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2nd2ndalto · 4 months ago

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

Yay, it's a new chapter!!

Please see tags for content warnings.

(chapter 7 here)

Chapter 8

End of August, 1999

“Look who I found,” Will says, placing his lunch tray on the table beside Nico.

Nico glances up, mouth full. His eyebrows rise as he takes in Magnus and Sam, and he raises a hand in greeting.

“Hey!” Magnus claps Nico on the shoulder as he and Sam settle themselves on the other side of the table. “It’s good to see you guys. Seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”

Nico shoots a quick glance to his right, where Will’s tearing open a packet of Saltines. They haven’t really been in the FBI building any less than usual in the past four months, but there’s no doubt they’ve both been keeping to themselves. Maybe not so much in the last month, but certainly prior to that. Nico feels as if he’s only just getting his appetite back after the Tooms case and all the accompanying fallout, and Will’s certainly been avoiding public spaces more than he normally would, eating at odd hours or carrying his lunch down to the basement instead of staying in the cafeteria. And like everything else to do with the case, they haven’t really talked about these changes in their habits. It immediately puts Nico on edge to have Magnus bring the subject up so explicitly, no matter how tangential.

Will seems unaffected by Magnus’ observation, though, carefully breaking each of his crackers into quarters and dropping them into his minestrone. “We’ve been right at this table every single day this week,” he tells Magnus serenely. “Maybe it’s you who hasn’t been around.”

“Yeah, Magnus,” Nico echoes, smirking.

Magnus shrugs, unbothered as usual. “Sure, maybe you’re right. Any interesting cases lately?”

The rest of the lunch hour is spent in pleasant conversation, Will looking more and more like his sunny self as Nico endures teasing from all three of his colleagues, rather than just from his partner, like he usually does.

“Ten minute warning,” Magnus says some time later, a glance at his watch.

“Are you gonna finish that?” Will asks, nudging Nico and pointing to his plate. Nico shakes his head, passing over the rest of his sandwich.

“Hey Will, how come you’re not wearing your new glasses?” Sam asks suddenly.

“New glasses?” Nico echoes. When the subject came up a couple of weeks ago, Will had said he still hadn’t gotten them replaced. Since they were broken. During his kidnapping. Nico thinks he can feel what’s left of his appetite receding again.

But Will just looks mildly embarrassed. “I – I don’t know. I feel kind of self-conscious about them. And I guess I got used to everyone being kind of… blurry.” Will waves a hand vaguely and Magnus laughs.

“You – I didn’t know you – when did you get new glasses?” Nico asks, suddenly very fixated on this point.

Will opens his mouth to speak, but Sam interrupts. “Last week! My financé’s an optician. I went with Will and helped him pick them out.”

“Yeah, and –” Will tries.

“Will, you should be wearing them, they look amazing on you.”

Will pulls a face. “I don’t know. It’s – kind of a big change and –”

“Where are they?” Sam asks, persistent.

Nico’s head swivels back and forth, watching this entire exchange like it’s a particularly gripping tennis match.

“I do have them, they’re in my pocket. So like, they’re accessible if I need them,” Will says. He’s pink in the face now, looking decidedly hot around the collar.

“Put them on!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, Solace, let’s see ‘em,” Magnus chimes in.

Will rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

And it turns out the glasses are there, right in the pocket of his blazer. And Nico didn’t even know. He feels like he should have noticed. He definitely feels like Will should have told him.

Will pulls out an eyeglass case, unzips it. He unfolds the glasses and places them on his face, finally looking up, harassed.

Nico’s heart leaps into his throat.

Magnus lets out a low whistle. “Whoa, Solace, you look hot.”

Will rolls his eyes, turning even pinker. “They’re just glasses. The important thing is that they’re functional. They’re a tool.”

“You’re a tool,” Sam says.

Magnus laughs. “They do look really good, though,” he tells Will.

“See?” Sam says to Will. “I told you. Doesn’t he look good, Nico?”

“Yeah,” Nico manages. What he hasn’t managed to do is tear his eyes away from his partner who, as Magnus said, looks hot, no two ways about it. Will’s old glasses were wire half-frames, unobtrusive. Easy to miss. These new glasses have thick, square black frames, and they just make Will look –

“Nico likes them,” Sam says, smug.

Nico feels his face heating. “They’re – yeah. They look really good, Will,” he says. Because Will’s looking uncomfortable with all the attention, and Nico’s first instinct is to do whatever he can to reassure him. Regardless of how that might reflect on Nico, or contribute to the somewhat-sly look Sam’s shooting his way.

“Well. Thanks.” Will shakes his head, pulling the glasses off and settling them carefully back into their case.

Sam peers over at Magnus’ watch. “Time’s up, kids. Come on, Will. Help me get the trays.”

Will looks relieved that everyone’s attention has been diverted from him, and he stands, collecting his tray and Nico’s, following Sam to the carts near the main doors of the cafeteria. Nico and Magnus stand too, collecting their things, discussing plans for the afternoon as they slowly make their way over to their partners. Sam seems to be talking Will’s ear off the entire time, Nico notes, repeatedly shooting covert glances in Nico’s direction. He has the sudden unpleasant sensation of being back in high school.

In the hall, they bid their colleagues goodbye, Sam and Magnus heading to the elevator, Nico and Will to the stairwell.

“Sam looked like she had a lot to say to you,” Nico comments as they descend the stairs.

Will huffs. “Yeah. Sam was just being… Sam.”

“You didn’t tell me you got new glasses,” Nico blurts out, though he’s been trying not to say it. Technically it’s not really any of his business.

Will turns, grinning over his shoulder. “You’re right. I didn’t. Would you like a play-by-play on all my non-work-related activities from now on?”

“You know what? Yeah, I would,” Nico says, cool about it.

Half an hour later and WIll’s starting to feel that post-lunch drag, the one that tries to convince him to put his head down on his desk, just for a few minutes. The atmosphere is perfect for a catnap, honestly. Nico’s got some music on low on the stereo in the corner, and none of the overhead lights are on. Will yawns. He shoots a glance at Nico. He’s looking a little dragging himself, head resting heavily on one hand. And it’s not like they have anything pressing to do this afternoon. Will moves papers out of the way, preparing to lay his head in his arms.

But then there’s a sharp knock on the door, and both men jerk in surprise. Will’s gaze flicks to Nico, who shrugs.

"Come in," Will calls.

The door opens to reveal a blond man about Will’s own age, a polite smile on his face. His gaze settles on Will. "Hi, you must be Agent Solace. I'm Jason Grace, Assistant Director Ramirez-Arellano's new assistant."

"Oh." Will jumps up, holding out his hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you." The other man has a firm, purposeful handshake, his eyes a sharp, electric blue behind his glasses. His blond hair is short and neat, not a single strand out of place, and he holds himself with something like military precision. Will straightens his own posture in response, hoping he doesn't look as tired and rumpled as he feels. Hoping he didn’t spill minestrone on his shirt. Nico would have mentioned it, surely.

"Agent di Angelo, nice to see you again." Jason nods to Nico. Will steps back, making room for his partner, who moves forward to shake Jason's hand as well.

There's something about this newcomer - not that he's attractive, exactly, though he certainly is – more that there's some kind of heat and power radiating off him. Something that makes Will feel off-balance. It's intimidating. He's pretty sure Jason isn't actually taller than he is, but he seems taller.

Jason steps back neatly, shoulders squared, back straight. "I look forward to working with both of you."

Will collects himself. "We're usually pretty self-sufficient down here. But um – welcome.”

Jason nods once. "The assistant director said as much. I think she'd prefer a little more administrative involvement from time to time." Jason's expression doesn't waver, but Will's stomach does. Have they done something to merit more administrative involvement? Like, other than all the things they usually do?

"To that end," Jason continues, "I've been instructed to deliver this case assignment. Agent di Angelo will already be familiar with the details." He holds out the file to Will, who accepts it automatically, glancing at Nico, who looks just as uninformed.

"I've taken the liberty of booking you hotel rooms in Pittsburgh, and I've requisitioned a fleet vehicle. The local police department is anticipating your arrival later today." Jason passes over several sheets of paper, a key in a plastic sleeve. He gives Nico a deferential tilt of his head. "Agent di Angelo, the assistant director has informed me that you prefer standard transmission over automatic.”

Will finally turns to Nico, who's got a somewhat amused smile playing around his lips. "I do. Thanks very much, Mr. Grace."

Will’s feeling very wrong-footed by all this smooth efficiency. It’s not exactly the way things are done down here. He’s painfully aware of the sticky doughnut box on his desk, the half-finished crossword he’s been using as a coaster. But then Jason's smile turns warmer, and Will feels his shoulders relax a fraction.

"Please, call me Jason," says Jason. "Safe travels. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you run into any difficulties with the arrangements."

And then he's gone. Will blinks at the closed door for a moment before turning back to his partner. "So that was Jason," Will says.

Nico grins. "That was Jason. What did you think?"

"He's... is he always like that?" Will says, finally, at a loss for anything else to say.

Nico laughs, returning to his desk. "I don't really know him that well, to be honest. We had a few interactions when I was working at Violent Crimes. He’s a nice enough guy. Over-the-top efficient, very professional. Ex-military."

Will nods. "That makes sense." He realizes he's still standing pointlessly in the middle of the office, and he makes his way back to his desk, a glance towards the office door before choosing another doughnut. Since his desk nap plans have been kiboshed, that’ll have to do.

"Did you think he was cute?" Nico asks unexpectedly, and Will laughs, swiveling his chair to face his partner.

"No," Will says with finality. "I mean, He's charismatic. And he's good-looking, right? Like, in a magazine-model kind of way. But definitely not my type."

Nico looks satisfied with this answer. "Too tall?" he asks, light.

Will raises his eyebrows, surprised. "Definitely too tall," he says, attempting not to smile too hard. "I like 'em puny."

With the day already wasting, the two agree that Will should collect the car while Nico packs up anything they need from the office. Nico had opened the file from Jason as they began to collect their things, nodding in recognition and telling Will he’d fill him in on the drive.

Walking amongst the drab browns and grays of the car fleet area in the parkade, Will spots theirs – something midsize, verging on large. Black and spotlessly clean, shiny. Nico will be pleased; Will’s heard more than his fair share of complaints in regards to the limitations of compact cars lately. Never mind that the smaller cars are a perfect fit for his smaller partner, and Nico always prefers to drive unless he’s in some way incapacitated.

Will parks in the loading zone in front of the J. Edgar Hoover building, and Nico emerges from the glass revolving doors just a moment later, coat flapping in the breeze, a bag over his arm and a pile of files clutched to his chest. Nico brightens when he spots Will, heading to the driver’s side and waiting for Will to get out.

“Nice car,” Nico says approvingly as he surveys the interior and Will settles in on the passenger side.

“Lots of room for your short little legs.” Will pokes Nico mid-thigh, grinning.

Nico scowls. “Really? We’re starting out with animosities? Be nice, or it’s Nine Inch Nails all the way to fucking Pittsburgh.”

Will rolls his eyes skyward, bucking himself in and tossing his bag into the back.

Nico adjusts the seat, raising it higher and moving it forward so he can reach the pedals. Will refrains from commenting on this. “You’ve got to admit this is more comfortable than the Yaris,” Nico says.

Will shrugs. “More comfortable? Maybe a little. Less aesthetically pleasing, though.”

Nico stares at him, disbelieving. “Solace, it’s black.”

Will nods, solemn. “It sure is. Seems Jason knows what you like.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, checking mirrors and pulling out onto the street. “Maybe it won’t be so bad, having someone else to worry about the car requisitions.”

“Do you think we – did something?” Will asks. “Jason said something about Reyna wanting more administrative involvement.”

Should he worry? They’ve been so careful since April, i’s dotted and t’s crossed, everything submitted on time. Mostly following protocol to the letter. There are always necessary exceptions, of course.

Nico’s gaze flicks over. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly. “I think Jason’s probably just a – byproduct. Of the meetings we had in April. After – Tooms.”

They’re both still so careful, tip-toeing around everything that happened four months prior. Nico, especially, seems to worry that any little remark will set Will off, leave him stricken and mute for the rest of the day. Not without reason, unfortunately. It’s been a hard few months.

Will’s been feeling tougher lately, though. They’ve sort of talked about it. Around it, anyway. Will’s not entirely sure he feels less broken than he did a few months ago. But now – knowing that Nico doesn’t mind that, maybe even that Nico understands – it settles something in his chest, makes him feel like he’s finally walking on solid ground.

“Right,” Will says, quick, wanting to let Nico know that it really is okay now, to say the words aloud. “I just thought – that’s four months ago already. I would have expected administrative changes before now.”

Nico shrugs. “Well, you know. Bureaucracy moves at a snail’s pace and all that. Anyway, Jason’s all right. He’s a rule-follower, but he’s reasonable.”

Will nods, thoughtful. “Do you think he’s cute?”

Nico laughs. There’s a long pause in which he seems to be considering and reconsidering his next words. “I like your glasses better than his,” he says finally.

Will smiles, surprised at this candidness. Nico looks a little surprised too. And a little pink.

“You sweet-talker,” Will grins. “We’re still not listening to Nine Inch Nails for four hours, though.”

“Damn it,” Nico mutters. He shoots Will a quick smile, bashful, and Will’s just so very glad to be sitting in this (black) car doing this usually-pretty-great job with this adorable man.

There’s comfortable quiet until they approach the freeway exits. “So, what’s the story?” Will asks, once they’re on the interstate. “What’s in Pittsburgh?”

Nico clears his throat. “Well, two days ago, a couple went missing at Carlow University, James Summers and Elizabeth Hawley. Presumed kidnapped. A year earlier to the day, another couple went missing, but that time from Carnegie Mellon. Their bodies were found a week later. They’d been kept alive, tortured through that period.”

