of the time. And even when everything else feels hopelessly out of sync, their work together is still strong, a steady scaffold when everything else feels as if it’s been torn away. Maybe all they need is a little more time, Will thinks once again. There must be a path back to those golden moments.

“So, where are these muffins you spoke of?” Will asks when he finally exits the bathroom.

Nico turns from where he’s packing up the last of his things. “Oh – they were actually out.” Quick, Nico’s gaze flicks over Will’s outfit for the day – jeans that have admittedly seen better days, a t-shirt from his mom’s last tour. Nico clears his throat. “There’s that restaurant downstairs, though. If you want breakfast.”

Nico’s still looking a little hesitant, a little unsure. As if Will would ever voluntarily skip breakfast.

“I want breakfast,” Will says, trying to sound as sure as he can.

Nico’s shoulders seem to relax, and his smile is soft and familiar. “Okay,” he says. He proceeds to stuff a couple of files on the top of his overnight bag. Nico takes a tentative step closer, plucks at the sleeve of Will’s shirt. “I’d still love to see your mom play sometime,” he says.

Will’s heart lifts. “Yeah. We should definitely do that.”

The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s functional. The furnishings are shabby, the carpet worn. There are two women deep in conversation by the window, and a couple with a toddler sitting at a booth. Will smiles at the little boy as they pass, and gets an absolute beam in return, the kid opening and closing a syrup-sticky hand in greeting. He turns almost all the way around in his high chair, watching Will until he and Nico are seated at a table in the corner.

“Think you made a new friend,” Nico says, glancing back at the little boy who’s still hanging off his chair, watching.

Will waves back. “So cute,” he agrees, grinning.

“Do you want kids?” Nico asks.

“I dunno,” Will says, thoughtful, “that one looks pretty sticky. Plus I think his parents would notice if we took him.”

Nico snorts. They both look up as the waiter approaches, a muscular-looking young man. His left arm is bandaged and held in a sling, but he still manages to smoothly deposit the menus on the table. Both men murmur their thanks.

“My name is Paolo, and I will be serving you this morning,” the waiter says. His voice is low and melodic. Will’s only half paying attention as he rattles off the specials and promises to return with coffee, the other half of his brain trying to sort out where he’s heard that accent before.

His eyes linger on the waiter as he crosses back through the restaurant. “I wonder where he’s from,” Will says. “That accent – it sounds really familiar…” His gaze flicks back to Nico and he’s surprised to see his partner looking nettled. Will frowns. “What? You didn’t like the breakfast specials?”

Nico huffs. “No, it’s – nothing.” He looks to where the waiter disappeared. “Is it Portuguese, maybe?”

Will brightens. “Yeah, that’s it! One of my favorite profs was from Brazil. Same accent. You’re so smart,” he adds. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Your coffee, gentlemen,” the waiter says just a second later, returning. They flip their cups, Paolo coming in with a steaming pot.

“You’re pretty efficient, even with just one arm,” Will says, leaning away so Paolo can pour.

Paolo grins, pleased, and Will’s startled to register that the waiter seems to be checking him out, really blatantly. Will feels his face heat, automatic. The guy is objectively handsome, after all.

“I aim to please,” Paolo smiles, his voice catching low. Will feels himself go redder still. He’s pretty sure he hears a soft snort next to him.

“I bet he fucking aims to please,” Nico mutters, giving Paolo a dirty look as the waiter returns to the kitchen.

Will laughs. “He’s just trying to get a good tip.”

“He was flirting with you.”

Will can’t quite tell how Nico means this, but his top two guesses are mildly scandalized or honestly jealous. Maybe a bit of both.

“What are you trying to say? You don’t think I’m hot enough to be flirted with?” Will fixes Nico with a hurt look.

Nico goes rattled and pink. “No – it’s not that – I didn’t mean – of course you’re –” Finally he cuts himself off with a sharp shake of his head, turning his attention to his coffee with a grimace.

“Good point.” Will kicks him under the table.

An hour later, they cross the hotel parking lot to the fleet car. Will loads the trunk as Nico shuffles through the glove box. Nico’s still getting organized when Will drops into the passenger seat.

“Do you have the receipt from the restaurant?” Nico asks. They’re doing their best to stay in Reyna’s good books lately, and Reyna seems to be going out of her way to aid them in this endeavor, stopping by the office to check on them more often and calling to remind them of deadlines. Nico, unexpectedly, hasn’t objected to this overreach, and he’s been making a solid attempt to keep track of receipts and submit their expense claims on time.

“Yeah, hold on –” Will digs in the pocket of his jeans, then passes the crumpled receipt to Nico.

Nico unfolds it, preparing to stuff it into the envelope with the others. He pauses. “Actually, maybe you want to keep this one.” He passes the receipt back to Will. Will blinks at him, perplexed.

“Why would I –”

Nico quirks an eyebrow, nodding to the receipt.

And yes, now that Will looks more closely, it seems there’s a phone number written on the back of the receipt.

“Oh. Wow,” Will laughs. “No, I definitely won’t be needing that.” He holds out the receipt to Nico, who doesn’t accept it.

“You sure?”

“Very sure.” When Nico still doesn’t take the slip of paper, looking unconvinced, Will rolls his eyes, grabs the envelope from Nico’s hands and shoves the receipt in himself.

“He would’ve been a step up from Luke,” Nico mutters, leaning over Will to shove the envelope into the glove box.

Will blinks, feeling tears spring to his eyes. Though even in the moment, it feels like an overreaction.

Nico draws back slowly. “Shit. I’m – I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Will shakes his head. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. But everything about the Tooms case still feels so contentious, so raw. Will’s guilt for having any part in getting the two of them involved in the first place. The instant animosity between Luke and Nico, leading at least in part to the rift between Will and Nico and whatever way each of them might feel that it almost led to Will being murdered. No matter that no such cause-and-effect is ever that simple.

Every time any hint of the case comes up, Will despairs that they’ll ever get past it. Now, three months on, he can push it to the back of his mind most of the time, but the ache of it hasn’t eased. Each time it rises to the surface, it sits awkwardly between them, ugly and unwieldy.

