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He could see the pain in her expression, recognizing it well after so many years together. He knew her intimately, every little thing about her, and maybe that was what made it all hurt so badly.

"I don't think so," he argued quietly. "You just married an idiot who turned into a grumpy old man." Of course it was self-deprecating, but even so he smiled, albeit wryly. It faded away though, and he shifted. "....I know I probably could have made more effort too. I just don't..." He hesitated for a second. "I don't want to make your life harder."

Cindy gave a small sigh, his reluctance to even hold her hand now made her heart ache and his words made her withdraw. She knew she wasn't the warmest person, not anymore, not with him. But it was Christmas and he was surprised she'd called? It broke her.

"What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment."

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He has to admit, it gets under his skin when Syndicate members appear out of the blue. It's not even really their fault, just that he can feel the way the lines have blurred between his 'real' life and the connections he'd built on the street.

"No," he answers lowly, looking up at her with a raised brow. "I just don't see the point in decorating." He leans back in his chair, opting to get straight to the point. "Laroche? Not very subtle." Then, after a beat: "What brings you here?"

context: 1 police plaza with: @detbell

No, he's not expecting me, but we go way back! She explains to the secretary in a sweet, innocent voice. Will he know what this is about? Hardly. But yes, she says, I'm sure he'll know when he hears my name.

What was it again? Ava Laroche. "Detective Bell will see you now." Ah! Perfect.

As soon as the door closes behind her, her facade drops. "This is your office?" She's never been in here before and she loves looking at every detail. Decor can say a lot about a person. "It's a little... Plain. Is it new?"

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William huffs a laugh of his own, though it's almost a scoff. "Please. You're ten years younger than me, at least. And look twenty years younger." He couldn't help it, considering how aware he was of the wrinkles on his face and bags under his eyes.

"Welcome home." He gestures around her. "I hope it's been everything you hoped for so far. Bustling and nasty as ever. The Jets still suck." He shrugs slightly, amused as he picks up his menu. "I think I can manage. But I'm sure you have more important people to bother too."

Mira can't help but laugh, letting the hug linger a moment longer before she steps back, taking a seat across from him. Most days she lost herself in constant work, that pushing herself to be social was becoming a habit. Telling herself to return to her roots.

Will was part of her roots.

"If you are an ol' bastard, what does that make me?" The congresswoman gives a small snort, smiling. "I'm home for the holidays." It was nice that she didn't have to spend all her time there. "Means you are stuck with me for some time. Think you can handle that?" She teases.

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William couldn't bring himself to explain - how he felt like a disappointment to his children. The distance had certainly grown, showing in how they had pulled away from each other. It had always been complicated, given how much time had spent away from them. He had loved them - did love them - but he knew he wasn't the man he had been before, a fact that embarrassed him more than anything.

When Cynthia took his hand, he didn't pull away from her, even if part of him wanted to. "Okay," he finally said. "It's just been a while since we've all been together. I don't want to make things difficult." He looked at her for a moment. "...I was surprised you even called."

Cynthia couldn't help but worry about him, she took the time to look at him properly, taking in the tired gaze, the uncertain words. It broke her heart more than the awkwardness. She wanted to ask if he was well, if someone was looking out for him. But she wouldn't, couldn't, she didn't know how she'd feel with either answer he could give.

"I wouldn't have asked if you weren't wanted Will, honestly. You're still their father I don't know why you act like they wouldn't want to see you," Cynthia said with a sigh before reaching across the table to take one of his hands. "Either way, I want to see you. That should be enough for them... They do know though. I made it clear that it'd be a family occasion."

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“Let me say how sorry I am for all the pain that I have caused you.”                                                                                            “You don’t need to tell me how sorry you are.”

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Honestly, he hates this. Not Cynthia, of course - he could never hate her - but everything else. The way this feels like a business transaction, almost, after decades of marriage is what bothers him most. It's not that he doesn't understand why things are going this way - he has entirely too much awareness of it all, and how incredibly his fault it is.