Will’s shudders. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “No arrests were ever made. Police thought it was a one-off at the time, but now they suspect it’s a serial killer. If the pattern holds true, we’ve got five days to find those kids. The file’s right at the top of that stack, if you wanna take a look.” Nico tips his head towards the back seat.

Will twists in his seat, retrieving the file and flipping it open. He’s greeted immediately by Nico’s familiar scrawling cursive, pages of it. “But why wouldn’t the case have been assigned to Violent Crimes? Why are you and I going to Pittsburgh?”

Nico sighs. “There’s this guy in Greene State Correctional Institute who claims to have inside information on the kidnapping. Luther Lee Boggs. Murdered five of his family members over Thanksgiving dinner in 1989.”

Will considers this. “I mean, to be fair, Thanksgiving can be a stressful time for a lot of families. I’ve got a couple of really homophobic uncles.”

Nico’s lips quirk. “Can’t deny I can see where he might have been coming from. Anyway. My profile of him helped put him away. He’s on death row. Set to be executed this coming Saturday.” Nico grimaces, and Will feels his gut twist. They’ve discussed the matter of capital punishment before, and it doesn’t sit well with either of them.

“He’s angling for a deal?” Will asks.

Nico nods. “It seems that way. He’s requested to talk to me personally, apparently. He read my profile of him and thinks I understand him.”

“Got it,” Will nods. “Any idea how Boggs has the information? On the kidnapping?”

“Well,” Nico’s gaze flicks to the rearview mirror as he changes lanes. “Boggs actually made it to the execution chamber once before – got a stay at the eleventh hour. He claims the experience gave him the ability to channel spirits and demons.”

“And there’s the paranormal angle,” Will says.

Nico makes a face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Really?”

Nico looks uncomfortable. “I believe psychic ability exists. I’m just not sure that’s what’s going on in this particular case.”

“That’s very… sensible of you.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “I’m sensible.” he mutters.

Will laughs.

“It just seems a little too convenient to me. I’ve got a feeling about it.”

Will nods. Almost a year in, and he’s absolutely learned to trust Nico’s intuition, maybe more than his own.

“Boggs apparently described Elizabeth Hawley’s bracelet down to the last detail,” Nico says. “That’s information only the family could have known. Or the kidnapper.”

Will considers this, details slotting into place in his mind. “You think he orchestrated the kidnapping? A scam to save his life?”

“Very likely. Anyway. I guess we’ll see when we get there.” Nico glances at the clock on the dash. “We’ll talk to the local PD when we get to Pittsburgh, but the prison is about an hour south of town. We’ll head there tomorrow morning.”

Almost four hours later, Will’s feeling stiff and tired of sitting, even in this non-compact car. He conceded to Nine Inch Nails about an hour ago, and he’s getting pretty tired of them, too. "Two miles to the exit," he says, glancing at the printed MapQuest directions Jason gave them.

Nico nods in thanks.

"And now we're looking for a Holiday Inn on the right. Nice," Will says once they’re off the freeway, rearranging papers in his lap. Gratefully, he turns the volume down on the stereo.

Nico makes a small sound of disagreement. "Holiday Inns are decent. You don't get the same character as you do with the roadside motels, though," he says wistfully.

Will rolls his eyes. "If by character you mean the previous guests stole all the lightbulbs and the next-door neighbors are doing the horizontal tango until four in the morning, then I think I'm willing to sacrifice character."

Nico scoffs. "That was one time."

One time too many in Will’s opinion. By the time they arrive at the hotel, the gas needle’s gone dangerously close to empty. They part, Will going to fill the tank while Nico checks in.

Once the car is gassed up and the dead bugs mostly scrubbed from the windshield, Will pulls up in front of the hotel.

Nico walks through the sliding doors a second later, looking harried. He drops himself into the passenger seat, juggling papers and key cards, an air of bad news about him. "Well, it's not Jason's fault, but they gave away our reservations,” Nico says. “They put us together in the only room left in the hotel."

"Oh," Will says. He pulls forward into the parking lot, following Nico's directions to a door around the back of the building. "Well, that's not a big deal."

It's a relief, honestly. Will hasn't particularly wanted to discuss the matter, but he's had trouble sleeping alone since his kidnapping. It's fine when he's sharing a room with Nico (which he often does now when they travel) or when Kayla's home, but the few times he's found himself home alone or in a hotel room by himself, it's hours before he's able to fall asleep, and he wakes with a jolt at any small noise. And that's to say nothing of the nightmares.

"Just wait until you see it," Nico mutters.

Will raises an eyebrow, but Nico just shakes his head, looking equal amounts amused and exasperated.

"Which floor?" Will asks once they're inside the elevator.

"All the way to the top," Nico says, reaching across and punching the button marked PH.

Will laughs. "Really? They put us in the penthouse? Wait – Holiday Inns have penthouses?"

"Apparently."

Will spends a full five minutes laughing once they get the door open. It's the most honeymoon suite-est honeymoon suite that he ever possibly could have imagined. The heart-shaped bed is vast and scattered with red and pink rose petals. There's a heart-shaped hot tub behind a half-wall, fire engine red, and the bed itself is draped in lacy curtains.

The ceiling above the bed is mirrored.

"This is incredible," Will gasps, still trying to catch his breath. "This is amazing. Jason needs to book all our rooms from now on."

Nico, looking reluctantly amused, hangs his coat by the door and drops his bag to the floor, collapsing into a heart shaped armchair, red velvet. "In Jason's defense, this is not the room he booked."

Will shakes his head. "I don't care, I'm giving him full credit."

"They're gonna bring up a cot," Nico says. "We can flip for it, if you want."

Will turns to his partner, appalled. "Nico, no. Why would either of us want to sleep on a smelly, lumpy cot when we have this..." Will throws himself down on the bed, rose petals fluttering around him, "magnificent bed?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Nico. "It's actually really comfortable. Come on." Will rolls to his side, patting the velvet bedspread and winking.

Nico rolls his eyes. But he kicks off his shoes and lowers himself to the opposite end of the bed, giving an experimental bounce. "It is pretty nice," he says grudgingly.

Will beams. "And it's gigantic. It's got to be bigger than a king. See? I can't even reach you from here." He reaches out an arm, wiggling his fingers in Nico's direction, purposefully not stretching quite as far as he might be able to if he made more of an effort.

Nico watches Will’s fingers, dubious. "Fine. We'll share the bed," he says, as if this is some great hardship.

"Wanna go in the hot tub later?"

Nico grimaces. "A hot tub? In a honeymoon suite? Solace, there isn't enough Lysol in the world for me to get in that thing."

They meet with the local PD, and several hours later they’ve eaten and settled into their room for the night. Regardless of actual marital situation, the honeymoon suite apparently includes two bottles of champagne. It hadn’t been difficult to convince Nico that they shouldn’t let it go to waste.

"I've always wanted to stay in a honeymoon suite," Will muses, raising the champagne flute to his lips, watching them both in the mirrored ceiling.

"Really? Why?" Nico asks from his side of the heart. The right ventricle, maybe. Not that this heart is in any way anatomically accurate. What a missed opportunity, Will thinks regretfully.

Will shrugs. "I don't know. I saw it in a movie once. It looked cool. Way fancier than anywhere my family ever stayed, you know?"

Nico watches him, a fond smile, champagne glass held loosely in delicate fingers.

"Anyway. This might be my only chance. Might as well make the best of it. Enjoy all the amenities." Will scoops up a hand of rose petals and attempts to toss them towards his partner. He misses by several feet, and they both watch the petals flutter back to the bed.

"You don't think you'll get married?" Nico asks. "Not that you need to get married to stay in a honeymoon suite. Apparently," he adds. He plucks at the white lace curtains beside the bed.

Will shrugs. "I mean, probably not. I can't exactly marry another man."

There's a long silence. "Aren't you... I thought you were... bi?" Nico says, awkward.

It's a little weird; neither of them has ever said the word to the other, and Will feels himself blush. Not that it's a secret. Certainly not from Nico. Nico, whom he almost kissed.

Will clears his throat. "I don't think I am, actually. I've been thinking about it a lot, the past couple of years. I think I'm probably just, you know. Gay."

The word hangs there in the air, and Will's heart throbs in his throat. Because as much as he has been thinking about it, especially lately, he hasn't mentioned it to another soul. And he suddenly feels incredibly exposed, speaking the words aloud.

"Rude,” Nico mutters. “There's nothing just about being gay.”

Will grins at his partner. Relief.

There's a stretching silence then, and Will feels the need to fill it with something.

"Did you like, come out? To your family?" he asks. Because he's been thinking over his own coming out conversations, and wondering if he needs to have them all over again. It feels like a lot of work, honestly.

They're both propped up on pillows, in their separate ventricles, bare feet angled towards the septum. Will can’t quite read the expression on Nico’s face, but there’s definitely discomfort there, a tension that was absent just a moment earlier.

"Sorry," Will says, automatic, thinking he must have pushed too far. It’s still a fine line sometimes, with Nico. "You don't have to tell me. I don't know why I even –"

"No, it's okay," Nico says. He moves his champagne to the bedside table and begins methodically shredding rose petals between his fingers. "I guess I don't really ever... talk about it. But… I kind of like talking things over. With you.”

Will's face heats quickly and he glances to Nico's champagne glass, automatic. Because that doesn't sound like anything he’s ever heard sober Nico say. Sure enough, Nico’s halfway through his second glass, and Will feels a pang of guilt for asking.

Nico's not as closed off as he was when they first met, but Will still finds himself treading very carefully when they venture into anything personal. Like Nico’s some kind of a wild animal that’ll bolt if Will makes one wrong move.

"Don't – only tell me if you want to," Will says, soft and awkward, another reflexive glance to the champagne.

Nico smiles. "I'm not drunk, Will. You're not taking advantage."

They gaze at each other for a long moment before Nico sighs, reaching for his champagne flute again. He takes a sip and then turns the glass between his fingers.

"I um. I never got the chance to actually come out. To... Bianca. Before she died," Nico says softly. "I was still figuring myself out, I guess. It felt... it was too scary. To say it out loud. I remember thinking that I wanted to, someday. But I wasn't ready yet."

Will feels the prickle of tears, and he holds as still as he can, listening.

Nico swallows. "And then... she died. And that was that."

"I'm sorry," Will murmurs.

Nico glances up, a half smile, eyes over-bright. "My dad," he continues, his gaze dropping to the mangled rose petals in his lap. "I didn't tell him. But he found out. It was just about a month after Bianca died." Nico's voice is rough. "There was a lot of yelling and... he kicked me out."

“Oh, Nico.”

“Yeah.” Nico places the champagne flute back on the bedside table and scrubs at his eyes. He pauses a moment, sniffling and blinking at the mirrored ceiling. Will watches him from across the bed, heart aching, trying to figure out what he could say, or do. What Nico might allow. Finally he places his own champagne to the side, rising and making his way across to the bathroom for a handful of kleenex. He returns to the bed and offers them to Nico, keeping a couple to wipe at his own face.

“Thanks,” Nico whispers.

Will sinks back to his side of the bed, back against the plush headboard. Finally, Nico seems to collect himself, reaching again for his champagne. He drains the rest of his glass. Will reaches for the bottle, filling the glass again when Nico holds it out and topping up his own as well.

“Cheers,” Nico says, hoarse.

“You were what – seventeen?” Will asks.

Nico nods. “Yup.”

Will shakes his head. “When I was seventeen I was… useless. My mom was still cooking all my meals and doing my laundry.” He laughs humorlessly. “Where did you go?”

Nico takes a deep, shaky breath. “I stayed at a friend’s place for a few days, but that wasn’t a long-term solution.”

“You were still in high school,” Will says softly.

A quick glance to Will, abashed. “I dropped out. I couldn’t –” Nico shrugs. “I hadn’t been holding up that well to begin with, that school year. And then, with Bianca, and everything else…” Nico trails off.

“Fuck,” Will says.

“Pretty much.” Nico’s voice is steadier now. “So, I bounced around for a while, slept on couches. Got myself into some really stupid situations. I just didn’t care, you know?” He shoots a glance over to Will, almost apologetic. “I didn’t – it didn’t matter what happened to me. I didn’t see the point, anymore, in any of it. Anyway. I managed to come out of all that alive, somehow. Finally I got in touch with Reyna again. She was, um. She had been roommates. With Bianca. She… bossed me around until I got my act together, basically,” Nico shoots Will a small smile. “And the rest is history.”

Will frowns. “Well. That’s…”

“Fucked up?”

“Yeah,” Will says softly. He lowers himself to the bed, managing not to spill his glass. Nico adjusts himself too, both of them curled on their sides. They’re close enough now that Will could reach out and touch… but it feels as though there’s an invisible barrier there, something fragile, unable to bear weight. Nico’s eyes are dark, fathomless, and he doesn’t look away, just holds Will’s gaze in silence until Will’s face starts to flush, until he feels that familiar flutter in his stomach.

“I wish I’d known you back then,” Will says, his voice hoarse.

Nico’s lips quirk. “I was a mess. I was grumpy and selfish. I’m not proud of a lot of the choices I made. You wouldn’t have liked me back then.”

“Inaccurate.”

Nico breathes out a laugh. “Inaccurate?”

“Yup. I refuse to believe that.”

“Well.” Nico smiles. “I was a huge music snob, too. So, you know. That might have been a deal breaker.”

“Oh, maybe you’re right,” Will nods, thoughtful. “Because that’s like, way different than you are now. Definitely a deal-breaker.”

Nico laughs, eyes warm, and Will’s caught, hooked, grinning back at him. There’s just the slightest shift of Nico’s gaze to Will’s mouth, and Will’s stomach attempts to leap right up through his esophagus. His eyes settle on the champagne flute that he suddenly realizes is still in his hand. His fingers are a bit tingly, from the alcohol, probably. He raises the glass to take a sip – and manages to spill most of it down the front of his shirt.