Will thinks maybe that what makes it such a sore spot is the fact that Nico is so very rarely unkind, especially to Will. Will almost imagined him incapable of it, right up until their argument in April. It’s silly and childish, but it felt like such a betrayal, to have Nico speak to him that way. To see disgust, even irritation in his eyes. And though there’s so rarely been so much as a hint of it since then, any time there is, Will feels as if he might burst into tears, an eight-year-old being told off by his best friend. He doesn’t even believe Nico meant to be unkind – or, to whatever extent he did in the moment, Will thinks he understands what prompted it.

But it hurt then, and it hurts now.

“It was – I meant it to be a joke. It – it wasn’t a good one,” Nico says. The tension in the car has increased about a hundredfold in the last ten seconds, and Will hates it. He turns his face towards the passenger window, stupidly hurt, completely overreacting.

How will he possibly be able to explain falling apart over such an innocuous remark? Why does he have to be such a child? He grits his teeth, takes a deep breath. He turns to look at Nico, quick, trying his best for a reassuring smile.

Nico looks stricken, which doesn’t help.

“It’s really okay, Nico. Don’t worry about it.” Will’s voice comes out hoarse and he sees Nico’s brow crease in concern as Will reaches for the bag at his feet, a distraction.

“Do you wanna take the city route back to the 475?” Will asks, determinedly shoving everything to the back of his mind. He pulls out the map. “I can navigate if you want.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah,” Nico says, soft. “Could you?”

“Of course.”

Will pulls out his sunglasses, though it’s hazy and overcast. A little extra protection from Nico’s gaze, a little help to hide his stupid watery eyes. Every time it feels like things might be getting back to normal between them, Will has to go and fuck it up by being weird and emotional. He’s just so goddamn fragile these days.

They drive in silence for a while, nothing but the occasional turn right up here and <>take the next exit. Finally, they’re on the freeway, heading back north, and Will shoves the map into his bag, sitting back with a sigh.

“Hey, could you put some music on?” Nico asks. He still sounds a bit more conciliatory than usual, still not quite Nico. Will tries to ignore it.

“Yeah. Sure. Should we try one of the CDs Frank lent you?”

“What, all that Canadian stuff? Yeah, Frank’s got pretty decent taste. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The Canadian stuff is pretty good, as it turns out, and they pass the next hour in mostly comfortable quiet. Things feel almost normal, like they do sometimes these days.

God, Will is just so tired. He wonders if it was almost better when he was just dull, flat. Rather than lately, ping-ponging back and forth between being flirty and then suddenly tearful.

A few times, in darker moments, Will’s asked himself if he’s really cut out for this work. He loves his job, almost all the time. But can he keep doing this work with Nico? How long will Nico even want to tolerate him if every difficult case results in Will barely functioning for months at a time? He’d barely managed to pull himself together after nearly losing Nico in St. Ambrose, and then Tooms had happened. What comes next? How many more of these cases can they work together before Nico decides Will’s not worth the effort?

Will swallows against the lump in his throat. “Hey – I’m gonna nap,” he says. Even to his own ears, he sounds exhausted, near-tears.

Nico’s gaze flicks over, quick, as if Will’s said something far more monumental.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Will tilts the seat back, tries to relax. At least it’s still one of his favorite ways to nap, with the knowledge that Nico’s right beside him, solid and safe. He stares at the clouds above the windshield, letting his gaze go unfocused.

Beside him, for a second he’s sure Nico is going to speak – he opens his mouth, takes a breath, then sighs. Nico’s hand lifts from the gearshift, twitching in Will’s direction for a moment before it drops again.

August 1999

The fry container is really fucking hot, and Nico adjusts his grip several times on the way back to the car, the probably-now-flattened burgers in a bag under his arm and two sodas in a tray balanced in a precarious grip in his other hand. Will jumps up when he sees Nico approaching, peeling himself off the hood of the car and rushing to help.

He’s not much help in the end, nearly dropping the fries when he, too, registers the scalding temperature. Will awkwardly catches the container between his chest and Nico’s, grabbing onto Nico’s bicep to steady both of them, pressing them together in an awkward dance and finally managing to extricate the burger bag, giggling all the while.

They finally settle in a sparse bit of shade at the rest stop, Will leaning back against the rough bark of a tree and Nico cross-legged facing him on the parched grass.

“Holy fuck, these are good fries,” Will moans, stuffing several into his mouth. Nico watches, amused. Will catches his eye and smiles. He swallows a little laboriously and then winks, inserting first his thumb and then his index finger between pink lips, sucking off salt and grease, never taking his eyes off Nico.

Nico maintains a pretty good cover, he thinks, rolling his eyes and looking away cooly as heat sparks across his skin.

It’s felt like they’ve been balanced on a razor’s edge this entire case, something electric buzzing between them ever since they left DC. It’s the heat, maybe. It’s been near 100 degrees every day, and the stupid AC in their stupid little fleet car is on its last legs.

Or it could just be them. Will. Will, who’s finally, blessedly, showing signs of being Will again.

He’s been different since the Tooms case. Tired and distracted. Nico has to work harder to get him to laugh. It makes his heart ache and his stomach churn with guilt.

Nico’s had to work harder to keep his own spirits up in the aftermath too, but he wonders if he’s simply more used to the pattern of recovery after a tough case, the knowledge that if he just keeps pushing through, things will eventually get easier. The thing is, he’s never been through it with someone before. He can deal with his own moods. But it’s been unexpectedly uphill-both-ways dealing with Will’s, more soul-crushing than Nico would have expected, waiting on that bright smile, that loud laughter – and then receiving only a shadow of it, a shadow of regret on Will’s face as he turns away again.

Nico had been numb in the first days after the case. He remembers thinking, at the time, that Will was somehow bouncing right back, even more resilient than Nico thought he was.

It hadn’t lasted, though. As April faded into May, Will had faded, too. May had been really hard; Nico just barely holding it together, Will sleep-walking through most of the month, shadows under his eyes, no spark there when Nico mustered the energy to try and tease him. Will had been away sick for a couple of days near the end of the month, and Nico had actually felt himself relax, alone in the office. And then immediately felt wracked with guilt.

Since then it’s been a bit better. Up and down. Will’s sometimes bright and flirty, sometimes dragging. At the beginning of June, Hazel had invited them over for Frank’s birthday. Nico had spent the evening thinking that now, maybe, things were getting back to normal. Will had been chatty, laughing. Friendly with Hazel, Frank and Leo, fond and teasing with Nico. But Hazel had pulled Nico aside near the end of the evening and asked, worried, “is Will okay?” and Nico had begun second-guessing everything.

