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2nd2ndalto · 4 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 · 4 months ago

Text

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

(chapter 1 here)

Chapter 2

September 1998

When Will opens the door to the basement office the next morning, there’s a flurry of activity.

“Thornhill, Virginia,” di Angelo says by way of greeting. He squeezes past, handing Will a map. Will accepts it, his eyes following his new partner’s progress across the office. The dark-haired man drops to a crouch to dig through a drawer in the corner. “Little town, right at the edge of the Shenandoah National Forest,” he continues, his voice muffled. “Place is known for maple syrup, mostly. Tourism. Some very picturesque bed & breakfasts. At least, that’s what the librarian told me when I called.”

“Sounds… nice?” Will says, a little confused. He glances to the clock on the wall, just double-checking. Yes, he’s almost 15 minutes early. Di Angelo has clearly been here for a while already. There’s a bag open on di Angelo’s desk. From what Will can see from where he’s stalled several feet into the office, there are files inside, and a jumble of clothes.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Di Angelo turns to raise an eyebrow at Will. “Except for the recent string of murders.”

Comprehension dawns, probably a little late. “Oh.” Will blinks, trying to catch up. “How – how many murders?”

Di Angelo stands, running a hand through already messy hair, causing it to stand half on end in a way that somehow makes him look even more attractive rather than insane. “Three in the past two months. The most recent being Sarah Wilton, age twenty-four. Her body was found yesterday morning. But I was looking through some old newspaper articles, and the recent deaths are very similar to a string of murders in the same town fifty years back.”

Di Angelo delivers all of this rapid-fire and Will gazes at him for a moment once he’s stopped speaking, still processing. His gaze drifts to the map he suddenly realizes he’s still holding. “Oh. Okay. So, road trip?”

“Yeah, I thought so,” di Angelo says. He’s stuffing a few more things into his bag, then forcing the zipper closed. “You okay with that? If you’re not ready to go out in the field yet you’re welcome to stay here, take a look at some more files. I don’t mind–”

“No,” Will says immediately, “a road trip sounds great. What do I need?” He’d anticipated possibly being out on some overnight trips, or longer. He’s brought a minimal overnight bag to work today, though it won’t be adequate for a longer excursion.

“Shouldn’t be much,” di Angelo says. He plucks his bag from the desk, makes a fluid turn to grab his coat from the hook on the wall. Will stares, transfixed by the other man’s movements. He registers that he’s still standing in the middle of the only open space in the office, and takes the few steps over to his desk.

“It’s maybe a two-hour drive,” di Angelo is saying. “I just want to take a look around, talk to a few people. We should be back by the end of the day, but I’d take a change of clothes just in case. Oh, here,” he adds, fishing a folded newspaper from the edge of his desk. “You can take a look at that on the way. Ready?”

Di Angelo’s eyes are bright. He looks a little manic. It suits him.

A car has already been requisitioned, apparently, and Will follows di Angelo to the parking garage.

“Who’s driving?” Will asks, surveying the line of monochrome sedans and hatchbacks.

Di Angelo stops in his tracks, his gaze a little over-intense. “I drive.”

Okay, then. Will’s a decent driver, but he grew up in a house with too many teenagers and only one vehicle, so he never got into the habit of doing it regularly. That, and he still finds the freeways around DC a little daunting.

“Did you grow up around here?” Will thinks to ask as di Angelo turns off Ninth Street and angles the car towards the freeway entrance.

A brief glance to Will, guarded. “Yeah. Sort of.”

When it seems no further information is forthcoming, Will supplies, “not me. I’m from Texas. Little town with one traffic light. My mom lives near Fort Worth now.”

There’s no response to this. Will decides not to take it personally. He reaches across the dashboard for the newspaper di Angelo handed him earlier. Deaths Shock Small Town reads the cramped headline under the fold.

“Three deaths this year,” Will muses, half to himself. The rest of the article is on page six, just a few short paragraphs. “Seems as if something like that would be bigger news in such a small place. Do they get a lot of murders out that way?”

Di Angelo raises an eyebrow. “I’m willing to bet they don’t.”

Will reads further. “New housing development encroaching on the forest… bodies found with limbs ripped off –” he frowns. “Couldn’t these be animal attacks? This place is right on the edge of a national forest. If this housing development is pushing into established animal habitat…”

“That would be the most logical conclusion,” di Angelo says slowly, eyes on the road.

“But?”

“But…” di Angelo lets it hang for a moment. “The bodies appear to have been gnawed on by human teeth.”

Will grimaces, glancing back to the newspaper. “The article doesn’t mention that.”

“No,” di Angelo allows. “But I have other… sources.”

“The librarian?” Will asks.

There’s a pause as di Angelo changes lanes, passing a slow-moving RV. “It can be helpful to keep an open mind when gathering information,” he says cryptically.

Will glances over the article again, then at the other man. “Local law enforcement asked for FBI assistance?”

Now di Angelo looks a little guilty. “I’ve found, in this job, that often it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” he says carefully.

Will snorts.

“The case sounded like it had potential,” di Angelo says, not quite apologetic. “I figure we’ll drive out, have a poke around, talk to a few people. If nothing pans out, no harm, no foul.”

“Sure,” Will agrees. It’s not as if he’s an expert.

Di Angelo clears his throat. “Have you ever heard of the Shenandoah Strangler, Agent Solace?”

Will raises an eyebrow. “No, I have not.”

“There are some legends in this area – a being only ever seen in the forest. People have reported a creature with horns or antlers, the upper body mostly human, lower half more like a goat.”

There’s a brief silence in the car.

“That sounds… unlikely,” Will says evenly. “Is that what you think is going on here? Some kind of cryptid?”

A shrug. “Only one way to find out.”

Will watches the other man out of the corner of his eye for a moment. He reminds himself that this is his second day on the job. And he does always try to keep an open mind. “Have you encountered other reports of… cryptids? In your work?” Will asks.

Di Angelo doesn’t respond for a moment. He reaches up to nudge the rearview mirror, the tiniest adjustment. He flicks a glance at Will, hesitant. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Will says, decisive.

Di Angelo’s lips twitch into a grin, eyes bright.

An hour later Will has learned more about cryptids of the Southeastern and Mid-Atlantic US than he ever would have thought there was to know. The more he listens to his new partner, the more he’s surprised how easily their views align, or at least complement each other. Di Angelo doesn’t come across as gullible, or guileless. He’s sharp and thoughtful. Knowledgeable, but more impartial than anything else. Open to possibilities. And who could argue with that?

The further they drive, the more Will finds himself warming to the other man. The idea of acting as a snitch is repellent in itself. As they begin to pass the exit signs for Thornhill and the impromptu cryptid lecture draws to a close, Will feels a wash of relief that maybe, really, he won’t have to.