Will heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand over his face as Nico starts laughing. A second later Will feels the glass being plucked from his hand and he glances up to see Nico finishing the last mouthful of champagne before placing the empty glass carefully on his own bedside table.

“You’re cut off,” Nico says, shaking his head in fond disapproval.

Nico’s probably right, honestly. Will feels overheated, floaty-headed, and he’s pretty sure he could sleep. Absent-mindedly, he pulls off his now-damp t-shirt, balling it up and scrubbing it over his chest. He flings it in the general direction of his overnight bag, not bothering to check to see where it lands.

Nico snorts from across the bed, and Will rolls to his side again, grinning - not drunkenly, he’s pretty sure. Nico looks a little overheated too, come to think of it. Well. It is warm in here. Despite the fact that Nico refused to let him light the huge candelabra in the corner.

“Did you know that most fatal heart attacks occur on Monday mornings?” Will asks, trying for a conversational tone. It comes out a lot breathier than he intended.

Nico’s eyes widen and then he laughs, long and hard, rolling onto his stomach, shoulders shaking. Will giggles too, mostly at relief of having the tension of the last hour broken. Maybe at the relief of knowing Nico is not a lost and broken seventeen-year-old. He’s here, solid and steady and beautiful.

Nico finally flops onto his back, wiping at his eyes. “I keep –” he tries, and then snorts again, dissolving into laughter. “I keep forgetting that you like to spew medical facts when you’re drunk,” he manages, then laughs so hard that no sound comes out.

“I’m not drunk,” Will says, affronted.

“Right, not at all,” Nico says, patronizing, and then he leans in to pat Will’s bare shoulder. Still patronizing, Will’s pretty sure, but then the smile fades from Nico’s face and his fingers linger just a second longer than they should on Will’s skin, his eyes following his hand, the lightest whisper of his thumb across Will’s collarbone before he slowly pulls his hand back.

Heat sparks everywhere, uncontrolled. Will’s heart is hammering in his chest. It’s not a Monday, but he thinks he might be experiencing some cardiac arrhythmias.

Will swallows. “Maybe we should… do you want to open the second bottle?”

Nico’s gaze flits over Will’s face for a long moment, intense and heart-breakingly conflicted, the delicate balance they’ve built up teetering on a knife’s edge.

“We probably shouldn’t,” Nico whispers, finally.

Will nods. He can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved. A confusing concoction of both, he thinks.

Nico stands and then pauses with his back to Will, seeming to steel himself for a moment. He clears his throat, half-turning back, not quite looking at the bed, or at Will.

"I'm gonna – do you mind if I use the washroom first?"

"Knock yourself out," Will says, trying to sound as light, as normal as he can. What with the alcohol still making its way around his system and the lingering roller coaster of emotions, he's not sure he manages it, nor that Nico's appreciated his efforts.

The bathroom door closes and Will rubs his fists into his eyes. What was that? His brain is tired and fuzzy, but he tries to wring some understanding out of it nonetheless. He didn't say anything wrong, did he? Push too hard or veer too close to this thing they seem to have, by some unspoken mutual agreement, agreed to avoid? He wants this, wants Nico. He’s sure of that. But he definitely doesn't want it to happen because he pushed. He’ll stop, he decides. This is enough – their friendship, and their work. Their late night talks, impromptu slumber parties and road trips. If this is all Nico wants, it can be enough.

By the time the bathroom door opens again, Will's halfway to sleep. He'll probably wake to use the washroom in a few hours anyway, he thinks, and hopefully he'll have the motivation to brush his teeth at that point.

"You still awake?" Nico says, soft.

"Yeah." Will yawns. "Not for long. Think I hit a wall while you were in there." He manages to stir himself enough to crawl under the covers.

"Want me to grab you a dry t-shirt while I'm up?" Nico asks.

"Don't think I actually have another one."

"Of course you don't," Will thinks he hears Nico say under his breath.

Nico’s wakes early the next morning, sunrise just starting to leak around the edges of the blackout curtains.

He carefully rolls onto his side, not wanting to disturb Will if he can help it. Will’s sprawled facedown over what’s surely more than half of the bed, softly snoring. Nico’s eyes linger on broad, freckled shoulders, the rise and fall of Will’s breath, the line of his back.

Nico closes his eyes, collecting himself. Because this is not… this is not supposed to happen. Right?

Attempted murders and kidnappings aside, Nico’s so happy. In his wildest dreams, he never would have imagined Will. A real partner. Someone brilliant and kind and strong who shares Nico’s passion for his work. A friend. A soft place to land.

Anything more would just… complicate things. Nico’s no good at non-romantic relationships, and he’s even worse at romantic ones. Will would figure that out, and then he’d be gone. And god, Nico can’t bear to let Will down in any more ways than he already has.

There’s this pull now, though. Like Will’s a sun, and Nico’s caught in his orbit. Magnetic, but worse somehow, because Nico feels it right in the depths of his heart, in his bones.

Will touches, a lot. That’s nothing new. Except that he stopped, after April. Stopped touching, stopped flirting. Stopped looking at Nico in that way he has that makes Nico’s heart forget to beat. And god, Nico never knew how much he’d miss those things until they were gone.

As the two of them gradually surfaced, as Will slowly, tentatively started touching again, started flirting – Nico nearly burst into tears each time it happened, struck with overwhelming relief and gratitude. For who Will is, and for what they have. What they still have, even after everything.

And now, when Will touches him, or when Nico works up the nerve to touch Will – Nico feels like he can’t get enough. He thought it would fix everything, just to get Will’s touch back, but instead he feels like a bottomless vessel, forever aching for just a little more. Just a little closer, a little longer. Just to be pressed close enough that he could feel the reassurance of Will’s heart beating against his own. But that would ruin everything.

Wouldn’t it?

Heart in his throat, Nico stands, allowing himself one more long look at his sleeping partner before he heads for the shower.

It’s barely nine am when they pass through security at the prison. They’re ushered into a depressing, nondescript interrogation room. Fluorescent lights, gray-painted brick, empty except for a table and chairs.

Will takes a seat beside his partner, unaccountably nervous. He’s been in prisons before. He’s been involved in interrogations before. He’s not sure why this feels more fraught. Maybe it’s just the events of last night leaving him untethered. It’s not as if he had a lot to drink, but he woke fuzzy and off-balance, and the feeling hasn’t entirely resolved.

Nico doesn’t seem quite himself either, unusually quiet and serious. Honestly, that’s probably throwing Will off more than anything else.

“Maybe just let me take the lead,” Nico murmurs into the quiet, his dark eyes intent, nervous like he thinks Will might disagree.

Will nods. “Sure. You’ve met this guy before, right?”

Nico nods. “He’s… you know Jason?”

“Reyna’s new assistant?”

“Yeah. You said he was charismatic? Imagine that charisma on steroids, except that there’s always something he wants from you and he has no qualms about getting it. Just – be careful,” Nico says, looking worried. “Be on your guard.”

Will nods. “Will do.” He hesitates, wanting to lighten things with a joke. But the atmosphere feels tense and weirdly sterile, and he keeps his mouth shut.

A moment later there’s a clanging of metal, and Luther Lee Boggs is ushered into the room, hands cuffed in front of him. He takes a seat at the other side of the table.

Even before he’s spoken, Boggs isn’t what Will expected. He doesn’t look anything like a monster, doesn’t look calculating, or insane, or evil. And of course Will knows appearances can be deceiving. But he’s just a guy – tall and gangly, bright blue eyes and dark curls just past his ears. His smile is open, even friendly, and Will feels himself relax just the smallest amount.

“Agent di Angelo,” Boggs says, a polite nod to Nico. “A real pleasure to see you again. I’d shake your hand, but…” he shrugs, self-deprecating, raising his cuffed hands slightly. Then, he shoots a smile at Will. “And who is your lovely associate?”

Will clears his throat. “Agent Will Solace.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Boggs says, his eyes lingering on Will in a way that reminds Will rather violently of Nico’s friend Leo.

Boggs closes his eyes for a moment, turning his face to the buzzing fluorescents on the ceiling. There’s a long pause. Nico opens his mouth to speak, but then Boggs says slowly, dreamily, “William Andrew Solace.” He opens his eyes, blinking placidly at Nico. “You got yourself a doctor, Agent di Angelo. How nice for you.”

There’s the slightest stiffening in Nico’s posture, Boggs’ words seemingly having had their intended effect. But Will finds himself going from anxious to irritated very quickly. Because he’s known men like this before, and it’s not a personality type he’d classify as charismatic. More cloying, even slimy. Untrustworthy. He’s reminded of Luke, and even, painfully, of his own father.

“We were told you had information for us, Mr. Boggs,” Will says.

“Oh Agent Solace, Agent Solace,” Boggs says, a crease forming between his brows. “So eager to get down to business. What’s the rush?”

“The rush is that we’ve driven all the way out here from DC, not to mention that the lives of two young people are hanging in the balance,” Nico says, seeming to pull himself together. “If you have anything to share in regards to James Summers and Elizabeth Hawley, now would be the time.”

“Now, now, Agent di Angelo. My communication with the great beyond - it doesn’t come without strings attached. Let’s negotiate.” Boggs leans back in his chair, smiling peaceably.

Nico huffs. “No. Tell us what you have, and we’ll decide if it’s of any use to us. Then maybe we’ll see what we can do.”

Boggs eyes Nico for a long moment, calculating, before sighing and turning his gaze to the ceiling again, eyes closing. He hums to himself for a moment, then falls silent.

Boggs’ face contorts. “No… pain. Pain. I’m in terrible pain. Must stop. Must… stop.”

Will sneaks a glance to his partner. Nico is pale, his jaw set.

Boggs’ head tilts to the side. He cringes. “The boy. Um… Jim. He’s – he’s tied with twine. With packing twine.” Boggs makes a whining sound as if he’s in pain. His shoulders contract. “He whips them with… a coat hanger. A wire coat hanger.”

Nico looks grim, scribbling in his notebook. Will’s sure Nico’s got all the important parts down, but he jots down the relevant details as well.

“Dark place. Cold. Cellar. Warehouse. An angel… of stone. Waterfall. No, no. It’s not a waterfall. Not water. They’re – they’re there. I got to go. I got to go.” Boggs takes a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes popping open. His breathing is heavy, eyes unfocused. It’s a good show, Will thinks wryly.

“You seem awfully well-informed about this kidnapping,” Will says, as Nico finishes his notes.

Boggs just smiles, demure. “I’m not well-informed about anything, darling. I just pass on the information as it’s provided to me.”

“So where are they?” Nico asks. “Where are Elizabeth and James?”

Boggs blinks benignly, then takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes again, tilts his face skyward. “They’re…” Boggs’ brow furrows. “I’m so sorry, Agent di Angelo, I just don’t know. This channeling, you know – it really takes it out of me. I’m trying, I swear I am, but it’s just a blank wall. Just a void. You could try asking again later. I think I need to rest now.”

Nico shoots a glance at Will, who shrugs, restraining himself from rolling his eyes. He’s not sure it’s worth pushing at this point.

Will reaches the door of the interrogation room first, motioning to the guard that they’re finished. Nico’s delayed a moment, collecting his things, and Will hears Boggs humming an unfamiliar tune. He frowns, turning back in time to see Nico paused beside the table, ashen-faced. His stricken expression hits Will right in the chest, and he makes to move back into the room.

“You need to be careful, Niccolò,” Boggs says, smiling.

Nico seems frozen for a beat, then turns abruptly, pushing past Will and out the now-open door. Will jogs to catch up with him as they follow the hallway back to the prison entrance.

“What was that?” Will asks, a bit breathless. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” Nico’s voice is clipped.

“Nico –”

Nico just shakes his head, a refusal. Will sighs, following his partner out of the building.

Will, at least, feels the tension disperse somewhat as they exit the penitentiary, making their way through warm sunlight to the shining black fleet car.

“Well, you were right about Boggs.” Will says, settling into the passenger side and reaching for the seatbelt. “He’s a complete fraud. A showman. We obviously can’t trust anything he says.”

“Yeah,” Nico says vaguely. He buckles in, starts the car.

“I think we need to be very careful in how we approach this,” Will says as Nico pulls out of the parking lot. “If Boggs is orchestrating the kidnapping, there’s a very good chance he’s got ill intentions towards us, too. I mean, what’s he got to lose, especially if he can’t get his sentence reduced?”

Nico’s staring straight out at the highway, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

“Nico?” Will prompts “You don’t seem convinced.”

Nico seems to shake himself out of whatever he’s ruminating on. “No, you’re right,” he says. “We should definitely proceed with caution.” Nico clears his throat. “Hey, do you mind grabbing my CDs from the glove box?”

There are a couple of friends of James and Elizabeth who are eager to talk to the FBI agents once they hear the feds are in town, and Will arranges to meet them at a coffee shop near the Holiday Inn later in the afternoon.

Nico, a twist of guilt in his stomach, tells Will he wants to follow up on some leads at the college campus and that he’ll meet him back at the hotel later.

It’s not entirely a lie, Nico thinks, as he points the black sedan in the general direction of Carlow University. He’s shaken by the meeting with Boggs this morning, much more than he wanted to admit to Will, and now he just needs to think. There’s no reason he can’t do that while taking a drive around campus. Who knows. He might even see something that requires further investigation.

The sky darkens as Nico drives across town, intermittent raindrops quickly escalating to a heavy downpour just a few blocks from the freeway ramp. Reluctant to navigate the freeway in driving rain, Nico makes an impulsive turn onto a side street, somewhere shabbier and grittier than the route he’d been following since he left the hotel. He parks the car, intending to wait out the worst of the rain before he continues his journey. Maybe take a look through his notes again, maybe try to fit the pieces of everything he’s feeling into their proper places in his brain.