Hazel couldn’t have known that her words would leave Nico so shaken. He’d cried in his car that evening after dropping Will off at home, tears blurring his vision and splashing onto the front of his shirt as he made his way back through the quiet streets to the freeway. Had he ruined everything permanently? How did he break everything between them so thoroughly, so efficiently, in just 24 hours? When things had been so good for all those months before?

Nico had found himself in tears again a week later, had returned to the office after Will left at lunch for a dentist appointment to find a sandwich in the middle of his desk, a post-it stuck on the wrapper featuring a drawing of two stick figures, one with wild curls, the other wearing a t-shirt reading Ramones. Their stick arms were overlapped, a quick scrawl of a heart at the bottom of the slip of paper. Nico had tucked the note into his pocket and carefully stuck it to the cupboard in his kitchen when he got home.

Nico thought back to that evening at the hospital more than once. The relief when Will woke. Guilt, in retrospect, that despite how badly Nico had fucked up, Will had comforted him. That despite having told Will just weeks earlier that he’d make sure nothing happened to him, Nico had done the exact opposite.

And then Will… they’d almost kissed. They’d been close enough for Nico to feel Will’s breath on his face, to count each freckle on Will’s nose, and Will had moved closer…

Nico’s brain doesn’t want to make sense of it now. Why would Will want to kiss him, especially then, when Nico had betrayed his trust and nearly caused his death? It doesn’t make any sense.

So. Things have been rough. The last few days, though – it feels as if Nico’s gotten his Will back. It’s given him a burst of energy and motivation that’s welcome and warming. Will had returned from a beach trip with his friend Cecil with a fading sunburn, a whole new crop of freckles and a spark in his eye that Nico had been sorely missing.

He’d listened to Will enumerate his beach adventures, an uncomfortable knot of jealousy growing a little more difficult to ignore every time Will mentioned Cecil, until Will finally mentioned Cecil’s wife and their twin boys, and Nico was pretty sure he could hear the sound of his own jaw unclenching.

And maybe things still aren’t perfect, but in the last few days, Nico has this undeniable feeling that they’re on the right track. Octavian has been sending them on some absolutely stupid cases since April – certain, Nico thinks, that they’ll fail, fuck up even worse than they did with Tooms.

Instead, though, they’ve been solving every single one. Because despite the fact that they’re both dragging, they’re both hurting – it turns out that they’re still a really fucking good team. This, if anything, has kept Nico going in the last few months. When they’re working a case, he and Will are seamless, finishing each other's sentences, acting on each other’s thoughts before the thoughts are even voiced. Even when Will looks as if he hasn’t slept in a week. Even when Nico realizes, later, that he hasn’t eaten anything in almost 24 hours. And Nico’s really fucking proud of that. It makes him feel like a fucking superhero.

This week’s case has been easy enough – mysterious attic noises that turned out to be a nest of squirrels, and a completely unrelated murder they’d solved easily and then passed off to the local PD. It had been a good morale boost. And if that wasn’t enough to raise Nico’s spirits, he’s still riding the high of watching Will, eyes blazing, tear a strip off the coroner who dared to call him Doogie Howser.

Nico almost wishes the case could have lasted longer. He’s half-afraid of watching Will’s light dim the closer they get back to DC. Regardless, he’s certainly in no rush to return to the hot box of the under-air-conditioned car.

Now, finishing off the last few bites of his burger, Will leans back, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sunset glow filtering through the leaves above their heads. The sky is streaked with pink and blue and orange, a bright outline of dying light around fluffy clouds at the horizon.

It doesn’t feel as if the temperature has dropped at all, though, and Nico scrubs a hand over his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead. Will had dug in his overnight bag for swim trunks and a t-shirt, and he’s looking breezy and sun-kissed, as per usual, a tan starting where his sunburn is starting to fade. Nico, on the other hand, hadn’t managed to do better than an old band t-shirt (black) and jeans (also black). He’s feeling sticky and sweaty and disgusting, and it’s a total mystery as to how Will’s gaze goes soft and fond when he glances over.

Nico raises an eyebrow and Will looks away, pink with blush and sunburn.

The mosquitoes are just beginning their nightly search for blood, and Nico slaps a third one in as many minutes, grimacing.

“Guess we should get back on the road.” Will doesn’t sound any happier about it than Nico is.

“Guess so.”

Nico sometimes feels as if he’s got a whole new mystery to solve, just looking for any hint that things might be returning to normal between them. His gaze flicks over to Will as Will buckles in, then again once they pull out onto the highway. A third time maybe half a mile later when Will shifts in his seat. Nico can’t help it. For the last few days, he feels as if he can’t believe, all over again, that Will’s here. And that he could really be Will again.

Will finally laughs, shoving damp hair off his forehead. “Why do you keep looking at me funny? Do I have something on my face?”

Will’s eyes are sparkling with humor, a sheen of sweat over the bridge of his nose. He’s summery and solid and real. The last rays of the sunset catch on blond curls and the side of Will’s face, painting him in gold and shadow. If Nico didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road, he’d like to look longer – the breadth of Will’s shoulders under the stretch of his faded t-shirt. His stubbled jaw, his nose freckled and peeling. An untidy jumble of long legs in the too-small space in front of the passenger seat. He looks healthy. Happy. A blessed lightness to him that’s been absent for far too many weeks.

“I wasn’t looking at you funny,” Nico says. “I was just… looking.”

Nico fully expects to be teased for this response, but instead Will’s gaze lingers on him just a moment longer before he turns back to the windshield, a smile still tugging at his lips.

Nico swallows, casting around for a change of subject.

“Hey –” he says, mostly to distract himself, “what were you singing in the shower this morning? It sounded like Latin.”

It had been months since Nico had heard Will singing in the shower. He was sure he was imagining it for a second. Then, when it became clear that he wasn’t, he spent far too long standing outside the bathroom door, drinking it in, letting the sound sink right into his bones.

“Oh,” Will laughs, “sorry about that. It was one of Kayla’s choir songs. I was helping her practice the other day.”

“It was nice,” Nico says. There was something sure and soothing about the melody. Melancholy, but hopeful. “I – wait, Kayla sings in a choir? That’s cool.”

“I’m not sure if it’s cool, but yeah. She sings in the Congressional Chorus.” Will shifts, pulling his shirt away from himself and flapping it a bit, an attempt to get some air flowing. “She was the lead singer for a punk band, back in Fort Worth. She missed it when we moved here, and so she ended up joining a choir.”