They arrive at a trailhead just outside of town, miles of forest stretched out before them. The sun’s been up for a few hours but the air still feels cool here, misty. They’re set to meet someone from the Parks department, reportedly. Will trails behind his partner as di Angelo scopes out the area. Before long, a battered-looking red pickup pulls up, kicking up a cloud of dust in the parking lot.

Di Angelo walks back towards the lot, Will following. An older man exits the truck and begins making his way up the path towards them.

“Morning,” di Angelo calls. “Ranger Blanchette? I’m Agent di Angelo, this is Agent Solace.”

They both shake the ranger’s hand. He’s got thick gray hair and a thicker mustache. He’s shorter than Will, and solid-looking.

“Surprised to see FBI out this way,” says Blanchette, gruff. “From what I understood, sheriff’s office had this investigation all wrapped up.”

Di Angelo chooses not to respond to this. “Thanks for meeting us. Do you mind showing us where Sarah Wilton’s body was found?”

The three of them troop into the woods. It’s not far, just a few minutes down a narrow, uneven dirt trail and then a few yards into damp, mossy forest. Blanchette seems in no particular rush; slow, measured steps down the path. Though they’re not moving at any great speed, Will still manages to stumble several times, and reminds himself to keep all-terrain footwear at work. Di Angelo seems light on his feet somehow, even in dress shoes.

Will has spent most of his life feeling clumsy, too big for his body. Di Angelo and Blanchette are both noticeably shorter than he is, and it makes Will extra aware of all the extra space he occupies, as unreasonable as he knows that is. He grimaces to himself.

“You okay?” di Angelo asks. He’s slowed his own pace as the path widens a little, falling into step beside Will.

“Yeah.” Will shoots him a smile.

Blanchette leads them into a small area bare of trees. “This is where they found her. Not much to see. They cleared the crime scene pretty quickly.”

The ground in the little clearing is more trodden than one might expect, but aside from that, there’s nothing of note. Di Angelo crouches, running his fingers over a patch of flattened moss. “Third death in these woods this year, right?” he says, glancing up at the park ranger.

“Yeah.” The older man pauses, thoughtful. “You see some weird stuff out this way. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“You ever see anything weird?” di Angelo asks. He sounds cool as anything, but Will can tell he’s dying to hear something juicy.

“Hard to say,” Blanchette hedges, a shifty glance at di Angelo and then Will. “There were some similar murders, a few decades back…”

“One case in 1947, right?” di Angelo says. “Man wandered off the trail, body was found a few days later with a leg gnawed off.”

Blanchette nods slowly. “Yeah, and then a couple of other deaths the following year. Folks say it wasn’t a human that killed them. People seem to think it was some kind of… creature.”

Will stays carefully quiet, taking in this exchange. Di Angelo’s face is impassive, but not judgemental. He’s clearly had similar conversations in the past.

“I thought I saw something, a few times,” Blanchette continues, gazing beyond the clearing where the trees thicken to a nearly-solid wall of lush green. “Something almost human but not quite, you know? Thought I saw it come out of the trees once, near sunset. Long, scraggly hair. Looked like it had horns. It kind of sniffed the air, like a dog would. And then it went back into the woods. Scared the crap out of me to be honest.” He glances at Will who nods sympathetically. “After a while, I figured it was just some kids messing around.”

“That’s interesting,” di Angleo says. “How long ago was that?”

“Couple years.” Blanchette rubs the back of his neck. “Everyone’s got their own weird story out here. Something they’ve seen. My brother swears he once found a dead rabbit with a human tooth in it.”

“Whereabouts?” di Angelo asks.

“All in this general area. There are some caves down over yonder.” Blanchette jerks his chin in the direction of thick brush. “People ‘round here tend to give them a wide berth. These murders’ve got everyone nervous. I’d advise you gentlemen to stay armed, if you’re planning on wandering around out here.”

Will has no argument with this. And he has very little desire to go wandering into caves, mythical creatures or not.

They don’t spend any longer in the woods. Apparently di Angelo has already secured an appointment with the county coroner. Will’s privately impressed that he managed to line all this up before the sun had even properly risen this morning.

“Mind if I put on some music?” di Angelo asks as they return to the car. The radio is on, something mindless and chattery, the volume too low to get the gist of the program.

“Sure, go ahead,” Will agrees, remembering Kayla’s comment about di Angelo’s music choices. He smiles to himself. “Got anything good?”

The other man huffs. “Anything good, he asks,” he mutters to himself, pulling a zippered sleeve of CDs from his bag and popping one into the player.

There’s a sharp buzz of electric guitar and then a hum of bass. Well. Kayla’s right about at least one thing.

“Nine Inch Nails,” di Angelo says, glancing over at Will.

Will grins. “Yeah, I’m familiar. A little emo, don’t you think?” he asks the other man – because he’s quickly realizing that there’s something about di Angelo that makes Will want to tease him mercilessly. He won’t, though. Probably.

“Emo,” di Angelo rolls his eyes. “And what do you listen to? Top Forty?”

Will laughs. “Rude. And yeah, sometimes.”

“Should’ve known.” Di Angelo’s eyes are on the road, a smile playing on his lips.

Will shrugs. “I listen to a bit of everything.” With five kids in a small house, there hadn’t been much space to be picky about music choices. “Lots of show tunes lately. A few Disney soundtracks,” Will adds, nonchalant, glancing over for a reaction. He’s not disappointed.

Di Angelo’s brow creases. “Show tunes,” he says, flat. “Like Cats?”

Will shrugs. “Not recently. I’ve been listening to a lot of Rent. And the score from The Little Mermaid is pretty flawless.”

Di Angelo shakes his head, slow. “I’m requesting reassignment as soon as we get back to DC.”

Will laughs, loud. “You could. You might just end up with something worse, though.” He gazes out at the woodland flashing past the window, weak sunlight just starting to catch the bright yellows of the changing leaves. “It’s my turn to choose the music, next road trip,” he adds. He enjoys di Angelo’s cringe immensely.

Will’s been feeling a little lost all morning, wanting to make a good impression, eager to prove he’s more than just a tagalong. It’s a bit of a relief to get to the coroner's office. Here, at least, he’s in his element.

The coroner is a tired-looking, bespectacled man. He’s probably only about a decade older than Will, but with the posture of someone who’s been carrying the weight of the world for a good few years. “They say animals can develop a taste for human flesh, but this was no animal,” he tells them, pulling on gloves and reaching for the sheet covering the body.

Will moves closer. White female, 20s, healthy-looking aside from being dead and missing most of her right leg and a portion of flesh at her shoulder. He glances at di Angelo, who’s standing several steps back, paler than Will’s seen him. “You okay?” Will asks under his breath. The other man nods, tight.

“You see these teeth marks, just below the clavicle?” the coroner asks. “Those sure look human to me.”