Nico pushes the seat back from the steering wheel, staring out into the downpour. There are a few open businesses on the street – a bail bondsman, a convenience store. He thinks he can see a tattoo shop up the block. There’s a seedy looking motel half a block down from where he’s parked, and he absentmindedly glances at the sign, flickering blue neon.

Niagara Hotel.

Nico stares at the sign for a long moment. A waterfall, but not a waterfall, Boggs had said.

He shakes his head. No. Will’s right. Boggs is a fraud, and anything he does know about the case is surely because he’s orchestrating it, and therefore it would be dangerous to follow through on any of his intel, especially alone.

But then Nico remembers, again, the tune Boggs was humming just before they left the prison. Remembers, years ago, patterned rust-orange basement carpet, long dark hair and infectious laughter.

Nico swallows.

An angel of stone.

Nico looks around, hesitant, half-hoping to be proven wrong. His heart sinks when he sees it – right across the street at the entrance to a Salvation Army shelter, a crumbling angel statue, graffiti scrawled over its base.

Fuck.

Nico scans the area with more intent now, calculating possibilities. A vacant lot. A couple of businesses closed up with rolling metal doors. A place that looks like it could be a rooming house, twinkling fairy lights in one of the windows, cigarette smoke drifting from another.

Then, just over his right shoulder, a building that looks like it was once a warehouse. Broken windows and a condemned sign pasted over the front door. And he knows.

He knows, too, as he gets out of the car and hurries under the sort-of shelter of a sagging awning, that Will is going to kill him if he gets murdered in here, wandering into a abandoned building alone, on the advice of a psychopath.

But that’s a problem for future-Nico. In the now, Nico is just going to take a quick look around, just to confirm that he really is imagining things. There’s no need to bother Will for that.

Nico checks his gun at his belt. A glance up and down the street tells him no one’s out for a stroll in this rain. He tries the front door of the warehouse. It opens easily.

Nico stops for a moment, back to the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Windows high on the wall let in some light, but the glass is filthy, and it’s so overcast outside that there isn’t much light to be had. Nico flicks on his flashlight and draws his gun, holding both ahead of him as he slowly makes his way inside.

It’s nearly as damp in here as it is outside, large puddles accumulated all over the floor, the sound of water dripping somewhere above. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of human activity, but Nico’s listening as hard as he can, casting his gaze into every dark corner.

It’s nothing. Surely, it’s nothing. He’s being stupid.

But he’s committed now, so he makes his way further in, a nervous glance behind him. There’s a sudden loud flapping, and Nico’s pretty sure his heart nearly stops as he takes in a gasp, watching a pair of pigeons flutter towards the shadowy ceiling.

Swallowing down his nerves, Nico continues carefully through the main warehouse space, towards a doorway near the back of the building. His steps slow as he approaches. There’s something… different here. The whole place smells wet, mildewed, but here… there’s another smell, too. Something warmer.

As he approaches the doorway, he realizes there’s a flickering light beyond, and he advances as slowly as he can bear, hardly breathing. Candles. It smells like hot wax, the warmth of flame.

Nico’s heartbeat is over-loud in his ears as he edges closer, holding his breath until his chest feels ready to burst.

He peers around the doorway carefully, straining his eyes, looking for any sign of danger. His hands are sweaty, slick on his flashlight and gun.

There are maybe half a dozen lit candles in the space beyond the doorway, no sign of life that Nico can see, no sound of anything but the steady drip of water – more than one source now, dripping in an anxious, syncopated rhythm. Nico lets out a breath, slow and cautious.

Another glance behind him. No one there. Checking ahead and above, Nico clicks off his flashlight, keeping his gun drawn as he advances into the candle-lit room. He nearly trips over several coat hangers, stretched and distorted. His stomach twists.

Empty beer bottles litter the floor. The candles are long, black tapers. Burned down to their last few inches, but they must have been lit earlier today. The candle closest to where Nico stands is burned down almost to its base, casting a flickering, guttering circle of light on the cement floor, refracting in the puddles. Nearly out of the circle of light, something catches his eye. A bracelet.

When Nico opens the door to the honeymoon suite, it’s to find his partner cross-legged in the middle of the heart-shaped bed, notes and papers spread out around him. Will looks up, surprised.

“Hey. I was almost ready to send out an APB on you. Where’ve you been?”

Nico grimaces, peeling off his damp coat and hanging it by the door. His jacket’s not in much better shape, and he shuffles out of that, too.

“Sorry. I went for a drive.”

“Oh,” Will frowns. “I got your voicemail and I took a cab to the crime scene. I thought you’d be there.”

Nico shakes his head. “Yeah, I was. For a bit. But it looked like the local guys had everything under control, and I… left.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Okay. Well. The police were still searching the warehouse inch by inch when I was there,” Will says. “Elizabeth Hawley’s family made a positive ID on the bracelet. They’re doing some DNA testing on items found at the scene.”

Nico nods vaguely. “Good. That’s good.”

There’s a sitting area at the end of the room, next to the huge balcony doors, and Nico kicks off his shoes, then crosses the room to lay on the couch, eyes on the ceiling. He’s still feeling shaken, off-center, not in any mood for conversation. But he figured he probably couldn’t stay out any longer without Will starting to worry. So here he is.

Nico thinks he can feel Will’s eyes on him from across the room but he steadfastly avoids his partner’s gaze, finally hearing a soft sigh and the shuffling of papers from the bed. Then there’s quiet, mostly – Will gathering up papers, booting up his laptop. Nico hears the familiar tap tap tap of Will’s quick typing, the sound almost soothing him into sleep when it doesn’t stop or pause. Then there’s the click of the laptop snapping shut, more rustling from the bed, the rasp of a zipper.

“You ready for dinner?” Will’s voice comes a moment later. “I think I saw a burger place about half a block south.”

Nico shakes his head without looking over. “I’m not hungry. You go ahead, though.”

There’s a long pause and then Will comes closer, lingering near the end of the couch, looking worried.

“Is everything okay?” Will asks. His voice is tentative. Smaller than Nico’s used to. “I mean, I know we’re stuck in here together whether we want to be or not and I’m trying to give you space, but I just –”

“Will,” Nico half-laughs, interrupting the other man’s rambling and pushing himself to sit. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m just – thinking.”

Will nods, unconvinced. “Sure. Okay. Look – I can check at the front desk and see if they have another room available today –”

“No. No, don’t do that. Sorry for being… moody.” Nico shakes his head, trying to push himself out of the dark places he’s been veering into all afternoon, stuck inside his head under the gloomy sky. Too much silence and too much solitude, probably, but it gets hard to drag himself out again, and somehow he’s still getting used to having someone waiting for him when he’s finished moping.

Will makes a face. “I’m sorry for being… needy. Or whatever.”

“You’re not. It’s not a problem. Do you want me to come with you? For dinner?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just gonna go pick something up and bring it back here.” Will crosses to the entryway, kneeling to tie his shoes. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Um. Maybe a milkshake?” Nico’s learned from experience that his partner’s mood usually improves if Nico eats something. Will’s weird that way.

Will grins. “Sure. Chocolate?”

“Yeah. And maybe fries?”

“‘Kay. I’ll maybe bring you a chocolate milkshake and fries.”

Nico huffs. “Thanks.”

Will rolls his eyes, closing the door behind him.

Nico drops back to the couch, groaning. He’s got to shake this off, and not just for Will. There’s work to be done, a case to solve. He pushes himself back up, determined, grabbing his overnight back and heading into the bathroom for a scalding shower.

Will does seem to know when Nico needs to eat, as irritating as that is to admit, and Nico feels much better after the milkshake. Will seems to have a weird sixth sense about other things, too, once having vaguely informed Nico that he had a toothache before Nico realized it himself.

They turn on the TV, Nico eating his way through all his fries, right down to the crispy bits at the bottom of the greasy container. He then finishes Will’s fries and polishes off Will’s Coke. Will very graciously refrains from commenting.

Will glances over at the commercial break and Nico looks up. God, he keeps getting caught off-guard by Will’s new glasses. They send something fluttering in his stomach, make him feel unexpectedly shy.

“So, I finished my field report. I copied it to you if you want to read it,” Will says. “James and Elizabeth’s friends didn’t really provide any new information, but it was good to meet with them anyway. They seem like nice kids.”

Nico nods. They’re just glasses.

“Wanna tell me about the warehouse?” Will shifts on the couch so he’s facing Nico. “You told the cops you saw some suspicious activity when you were driving by?”

Right, that. A distraction from the glasses, at least. Nico swallows. He eases the lid off Will’s coke, plucking out an ice cube and crunching it, playing for time. Nico considers the ice at the bottom of the cup and then snaps the lip back on again.

“I didn’t actually see any suspicious activity,” he admits. As much as he knows Will’s not going to be happy with him, it doesn’t feel right to actually lie about it.

Will looks bemused. “You didn’t? Then how’d you end up there?”

Nico swallows. “Do you remember what Boggs said this morning? About… an angel of stone? And something that wasn’t a waterfall?”

Will looks guarded now. “Yeah?” When he reaches for the remote to turn down the volume, he fumbles it, more clumsy than usual.

“Well, I didn’t go looking for those things,” Nico continues, well aware he needs to defend his actions, “but of course it was on my mind, right? I was heading for the university, like I told you, but then it started raining really hard and I thought I’d pull over and wait it out. I turned off onto a side street, and I’d literally just parked the car and…” Nico shrugs. “There it was. This sign for the Niagara Hotel – you know, a waterfall – and a statue of a stone angel.”

There’s a long silence. Will doesn’t look angry, but he goes very pale under his freckles, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands over his mouth.

“And then what?” Will asks, soft and already knowing. “You went in by yourself?”

“I was just going to have a quick look around,” Nico says, heart in his throat. “I just – I just needed to see –”

“You could have called me,” Will says, just as quiet. “Or the PD.”

“I know, but –”

“Nico. Boggs could have been setting you up. You could be dead right now.”

Nico drops his gaze to his lap, skin prickling with shame. He suddenly wishes he could sink right into the ground, Will’s quiet admonishment so much worse than if he’d shouted.

Will isn’t done. “You told me yourself, just this morning, that Boggs would do anything he could to get what he wanted. You wrote the profile on him, you know what he’s capable of. I just don’t understand why you’d do a complete 180, why you’d suddenly elect to disregard –”

It’s not just admonishment in Will’s voice, Nico realizes with a start, it’s pain, and god, that’s so much worse.

“He knew about my – my sister,” Nico interrupts, finally looking back up.

Something complicated passes over Will’s face. He closes his eyes.

“He knew…” Nico clears his throat. “Bianca and I – we used to watch this show together. It was called In Search of… It was about paranormal stuff. Unsolved mysteries, that kind of thing. And just before we left the interrogation room this morning, Boggs started humming the theme song. And he – he called me by a name. That only Bianca ever used.”

Will has his lips pressed together, eyes on the debris of their dinner scattered across the coffee table.

They’re close enough on the couch that Nico could nudge Will with his foot, reach out and squeeze his arm. He wants to, wants the comfort and the reassurance. But he can’t quite initiate the movement.

“You know when Frank does research for us? Background checks, stuff like that?” Will says slowly. Nico nods, enough for Will to continue. “You always say that he knows where to look. That the information’s out there for anyone to find, but Frank’s just really skilled at finding it really quickly. I think you should consider the possibility that Boggs has… similar resources. Either in the prison or outside of it,” Will says, quietly determined. “That, in addition to the fact that he’s really fucking good at reading people. Maybe you in particular. He’s read your profile on him, remember. He’s had a lot of time to obsess over it, and maybe obsess over you. He asked to see you, specifically, Nico. He knew about me. He didn’t get that information from the great beyond.”

Nico knows all this. And he still can’t quite snuff out that tiny spark of hope, that maybe it’s something more, but now there’s a cold trickle of guilt down his spine. Of realization, pieces fitting into place.

Nico remembers back months and months ago, the strange realization that he had to be accountable to someone. That he suddenly had an obligation to tell someone where he was going, to ask if Will wanted anything when he went out to get coffee. It felt like an imposition, a bit, at least at first. He hasn’t thought of that in so long. It’s second nature now, to always consider the second person in his space. The second half of a whole.

But now he realizes that there’s another adjustment to be made - the adjustment of taking into account that someone cares for him. That he’s obligated to keep himself safe and whole not only for his own benefit, but for Will’s, too. That he doesn’t want to make Will worry on his behalf. Not that there isn’t anyone else in his life who cares for him, but this is… different.

“I – you’re right. I fucked up,” Nico says quietly. “Wherever Boggs got his information… it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have gone in there on my own. It was stupid and impulsive, and next time I’ll talk to you first. Or get backup.”

Will nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

There’s an added strain to all of this, Nico thinks, both of them more reluctant to properly argue with each other since the argument, back in April. Nico lets out a breath. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Will shakes his head, eyes downcast. “It’s – it’s fine. I understand the impulse to – it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Nico watches his partner for a long moment. “Are you gonna finish that burger?” he asks, finally. Because it’s just sitting there on the coffee table, a good three or four bites left, and Will hasn’t touched it in at least fifteen minutes.

Will laughs, surprised, and he’s quick to hand over what’s left of the burger. He stretches a leg out, nudging Nico with his foot. Nico nudges back, smiling to himself.

Will heads to bed early that night. Neither of them suggest opening the second bottle of champagne. The day’s been tiring, and Will looks it as he bids Nico goodnight. Nico stays up a while longer, eyes flicking over case reports until they start to blur in front of his eyes.

It’s just before midnight when he drags himself to bed, climbing into his ventricle, as Will had informed him this morning.