Nico laughs, surprised. “A punk band? That’s amazing. Kayla’s great. I liked her. When –” he cuts himself off, heart sinking. When I went to tell her you were missing. When we sat together at your bedside. Because that topic’s definitely off-limits and yes, Nico’s just about enough of an idiot to bring it up now, when things finally feel like they’re getting back to normal.

There’s silence for a moment, but then Will says, softer. “Yeah. She – she said she liked you, too. She said it was nice to finally meet you in person, even though…” Will trails off, then shrugs, turning his face to the window.

The weight presses back into Nico’s chest, the one that makes him despair that he’ll ever be able to take a full breath again. But a second later Will clears his throat. “The Latin bit means, The sun warms everything even when I’m far away. Love me faithfully and know that I am faithful..” Will’s voice is rough, but steady, and he gives Nico a half-smile when Nico looks over.

Will turns to the windshield again, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. There’s no trace of the sun in the sky now, just a dusky glow at the horizon. The headlights flash white on the road ahead of them. “It’s sad, but also kind of reassuring,” Will says. “It’s about how people in your life might come and go, but each of them leaves a bit of them with you. Everyone you’ve ever met, everything that’s happened to you – you collect all those little pieces in your heart.”

“That’s – nice,” Nico manages around the lump in his throat. And when he glances over yet again, a few minutes later, Will just looks settled. Soft. Somehow relaxed in this shoebox of a car. So maybe Nico hasn’t completely fucked everything up after all.

Will does look hot though, literally, sweaty ringlets at his temples and a glow to his skin that’s certainly more than some kind of inner peace.

Nico leans forward, holds a hand over the vent. “I’m not convinced there’s any cool air coming through at all,” he says sadly. “Stupid compact cars.”

“Aww, it’s not Yaris’ fault,” Will says, patting the little car’s dashboard affectionately. “She’s doing her best. Any car would have trouble keeping up with this heat.”

This is patently untrue, but Will thinks the car is adorable – a completely unnecessary and stupid attribute for a car.

“Okay if we open the windows for a while?” Nico asks. It’s not a lot more comfortable than driving down the highway being cooked alive with the windows closed. But variety is the spice of life.

Half an hour later the noise of the wind is worse than the heat, and Nico closes the windows again. It’s fully dark now, but it doesn’t feel as if the temperature’s dropped in the slightest.

Will’s hair is wild and windblown, eyes watering from the dust blowing off the road. He turns the AC up max as the windows rise. Will checks the vent this time, grimacing. “You’re right. No cold air.” He gives Nico a once-over, skeptical. “You don’t have secret mechanical skills you’re not telling me about, do you?”

Nico snorts. “I wish. Do I look like a mechanic?”

There’s a pause, then, “no. You do kinda look like this skater kid I had a crush on in tenth grade.”

Nico barks out a laugh. When he glances over, Will’s smiling, his gaze on his lap. “It’s – the band tee, and the ripped jeans. The greasy hair.” Will waves a hand in Nico’s direction and shoots him a quick grin, bashful.

Nico’s heart throbs in his chest. He shoves his hair off his forehead. “I’m sweaty not greasy,” he says. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. “I was actually pretty good on a skateboard,” he says after a moment. Because okay, yes, he wants to chase that high of Will’s attention.

Will looks intrigued. “Yeah? You should show me sometime.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea. It’s been a few years. I’d probably end up breaking a hip.”

Will laughs. The sound is so easy. So much like before. It makes Nico’s throat constrict. It’s not that he hasn’t heard Will laugh in the last few months, but he’s suddenly hit with the crashing certainty that it hasn’t been that laugh.

Will leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. A moment later he shifts, pulling at the front of his shirt, trying for some airflow. “I’m so hot,” he groans.

“And so modest,” Nico shoots back, earning a grin.

Nico’s eyes flick to the sign at the side of the highway – Willesden, 20 miles.

“What did that say?” Will asks, squinting.

About a month after Tooms, Nico – idiotically, unthinkingly – had asked Will if he wanted to drive as they left on a case. Mostly, he’d been desperate to give Will some momentum, some action. Keep him busy with something other than staring catatonically into the distance for the next two hours. There’d been a loaded pause before Will had replied, “I can’t drive without my glasses. I – haven’t gotten them replaced yet.”

God. Right. The glasses. A tiny bit of proof that Will had been there, in the park, crushed under Nico’s heel. Nico had spent the next two hours in his own dissociative state.

Nico forcefully smashes that memory into a mental safe and locks it. “Willesden, it said. Why, you wanna stop for snacks?”

“No, just curious.” Will glances out the window, miles and miles of dark woodland flashing by outside the windows, no other cars in sight. Nico glances at the clock on the dash. They’d planned to drive back to DC tonight, but he’s not sure how much longer he can bear in this oven of a car. He raises a hand to wipe sweat out of his eyes.

“Hey. They have a swimming hole,” Will says suddenly.

“Huh? Who has a swimming hole?”

“Willesden. I went there once with Kayla and some of her friends. We should go!”

“You want to go swimming? Now? In the dark?”

“God, yes, don’t you?”

Does he? Cool water. And maybe not cool air, but less stuffy. And the thought of getting out of the car for a while is appealing. Not to mention that Will sounds really fucking stoked about it, and Nico always has a hard time denying the appeal of that.

“I’m literally drenched in sweat,” Will says. “Do you really wanna smell me all the way home?”

Nico blinks, caught out. Neither of them smells like a bed of roses right now, but he had kind of been appreciating the heat of Will beside him. The way the temperature in the car had been bringing out that smell that’s just Will. Sure, maybe a little sweat, but sunshine and summer, too. The berry smell of his shampoo.

Will, unfortunately, seems to be a bit too perceptive this evening. “Maybe you do want to smell me all the way back to DC,” Will says, leaning a little closer, grinning.

“Fuck off,” Nico complains. When he shoves at Will’s shoulder, Will is warm, warm, warm. Solid in a way that makes Nico want to press his face into Will’s chest and take a nice, deep inhale right against warm, freckled skin.

Okay. Maybe it really is time to get out of this hot little car.

“Fine,” Nico sighs, doing his best not to sound too enthused. “We can swim.”