Will inspects the marks, a semi-circle of dark red imprinted into ghost-white flesh. “Yeah, that’d be my conclusion, too. What was the cause of death?”

“Blood loss, as far as I can tell,” the coroner says. “She was likely still alive while her leg was eaten off.”

They pause outside the coroner’s office, neither of them rushing into conversation. Nico leans back against the warm brick of the building, closing his eyes and taking in a deep lungful of fresh air. He’s lightheaded, clammy.

The smell of morgues, the artificial chill in the air – no matter how many times he revisits these scenarios, even years later, his mind always goes right back to Bianca, identifying her body after the crash. His body remembers, even when his mind tries to push it down. It doesn’t help that this victim was a young woman, close in age to his sister when she died. He takes another breath, trying to force himself to feel less like vomiting. Or crying.

“Not crazy about corpses?” comes Solace’s voice.

Nico attempts to unclench his jaw enough to answer. “Morgues, mostly. Can’t get used to them.”

There’s kind concern in Solace’s blue eyes, a crease to his brow. And the sentiment isn’t unappreciated, exactly. Solace seems like a decent guy. But the fact of the matter remains that everything is so much simpler when Nico works alone. When there’s no one here he needs to explain himself to.

Solace’s gaze lingers. “You’re definitely not the only one. Anyway, that’s what I’m here for, right?” He offers Nico a shadow of a smile that Nico can’t quite return.

Solace turns his gaze to the street before them, propping himself up against the wall next to Nico without further comment, not making any move to rush them back to the car. After a long moment, Nico levers himself upright. He scrubs a hand over his face. Solace follows, unhurried.

“You know, I think I’d be willing to gnaw someone’s leg off in exchange for a coffee right about now,” the taller man says thoughtfully, and Nico barks out a laugh, surprised. Solace turns, a sunny, toothy grin.

“Or at least chew on a clavicle,” he amends.

Nico feels his own face relax into something that’s almost a smile, feels the ache of grief fading into the background again. Solace has really nice teeth, Nico thinks suddenly. White and straight, except for one slightly crooked lateral incisor. Nico’s struck by the bizarre thought that those teeth look like they probably could gnaw on a clavicle. He finds himself horrified and intrigued in equal measure.

“Coffee sounds good,” he says.

“So what’s next?” Solace asks as they make their way back to the car, coffee in hand.

“Not sure.” Nico unlocks the doors, settling his coffee in the cup holder and flipping his phone open. No new messages. “I tried calling a couple of the previous victims’ families this morning, but I couldn’t get a hold of anyone. I guess we could try going by their residences.”

He reminds himself, not for the first time today, that he’d better play this one by the book. He has a feeling Solace’s field reports will be scrutinized more carefully than he’d like.

There’s quiet as they both buckle in. Solace looks like he’s chewing on something. “You’ve got copies of the police reports from the victims this year,” he begins, sounding hesitant. “Do you think the sheriff’s office would have the autopsy records for the historical victims?”

Nico shoots Solace an approving look. “That’s an excellent idea.”

A tentative smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, anchoring his hand on the back of the passenger seat as he reverses out of the parking spot. That’s perfect, a logical next step. And he didn’t even need to plan it out himself.

Nico glances at his new partner. That look on his face, it’s… relief.

Nico merges back into traffic, taking a moment to make sense of this. It’s almost as if Solace is worried about what Nico thinks of him.

That’s surprising, somehow. Unexpected, at least. Solace is smart and easy to talk to and he wants Nico’s approval. Is it possible Reyna sent the wrong agent downstairs?

Logically, Nico should be suspicious. It’s not an act, though, he’s pretty sure. Nico doesn’t love putting his profiling skills to work on a personal level, but Solace is an open book, emotions painted clearly across his freckled face. And Nico hasn’t exactly conducted extensive polling, but when he ran into a buddy from Violent Crimes in the cafeteria yesterday, the guy had nothing but good things to say about Solace.

Nico finds, occasionally, that friends and acquaintances will expect him to have particular insight into their psyches. It’s so far from the truth that it’s laughable. Nico’s much more adept at piecing together the motivations of serial killers than navigating the complexities of the people right in front of him. And he’s even less interested in examining his own interiority.

Solace told him, yesterday, that he just wants to do good work. Well. That’s something Nico can help with.

“You’re already thinking like a special agent,” he tells Solace, his voice coming out warmer than he meant it to. He clears his throat.

Solace huffs, looking pleased at this. “I’m not feeling very special yet.”

Nico shrugs. “That’ll come.”

The ease of their day ends at the sheriff’s office. Deputy Tait is another sturdy old white guy, unfortunately possessing none of the chill of the park ranger they met this morning.

“You don’t have any jurisdiction here,” Tait says, impatient. His face is several shades redder than when they arrived, Nico notes with some interest. “No one contacted the Bureau. I don’t even know how you heard about this incident, but there’s no reason for the FBI to be involved. Woman wandered off a trail at night, got mauled by a panther. I don’t know what you two think you’re going to find here!” His voice rises, and several heads turn in the vicinity.

Solace seems to shrink in on himself a little, but this is familiar territory for Nico.

“Look,” Nico says, still as calm as when they walked in twenty minutes ago, “I’m sure you’re right. We’re not looking to cause trouble. Just let us take a look at the case files and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Nico waits patiently as the sheriff regards him with acute exasperation. Finally, the older man lets out a noisy breath. “Fine. Come back in an hour and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nico glances towards the empty file room and the woman sitting at the desk inside with a crossword spread out in front of her. She meets Nico’s eye and shrugs.

“Thanks so much for your help,” Nico says, trying hard not to roll his eyes.

“And don’t go making a spectacle of yourselves around town,” Tait adds irritably. “We got tourists coming from all over the county this weekend and we don’t need FBI poking around and scaring them off.”

Nico’s still hoping to speak with the previous victims’ families, but no one answers when they try knocking on doors. He hasn’t been able to obtain contact information for anyone who might have been acquainted with Sarah Wilton.

Some time later, Nico’s seated beside his partner on a park bench near the center of town, both of them having acquired canned drinks and hot dogs from a cart nearby. The sun filters through the trees above, dappling the yellow leaves beginning to pile up on the grass at their feet. The smell from the hot dog cart is mouth-watering, and the hot dogs are perfect; lightly charred and nestled in fresh, fluffy buns.

Solace groans in appreciation around his first bite. “Oh my god this is so good.”

Nico nods in agreement, mouth full. He shoots a glance to his partner, who’s looking blissful, still chewing. “Um. You have mustard on your nose,” Nico says.

“Oh. Fuck.” Solace grimaces, fishing in his pocket for a paper napkin and then scrubbing at his nose. He turns, looking mildly abashed, freckled cheeks and nose tinged pink. “Better?”