Will’s soft, deep breaths have become a soothing soundtrack to so many late nights in the past almost-year. But after nearly an hour of trying to get his brain to shut down, Nico still can’t sleep. Details of the case run through his head. Last night’s bottle of champagne and grief he hasn’t spoken of for years. Will’s unhappiness with today’s events.

Nico has no argument with sharing a room with his partner most of the time. But then there are nights like this, when sleep won’t come and he’s not optimistic it ever will. Those nights Nico wouldn’t mind having some space. Will’s said he doesn’t mind having the TV on, that he won’t even notice, but Nico’s still hesitant.

The honeymoon suite is huge, though, and Nico’s just considering the novel he’s pretty sure he stuffed at the bottom of his overnight bag when Will stirs.

Nico waits, listening, worried that maybe he’s disturbed the other man. Will makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and Nico freezes. A dream, maybe? Will’s usually a very thorough, very peaceful sleeper.

Another sound, soft, almost like a whine. Or a moan. Will shifts again, restless.

Oh… shit. Surely not. Nico doesn’t move a muscle, barely breathing. His shoulders are just about to relax when there’s another moan, louder.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Nico feels a rush of heat through his face, then… lower. Maybe he can lock himself in the bathroom. Or go downstairs to the lobby. He’s just about to ease himself out of bed when Will flops over, closer now.

“Nico,” he says, soft, his voice breaking.

Oh fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me.

Nico stands from the bed, the movement jerky, his face now so warm he’s pretty sure steam is rising from his head. He can just barely see Will’s face, buried in the pillow. His eyes are still shut tight, brow furrowed.

It’s fine. It’s fine. They’ll just… never share a room again. Or Nico can invest in earplugs. Or sleeping pills. Both. Definitely both.

“No,” Will mumbles. “No. Nico.” A shaky breath, and then it sounds like he’s crying, or about to, and Nico’s drawn right back to the bed, reflexive. He climbs onto the ridiculous, heart-shaped mattress, peering closer at his partner.

Will’s face is contorted, his breath uneven. “No. Please. No.”

He’s mumbling, fast asleep, but he sounds anguished. Nico can’t take any more.

A hand on Will’s shoulder, a firm squeeze, then a shake. “Will.”

Will gasps into consciousness, bolting upright, eyes wide. He clutches at Nico’s arm, a bruising grip, but it’s almost as if he doesn’t recognize him for a moment.

Then, “oh, fuck.” And Will buries his face in his hands, breathing hard. “Fuck. Sorry,” he manages, shoulders heaving. “Sorry – sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I was still up,” Nico murmurs, watching his partner worriedly. He feels rattled, heart racing, like he’d managed to climb right into Will’s head with him. “Bad dream?”

Will just nods into his hands. “Sorry, I – I don’t usually get those when you’re here,” he mumbles. The words are muffled, but Nico just manages to make sense of them.

“You – what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s all good. Go back to sleep.”

Nico watches him for a long moment, unsure. Finally he lowers himself to the bed, pulling the comforter back over himself, eyes still on his partner. Will’s breath is slowing, but he’s still got his face cupped in his hands. Finally he takes a shuddering breath, scrubbing at his eyes. His gaze flicks over to Nico.

“I’m okay,” Will says, an attempt at a smile that looks more like a grimace.

“Okay,” Nico says. And hey, he’s the king of repressed feelings. Far be it from him to interfere when someone’s actively telling him not to.

Except that Will doesn’t lie back down, and then after a moment, he gets up. Nico hears the bathroom door close, then water running. Will’s back in bed a few minutes later, his hair damp. He leans back against the headboard, staring into the darkened room.

And – what the fuck, who is he – but Nico hears himself say, “do you want to talk about it?”

Will shakes his head. Then, “thanks, though.” a quick glance to Nico, nervous.

“Okay.” Nico curls onto his side, squashing his pillow into a more pleasing shape under his head. He closes his eyes. And Will’s not moving, or making any sound at all, but Nico feels like he can hear him worrying. Or whatever he’s doing, wide awake in the dark. Nico opens his eyes again.

“You said my name,” he murmurs after a long moment.

Will’s head whips around. He looks anxious, caught out. “Did I? When I was asleep?

“Yeah.”

“Did – did I say anything else?”

“Not – not really. You just sounded… upset.”

Will takes a deep breath, lets it out. “Sorry.”

Nico frowns, pushing himself to sitting, too. “You’re not supposed to apologize, you’re supposed to – look, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t seem okay.”

Will sighs, defeated. “I’m okay. It’s just – the case in April. Tooms. I’m still having a little trouble shaking it off.”

Oh.

And okay, Nico hasn’t exactly been having the easiest time shaking it off either, but he kind of feels he deserves it, at least this time. Like it’s some kind of karmic punishment for how badly he fucked up.

Will’s seemed more like himself the past few weeks. But, Nico reminds himself, they haven’t really talked about it. And aside from some reassuring changes in Will’s demeanor, Nico doesn’t really know how his partner’s feeling about things. He supposes Will doesn’t really know how Nico’s feeling, either. What a scam, honestly, that the only way to make those things known is by fucking talking.

“Well, I mean,” Nico says, “you did get kidnapped. And almost murdered.”

There’s a stretch of quiet in which Will doesn’t speak, just stares into the darkened room, jaw tight. Nico desperately tries to think of anything he might be able to do to make this better.

“Do you think it’s normal? To be this way after a case?” Will asks, finally. “It’s been four months, and I still can’t…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“Of course it is. Of course, Will. You went through something really traumatic and then – you just went right back to work the next day.”

Will nods, eyes fixed on his lap. “They told me I should take some time off. When I went to… when we had to do that mandatory counseling… thing.”

Nico scoffs. “It’s like they don’t know you at all.”

That gets a smile. “Right?”

Nico watches the other man, a gentle, fragile warmth in his chest. It’s so unfamiliar. This impulse to take care of someone. Nico has no idea how he would even go about doing such a thing. But maybe the wanting to is a start.

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Let’s lie down.”

And he feels himself blushing when the words are out there for them both to hear, but it’s fine. It’s mostly dark, and this is about Will, not him.

Will looks a little surprised, maybe, but he complies, curling onto his side and tucking a pillow under his head, watching Nico in the dark.

“Sometimes as soon as I close my eyes,” Will begins, sounding abashed. He cuts himself off, grimacing.

Nico settles into the same position, mirroring Will. “I know. Here.”

And he reaches across the small space between them and takes Will’s hand.

Will looks down, and then back up at Nico, surprised.

Nico’s heart is pounding, no idea if he’s done the right thing or completely fucked everything up even worse than before.

“Is this… standard Bureau protocol?” Will asks, finally, his voice hoarse. His brow is furrowed like he might cry, but Nico’s at least eighty percent sure it’s not because Nico horribly misjudged the situation.

“Yes,” Nico says, solemn.

“I guess it’s okay, then,” Will whispers.

Nico squeezes his hand. Will squeezes back, and Nico’s heart flutters in his chest. Because god, he didn’t really think any further than help Will but he suddenly realizes they’re holding hands. It’s just – it’s just comfort, though. It’s just caretaking.

“Please don’t tell everyone at work that I’m a big baby,” Will mutters.

“Don’t worry, I already told them.”

“Yeah?” Will grins.

“I sent out a mass email last week. Sorry I didn’t cc you.”

Will giggles. His thumb has begun slowly stroking against Nico’s skin. Nico feels as if his whole body is bathed in the warmth of it. God. This is the problem with touching Will. Because now that they’re holding hands, Nico’s whole being is telling him to move closer, closer. Press up into Will’s warmth until he’s lost in it, until they can fit themselves like puzzle pieces into each other’s arms and drift off to sleep to the rhythm of their shared breath, safe.

Instead, they watch each other in the dark for a long moment, warmth and quiet in the space between them. Will’s gaze drops to their joined hands.

Nico swallows. Wracks his mind for what he might be able to say. “This job is… hard sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Will lets out a breath. “I mean. I love it, most of the time, but…”

“But getting kidnapped is a bit of a drawback?”

“How do people even…” Will begins. “I haven’t even been doing this for a whole year. What if I get kidnapped or almost murdered every year, for the rest of my career? I think I’ll be dead of cardiac arrest before I ever get to retire.”

“Well,” Nico considers, “to be honest, this has been kind of a rough year. For kidnap and attempted murder.”

Will breathes out a laugh.

Nico continues. “But how about this: if we keep getting kidnapped or almost murdered at the same frequency, we retire at thirty-five. Move to some tiny town and solve very low-stakes crimes.”

Nico’s stomach flutters with all the implications of the picture he’s painted. But Will’s smile is bright in the dark. “Low-speed tractor chases?”

“And petty garden theft.”

“I think I could be persuaded,” Will agrees. “Besides, you’ll get tired of holding my hand, otherwise.”

Nico shakes his head. “Nope. I have a very strong grip.” He squeezes.

Nico’s still not sure if he’s done this right, but it feels right. The space in the bed feels quiet and calm, and Will’s smile is soft. He hopes, maybe, he’s managed to do what Will does for him – not fix everything. But make him feel like there’s someone else out there in the world who gets it. Who gets him.

“We should try to sleep,” Nico murmurs, finally.

Will nods, and a moment later his eyes drift close. Nico sighs, shifting onto his back, releasing Will’s hand just long enough to swap out his right for his left. There’s silence for a long moment, long enough that Nico starts feeling close to sleep himself, finally. And then Will’s voice comes through the darkness, “do you think this is the least action this bed has ever seen?”

Nico snorts, then laughs hard. A glance over at his partner shows him the other man grinning, eyes still closed.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Solace,” Nico says. “That’s what I bring to the table.”

“Cool,” Will grins.

Nico rolls his eyes, still smiling.

They’re both bleary the next morning, Will stumbling around to open the heavy curtains, muttering disjointed phrases. Nico catches natural light and circadian rhythms as he shuffles across to the bathroom, leaving Will to flip the TV on. Nico squints into the mirror over the vanity, the over-bright fluorescents making his eyes water, He splashes his face with cold water and then decides a full shower will wake him up more thoroughly.

Fifteen minutes later, Nico exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Will, puffy-eyed and messy-haired, wordlessly hands Nico a coffee. Will takes his own cup with him as he flicks the bathroom light back on and closes the door, cradling the coffee carefully to his chest.

They’re quiet on the way back to the prison, not much conversation until they pass the exit signs for the small town next to it, and then their chatter begins to ebb and flow in its own familiar pattern, Nico making a joke, Will letting out a laugh and shooting a grin over Nico’s way, and Nico suddenly feels that the day probably has potential after all.

Nico can feel himself tensing again as they wait in the interrogation room for Boggs, though, and he deliberately tries to relax. Deep breaths, in and out. Will glances over, a furrow between his brows, eyes tired behind his glasses.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Will murmurs, almost too quiet to hear. There’s no judgment in Will’s blue eyes, no disapproval. Just worry. Something fragile and protective. Nico nods.

“You’re stringing us along,” Will says, before Boggs is even fully seated.

Boggs looks taken aback. “Who me? I would never do anything to –”

“You led us to the location where James and Elizabeth had been held. To Elizabeth’s bracelet. This isn’t a game, Boggs. These two kids’ lives are in danger. If you know anything about their whereabouts, you need to tell us.”

Boggs watches Will for a long moment, something like sympathy playing on his face. “I don’t know anything, Agent Solace. Not any more than you do. Sometimes, the great beyond allows me in on information –”

“Luther, we know you’re orchestrating this whole event,” Will says, uncharacteristically impatient. “Tell us where they are. Every second you bluster about the great beyond is a second that two innocent kids are closer to losing their lives. You want a deal. I get that. I don’t know what we can do for you, but you’re not getting anything if you won’t cooperate.”

Nico twitches, almost makes a move to grab Will’s arm, stops himself.

Boggs’ gaze drifts over to Nico, then back to Will. He tilts his head. “Why don’t you believe me?” he asks softly. “Agent di Angelo believes me.”

Will shakes his head. “I believe you have crucial information about this case. To be honest, at this point I don’t care where you got it. Tell us what you know.”

“And what do you think, Agent?” Boggs turns his eyes on Nico. Will doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, but Nico thinks he can sense his partner’s jaw tightening.

“I think I want to see James and Elizabeth come out of this alive,” Nico retorts.

Boggs sighs, watching Nico for a long moment before closing his eyes and turning his face heavenwards. His brow furrows.

“The kidnapper… the kidnapper is… aroused. At the idea of becoming a killer.”

Will’s mouth is set, scribbling in his notebook.

“Who’s the kidnapper?” Nico asks.

Boggs grimaces, eyes shut tight. “Can’t… can’t see a name.”

“Describe him.”

“Small… thin… late twenties. Silver-gray… his eyes. Cold. Very cold.”

Will lets out a long breath beside Nico, soft. He flips the page in his notebook.

“And where are they now?” Nico asks.

“He’s over… over by the window.”

“What window?”

“Water,” Boggs breathes out. “I see water. There’s a small boathouse. Yellow. North Park Lake.”

Nico shoots a glance at Will, who nods, looking grim.

Boggs shakes his head slowly, eyes still closed. “I can’t… I can’t see anything more. I’m sorry.”

“Fine.” Will shuts his notebook and stands, and Nico follows. They’re at the door when Boggs’ voice comes across the room.

“Agent di Angelo.”

Nico turns, heart in his throat. He can’t decide if he wants to hear whatever Boggs has to say or not. Will turns, too. Nico can feel the tension radiating off him, like Will’s a hairsbreadth from placing himself bodily between Boggs and Nico.

“Perhaps I could speak to Agent di Angelo alone,” Boggs suggests.

Will shakes his head. “No can do,” he says, flat. “We’re a package deal.”

Boggs watches them for a moment, then seems to elect to ignore Will. He turns to Nico, lowering his voice a bit. “Don’t go near the white cross, Agent di Angelo. I see your blood, spilled on it.”