Will actually claps his hands. Nico snorts.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I remember how to get there.” Will leans forward, squinting down the dark road. “There are a few dirt roads that lead off into the woods, just about a mile before the turnoff. I think it’s the second one.”

“You think?”

Will shrugs. “We’ll find it.”

“On a dirt road. In a compact car. In the dark.”

Will grins, fluttering his eyelashes. Sadly, a compelling argument.

They do find it, in fact. Will’s directions are surprisingly good, considering his night vision is crap even with glasses. The Yaris just barely makes it a quarter mile into the woods, Nico gritting his teeth the whole time and Will chattering encouragement next to him, pointing ahead into the darkness where Nico’s 90% sure he can’t see much of anything. The second time the little car almost bottoms out in a pothole, Nico’s entirely ready to turn back, but then they reach what seems to be the end of the road, a solid wall of dark pine ahead of them.

“Are you sure this is it?” Nico asks. He’s feeling increasingly skeptical now, and increasingly concerned with how they’re going to coax the Yaris out of the woods when there’s no discernible space to turn around.

Will’s out of the car and a few steps into the trees already. Nico hurries to follow.

“Yeah – see the arrow?”

Somehow Will picks out the little sign in the dark, though he had trouble spotting Nico across the hotel lobby this morning. And anyway, the arrow could mean anything, couldn’t it? A hiking trail. A steep dropoff. Rabid grizzly bears, straight ahead. But Nico follows Will anyway, following the flash of moonlight catching his curls just before they’re completely under the cover of trees.

Will makes an oof sound a second later.

“Tree?” Nico asks.

“Maybe?” comes Will’s voice in the dark, repressive.

Nico sighs. “Stay right there. No, literally do not move,” he adds, stern, when Will looks as if he has no intention of complying. “Not a step. I’m going to go grab my flashlight. And wait – we don’t even have like – towels,” he calls over his shoulder, to no response.

With growing misgivings, Nico digs through the little hatchback’s trunk for flashlights. He unearths one, at least. Several items fall from his overnight bag onto the dirt at his feet, several more tumbling out when he crouches to retrieve them. Shoving everything back into his bag and smushing the bag back into the trunk, Nico once again curses the perils of compact cars.

What else? Towels? No. Neither of them brought a towel, because they were staying at a fucking hotel. Nico doesn’t even have swim trunks, he realizes belatedly. How is this even going to work? Maybe he can just roll up his jeans and dip his feet in. Should he bring his gun?

Forcing the trunk shut, Nico turns back to the woods, flashlight lit. He immediately stumbles. When he aims the flashlight at the ground, the beam illuminates one of Will’s hoodies, a casualty of the trunk explosion. He stuffs the hoodie under his arm and heads back into the trees.

Will does not particularly know the way, as it turns out, and after nearly losing his partner several times as Will attempts to walk in a completely opposite direction to where the path is leading, Nico grabs Will by the shoulders, forcibly swapping their positions so Will’s behind him.

“It’s up there!” Will exclaims suddenly. “Do you see?”

Nico does indeed, calm water sparkling in the moonlight. The dirt trail under their feet gives way to scrubby, mossy vegetation, water lapping at the borders. It’s a small lake, the opposite side visible, not too far. Easy swimming distance, certainly. It’s pretty. Kind of magical in the moonlight, the water framed by willows and vines. The air is still stuffy, hardly much cooler than it was in the heat of the car, but the water looks cool and fresh. Nico really should have brought swim trunks.

There’s a splash to his left. Will surfaces just a second later, hair plastered to his forehead, a huge grin on his face, addictive and contagious. “It’s cold,” he laughs before disappearing under the water again.

It’s fine for Will, Nico supposes. He’s been in swim trunks all day. Although they’ll be a bit wet on the ride home… Nico glances at the scrubby grass beside him. There’s Will’s t-shirt. And his swim trunks.

Butterflies in his stomach, a whole fucking herd of them. “Solace, are you skinny-dipping?”

Will is treading water, grinning. Nico can’t help a glance downwards, though it’s dark, of course, and Will is completely submerged. He’s grateful, for a second, for Will’s less-than-stellar vision.

“There’s no one here,” Will says.

“I’m here,” Nico protests weakly.

“You sure are.” Will gives him a once-over, obvious about it. More butterflies. “So are you getting in, or what?”

Nico grimaces. His gaze catches on the cool, moonlit water, circles gently radiating out from where Will’s head and shoulders are visible. Nico’s shirt is almost soaked through with sweat, damp under his arms and all the way up his back.

“You can swim, can’t you?” Will says, suddenly worried.

“Yeah, I can fucking swim.” Nico sighs. “Fine. I’ll get in.” He pulls his shirt off. God, that feels better already. There’s no breeze, but it’s really fucking nice to feel less damp. He carefully lays the shirt flat on the ground. Maybe it’ll dry a little while he’s in the water. He pops the button on his jeans.

A wolf whistle echoes across the water, and Nico looks up to see Will’s eyes on him, a stupid smile on his face.

“Don’t watch me,” Nico laughs. The butterflies are kind of ridiculous now. But – it’s just swimming. Right? It’s dark. And like, it’s better than risking heat stroke on the highway. Obviously.

“Fine.” Will rolls his eyes, then disappears under the water again.

Still in disbelief that he’s actually been convinced to do this, Nico sheds his jeans and underwear. And jumps in. He hopes it’s deep enough to jump – Will did, after all.

It is. Nico sinks for a second, feet bumping against the muddy bottom. He pushes back up, surfacing not far from Will. And like Will said, it’s cold. Spring-fed, maybe. The water is bracing, alerting Nico’s entire body very quickly and thoroughly, from his toes to his scalp.

“Hi,” Will beams.

Nico rolls his eyes, then takes off swimming. By the time he reaches the far end, he’s breathing hard, but at least his body’s starting to warm up. He dives back down, swimming just below the surface for as long as he can hold his breath, then surfacing, a smooth front crawl back towards the other side. The water is clear; when Nico opens his eyes underwater, he can see the moonlight filtering through, can just make out the pale silhouette of Will’s body as he swims by in the opposite direction.

For a while, they both just swim, back and forth across the little lake in the moonlight, occasionally exchanging a glance or a grin, but no conversation. It doesn’t feel necessary. And the fact that it doesn’t just feels right. It feels blessedly normal.