And it would be overwhelming looking at anyone at such close range, wouldn’t it? Nico glances away quickly. He nods. “Yeah. Got it.”

“You still thinking cryptids?” Solace asks. He cracks open his Coke and pops a straw into the can.

Nico glances over, still half-expecting to see disdain or impatience on the other man’s face. But there’s only curiosity. It’s unnerving. Nico finds himself relaxing a little more each time it happens.

He shrugs. “I’m open to the possibility.” He gazes off into the distance, cars zipping by on the street ahead of them, a whole town full of people going about their business as if there isn’t a potential murderer lurking in the woods.

“It’s a nice little town,” Solace says.

Nico nods in agreement. Red brick buildings, a pretty town square edged with well-tended flowerbeds. People lunching on patios and on the grass in the afternoon sunshine. The kind of quaint little place city people like to escape to, especially at this time of year when the leaves are changing. They’d seen several signs advertising harvest festivals and craft shows on their drive out.

“Reminds me of the place my little brother went to college,” Solace offers.

And Nico knows it’s not meant as anything more than an offhand remark, just idle conversation, but he feels his jaw tightening.

“Those files should be ready by now,” Nico says, standing and crumpling the foil from his hot dog.

Solace stays seated a moment longer, blinking up at him. Then he follows. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

The files aren’t yet ready, as it turns out, and they pause outside the sheriff’s office.

“Looks like this might be a little more than a day trip,” Solace comments with a glance at his watch.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “Not sure why they’re making us wait if they’re so eager to get us out of town. Might be an overnight stay, though. Are you okay with that? If you’ve got someone expecting you home, you could always head back,” he says, suddenly realizing he hasn’t the vaguest idea what the other man’s personal life might entail.

But Solace shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I’ll give my sister a call later and let her know. We share an apartment.”

Okay. He has a sister. And an apartment. And the brother he mentioned earlier. That’s… useful information to have, Nico supposes.

“What about you?” Solace asks. “You have someone at home? A girlfriend?”

Nico snorts. “No.” He unlocks his door, then reaches over to pop the passenger side lock.

And Nico doesn’t know why he feels the need to elaborate, but the words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to overthink it, tumbling into the sun-warmed car as Solace reaches for his seatbelt. “I um. I have fish,” he says.

Solace pauses, seatbelt pulled halfway across his chest. “Fish?”

Nico feels his face warming, the embarrassment and discomfort of being known, even a little. He knows it’s stupid, but that’s what he is. “I have pet fish. At home.”

“Oh. Nice.” Solace looks unreasonably pleased at this.

“I get my sister to feed them if I’m going to be out of town for a while,” Nico continues, for some unknown reason still talking, “but they should be fine for a couple of days.”

“You have a sister too,” Solace says, far too curious.

“Yeah.” Nico turns from the other man abruptly, puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking space. For good measure, he turns the CD player back on and bumps the volume up.

With no luck in contacting the victims’ families and without any joy from the sheriff’s office, di Angelo suggests the library – a scan through old newspapers on the off-chance there’s some insight to be gained there. Will agrees easily. He slowly feels as if he’s getting his legs under him, checking off boxes, following the trajectory of the mystery. He’d been worried he’d feel like he was in the way – di Angelo is surely accustomed to working alone – but the other man doesn’t seem to mind the company, as long as Will refrains from asking any personal questions.

Di Angelo pulls a film sheet off the microfiche reader, sliding it carefully back into its envelope.

“No luck in January 1948?” Will asks. He leans back, rubbing at tired eyes.

Di Angelo shakes his head, pressing a hand to his mouth. Will raises an eyebrow and the other man grimaces. “These things make me queasy,” he mutters.

“Take a break,” Will says, firm. “Pass me the next month and if I find anything, I’ll read it to you.”

But aside from the few short articles di Angelo had in his archives back at the office, there’s nothing. Most of the news from February 1948 is about new, post-war housing being built at the edge of the town. It’s strange.

Di Angelo’s phone buzzes, and he stands, digging in his coat pocket. He glances around at the other library patrons, walking quickly out into the hall as he answers, his voice low. He’s back only a minute later, looking frustrated.

“Everything okay?” Will asks.

“Reyna,” di Angelo mutters. “She’s not happy that we came out here without prior authorization. Sheriff called the Bureau. Reyna wanted us back immediately. I convinced her to let us stay until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Will says, taking a moment to process. “Reyna. The assistant director. You’re on a first name basis with her?” Ramirez-Arellano hasn’t struck him as the sort of person who’s on a first-name basis with anyone.

Something shutters in di Angelo’s expression. “Oh. I guess.” He turns back to the case of film sheets on the table beside them.

“Care to elaborate?” Will asks, curious.

“No.”

Will resists the urge to tease, though it’s a close thing. “Are we in hot water?” he asks instead.

Di Angelo scrunches his nose.

Cute, Will thinks, involuntary, then inappropriate his brain tells him, louder. What is with him. All he can think is to blame it on Kayla. He never would have considered this man in anything but a professional capacity without her interference.

“Probably not,” di Angelo says slowly. “Reyna’s under a lot of pressure from her bosses. She knows my hunches usually pay off. And I solve cases. Besides, you should be okay.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re new.”

Will bites back a smile. “I’ll just tell her you’re a bad influence.”

Di Angelo shoots him a grin. “Exactly.”

There’s a young man waiting near their car when they exit the library, and the two agents exchange a glance as they approach him. He’s thin, mouse-brown shaggy hair brushing the shoulders of a threadbare checked shirt. He watches the two men as they approach, looking like he might run if they get too close. Will’s struck by the thought that the guy looks like someone his father would cross the street to avoid.

Apollo’s mouth, twisted in distaste: “don’t give them any money”. The thought makes Will’s jaw clench and his stomach ache. He has no desire to examine that any further at the moment. Luckily, he doesn’t have to.

“Are you the FBI agents?” the man asks once they’re close enough for conversation.

Di Angelo nods. “We are. I’m Agent di Angelo and this is Agent Solace.”

“I’m Billy Wilton,” he says, holding out his hand. “Sarah Wilton’s brother.”

Billy looks as if he could use a good meal even more than di Angelo, Will thinks. Di Angelo must be thinking along the same lines, because ten minutes later he’s led them to a nearby diner, and the three of them are seated in a red vinyl booth. Di Angelo waves off the younger man when he tries to reach for his wallet.

“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” Billy says. “The police didn’t want to. They told me the case was closed, it was an animal attack. I just want to make sure someone knows about Sarah, you know?” He drops his gaze and Will feels a surge of sympathy for the young man.

“Why don’t you tell us about her,” Will says, gentle.

“Sarah was my big sister. She loved the woods,” Billy begins. “When we were kids, we used to go exploring there all the time. She used to tell me ghost stories, stories about half-humans living in caves there.”