Holding a cup of coffee between his hands, he looked at her, his bright blue eyes offset by dark circles beneath them. "Right. I guess that makes sense. They're all... grown now." He shrugged slightly, pausing a moment. "I should be able to. If you really want me to." That was the part that he felt the least sure of. "Do they know that you're asking me?"

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"Thank you for meeting with me Will," Although Cynthia and Will were divorced she still loved him, even if that didn't always come across very well due to her own stubborn bitterness. Meeting in a neutral place seemed to help and she gave him a small smile as she sat down at the table.

"I wanted to talk about Christmas, I've managed to get the brood to agree to come over all together for Christmas Eve, they're all busy on the day itself." That fact stung but she quickly brushed past it. "I want you to be there. If you can make it."

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THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (2011) dir. David Fincher

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They certainly made for an interesting combination - she, perfectly polished as a politician should be and he, entirely rough around the edges. Then again, maybe that was how it worked, a sort of balance between them. It had been a little while, and the invitation had almost surprised him, but then he hadn't dared turn it down.

"Good to see you here in town," he nods as he comes closer, returning the hug. "I'm sure you're busy. I didn't figure you would have the time for an old bastard like me." He smiled, though it was clearly sardonic, as he took his seat. "How has Washington treated you?"

Where: Arte Restaurant Who: @detbell

It wasn't uncommon for them to meet for lunch. After spending most of her career working with William then becoming deputy, they had formed a friendship. Even though her time on the police force had come to an end, a congresswoman would not stop what had become habit for her.

Their usual table was reserved at the Italian restaurant, tucked away from prying eyes where they could have privacy. Mira was going through some emails when her security let him through, standing with a smile on her face.

"Will, it's great to see you." She moves away from her seat to give him a hug.

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"Mh. I was there," he responds evenly with a nod. "Not that I wanted to be." That part was true - he hadn't relished being there in the crush of people, and hadn't done much socializing, but he had come... for some reason. Maybe a sense that he should, maybe a sense of morbid curiosity. Crossing his arms, William leaned carefully against the edge of the shelving as he moved a little closer to Oz. "...Was that something we expected?" It was never unexpected, of course, but he meant it more in the specific sense - had they known it would happen there and then?

The Atheneum’s always been a bit crowded - it has an old-world aesthetic, and books in little stacks, over-crowded shelves, and a bit of creative chaos has always made it have its own charm. Oz has had to make that charm a little bit more accessible in his time as the manager - bookshelves pushed further apart so he can wheel back and forth, a bit of space behind the desk to back up into. A ramp in the front of the shop. But it makes it so he can do his job, which he excels at. Well, one of his jobs. He's begun something fresh and new, though hasn't really talked about it much. Still unsure how to feel.

"Someone must have told you about Halloween already." Oz states, doesn't ask, as he slips books onto a shelf. Because with Will's connections to the Syndicate, how could he have not? But he can't remember seeing the man there. "Quite a lot of excitement there." Another book slid perfectly between two larger ones. Alphabetical old spines.

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Starter for: @jules-de-stgervais Location: 1 Police Plaza, Will's office

Exhaustion was written all over his face, seemingly unable to be erased. Getting out of the office was the only thing on his mind as William's day dragged itself toward its close. There was still some time on the clock, though, which left enough time for an interruption.

He sighed heavily at the knock on his door but he called out for them to answer anyway, eyeing Jules - and the case file he was carrying - with a fair mix of apprehension and annoyance. "I'm out of her at 5:00," he warned, though a glance to the clock said it wasn't even 4:30 yet. "Or else that -" punctuated with a nod to the case file "- better be good."

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"Why?" He asked bluntly, brow raised as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette. It was a nasty habit he had picked up, like any number of things recently, but it did its work to calm his jitters. Angel was familiar to William, their paths having crossed multiple times in the covering of stories, and so he felt comfortable, more or less, in asking head-on. "I mean - it's not usually worth it, doing that kinda thing. Chain link? You up to date on your shots?"

the job was all about risk and reward; that was the part of journalism that angel had fallen in love with—the chase—pursuing a story to the end and beyond. it was also the part that had gotten him in the most trouble, but even now as he nursed a bleeding knee, picking fibres from his jeans off his skin, brushing at gravel, he didn’t regret it. “jumped a fence,” angel provided, catching another’s gaze as they sat nearby, “or rather, the fence jumped me... sorry, should i move?"