Nico swims quickly at first, but then his pace slows. After a while he rolls in the water to float on his back, tiny adjustments to keep himself afloat, his gaze gentle on the endless dome of the velvet sky above, a million glittering stars he can never see in the lights of the city. It’s like a cathedral, he thinks vaguely. There’s something quiet and reverent about being out here. Peaceful, like all’s right with the world, he and Will two little specks of stardust in the vast universe.

Something grabs his ass.

Nico makes a very high-pitched, very embarrassing sound, flailing to achieve some kind of verticality, looking around wildly. The first thing he sees, aside from splashes of water and the tilting of the forest as he rights himself, is his fucking partner. Will surfaces at the same moment that Nico looks in his direction, eyes wide, one hand pressed briefly over his mouth before he needs it to stay afloat again.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Will laughs. Whatever he sees in Nico’s face makes him laugh harder, and he goes under, surfacing a second later, spluttering, water streaming down his face. “I was trying to grab your ankle, to scare you –”

“That was not my ankle,” Nico says weakly, his heart still running marathons in his chest.

“Yeah.” Will’s laughing almost too hard for speech. “It felt a lot… fleshier.”

“Dickhead,” Nico laughs. “First you grab my ass and then you insult my ass?”

Will opens his mouth, maybe to reassure Nico about his ass – Nico interrupts, instead, quite sure he doesn’t want to have that conversation. “I thought it was some kind of fucking – swamp monster, and that I was about to get – eaten, or at least lose my – my –”

Will hasn’t stopped laughing. “Your family jewels? Your undercover brother?”

Nico snorts. “My Washington Monument,” he says, because he remembers Leo saying it recently.

“Really,” Will says, glancing downwards, intrigued.

Nico scoops one hand into the water and does his best to give Will a faceful of pond. Most of it misses. Will laughs, loud, and ducks under again. Nico swims away in a hurry, just in case Will’s getting any ideas about a repeat ass attack. Nico doesn’t think his heart could take it. But when he stops and turns, Will’s still where Nico left him, soaking wet, something warm in his gaze that makes Nico want to swim right back again.

He does. But he tries not to look like he’s rushing, or anything.

“I really am sorry,” Will says as Nico gets closer, still grinning, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “I promise I wasn’t actually trying to grab your ass.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “It’s fine.”

They watch each other for a moment in the near-dark, Nico suddenly feeling much warmer than the water should allow. Will’s face is gentle. Calm like Nico doesn’t think he’s seen it in months. He can’t decide if he wants to cry or cradle that sweet face in his hands and kiss it, properly, every inch of freckled, sunburnt skin. Neither of them looks away, the expression on Will’s face mirroring his own, Nico thinks. Uncertain. Wondering.

God, it would be so easy to make this so complicated.

Nico, unsurprisingly, breaks first, the butterfly storm in his gut reaching untenable proportions. He drops backward into the water, sculling his hands. “There was one spot where it was shallower,” he says, glancing behind him. “I wouldn’t mind not having to keep myself afloat for a while.” He doesn’t quite want to tear himself away from this little sanctuary yet, but he’s getting a little tired of swimming.

“Yeah, I think it’s near that far shore,” Will says, and they both make their way through the water. “There’s a ledge of rock where it’s actually shallow enough to sit. Just watch out, there are some –”

“Ow, fuck,” Nico groans, catching his ankle against a rock ridge. The flash of pain is sharp enough that he’s pretty sure it drew blood.

Will grimaces. “–some sharp bits, yeah. Are you okay?” He paddles closer, then rights himself. Nico swims a bit further before he’s able to set his feet on the mucky bottom.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Nico reaches down, carefully brushing fingers over his ankle. “I think I just grazed it.”

“Is it bleeding? Do you want me to take a look?”

“Well, not now,” Nico says, flicking a glance towards the opposite shore where all his clothes are. “I’m not getting out over here and I’m not about to try to lift my ankle over my head. Unless you want me to have a whole new injury.”

Will laughs. “Yeah, okay. Remind me later.”

Will continues a bit further towards the shore, more cautious now. “Over here – careful.” Close to the shore, just under the overhang of willows. Nico can tell Will’s crouching at the water gets shallower. Finally, he sits, the water level just below his armpits.

That’s just as well, right? Nico doesn’t really want to risk seeing… anything. He’s having enough trouble keeping his eyes away from broad freckled shoulders, the lines of Will’s pecs and collarbones, all wet and glistening in reflected moonlight. Who could blame him, really. There’s just so much of Will. So very many miles of sun-kissed skin that are normally swathed in layers of fabric.

Nico carefully picks his way to a spot a couple feet away, the water level settling a bit higher for him, almost to his shoulders.

Will shoots him a quick smile, something shy, before turning his gaze back to the expanse of calm water before them. The moon’s dipping lower now, but its reflection still stretches out across the water, a path of cool light in the darkness. It catches on the treetops, the acres of forest stretching out all around them.

“It’s really pretty,” Nico says, soft. It’s not just pretty – this private little oasis feels almost healing, in some way. Cathartic. But that sounds stupid. So he sticks to the basics.

“Yeah.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet, then. Not awkward, though. Just peaceful, in quiet company with their thoughts.

Nico thinks, for probably the dozenth time this month – maybe this is the time. Maybe now they could actually talk about everything that happened in April. Maybe he could tell Will how fucking scared he was. How in those hours, walking the streets, fully expecting to find Will’s body, Nico thought over and over how he would give absolutely anything to find Will alive. How he’d still give anything to keep Will here with him. How he’s spent these last few months aching for Will, knowing how very not okay he is, wishing desperately he knew the right thing to do or say to make it better.

Will hasn’t said more than a few words about any of it. Will, who’s supposed to be good at talking. At feelings. Will, who opened up about his childhood, his relationship with his father, just a few days after his father’s death. It had seemed easy as breathing, for him. Will, who’d gotten Nico to open up about his own father, without even trying.

Nico’s not sure when he finally accepted that what he feels for Will is more than just a crush, but he thinks it might have been somewhere around the 12-hour mark in the search, back in April. There wasn’t time to think about it then, of course. And at the time, it only made the guilt worse. Now, though, maybe…

Nico takes a breath in, heart pounding, still not sure exactly how brave he’ll be when he speaks.

“Can you still prescribe antibiotics?” is what comes out, when Nico opens his mouth.

Will turns, grinning. “That’s what you were thinking of, gazing out over all this breathtaking beauty?” He extends his arms over the moonlit water.