Will glances over at his partner, half-expecting the cryptid-fervor back in his gaze again. But there’s only sadness there.

“She was a good sister,” Will says softly.

“Yeah. She was. Our family lived out in the trailer park – until they closed it down to make room for the new housing development, anyway. In high school… well. Our family never fit in. There’s a lot of money here, and we didn’t have that. But Sarah always made me feel like I fit in,” Billy continues, twisting a paper napkin in his fingers. “We were always a team. Then after high school… she kind of got mixed up with the wrong crowd, I guess you could say.” He glances up, looking guilty. “You might have seen that, if you read the police report. She was a good person, though.”

Di Angelo nods. “She’d gotten involved in drugs. Sex work. Is that right?”

Billy nods, his gaze darting back to the table. “Maybe she was killed by an animal, I don’t know. But I couldn’t help feeling the sheriff just wrote her off. Because…” he trails off.

“Because she didn’t act the way she was supposed to,” Will says quietly.

Billy nods.

“Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Sarah?” di Angelo asks.

Billy lets out a long breath. “Honestly? We hadn’t been in touch as much over the last year or so. But no. I don’t think so.”

“Poor kid,” di Angelo says, gruff, as they get back into the car.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. He thinks about the shadows under Billy’s eyes, the way he’d cleaned every crumb from his plate.

Di Angelo puts the key into the ignition and then pauses, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That’s the hardest part of this job. All the people left behind. Sometimes I can find answers for them, and sometimes…” he shrugs.

“All you can do is your best, right?” Will says, soft.

Di Angelo nods, gazing out the window. “You never really forget any of them. Not the ones we help and not the ones we don’t.”

There’s a long pause wherein Will tries to piece together the right kind of reassurance. He comes up empty-handed.

“Anyway.” Di Angelo clears his throat, starting the car, “we should go see our good friend Deputy Tait.”

Finally, the historical files are waiting for them, but they’re frustratingly sparse. Bare-bones, autopsy reports nowhere to be found. There are a few witness testimonies, really not anything more than what they already learned from the park ranger, vague reports of sightings of a creature in the woods near where the bodies were found.

An hour later, squinting in the low light of the small office they’ve grudgingly been provided with, and di Angelo sighs, pushing his chair back. He turns to Will, looking tired and a little regretful. “I might’ve dragged us all the way out here for nothing.”

Will shrugs. He’s not going to start complaining on his second day. “It’s not a problem. You never know unless you try, right? Besides, I need to get my field legs under me,” Will adds. “Probably better with something like this than a super high-stakes chase through the city. You know, scaling brick walls, running after perps.”

Di Angelo huffs. Will shifts in his chair, the gun at his hip digging into his skin. His hand drifted to it, almost subconsciously.

“You don’t like the gun,” di Angelo states, a bit out of nowhere.

Will makes a face, twitching his suit jacket back over his hip. “I don’t love it,” he admits.

Di Angelo nods, thoughtful.

“I do know how to use it,” Will feels the need to add, and the other man offers him a faint smile.

“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”

“I’m trained in medicine,” Will continues, feeling as if he needs to defend himself, though he’s been given him no indication that this might be necessary. “I spent a lot of time learning how to save people. Sometimes from this.” He gestures to his hip where the gun is hidden by his jacket.

“Makes sense.” di Angelo gazes at Will for a moment, contemplative. “I don’t love it either, I guess. But it’s a tool. It’s good to have when you need it.”

Di Angelo’s gaze lingers on his face for just a moment longer, a quiet intensity, and Will looks away, feeling his cheeks warm. He reminds himself that di Angelo is experienced in psychological profiling, one of the best in the business. He suddenly feels too exposed.

“So what’s next?” Will asks, eager to change the subject.

They both settle into their motel rooms after bidding each other goodnight. Nico pores over his notes. Something isn’t adding up. The sheriff seems way too eager to sell this as a simple animal attack. And then there are the missing autopsy reports. Tomorrow they’ll head back to DC, and the mystery will be lost forever.

He pushes away from the small table, restless and twitchy, not nearly tired enough to sleep. He glances at the TV. He could find something to watch. Or go for a run.

Or he could head back into the woods.

Nico gathers his things quickly, pulling his coat back on and closing the door behind him. Then he stands in the near-dark, conflicted. Because there’s no need to bother his new partner with this, right? The work day is long over. Solace is probably asleep anyway. And Nico’s made similar excursions on his own countless times.

Nico heaves a sigh, stepping a little further from the moths fluttering around the exterior lights of the building. Plans for wandering alone into possibly-creature-infested woods are the kind of thing one should probably share with a partner, when one has had a partner assigned.

It’s late now, almost eleven. Nico decides that he’ll leave a note, if Solace has already gone to bed. But as he nears the door, he can see light filtering through gauzy curtains.

A soft knock at the door and Solace answers just a moment later, surprise on his freckled face. He’s got glasses on, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. His blond curls are mussed, a frizzy halo in the half-light seeping from the motel room. He looks taller in the near-dark, if that’s even possible. It shouldn’t be. He’s not even wearing shoes.

Nico shakes himself internally. Focus. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I was just writing up my field report. Should have gotten to it earlier, but there was a good episode of Star Trek on,” Solace grins, easy. He seems like the kind of guy who’s easy with everyone. He’s even easy with Nico. Nico’s never been easy for anyone. He’s certainly not about to start now. Not for all the six-footedness and blond curls and toothy grins in the world.

“I just wanted to let you know, I’m gonna head back to the woods where we met the park ranger,” Nico says.

Solace blinks, owlish behind his glasses. “Right now?”

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. I just want to go take another quick look around before I turn in.”

There’s a beat, and then Solace says, “I’ll come with.”

“No, you don’t have to. I just wanted to let you know where I was –”

“What, in case you turn up missing a leg tomorrow?” Solace asks over his shoulder, dry. “Let me grab my coat.”

The drive back to the woods is quiet; no music playing, di Angelo not offering much in the way of commentary. Will gazes out the passenger window at the darkened houses. There’s next to no traffic at this time of night, especially once they leave the town limits and head into rolling hills and woodland.

“So, what are we looking for?” Will asks as they step out into the cool night air.

“Maybe nothing,” di Angelo says, “but most of the sightings of this creature have occurred around this time of night. It can’t hurt to take a look around.” His eyes are serious as he turns to Will. “Just stay alert.”

Will doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s got his gun holstered and his flashlight lit as they walk towards the trailhead. The crunch of leaves and gravel underfoot seems unnaturally loud.

It’s weirdly quiet and still, and it remains so as they make their way through the woods to the place Sarah Wilton’s body was found. It puts Will on edge, like the trees are closing in on them. They pause in the small clearing they visited earlier in the day.