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William Bell | AU Week

Name: William Bell

Age / D.O.B.: 53 years old (December 7, 1969)

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Male, he/him, heterosexual

Hometown: Bronx, NYC

Affiliation: Government/Civilian

Job position: Chief of Naval Operations

Education: US Naval Academy

Relationship status: Married

The change: William was never injured overseas.

Without the injury that effectively ended his military career, William became an accomplished officer and continued to climb the ranks. Eventually achieving the rank of admiral, he served abroad as long as possible, and upon return to the States, was made Chief of Naval Operations - part of the President's Joint Chiefs of Staff. He's powerful and commanding, a leader in many senses of the word.

His personal life has seen much less suffering as well. The lack of injury never led him to become dependent on the pain pills that have taken their toll on him. This in turn allowed his family life to continue along a more healthy trajectory. He is still happily married to his wife, Cindy, and a proud father of their three children.

While he currently lives just outside Washington, D.C., he is in New York on work business, and pleased to be back in his hometown for a little while, though of course quite different from the New York he remembers.

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Starter for: @scoredandstoried Location: Athenaeum

William isn't much of a reader, if he's being perfectly frank. So it's an irony that his affiliation pulls him, more often than not, to the small, crowded bookstore. He doesn't like it much, ill-at-ease in the relatively claustrophobic space, but he does whatever he needs to do So here he is, letting himself in and looking around as he's confronted with the smell of old books - dying paper, more accurately. As usual, Oz is one of the first people he sees and he pauses at the other end of the aisle where the man is working. "Anything new for me?" He asks - and most people would assume he's asking for something to read, rather than an entirely different type of information. "I hate getting bored."

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William Bell as a skeleton.... just a skeleton | Halloween 2023

The world dies over and over again, but the skeleton always gets up and walks.

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He smiles a little bit, admittedly more humoring than it is genuine - but it's there, at least. "Why don't we settle for interesting?" From his perspective, the gala hadn't really been interesting either, but it seems like something fair - neither negative or positive.

William hums, listening to Asa. He should've expected it, knowing as he does that this is what he's good for, when it comes to the Syndicate. This is what he can offer, in exchange for whatever assistance they're willing to offer back. "Who is he?" He asks quietly, direct as he takes one more sip from his coffee. "You don't much seem like the kind of person who tracks people." Perhaps that's foolish, given Asa's connection to the Syndicate, but it's his honest read - the medic seeming almost toothless to him compared to some other members of the gang.

While Asa likes the idea of getting to know Will better, there's also an undercurrent of something being left unsaid. He has plans, but the plans require quite a bit of help. Well, if the medic doesn't want to end up behind bars. He chuckles. "It was... well, I wish I could say it was a fun night." It hadn't been.

The question from Will just shows that he knows Asa's got something he wants to talk about. He nods. Asa seems more resolute, more business, as he sits up straighter. His dark eyes just slightly more calculating. "Right. There's something I'm... working on. Or... I suppose a someone. Who I've been... keeping track of." He's quiet, and he's already made sure where they sit is as secluded as possible. "And I need to make sure any files or cases that arise from... him are dealt with." He wets his lips. "I'm not familiar with how you work with us normally. But you seem like the person to speak to about this."

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what member of the syndicate, knowing what you know about them, would make you immediately cross the street if they were coming your way?

This seems like a trick question, but William grimaces as he gives it some thought. "Fucking Malkovich. But honestly, any of them. If I can help it."

Harass my muse with questions - TIMA | ADAM | WILL

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What do you find attractive in other people?

He considers the question for a few seconds, debating what he wants to say. "Patience," he offers. "Strength. Pretty eyes." And then he adds, less seriously: "The ability to shut the fuck up sometimes."

Harass my muse with questions - TIMA | ADAM | WILL