“Well, my ankle still hurts,” Nico says, defensive. “And these rocks are kind of slimy. I’m just wondering exactly what we’re sitting in.”

Will snorts. “Yeah, I can prescribe antibiotics. Or you might want to go see a real doctor.”

Nico scoffs. “You’re real enough.”

“Do you wanna get out now, if you’re worried that we’re soaking in a vat of bacteria?”

“Nah,” Nico says, doing his best to sound like he doesn’t actually have strong feelings on the subject. “It’s probably good for my immune system.”

Will flicks water at him, just a little splash with his index finger. Nico huffs, leaning away.

“Do you ever think about going back to that? To medicine?” Nico asks. He’s almost positive Will doesn’t. But it’s the easiest and most cowardly way he can think of to ask, “are you going to leave me, now that you know how hard this job can be? Now that you know how hard I can be?”

“No,” Will says immediately. “Medicine wasn’t for me. I don’t ever regret leaving.” Will floats his hand on the water’s surface, slowly skimming back and forth, thoughtful. Nico can see it in the slight furrow in his brow, the slightest tilt of his head in Nico’s direction. His gut twists, bracing for whatever’s coming. But I’m thinking about leaving this job. But I don’t think I can keep doing this.

I just don’t trust you anymore.

“How about you?” Will asks, finally. His hand is floating on the water’s surface, palm up. Is it an invitation? Everything inside Nico is urging him to reach over, while all of his actual physical being remains resolutely where it is.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Do you ever – I don’t know. The paranormal beat can be hard, right?”

Nico feels his heart sink, and maybe Will can see it, because he immediately rushes on with, “I just mean – it must feel like you’re fighting an uphill battle sometimes, right? Octavian’s not a fan of the department. And –” there’s a hesitation that feels particularly weighty, “ –you’ve said – in the past. About not being taken seriously. By – other departments.” Will says all this extremely haltingly, and Nico thinks he’s probably not mistaken in the assumption that Will started his thought without realizing how close he was coming to talking about That Which They Do Not Mention.

“I – no,” Nico manages, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t – it’s like you said, a while back,” Nico’s voice goes a bit softer. He floats his own hand on the water, palm up, mirroring Will’s. “I don’t think there’s any other job I’d want to do. At the Bureau. I know that it’s not always… perfect,” he decides, “but it’s mine. It’s a job, right? No one loves their job every second of every day. But I can’t imagine doing anything else. I don’t want to.”

“I admire you. For that,” Will says, soft.

Nico laughs. “For being stubborn? Stuck in a rut of my own making?”

A flash of white teeth in the moonlight. “Yeah.” Will floats his hand a little closer, brushes the tips of his fingers against Nico’s. The sensation flashes across Nico’s body, down his neck and his chest. It tingles in his cheeks.

“It’s reassuring,” Will says slowly. “To know that you’re so sure about what you’re doing. It always makes me feel more sure, too. I like that I can count on that.”

It would probably be really weird to hug Will right now, wouldn’t it? When they’re both completely naked, marinating in this pond of bacteria. Nico settles for brushing his fingertips back against Will’s, feeling it in his stomach this time. In his heart.

“Back when I was working at Violent Crimes – I loved it, at first,” Nico says. He hesitates, gazing out over the water for a long moment. There’s barely a ripple now. They’ve both been holding nearly still in their little corner, and there’s no breeze, nothing. Nico can smell the rich pine scent in the August-warm air, earth and life all around. Will’s gaze is waiting for him when he turns back, head tilted, patient.

“I felt like I was doing exactly what I was meant to,” Nico continues, his voice a little rougher. “Like all my experience, all my education culminated into something I was really fucking good at. And it was really good for a while. But it started to wear on me so quickly. Like, six months in, suddenly I didn’t want to go to work in the morning.”

Will nods, slow. “Yeah, I get that.”

Nico takes a deep breath. “It was all these big operations, always high-stress. And, you know – it was serial killers. Really grisly murders, all the time. Constantly trying to get inside the heads of these really bad guys. The worst of the worst. And the pace was just – I couldn’t do it. We’d finish up one case, and I’d feel really accomplished for a second… but then we just dived right into another one. Another really bad guy. Someone even worse. And I’d have to figure out what he was thinking. And I – I think I was getting depressed. It was like I was sleepwalking through everything, all the time. Not just at work, but the rest of my life too. I felt like a failure. This was what I thought I’d always wanted to do and then –” Nico shrugs. “I just couldn’t.”

“That’s – I mean I know it was a different situation,” Will says, “but that’s pretty much exactly the way I felt when I dropped out of medicine.”

Nico nods. He knows this. Maybe it’s what endeared him to Will so quickly, all those months ago. It felt so fucking familiar, like looking into a mirror of his own life. Like, maybe both of them needed to crash and burn to end up here, together.

“You’ve never talked about that before,” Will says. Maybe some surprise in his voice, some hurt? For a second it seems like he’s going to say more, but then he just shakes his head.

“I – it’s not that I didn’t want to,” Nico says after a long stretch of quiet. It’s an apology, of sorts. The best he can manage. But Will seems to understand, because when his voice comes through the darkness again, it’s teasing.

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

Nico shrugs, cool. “Stick around and you might find out,” he says, while his heart, stupidly, is screaming, please don’t leave me.

When Nico glances over, Will’s gaze is warm, sure. “I don’t have any other plans.”

Nico’s throat goes tight. “Good,” is all he’s got for a response.

“Good,” Will echoes.

“Hey,” Nico says before he can completely chicken out. He doesn’t think he can say what he actually wants to say. But he can say something.

When Nico shoots a glance over at Will – god, he’s beautiful. The shine in his eyes. The way the moonlight catches on his hair – in complete and glorious disarray, curls everywhere, half already dry and frizzing, others still in perfect damp ringlets that Nico wants to twist his fingers into.

Nico swallows, turning back to the water stretching out before them. It’s always easier to talk properly when he doesn’t have to look at Will head-on. When he doesn’t have the distraction of those blue eyes gazing into his soul, those soft lips he’s becoming far too fixated on brushing with his fingertips. “Can – can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I know these last few months have been – hard,” Nico says. The words hang heavy in the dark space between them, as Nico finally dares to put some voice to this thing that they’ve both been so determinedly avoiding.