“I don’t think I want to go too much further into the woods. We’ll lose the trail,” di Angelo murmurs after a moment. Will is privately relieved. He’s glad di Angelo hadn’t decided to come out here alone, but before the other man had shown up at his door, Will had been making important plans involving a hot shower and the vending machine he’d seen beside the reception desk.

They wait, flashlights trained on the ground in front of them.

“Flashlights off?” Will says after a moment, quiet. “We’re not going to sneak up on anything like this.”

Di Angelo nods, and they flick the beams off. The silence is eerie, pressing in on Will’s ears, but at least the moon is bright, and after a few moments Will’s eyes adjust and he can see the contours of the landscape. Trees loom over them, moonlight filtering into the small clearing.

Will glances at di Angelo. He’s alert, watchful, scanning the trees around them. But as time passes, even his fervor starts to fade.

Will is just about to suggest that they head back when there’s rustling off to the left. Will resists a gasp at the sudden noise, his heart picking up speed. Both men turn in unison, silent. Will’s hand goes to his gun, a similar motion from the man next to him.

Will’s barely breathing, primed by the stories of cryptids di Angelo shared on the drive out, and honestly off-balance from being in this situation at all. Most of the fieldwork he’s been involved in have involved people who were most certainly already dead. Not… potentially going to be murdered very shortly.

There’s movement among the trees. Will’s definitely not imagining it, nor the way his partner tenses beside him. Will’s hand tightens on his gun, his eyes straining into the darkness.

There’s still and quiet again, long enough that Will feels he’s finally able to take a full breath – but then there’s the distinct snap of a twig and the movement of branches, too close.

Whatever’s moving in the trees looks human, but… not. Will feels a shiver run down his spine at the unreality of it. It’s walking on four legs, but it doesn’t look like any animal Will’s ever seen. It moves parallel to them, loping through the underbrush, a weird, uneven gait. Then it stops to sniff the air and torturously slowly, turns to face them where they stand in the clearing.

Will’s mouth go dry. Di Angelo’s still as a statue beside him, the three of them motionless in the moonlit woods. For an interminable moment, they gaze at each other.

The creature slowly stands, rising to two legs and looking much more human now, except the short, curly horns growing from the crown of its head, just barely visible in the cool moonlight. It’s head has an odd shape, distinctly not human, and the dissonance makes Will’s skin tingle.

The creature surveys the two of them for a long moment before continuing on its path, moving deeper into the woods.

Will let out a long breath. He and di Angelo turn to each other, and Will thinks that his expression must mirror the other man’s – half terrified, half amazed.

“Seen enough?” Will asks weakly.

Di Angelo beams at him. “Holy fuck. Yeah.”

Will laughs, mostly at the expression on the other man’s face, feeling more than a little awestruck himself.

“Did that look human to you?” asks di Angelo once they’re back in the safety of the car.

“I don’t know what to think. Whatever – or whoever that was… they certainly match the description from the park ranger.” Will shakes his head slowly. “So what now? We alert the sheriff’s department?”

Di Angelo nods, his eyes on the road. “Yup. They’ll want to search the woods and surrounding area again.”

It’s nearly three in the morning by the time they pull back into the motel parking lot, and Will decides to forgo the shower in favor of a bag of Hickory Sticks and then bed. He sleeps hard and dreamless, waking to a brisk rap on his door and sunlight already pouring in the window.

Will stumbles across the room and squints into the peephole to see di Angelo fully dressed and looking tense.

“Give me a minute,” Will calls, quickly shedding his t-shirt and sweats in favor of the same dress pants and shirt he wore yesterday. It’s a good thing they’re planning on heading back today, because he really hadn’t packed for a prolonged stay.

Will unlocks the door. Di Angelo is pacing on the walkway. “They shut us out,” he says, before Will can open his mouth to speak.

“They – what?”

“They shut us out,” the other man repeats, angry. “Fucking NSA. They’ve got the whole area barricaded, I couldn’t get in there, couldn’t even get anyone to talk to me. They threatened to arrest me and they gave me an armed escort back to the main highway.”

Will frowns, bewildered. “But - why NSA? Do they think this is some kind of threat to national security?”

Di Angelo throws his hands up. “Beats me. No one’s talking. I’ve got a call in to Reyna and I’m heading to the sheriff’s office now. You coming?”

Will’s already nodding. “Yeah. Of course. Can – can I brush my teeth first?”

Di Angelo’s expression softens, marginally. “Yeah. Of course.”

They gaze at each other for a beat. “Here. Come in.” Will opens the door wide, stepping back. The other man enters, dropping into a chair. He’s still there when WIll exits the washroom, feeling a little more human after having taken the time to shave and splash some water on his face.

“Sorry,” the other man says. “For barging in –”

“No, it’s fine, I was…” Will hesitates. “Okay, I was sound asleep, but it’s fine.”

Di Angelo huffs out a laugh. “Coffee? To make up for waking you?” He holds up a styrofoam cup, clearly from the coffee maker on the desk.

Will’s face must betray his relief, because di Angelo laughs. “What do you take?”

“Oh, um. A sugar and a creamer. Thanks.” Will stands there awkwardly as the other man prepares his coffee. Di Angelo takes care to secure the white plastic lid before handing it to Will.

“Cheers,” Will says, and they awkwardly bump their styrofoam cups together. Their fingers brush and the swoop in Will’s stomach catches him off-guard. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again as he realizes he has no idea what he was going to say.

Then di Angelo gives him a nod and leads the way out to the parking lot. Will follows, giving his head a shake.

Deputy Tait meets them at the front desk of the station. “I had nothing to do with this,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, maybe taking in di Angelo’s fierce expression. “I reported what y’all saw last night, and next thing I know we’re overrun with feds.”

In this instance, Will’s inclined to believe the sheriff. If anything, he hadn’t wanted more attention drawn to the matter.

Di Angelo nods, deflating. “What can you tell us?”

“Not much,” Tait admits. “They’ve been searching the woods for a few hours. Last I heard they were gonna blow up a couple of caves on the north angle.”

Will isn’t the only one surprised with the fact, and di Angelo sounds aghast. “They’re blowing them up?”

“Seems they got a hold of whatever animal’s been causing these deaths. They killed it on sight, and they want to make sure there aren’t any others.”

Di Angelo curses under his breath, then turns on his heel. Will thanks the deputy before following the other man back out to the car.

Di Angelo is standing beside the sedan, eyes on the mountain range, his jaw tight. There’s smoke rising in the distance, silhouetted against a haze of green forest.

“Fucking cowboys,” he seethes. He turns to Will. “You saw what I saw, right? That wasn’t any kind of animal.”

WIll hesitates. “It was dark, and I didn’t get a great look at it, but… no. It didn’t look like an animal.”

Di Angelo scrubs a hand over his face. “What happened to discovery? What happened to curiosity? Living in harmony with nature? No. Instead we have to blow up what we don’t understand.”