The next few hours speed by in a blur as they liaise with the local PD and FBI field office. Based on Boggs’ vague description and Nico’s near-photographic memory of his case file, they determine that the kidnapper is likely one Lucas Henry.

“Henry’s suspected to have worked with Boggs before, but the court was never able to prove it,” Nico tells Will in a rush as they hurry across the parking lot of the field office. “The guy’s done time for assault and drug possession. His personal history includes being a witness to a car accident that killed his high school sweetheart and his mother, the anniversary of which is in three days.”

“That could explain the timing,” Will says, grim. Will’s phone rings and they both pause as he fumbles for it.

“Solace,” Will says into the phone. He listens intently, thanking the caller and ending the call just a moment later. “They found James’ and Elizabeth’s DNA at the warehouse,” he tells Nico.

Nico nods. Things are falling into place.

They approach the boathouse on North Park Lake late in the day, August sunshine glinting bright on the water’s surface. The building looks as if it hasn't been used for years, paint chipped and shingles missing from the roof, a gentle lean to the entire structure.

The forward members of the SWAT team break down the rotting wooden door, and the group of them surge inside. It takes Nico's vision a second to adjust after the bright sunlight outside, and he pauses with his back to a wall, eyes straining to make sense of the shadowy shapes on the floor – coils of rope, buoys, broken bits of lumber, a heap of moth-eaten lifejackets.

The walls are covered in graffiti, wide scrawls of spray paint and initials carved into the wood. The structure looks to be in bad shape, but there’s no time to waste. The other agents progress cautiously over the rotting wooden floor, and just as Nico’s about to follow, he hears a weak cry from the corner. He spins toward it, eyes catching on a flash of blonde hair.

"Elizabeth?"

It must be her, curled under a dirty blanket behind a tilting stack of canoes. Nico gets the attention of the nearby agents, several of them converging on Elizabeth’s prone form. Her wrists and ankles are bound, bruises blossoming up and down her arms, but she's very clearly alive. Nico feels a sweet rush of relief.

"Sweep the docks!" Nico yells over his shoulder as two agents rush over and begin checking Elizabeth for injuries

Most of the others head back out through the open door, and Nico just catches sight of blond curls as Will disappears through a dark doorway, yards away from where Nico's crouched on the floor.

And then everything happens so quickly that Nico's not sure, afterwards, how he moved. There's a yell from the direction Will disappeared, then the sound of gunshots and shouting. The next thing Nico knows, he's standing feet from his partner, every nerve screaming with panic. His eyes flick to the wall above Will’s head, a white cross scrawled bright over the mess of spray paint on the wood.

The speed of the world drops to a crawl. Will turns. Their eyes meet.

Nico registers a scrape across Will's cheek, and a dark stain spreading from his shoulder, all the way past his elbow, red against his white button-down.

No.

The breath leaves Nico's lungs and the room goes silent except for the pounding of his heart. Will's eyes widen and he yells something.

And then everything goes dark.

There's a long moment of confusion when Nico surfaces. He's lying on a hard surface, legs propped up, and someone's rubbing his chest, firm, sure movements. His mind drifts for a moment more, and then he hears Will's voice, clear and calm, saying something about syncope and think he skipped lunch and oh god Will. Nico forces his eyes open, tries to sit up.

"Hey, hey, just hold still for a sec." Will's voice is soothing, but firm. He stops rubbing Nico's chest, but leaves his hand there. "You okay? Does anything hurt?"

"Will, your arm," Nico says, trying to sit up again. Will lets him this time, helping with a hand at his back.

Will shakes his head, smiling. "It's coolant." Will hold up his arm, the fabric soaked through, bright red. "Looks a lot like blood in the dark. Sorry about that."

Nico blinks at him for a long moment before dropping his head into his hands. "Fuck. And I – fainted?"

“You fainted,” Will agrees. His warm hand lands on Nico’s back, rubbing. Someone's taken off his bullet-proof vest, Nico realizes.

"You scared the shit out of me," Nico says weakly.

"Yeah, I could tell." Will pulls him closer with an arm around his shoulders, the one that's not soaked in coolant, and squeezes. "Lucas Henry took off in a motor boat—or at least we're pretty sure that's who it was—but before he left, he fired a few parting shots. One of the other agents shoved me down when the shots were fired, and apparently I knocked over a jug of coolant on my way to the floor," Will explains, thumb rubbing against Nico’s shoulder.

Nico makes a small sound somewhere between relief and frustration, maybe a little embarrassment too, as reality sinks in. Will laughs at whatever look is on his face. He seems to be in an awfully good mood all of the sudden.

"Elizabeth?" Nico asks.

"She's fine. Banged up, but she was walking on her own. They're taking her to the hospital."

“And James?”

“He wasn’t here,” Will says, smile dimming a bit. “Elizabeth says that Henry moved him elsewhere earlier today, but she doesn’t know where. He was alive last time she saw him, though.”

At least there's that. Nico glances up as a female agent approaches. She’s vaguely familiar, someone from the SWAT team – long dark hair in a neat braid and bright, expressive eyes. The woman hands Will his bag and the car keys.

Will smiles up at her. "Thank you so much. Agent Piper McLean, this is Agent Nico di Angelo." Will releases his hold on Nico to dig in his bag, hand lingering for a second on Nico's shoulder. To ensure Nico's not going to collapse to the floor again, Nico supposes. He'd complain, but he's still not entirely confident in his ability to stay upright either. He's more than a bit woozy.

Nico gives the newcomer a weak wave from the floor, and she smirks.

"Nice of you to rejoin us, Agent di Angelo."

"Agent McLean shoved me out of the line of fire and then managed to catch you just before you hit the floor," Will says, eyes sparkling. “She’s the real hero of this operation.”

"Thanks for that," Nico mutters, accepting the open bottle of Gatorade Will hands him and taking a hesitant sip.

"Not a problem," McLean grins. "My ex used to pass out all the time. I've gotten pretty good at intercepting fainting men."

Will blinks. "Is he… okay? Your ex?"

McLean shrugs. "Oh yeah, he's fine. Used to get hit in the head a lot."

Nico doesn't quite know how to respond to that, and Will doesn't seem to either. Then, Agent McLean is summoned by a colleague, and Will and Nico are left sitting on the floor. Someone's propped open the doors overlooking the lake, and there's a gorgeous sunset painted over the sky.

Nico takes another sip of Gatorade. At his side, Will’s now carefully peeling off his own vest, then his shirt. He grimaces at the red stain that's seeped through into the sleeve of his undershirt. Seeing the stain now, close up and in better lighting, it’s clear that it’s not blood. Clearer, anyway. It’s lighter, more of a cherry than a scarlet.

"God, I'm an idiot," Nico mutters, turning his gaze on the water gently lapping at the nearby shore, the wobbling reflections of poplars in the lake’s surface.

"Hmm?"

"What if –" Nico swallows, feeling his stomach bottom out as the horrible reality of the situation sinks in. "What if it had just been the two of us?" He shoots a glance at Will; his lovely face, the familiar planes of his blessedly whole and undamaged chest. "What if you'd actually been shot, and instead of being able to help you, I just fucking passed out and –"

"No, no, no," Will interrupts, forehead creasing. "Nico, don't do that."

Nico drops his head into his hands with a groan.

"Hey. I'm fine," Will says. "You're fine. Elizabeth and James are alive." A hand to Nico’s shoulder. “And you missed it because you were – unconscious – but you weren’t the only one who thought it was blood. At least three other agents ran over to me thinking I’d been shot.”

Nico doesn’t lift his head, exactly, because it feels unreasonably heavy at the moment. But he turns it in his hands so he can see Will out of one eye. “But none of them passed out about it. Right?” he asks, pained.

“Well. None of them knows me well enough to understand what a colossal loss to the world it would be if I died of a gunshot wound in a boathouse,” Will says, more than a little self-deprecating.

Nico huffs out a tired laugh, pressing his face back into his hands. He's completely exhausted, he suddenly realizes, possibly minutes away from curling up on the rotting floor and dropping into a deep sleep. The boathouse is still warm from the August heat, and the lapping of the water and the buzz of conversation in the background are soothing, soporific.

"Nico." Will's gently pulling Nico's hands away from his face. Nico blinks at him blearily and Will smiles. "Hi there."

Nico makes a small, indistinct sound that has Will smiling wider.

“Here.” Will passes a KitKat into Nico’s hand and Nico blinks at it in confusion. “Let’s get some calories into you before we head back to the hotel.”

Nico frowns. “But I need – we have to talk to Elizabeth. And I –”

Will’s shaking his head. “Sorry. You’re off duty for the rest of the night. Doctor’s orders. Someone from the field office will question Elizabeth when she’s ready, and we’ll get the report as soon as it’s done. If you think they’ve missed anything, we can go talk to her tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Nico tries to sound more reluctant than he actually is. Will’s looking at him like he’s not fooled. Jerk.

Nico begins unwrapping the chocolate bar. “You just happened to have KitKats in your bag?” he asks, processing. Not that he’s complaining.

Will shrugs, a glance out to the lake, and Nico is surprised to realize his partner looks almost… guilty.

“I grabbed some stuff, you know. In case we needed snacks. Plus you’re always forgetting to eat.” Will elbows Nico in the side. “And I remembered you saying you liked KitKats.”

Nico blinks at Will, at the faint color in his cheeks, and then down at the chocolate bar in his hand. Did he mention he liked KitKats? He honestly can’t remember. But clearly Will did.

“Thanks,” Nico manages, trying not to sound as emotional about this as he suddenly feels.

Will shrugs. “Just part of my ongoing project of keeping us both alive.”

Nico bumps his shoulder gently into Will’s. “I appreciate that.”

Will bumps back. There’s activity behind them, the rise and fall of voices, evidence being collected and processed. They’ll have to move soon, Nico reflects, considering this area will have to be processed as well. He takes a bite of the chocolate bar.

“What was that?”

Nico turns to see Will watching him, appalled. Nico frowns. “What was what?”

“You – the –” Will gestures helplessly to the chocolate bar in Nico’s hand, half unwrapped, a single bite taken from the corner.

Nico blinks at the chocolate bar.

“That’s not how you eat a KitKat!” Will says.

“What –”

“You don’t just – you don’t just bite into it –”

“You don’t?” Nico’s still feeling a little woozy, honestly, so at the moment he’s willing to believe that maybe Will knows something he doesn’t. He’s never before considered that he might be eating chocolate wrong.

“It has… sections! For a reason!”

“For what reason?”

“For – for –” Will stammers. “Because you’re supposed to break them off and eat them one at a time! Or like, you could share. With a friend.” Will’s now looking a little unsure himself, but in a way that’s leaning towards adorable and flustered and pink, and Nico silently offers the KitKat to Will, holding it up to the other man’s mouth.

Will’s brow furrows. “I didn’t mean like, right now, just –”

Nico waits, silent, until Will, looking embarrassed, leans forward to take a bite. His lips brush Nico’s finger. Will chews, and Nico watches the movement of his mouth, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows.

Will’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I mean,” he mutters. “I guess that works too.”

Nico thinks it's the feeling of Will's hand sliding into his that wakes him. He squints through the dark at his partner, who's gazing silently at the mirrored ceiling, jaw tight. Nico gives Will's hand a squeeze. "Nightmare?" he whispers.

It takes a few moments for Will to respond, his voice hoarse. "Yeah."

"Fuck.”

"Yeah."

There's a long silence before Will gives a tentative squeeze back. "This okay?" he whispers.

"'Course."

Will's hand is warm. Nico closes his eyes.

Will hasn't loosened his grip by the time Nico wakes again, hours later. One hand is tangled with Nico's, the other gripping Nico's forearm. And Nico smiles when he realizes, ready to tease his partner – his bedmate – at least a little. But then he glances at Will's face and the impulse fades. There’s a furrow between Will’s brows, his mouth set in a tight line. Sound asleep, but he doesn’t look peaceful in the least. Nico lets out a long breath, keeping still and watching Will in the near-dark until he finally starts to stir.

Will blinks blearily, then seems to register his grip on Nico's arm. "Shit," he mutters, pulling his hand away to rub at his eyes. “Sorry.”

"Don't be." Nico watches his partner for a long moment. "You know – you could ask your doctor for something to help you sleep."

Will grimaces. "That's what Kayla said."

"I don't – I'm not complaining or anything, just –”

"I know." Will sighs. "It feels – I don't know. It's not pride, I don't think. I just... I feel safer if I know I can wake up in a hurry. If anything – happens."

If he comes back for me again.

Nico nods slowly. "Yeah. I get that."

"I'm a big baby," Will sighs.

Nico frowns, propping himself up on an elbow. "Okay, you’re definitely not. Some guy abducted you with the intention of ripping out your liver with his bare hands.” Nico tries to ignore the way his own stomach twists at these words. “No one bounces right back from that. And if we’re talking about big babies, you're not the one who fucking fainted at the sight of antifreeze."

"That was very sweet," Will grins. "No one's ever fainted on my behalf before."

Nico rolls his eyes. The honeymoon suite falls to silence for a long moment.

“How’d you sleep?” Will murmurs, finally.

“Good.”

“Except for when I woke you.”

Nico shrugs. “It wasn’t a problem.” He glances over at Will, who’s looking pensive, his eyes on the ceiling.

And Nico’s fucking terrified for the few seconds between when he decides to do it, and when he actually does it – when he reaches the few inches over to take Will’s hand back. Not because of nightmares, this time. Not because he’s helping Will up, or dragging him along somewhere, just… because.

Will glances down, surprised, but then shoots Nico a warm smile before looking back to the ceiling. It’s hard to tell in the dim room, but Nico thinks he sees the lightest flush of pink to his cheeks. His own face is hot with nerves.

But god, it feels good.