“But – I just wanted to say – please don’t shut me out. If you can. If – I don’t know. If things are hard. Or if you’re not – feeling like yourself,” Nico manages, halting. He’s not sure that he’s even making any sense. But he can’t bear to say it any more explicitly. He still feels ready to shatter into a million pieces when he thinks too hard on it. “Maybe I deserve to be shut out. I probably do. But I want you to know that you don’t – you don’t have to pretend you’re okay if you’re not. Not with me.”

There’s a long silence. Nico feels frozen in place, terrified to look over at Will.

“You don’t deserve to be shut out,” Will says, finally.

“No, don’t –” Nico shakes his head. God, how do people even do this? “I’m not trying to – make this about me. I’m sorry if that’s how it came across.”

“It didn’t. I think I know what you mean.”

Nico honestly doesn’t know what else to say, or how to say it. This day, this whole trip has been almost perfect. And now, maybe, he’s gone and gouged a dark mark over all of it. But there’s a niggling feeling, growing stronger, that maybe there can’t be any properly perfect days before he at least makes an attempt to repair the imperfect ones.

“I’ll try,” Will says. “Not to shut you out. I didn’t – I don’t want to.”

Nico nods, throat tight. “Okay.” And then, because it’s twisting in his chest and he’s terrified he still hasn’t properly said what he means – “I missed you,” Nico manages, his voice rough.

There’s a pause, but then – “I missed you, too.” Will’s voice is wobbly. Carefully, he reaches over, a gentle grip on Nico’s arm, just below his shoulder. Nico feels all the broken parts of him not heal exactly, but definitely start moving in a different direction. A better one.

Nico dares to look over. Will’s hand is warm, his eyes shining with tears and moonlight.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Nico croaks. He needs to believe it.

Will nods. “Of course we will.”

They don’t leave the little lake, not yet. They stay a while longer, in mostly quiet companionship, watching the slow progress of the moon across the heavens.

“Is that Orion?” Will asks, pointing.

Nico squints at the stars scattered over the dark sky above. “No fucking clue.”

Will giggles.

Nico looks over, appraising. “You’re starting to drawl. We better get you to bed,” he says unthinkingly.

Will’s brow furrows. “I’m – what?”

Nico feels his face warming. Lucky for him, he’s fairly certain Will can barely even recognize him right now, in the dark. “You – your Southern accent starts coming out. When you’re tired,” Nico says, awkward, painfully aware that he’s never, ever mentioned it in almost a year of noticing it. “It’s a harbinger.”

“It’s a harbinger?”

“Yeah,” Nico says. “It means you’re gonna fall asleep within the hour, so when I hear those – those i’s turning into ah’s, I know I need to get you coffee or get you to bed.”

Will presses a hand over his mouth. “I don’t do that,” he mumbles, affronted, “and you – you’ve never mentioned that before.”

Nico begins to swim backward, still watching Will, amused. “No I haven’t, and yes, you definitely do.” He laughs at the look on Will’s face and turns, diving under the surface. Nico reaches the far shore first, turning back to look at Will, who still looks mildly offended.

“You just said you didn’t want to do profiling anymore,” Will protests.

Nico rolls his eyes. “That’s not profiling, that’s just observation. Now, turn around so I can get out.”

Will huffs, but turns. Nico chances a glance over his shoulder as he hauls himself nakedly out of the water.

“You know, I really can’t see anything anyway,” Will calls, still turned away. “You’d just be like, a fleshy blur to me.”

Nico shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to ask you to stop calling me fleshy.”

Will laughs, sharp.

“I grabbed one of your hoodies. Okay if I use it to towel off?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Several minutes later they’re both out, mostly dry and mostly dressed. Will kneels to tie his runners. They return to the cover of the woods side by side, Will almost immediately walking into a tree.

“Jesus, Solace. Here, hold my arm.”

Will does, a tight grasp of Nico’s sleeve as they reposition themselves to walk single-file. Nico slows his pace a little to avoid giving his partner a concussion.

“I really need to get my glasses replaced,” Will mutters. His grip on Nico tightens as he stumbles over a root.

“Eh. Don’t worry about it,” Nico says. “I’ll be your seeing eye… guy.”

Will giggles. He stumbles again, knocking right into Nico, warm and solid. Nico steadies them both. Luckily, they’re back at the car.

Will gets settled in the passenger seat as Nico rounds the little vehicle, quickly determining they’d mostly likely get hopelessly stuck if they tried turning around. Jaw set, he manages to reverse all the way out of the woods. Will is very impressed, which helps a little. Nico eases the car back onto the highway, pushing it back up to speed. He thinks it’s possible the temperature has dropped a couple of degrees. But probably not.

Will yawns, then immediately looks over at Nico, guilty. “I’m not falling asleep,” he lies.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Ah’m not fallin’ asleep.” he teases.

“Fuck you.”

“D’you think Willesden has a hotel?” Will asks. He sounds, Nico thinks, as if he’s trying very hard not to drawl now. And failing. Nico, magnanimously, does not mention this.

“You don’t want to drive all the way back to DC tonight?” Honestly, Nico could really go for a soft-ish bed and some AC right now.

“There’s no rush. Right?” Will turns.

And of course Will simply means there’s no rush to get back home. Nico knows this. But it feels like so much more.

“Right,” Nico agrees, throat tight. “There’s no rush.”

Notes:

1. Halfway through writing this fic, I realized I wanted to write a chapter based on the title, which is from Nightswimming by R.E.M. This is it :) You should listen to it if you haven't. If you want, you can also listen to me attempting the piano accompaniment. 2. The "Canadian music" Frank lent Nico is an excuse for all the 1990s Canadiana on my fic playlist. Which I will probably remember to share at some point. 3. Most of you are probably too young to have watched Doogie Howser, but it was a sitcom that ran from 1989 to 1993 featuring Neil Patrick Harris as a genius teenage surgeon :) 4. Thank you, always, to @rosyredlipstick the beta & ongoing moral support <3 5. Thanks to all of you for reading and commenting and waiting! I just realized the other day that I hadn't updated since November 1. The next couple of chapters are mostly done & shouldn't take as long to get out. 6. Almost forgot! The song Will sings in the shower is called Omnia Sol. 7. Oh! And the Placebo mention is for @anything-thats-rock-and-roll :)

#my writing #x-files au #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #conservatively rated teen for now #alternate universe - fbi #songfic sort of

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