Will stays quiet, eyes on the horizon, an ache in his chest.

Di Angelo’s gaze flicks over to him. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, quieter. “I get that they had to do something. But is this the solution?” He waves a hand towards the woods, frustrated.

“It’s not as if this creature, whatever it was – was coming into town looking for victims,” Will agrees. “The deaths only happened once humans started invading its territory.”

“Yeah.” The other man regards the smoke in the distance for another moment. “Reyna’s expecting us back,” he mutters after a long moment. “We should pack up.”

They return to the motel, retrieving their few possessions and preparing to leave town. Di Angelo looks truly defeated.

“Hey,” Will says over the top of the sedan, “I can drive, if you want.”

Di Angelo regards him, inscrutable. “No. That’s okay. Thanks, though,” he says, finally.

Will watches the other man as he hefts his bag into the back seat.. “Why don’t we make one more stop before we head out?”

Billy WIlton’s place is on the way out of town anyway, as it turns out. The mansions and wide lawns gradually fade to smaller, post-wartime houses, close together, sagging roofs and crumbling staircases.

Billy’s sitting on his front porch when they pull up in front of the house, and he rises to greet them. He’s already heard the news, or at least some of it.

“I’m so sorry,” di Angelo tells him, “NSA’s shut us out now and the Bureau wants us to leave it alone. There’s really not much else we can do. But whatever killed your sister, it’s gone. I hope that brings some closure, at least.”

Will thinks Billy looks calmer than he did yesterday, something settled in his expression. So there’s that.

He nods in understanding. “I’m glad you came by. I wanted to thank you again.”

Di Angelo shakes his head. “We really didn’t do anything.”

Billy shrugs. “You let me talk about Sarah. It helped. I appreciate your time.”

Will thinks his partner looks almost tearful for a moment. Then he seems to collect himself, reaching out to shake Billy’s hand. “Take care of yourself,” he says.

Billy nods, reaching out to shake Will’s hand, too. “Safe drive.”

Will gazes out the window as di Angelo guides the car onto the highway. The day’s turned wooly and overcast, iron-grey clouds hanging thick and low over red-yellow foliage.

“That was a bust,” di Angelo says after a long silence. He sounds exhausted.

“I wouldn’t say that. Billy Wilton was grateful. We helped at least one person.”

“Maybe.”

“You showed me my first cryptid,” Will offers.

Di Angelo glances over, almost smiling. “Yeah? Is that what you’re gonna write in your field report?”

“Something to that effect. Apparent humanoid creature, didn’t resemble an animal, horned, oblong head, four-legged gait.”

“Well sure, when you put it that way,” di Angelo mutters.

Will laughs.

They ride in silence for the next few miles, a far cry from the treatise on cryptids Will was subjected to on the drive out. He glances over at the other man.

“So, Agent di Angelo. How’d you get interested in this field in the first place?” Will asks, fully expecting not to have to say much for the next twenty minutes.

The other man lets out a long breath. “It was a bit of a hobby, when I was a kid. You know. Paranormal… stuff.” There’s a long pause. “And then I became aware of the X-Files when I started at the Bureau. Transferred over from Violent Crimes when the opportunity presented itself.” He falls silent.

“That’s a good story,” Will says, when the silence continues to stretch and the road continues to disappear under their tires. “Detailed and compelling.“

Di Angelo huffs. “How about you?” he asks after a long moment. “You were in med school, before the Bureau snagged you. How’d you end up there?”

Will takes a second, considering his answer. “Hard work. A few scholarships, too many part-time jobs. Lots of sleepless nights and no social life to speak of. My dad could have helped a lot more than he did, but…” Will shrugs.

Di Angelo shoots him a sympathetic look.

“It’s kind of the family business, I guess. My dad’s a doctor. His dad too. It was what everyone expected. I kind of found myself in the middle of it before I’d properly thought it through.”

“Those things are hard to back out of, once you’re committed,” di Angelo says, quiet.

“No kidding,” Will sighs. “I did think I wanted to practice medicine, for a while. And then I didn’t. And then the FBI came calling, and that seemed like a good opportunity. Two years at Quantico, and then I got shuffled over to sit in a car with you listening to –” Will grabs the CD case from the dashboard. “Green Day.”

Di Angelo huffs. “At least you got the last part right.”

Will laughs. They fall back into silence, though it’s briefer this time, maybe lighter.

“You grew up in Texas,” di Angelo says, out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I did,” Will says, surprised at the unprompted query. “Carleton. Sixty miles from just about any kind of civilization. Three brothers, one sister.”

“That must have been nice,” di Angelo says. His voice is almost wistful “Growing up in a big family.”

Will shrugs. “Yeah, for the most part.” It was a big family… until it shrunk by almost half. But there’s no need to get into that right now. “There were too many of us and not enough space,” he settles on, instead. “Lots of good memories, though. How about you? You mentioned a sister?”

Di Angelo doesn’t immediately react, and Will wonders for a moment if the other man didn’t hear him.

“That’s Hazel, that I mentioned,” he says finally. “My half-sister. She lives in Baltimore. But Bianca. She was… my other sister. She died. A little over ten years ago.”

“Oh,” Will says, suddenly feeling as if he’s completely put his foot in it. “That must have been… I’m really sorry,” he says, softer. And for a second he wants to mention Michael, and Lee, but at the closed-off set of di Angelo’s face, he thinks it might be better to move on.

“Thanks,” di Angelo says after a moment. “It sucked. Still does, to be honest,” he laughs without humor.

“Yeah,” Will agrees, his own voice hoarse. He has a stupid impulse to reach out and squeeze the other man’s hand where it rests on the gear shift. Instead he diverts and distracts; much as therapy has taught him it’s not his job to raise the spirits of everyone in the room, old habits die hard.

At least he’s successful, pointing out a Krispy Kreme sign at the next exit and drumming up some excitement about coffee and doughnuts. They get back into the sedan after the brief stop, di Angelo pops in another CD, and there’s not much conversation aside from the occasional “sorry” or “oops” when their fingers bump as they reach for the cup holders.

Traffic is heavier as they near the DC city limits, and the CD cycles back to the first track.

“Want me to change it?” Will asks, reaching for the zippered case between them.

“Sure. You can choose one. Or just stick in whatever’s next.”

Will flips through the discs, trying and failing to find anything he’d choose to listen to voluntarily. There’s a CD at the back of the case with the title written in Sharpie on the disc.

“The Early Years?” Will asks, holding it up.

Di Angelo glances over. "It's Tom Waits. You might like it."

Will’s not entirely sure about that, but he goes for it anyway, surprised at the gentle acoustic guitar that flows from the speakers when he pops it in. They're three tracks in when he catches the dark-haired man smiling, truly smiling at him, and Will laughs. "It's good," he says, surprised.