“These stupid fucking nightmares,” Will begins after a long moment.

Nico squeezes Will’s hand.

“I hadn’t been having them when you and I were sharing a room, or when I was at home and I knew Kayla was there. I guess I felt safer. When I wasn’t alone.”

“You hadn’t been sneaking into Kayla’s room at night?” Nico asks.

Will huffs. “I’m pretty sure she’d drop-kick me back to my own bed. No.”

Nico smiles to himself. Having borne witness to Kayla’s assault on Luke, he doesn’t doubt it.

“I don’t know why it’s getting worse.” Will says, tired. “First I kept seeing him opening the car door, reaching for me. At Maple Gardens.” He scrubs his face with his free hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t even have the fucking door locked.”

Nico makes a soft sound of sympathy. Will continues.

“But lately I’ve been dreaming that… that he’s in my apartment.” Will says the words like they’re hard to get out. “Sometimes… sometimes you’re there. And sometimes you’re not.” He shoots a glance at Nico. “It’s just kind of a bummer, you know? I thought I could count on getting a decent night’s sleep as long as you and I were sharing a room, and now…” Will shrugs.

“I didn’t know,” Nico says slowly, casting his mind back over the last few months. They mostly do share rooms on overnights now, but there have been at least a couple of occasions when two rooms were booked on their behalf, or when there hadn’t been double rooms available. “I didn’t – you should have told me.”

“Well.” Will’s nose scrunches. “It’s not your job to babysit me.”

“No?” Nico asks, wry. “But it’s your job to keep snacks on hand for when I’m too stupid to remember to eat? To personally take over my medical care because I’m too stubborn to go to the hospital?”

Will breathes out a laugh. “Okay. Touché.” He glances over at Nico, abashed. “Will you please share a room with me, on overnights?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obviously.”

Will returns his gaze to the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“I know you know this, Wlll, but he’s locked up,” Nico says gently.

Will nods. “Yeah. Except that this particular serial killer seems to be able to fit through physically impossible spaces. And he’s only on a fucking psych hold.”

Nico grimaces. “Yeah. I’ve been… checking in. Pretty regularly. With the sanitarium. Just to make sure – to make sure nothing’s changed,” he admits. He hasn’t particularly wanted to mention it to Will, but he certainly would have, if he thought it might help.

Will looks over, surprised. “You have? Why?”

“Because that asshole tried to kill my best friend.”

Will’s mouth twists and he drops Nico’s gaze, suddenly looking like he’s trying hard to collect himself.

Nico swallows, his own throat tight. He glances back to the ceiling to give Will a moment, forgetting yet again that it’s a fucking mirror.

“Yeah. He’s complying with all his rehab, reportedly.” Nico shrugs. “There haven’t been any incidents. Nothing to worry about, as far as I understand.”

Will nods, silent. Nico strokes his thumb against Will’s skin, slow, trying his best to psychically impart any calm he might have within him. After a moment Will sniffs, takes a shuddering breath.

“Do you… you’re the expert profiler,” Will starts, slow.

Nico’s stomach sinks. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, and it’s nowhere he wants them to be.

“I know this particular case is… unprecedented,” Will says carefully, “but if Tooms were released, would he – do you think he’d… come back?”

“I don’t know,” Nico says honestly, wishing with all his heart he had a better answer. The admission is heavy in his chest. “Like you say, it’s unprecedented. He – he’s hunting to fulfill a biological need. And none of his other murders, as far as we know – well. There hasn’t been anyone else who – escaped. With some murderers it could be about pride, you know? The killer wants to finish what they started. It’s a personal failing that a murder wasn’t completed. But Tooms, he’s not… he’s not fully human.”

Will gives a tight nod, eyes averted.

Nico swallows against the lump in his throat. “What I hope is that he’s just – opportunistic. You know. That he’ll just go after whatever’s most convenient.”

That’s what Nico’s been trying to tell himself, at least. That Tooms’ll get his remaining two livers at the sanitarium and that will be that. It’s a grim thought, but Nico’s having a hard time feeling too guilty about it, if it means Will stays alive.

“I think… I feel like I want him dead,” Will admits, low. “I’m worried that’s the only way I’ll be able to sleep again.”

“That, or the confirmation that he’s gotten his sixth liver,” Nico says, though he’s certainly had similar thoughts. He’d have exactly zero regrets if Tooms met with some fatal accident.

Will nods, sniffling again. “Sorry,” he mutters, using his free hand to wipe at his face. “I’m a mess.”

Nico squeezes Will’s hand, then squeezes a bunch of times in quick succession until Will squeezes back, shooting him a watery smile.

“That just means it’s my turn next time,” Nico assures him.

When Will exits the bathroom, scrubbing a towel over his damp hair, Nico’s on the phone. Will crosses to the honeymoon suite’s generous closet, pulling on yet another white button-down, hoping this one stays unsullied. He’s just straightening his tie when he hears Nico end his conversation, dropping his phone onto the bed with a sigh.

“What’s the scoop?” Will lowers himself onto the arm of the couch. He’s not feeling entirely happy about being upright this morning. Sitting down feels like a good option.

“Sounds like their interview with Elizabeth was pretty thorough,” Nico says. “She identified the kidnapper as Lucas Henry. A warrant’s been issued for his arrest. Now we just need to find him, and James.”

“And Boggs is still angling for a deal,” Will sighs.

“Yeah.” Nico crosses the room to sit on the coffee table. “What are your thoughts on that?” he asks, hesitant.

Will makes a face. He really doesn’t like Boggs, an immediate dislike that’s become an almost visceral aversion. The way he’s stringing them both along, the way he seems intent on honing in on Nico’s weak spots, specifically. Will’s aware that his feelings aren’t completely objective, that they’re all wrapped up in his fiercely protective instincts for his partner. But he can’t find any fault in himself for that.

“He’s a convicted murderer.”

“And he should be in prison for life,” Will agrees.

“But not…”

“Yeah,” Will sighs. “But not lethal injection. Although, if they let him live, it should definitely be with the caveat that his communications are a lot more closely monitored, from now on.”

Nico grimaces. “No doubt.”

Nico’s phone buzzes on the bed, and he quickly crosses the room to answer it. Will drops back onto the couch, staring sightlessly up at the non-mirrored ceiling. A couple of nights of poor sleep seem to have caught up with him, and he’s feeling dopey and sluggish. Will’s not really listening to Nico’s conversation, but he registers when his partner’s voice goes tense. He props himself up on his elbows as Nico ends the call.

“Who was that?”

Nico sighs, fiddling with the edge of the bedspread next to him. “Boggs wants to talk again.”

Will nods. “Good. We find out where James is, and then we can wrap this whole thing up.”

Nico’s silent for a beat too long.

“Nico?”

Nico finally looks up. “He wants to talk to me alone. Without you.” He looks about as tired as Will feels, eyes puffy, tie sitting crooked at his neck.

This can’t be easy for him either, Will realizes with a sudden rush of sympathy. Nico can be even more close-lipped than Will is, about the things that really matter. But it must be weighing on him, this man who seems to know far more about his dead sister than he should. And Will isn’t obligated to entertain the notion that Boggs has some kind of second sight, but he can at least be kind about it. The main thing is to get the kids out safely, and then get himself and Nico back to DC, just as safe.

“Okay,” Will says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Our priority is finding James, right? Maybe Boggs will tell you more if I’m not there.”

“I know you don’t like it –” Nico begins.

“No, I don’t.” Will pushes himself up, tries for a smile. “But I like you,” he says, walking across the room to poke Nico in the chest. This declaration seems to surprise Nico just as much as it surprises Will. Will really needs to work on getting more sleep. He thinks he might be in danger of losing his filter entirely, otherwise.

It’s worth it, anyway, because Nico’s shoulders drop immediately, and he looks embarrassed, but pleased.

“Okay,” Nico nods, not quite meeting Will’s gaze. “I’m thinking we hit the courthouse first, see if we can get the DA to consider commuting Boggs’ sentence. Then we can head to the prison after that.”

“You’re forgetting something important, though,” Will says, dropping himself to the bed next to Nico, hard enough to bounce his partner a bit. “Or have you learned nothing from the boathouse yesterday?” Will shifts so he’s facing Nico, reaching out to straighten his tie.

Nico blinks up at him, looking lost and a bit flustered. “...body armor?” he says eventually, dark eyes adorably confused. God, his lashes are so long.

Will laughs for the first time all morning, feeling the knot of tension in his chest lessen, warmth seeping in. “No, breakfast.

Will feels a bit lighter until the courthouse, where the DA categorically denies any amendment to Boggs’ sentence. It’s disappointing, but not entirely surprising.

“You know, I could drop you back at the hotel. You could try to catch a nap?” Nico suggests as they get back into the black sedan outside the courthouse. “You don’t have to come to the prison with me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Will says, and Nico nods, not seeming to have expected any other answer. And it’s not that Will doesn’t trust his partner. He can sympathize with Nico’s desire to believe Boggs, and he can even relate to the incredibly stupid decision Nico made to investigate an abandoned warehouse on his own. Hell, Will made the incredibly stupid decision to go to Maple Gardens on his own, and almost got himself murdered because of it. All that taken into account, it just seems like a better idea for them to stick together. Like Nico told him months ago, there’s a reason agents are paired up.

It’s a beautiful afternoon, sunny and warm, and Will elects to stay in the parking lot outside the prison, reclining his seat a bit and lowering all the windows. He closes his eyes, feeling some of the tension drain from his body as the gentle breeze ruffles his hair, the sunlight warm on the hand resting on the window ledge.

“You and your pretty partner seem awfully close,” Boggs says as Nico takes his seat. “I do appreciate you coming here without him today. I know he doesn’t… approve.” Boggs tilts his head, regarding Nico contemplatively for a long moment. “He’s waiting for you outside, isn’t he?”

Nico feels his jaw tighten.

Boggs seems to take Nico’s silence as affirmation. “It’s okay, Agent. We don’t have to have secrets from each other.”

Nico swallows, trying to collect all the scattered parts of himself, frustrated that Boggs has already managed to throw him off balance. Each time Will’s been here with him, Nico’s been able to feel the tension rolling off his partner in waves, not particularly helping his own nerves. He’d been relieved when Will agreed so easily that Nico should go on his own today. But being here without Will, he feels discomfitingly untethered.

“If that’s the case,” Nico says, “then you’ll tell me where James Summers is.”

“You talked to the DA,” Boggs says, throwing Nico off further.

“What makes you say that?”

Boggs ignores the question, looking down to his lap, bravado slipping for a second. When he looks up again, his eyes are bright with tears. “I appreciate your efforts.”

“Agent Solace…” Nico begins, not even sure why he’s saying it, “we both appealed on your behalf. He’s not… we did try.”

Boggs nods, lips pressed together. “Thank you.”

Nico glances down to his notebook, forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand. “We’re running out of time to find James, Luther. You can still save one life. Tell me where he is.”

Boggs heaves a long sigh, then closes his eyes. His brow furrows. “I see… I see circles. No, no, not circles. Barrels, but bigger. Big vats. Huge.” Boggs winces. “Oh – he’s – he’s getting ready to kill… kill the… it’s a factory. Condemned. It’s a – a brewery.”

“What brewery, Luther? Where?”

Boggs’ brow creases. “There’s – water. A river. North, I think.” There’s a long silence then, “I – I can’t see anything more.”

Nico continues scribbling in his notebook, closing it with finality when he’s finished. He nods to Boggs. What do you say to someone who’s facing his own death in 48 hours? Even if he did bring it on himself?

“Thanks for your help,” Nico says, standing and tucking away his notebook. He turns to the door.

“Niccolò.”

And he knows it’s not her voice, it can’t be, but it hits him in his solar plexus and radiates through his chest. Nico turns slowly.

Boggs has his eyes closed again, and he looks smaller, somehow. When he speaks again, his voice is still in that higher register, the cadence so reminiscent of Bianca’s that Nico can’t breathe.

“Be careful, Niccolò,” Boggs tells him. “Don’t cross the bridge. Don’t cross the bridge to the devil.”

Nico closes his eyes briefly. It’s not real he tells himself firmly. He turns back to the door.

“Agent di Angelo?” Boggs says, his own voice now, but softer. “There’s one more thing.”

It doesn’t take long for the field office to determine the site Boggs was likely referring to, and agents approach the condemned Blue Devil Brewery in the early evening.

The teasing from the rest of the team isn’t unkind at all, but by the time they’re ready to breach the building, Nico’s had quite enough of the other agents asking him if he’s eaten today. Will and Agent McLean seem to have hit it off, Nico notes, and the two of them are in quiet conversation at his side as they approach the building.

The team surges inside, weapons drawn. The building is dusty and disused, but sunlight slants through wide windows on the upper level. The agents spread out, searching, Nico close behind Will and McLean.

“Freeze!” McLean yells suddenly. Nico registers, just half a second later, a man who must be Lucas Henry, standing over a figure bound and tied to a table. Henry’s got an ax held over his head, seemingly ready to strike, but he halts as he realizes he’s surrounded.

“Federal agents, we’re armed, drop your weapon!” McLean shouts, and for a second, Henry falters. But then something blazes in his eyes and he draws his arm back, ready to throw the ax into the crowd of agents. McLean fires, reflexive, and Nico flinches, the sound close enough to leave his ears ringing. Henry staggers, red blooming out on his shoulder.

Henry lets out a yell and then he’s off running, most of the SWAT team on his tail. Nico’s close on his partner’s heels, no plans to let Will out of his sight this time around. They run down a passageway then through a storage room, Henry booking it faster than a guy with a gunshot wound should be able to.

Ahead, McLean and another female agent take off up a flight of stairs, Will and Nico just making it to the bottom step as McLean tumbles backwards, knocked down by a heavy barrel Henry seems to have thrown from above. Will just manages to catch her under the arms, breaking her fall.