Di Angelo just nods, looking pleased. He turns his attention back to the road, one hand loosely gripping the top of the steering wheel. Will leans back into his seat, lulled by the quiet melody and hum of the car. He sneaks a glance sideways. Di Angelo looks just as relaxed, Will thinks, the tension of the case in Thornhill drifting away in the hum of the highway, the miles under their tires.

Di Angelo drives the way he moves around his basement office, Will thinks. Languid and graceful, like he belongs in the space. Like he’s a part of it. It’s not… unattractive.

There’s a pause and another track begins, a soft progression of chords in a major key. Di Angelo begins singing along softly, under his breath, then a little louder with the chorus.

Will watches him out of the corner of his eye, something warm and unexpected blossoming in his chest. The other man has a low voice, well suited to hitting the lowest lows of the song. Will grew up in a house full of musicians, and he’s a quick study. When the second chorus begins, Will joins in with a light tenor harmony.

Di Angelo shoots him a smile, not faltering in his melody as they begin passing exit signs for DC and as the chorus slips back into the verse.

The song ends and Will grins. “You have a nice voice, Agent di Angelo,” he tells the other man.

Di Angelo huffs out a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. Maybe we can have a second career as lounge singers, if this FBI thing doesn’t work out.”

Will laughs. “Sounds like fun.” He tilts his head. “I’ll bring my Disney soundtracks along next road trip. We can sing the Aladdin duet.”

“Oh my god,” di Angelo mutters. He’s fighting a smile. “Next road trip, I’m requesting separate cars.”

Will laughs. There’s a moment of quiet as the CD continues to play and di Angelo smoothly changes lanes. “You know,” he glances at Will. “You can call me Nico.”

Will grins, somehow feeling like he’s won something, like maybe this whole case wasn’t such a bust after all.

“Nico,” he says, trying it out. Stupidly, it makes his cheeks warm. He carefully turns his face towards the passenger side window.

Three weeks later

Reyna pauses in front of a filing cabinet in the basement office, surveying the mess on its surface. Most of it is unremarkable - books, files, newspapers, overdue expense reports. She peers at a framed photo sitting atop a box of envelopes.

Then there’s the slam of the stairwell door and a voice in the hall. Reyna turns, brow furrowed. It sounds like Nico’s voice, but the voice is singing. Not only that, but Reyna’s quite sure she recognizes the song, because it’s from the animated mermaid movie her nieces are obsessed with. So perhaps it’s not Nico? But who else would be in the basement, particularly after five pm?

The office door opens and it is indeed Nico, still singing to himself, eyes on a sheaf of paper in his hand. He crosses to his desk, completely unaware that he has an audience.

Reyna clears her throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Nico jumps about a foot in the air, clutching at his chest. Reyna’s gaze follows the trajectory of the papers he was carrying as they flutter to the floor.

Nico slumps against his desk, breathing hard. “What the fuck, Reyna – what the fuck are you – Jesus Christ.”

“Whose fish?” Reyna asks.

“Whose – what?” Nico asks weakly.

Reyna turns back to the filing cabinet, plucking the framed photo from the top of it - four tropical fish in a tank, an array of plastic tropical plants anchored in colorful gravel, a skull sitting in the corner. “Whose fish?” she repeats, holding the photo out to Nico.

“They’re – they’re mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah –”

“You have a framed photo of them. In your office.”

“It was a – stupid Christmas gift from Hazel. Reyna –”

“But you brought it to work. And put it in your office.”

“Reyna, what the fuck are you doing here?” Nico bursts out, exasperated.

Reyna carefully replaces the photograph. She turns and watches Nico for a long moment. “I wasn’t aware you were a Disney fan,” she says.

“I’m… not?” Nico says, looking completely lost.

“Part of Your World? The Little Mermaid?”

Now there’s a trace of something other than irritation on Nico’s face – recognition, or embarrassment. Interesting.

“That’s not me, that’s my idiot partner,” Nico mutters.

“You know all the words.”

Nico frowns. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Reyna –”

“Speaking of which, how are things progressing with Agent Solace?”

Nico’s posture softens. “He’s – fine. I mean, he’s got garbage taste in music. And he thinks he’s funny.”

“You seem to think he’s funny as well.”

“I – what?”

“I saw the two of you walking back into the building this afternoon. I would have said hello, but you were busy laughing at something Agent Solace had said.” Reyna quirks an eyebrow.

Nico sighs, finally dropping into his chair. “Is there a reason for this visit, or did you just come down here to antagonize me? Because I’ve spent the last two days in a car with Solace, and honestly I’ve had my fill of that.”

“Fine.” Reyna clears her throat. “I came to speak to you regarding your investigation in Thornhill.”

“Oh.” Nico sags in his chair. “Look, I know we went down without prior approval, but –”

Reyna raises a hand to quiet him. “That is not what I came to speak to you about. I had a meeting with Octavian this afternoon.”

Nico grimaces. Honestly, Reyna can relate.

“He was initially quite unhappy with what he considers a misuse of resources to chase down a lead that didn’t pan out, especially one he deems outside the purview of the Bureau’s mandate. What I most wanted to impress upon you, however, is that Agent Solace’s field reports were flawless. He was able to outline your investigation in a way that even Octavian was unable to find fault with.”

Nico blinks. “Oh. That’s…”

“Yes, it is,” Reyna agrees. “Agent Solace was also able to delineate your role specifically in a manner that cast you in the best possible light.”

Nico looks a little stunned.

“And, purely as a matter of interest,” Reyna says pointedly, “Agent Solace’s reports were typed, submitted on time, and scrupulously proofread.”

At that, Nico rolls his eyes. “Do you want Solace to take over down here? I can go upstairs and do autopsies if you like.”

“What I am saying, Agent, is that it may be very much in your best interests to be nice to Agent Solace. If you’re very lucky, this partnership could be a significant factor in helping you keep your department.”

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “I let him play his stupid CDs in the car. What more do you want from me?”

Reyna watches him and he sighs, watching her back.

“Fine," Nico says grudgingly. "I’ll be nice. He’s – he’s not so hard to be nice to. As it turns out."

(chapter 3 here)

Notes:

1. I have done a LOT of work on this chapter and tbh it's still probably my least favourite. I found it really hard to write these two as complete strangers, not to mention this was the first ~case chapter I wrote and I felt entirely out of my element. Not looking for sympathy, just sharing because I like to hear about people's writing processes :) Incidentally, writing casefic got MUCH easier with some practice. 2. On a related note, I wrote this chapter completely cold turkey, no planning, the way I'd usually write a one-shot. DO NOT RECOMMEND. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what was going on when I got to the editing stage. 3. At some point I realized I could just make up town names and it made my life so much better. 4. Thanks a ton to @rosyredlipstick for the beta & to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll for random troubleshooting :)

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

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