“You okay?” Will asks, breathless where he's landed half-crouched on the stairs.

McLean nods, grimacing as she clutches her shoulder. “Fine, you guys go!”

They do as they’re told, racing up the stairs and down a tiled hallway, slippery with dead leaves blown in through the open door of the loading dock. There are stairs at the end of the hall, leading to an upper level, another passageway stretching off to the left. They hesitate at the foot of the stairs, breathing hard.

“Which way?” Will asks. He’s pink in the face, hair frizzing.

“Not sure.” The sounds of pursuit are muted now and Nico listens hard, trying to determine which direction they’re coming from.

“Fuck, how did we get so far behind?” Will says.

Nico just shakes his head, no breath for conversation.

“Up the stairs?” Will suggests. It seems as good a choice as any, and they head up one metal staircase, then another, Nico sweating under his bulletproof vest. They finally surface on a wide landing. There’s less light up here, but Nico can make out a hall ahead, then a narrow, railed catwalk, stretching out into dimness.

They pause, backs to the wall, peering into the gloom. Nico’s chest is burning and he’s trying desperately not to breathe too loudly, no idea if anyone other than Will has eyes on him.

Then Will grabs his arm. “There,” he whispers, chest heaving. “See? Behind the –”

A gust of Will’s breath against his temple, and Nico does see – a dark shape at the verge of the catwalk, partially obscured by a tower of crates, movement in the shadows.

“Freeze!” Nico yells, and Henry does, slowly raising his hands. He seems to have lost the axe, thankfully. Nico advances as quickly as he can, weapon drawn, Will covering him from behind. They’re mere yards from Henry when he suddenly ducks and begins running away at a crouch, towards the catwalk. Nico fires, misses.

“Fuck,” Nico gasps, and he and Will race for the catwalk. A flash of blue catches Nico’s eye at the last second—a face painted on the wall opposite with sharpened teeth, pointed horns. The blue devil. The bridge.

Nico freezes, heart in his throat, but Will takes a step further, just a second from stepping onto the catwalk, a vast expanse of factory floor three stories below.

“No,” Nico gasps. He grabs Will’s arm, hard, leaning back with the movement, putting all his weight into it. Will stumbles and they both fall against the wall.

“What –”

The sound of cracking wood, and Henry looks back, eyes wide. He lets out a hoarse yell and he’s falling through the rotted wood of the catwalk. Seconds later the yell ceases and they hear a sickening thud as his body hit the floor, three floors down. Will winces, jerking his face away, back to Nico who’s still clutching him like a lifeline.

“Fuck,” Will breathes. They take a couple of cautious steps forward to peer over the edge. Henry’s broken form lies far below, neck twisted at an odd angle.

Nico lets out a long breath. “You okay?”

Will nods, silent, a quick squeeze to Nico’s hand, where it’s still clutching his arm. Nico finally releases his grip, exhaling. His gaze rises to the painted wall, throat tight.

There's a late evening at the police station and then back to the hotel, Will and Nico yawning over canned drinks from the vending machine until they're too bleary to concentrate on paperwork. There’s more of the same the next morning, and finally a late lunch at the IHOP, Will steadily working his way through a heaping stack of pancakes drenched in syrup and whipped cream.

Will hadn’t slept much better last night, but he’s feeling slightly buoyed by the carbs and sugar. The waitress stops by with a steaming pot of coffee, and Will pushes his empty cup across the table gratefully.

“So then we’re just about done, right?” Will's forgotten his own watch today, but he reaches across the table, turning Nico’s wrist to sneak a peek at his. “I need to talk to the county medical examiner, but we should still be able to make it back to DC tonight.”

Nico spends a long moment pushing scrambled eggs around his plate, gaze averted.

“Nico?”

Nico lets out a breath, a quick glance up at Will and then back to his plate again. “When I was at the prison yesterday, Boggs said – that he had a message for me. From my… from Bianca.”

Will presses his lips together, trying to master his emotions before responding. He's doing his best to keep himself in check, but the recent lack of sleep has left him feeling twitchy and irritable, emotions too close to the surface. But then Nico glances up, his expression open, almost pleading, and Will feels any irritation or impatience dissolve into the ether, leaving behind just something that aches.

“I know you think he’s a fraud,” Nico says. “And it’s not that I don’t believe you –”

“I think…” Will sighs, tired. He can’t bear to argue about this. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Whether he is or not. I just – I can see him seeking out the spots where you’re most vulnerable, Nico. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

That really is all it’s about at this point. The case is done and dusted. None of what happens next has any impact on that.

“I know. I do understand that. And I – I appreciate your concern.” Nico’s voice goes a little hoarse.

“So then, what?” Will asks. “Boggs wants to meet with you again, before we leave town?”

Nico swallows. “Yeah. The um… his execution. It’s tomorrow at nine am.”

There’s a long pause during which Will is honestly just too tired to respond. Nico continues.

“He says he’ll…” Nico grimaces, eyes on his plate. “He says he’ll give me the message if I’m there to witness his execution.”

Will’s heart sinks. “Oh, Nico –”

“I know. But if there’s any chance…” Nico finally looks up, eyes over-bright. “I don’t know if I could forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.”

Will nods slowly, his throat tight. “Okay. So we’ll leave after, then.”

Nico let out a breath. “Thank you.”

Will gives him a tight nod.

“I don’t suppose…” Nico starts, soft. “I don’t suppose you’d want to come along?”

Will feels a rush of cold. And then guilt. “To the execution?”

Nico just gazes at him, lost.

“I – can’t,” Will says, wishing he could give just about any other answer. “I’m sorry.”

Nico shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Will reaches across the table, his fingers wrapping around Nico’s wrist. Nico’s mouth twists. “I’m glad you asked. I want you to ask. You know I want to support you. I just can’t do this. I don’t like Boggs, but I can’t watch his execution.”

Nico nods, eyes downcast. He looks as tired as Will feels.

“It’s only that –” Will begins.

“No, Will, you don’t have to explain. It’s a pretty big ask.”

“Yeah, but... I’d like to explain. If that’s okay.”

Nico doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t disagree, either. Will’s fingers are still wrapped around his partner’s wrist, and he’s suddenly acutely aware of each delicate bone and tendon, all the small and important bits that hold Nico together. The steady thrum of his pulse under Will’s thumb.

“I love this job,” Will says. His voice comes rougher than he intended. “And I want to keep doing it. And like we’ve talked about, sometimes that involves some risks. Sometimes it involves some trauma. And I can take it. I’m tougher than I might seem.” He squeezes Nico’s wrist, and Nico looks up, a sad half-smile.

“I know you are."

“But if I want to keep doing this job, it means I have to take a step back and take care of myself sometimes. I’m not great at that, but I’m trying to be better. And in this case, it means not getting any closer to this case than I already am. Not watching someone be murdered when I don’t have to.”

Nico nods, slow. “That makes sense.” Another glance at Will, quick. “I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to… stay.”

Will nods. “‘Kay,” he manages. A deep breath, in and out. He releases Nico’s wrist to scrub both hands over his face.

“And Nico – you know how I feel about Boggs. But you know how I feel about you, too.” Will reaches across the table again, a brush of his fingers over Nico’s. “And I’ll do anything I can to support you, short of going into that execution. I’ll give you a hug when it’s all over, or we can talk, or never mention it again. Whatever you need.”

Nico nods. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Will sleeps deeply that night, out like a light while Nico's still watching TV across the room. They'd talked about opening the second bottle of champagne, Will realizes hours later when he wakes to weak daylight and the sound of the shower running. But a full night's sleep is an even better reward.

It’s still early when Will drops Nico off at the prison, promising he’ll be waiting with coffee when it’s over. They’ve packed up and checked out of the hotel, so all that’s left to do after the execution is to head back home.

Will’s not sure how long Nico will be, but as he returns to SCI Greene after a quick trip into town, things are quiet, the parking lot mostly empty. The morning air is still cool, but the sun is bright and golden, catching on treetops at the edge of the parking lot, the leaf canopy green with the lushness of late summer. Will gets out of the car and lowers himself to the curb, stretching out his legs and turning his face up to the sun, coffee beside him on the pavement. He needs to remember to do this more often; just breathe.

He’s only been there for a few minutes, still expecting to be waiting another hour or more, when he hears footfalls nearing and he opens his eyes, pleasantly lethargic.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t expect you for a while yet,” Will says.

Nico’s eyes are on his feet as he approaches, brow furrowed. He doesn’t speak as he lowers himself to the curb next to Will.

Will pulls his legs in, shifting so he’s half-angled towards his partner. “How did it go?”

Nico swallows. “I don’t… I don’t think she has anything to tell me,” he manages, clearly struggling to keep his voice steady. “If she did… I think she’d find some other way,” he finishes in a hoarse whisper.

Nico’s blinking hard, but a tear spills down his cheek anyway and he swipes it away.

“Nico –”

“I didn’t watch the execution,” Nico whispers, gaze still on his feet.

Will carefully moves his coffee to a more secure spot next to him before curling an arm around Nico’s shoulders. Nico takes a shuddering breath and Will wraps the other arm around him, too. Nico doesn’t return the embrace, exactly, but he leans into Will, Will’s forehead pressed to Nico’s temple, and they sit there, breathing together. Warm and alive in the August sunshine.

Finally Nico pulls away, wiping at his eyes.

Will watches with aching sympathy, one hand rubbing circles on his back. “Want me to drive?” Will asks.

Nico scoffs, managing an almost-smile. “Course not.” His voice is wobbly.

Will solemnly passes over the keys and then stands, Nico following.

Nico blinks, pausing in front of the black sedan. “Did you… wash the car?”

“Thought it might cheer you up.”

Nico’s mouth twists. Will bumps his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were going to cry about it,” he grumbles, and Nico manages a shaky laugh.

They part ways, Nico to the driver’s side, Will to the passenger’s.

Not technically being on duty today (not to mention having run out of clean work clothes), Will’s dressed in jeans and his last clean undershirt, a faded yellow hoodie over top. The car’s warm after sitting in the sun, though, and he peels off the hoodie before buckling himself in, tossing it into the back seat.

Nico glances over as the hoodie comes off, then back again, frowning. “What happened there?”

Will follows Nico’s gaze to the four small purplish bruises on his upper arm. “Oh – it’s nothing.”

But Nico leans closer, reaching out to touch, pushing Will’s sleeve up.

“Will, it looks like fingerprints –” There’s a pause and then, “oh.” And Nico pulls his hand away, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, that’s none of my – never mind.”

“What? You – Nico, no, those are your fingerprints,” Will laughs as he registers the deduction his partner has made.

Nico blinks at him. “Mine?”

“Yeah, yours. I just noticed in the shower this morning.” Will grabs Nico’s hand, lining up Nico’s fingertips with the marks on his arm. “It’s from when you kept me from falling to my death? At the brewery?”

Nico’s eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Did you think someone else was grabbing me hard enough to leave bruises?” Will laughs.

Nico huffs. “Well, I don’t – I mean –”

Will snorts.

Nico shakes his head. “Well.” He reaches out one more time, fingers brushing over Will’s arm. He smooths Will’s sleeve back down. Will suppresses a shiver, a flutter in his stomach.

“Sorry,” Nico says. His voice is still rough. “For bruising you.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You saved my life. I think I can forgive you. Besides, I bruise easy.”

Nico’s quiet as he adjusts the driver’s seat and bumps the rearview mirror back into position. He starts the car and then pauses, glancing at Will and then out the windshield.

“Something wrong?” Will asks at the same second as Nico mutters something, too quiet for Will to hear. Will cocks his head to the side. “Sorry?”

“I said, can I borrow your hoodie. If you’re not using it,” Nico says, eyes averted. “I’m kind of cold, and my… coat’s in the trunk.”

Will can feel his face breaking into a smile. “Yeah, of course.” He turns, reaching into the back seat, passing the soft garment over to his partner.

Will watches as Nico pulls the hoodie on, something warm tugging in his gut. The cuffs nearly cover Nico’s fingers, but he doesn’t push them up, leaving just enough of his hands exposed to grip the wheel. He shoots a furtive glance at Will.

“Looks good on you,” Will says.

Nico rolls his eyes, looking pleased. Will turns, grinning out the passenger side window as Nico buckles up and backs out of the parking spot. They’re just approaching the freeway on-ramp when Nico takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. “Can you put on something loud and angry?” he asks.

Will smiles, reaching for Nico’s CD wallet on the dash.

They’ve gone through two of Nico’s loud-and-angry CDs by the time they stop for lunch. Nico’s looking much more relaxed, though, so Will’s not going to complain.

The air conditioning in the restaurant is cranked up high, and by the time they’re done eating Will is feeling a little chilled. He does not ask for his hoodie back. In the car, Nico reaches for the CD player, tapping the eject button.

“You can put on something of yours if you want,” he says.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Nico nods. “I’m feeling… better. Hopeful, even.”

Will grins. “It’s the yellow,” he says, plucking at the sleeve of the hoodie.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Onwards and upwards,” Will says,

“Yup.”

Nico puts the car into reverse just as his phone buzzes on the dash. It’s closer to Will and he reaches for it, passing it over. Nico glances at the number, frowning, then puts the car back in park.

Will looks at him questioningly and Nico shrugs.

“Di Angelo,” he says into the phone.

There’s a long silence on Nico’s end. Will can’t quite read the expression on his face – maybe shock, or panic, quickly schooled into careful blankness. It makes Will’s gut twist.

“Okay,” Nico says into the phone. He’s unbuckling his seatbelt. One second, he mouths to Will, holding up a finger, and then he’s out the door, pacing across the parking lot.

Nico’s back in the car a moment later. He shuts the door and then just stares at the steering wheel. He’s pale, jaw tight, every bit of calm from a moment before evaporated.

“Nico?” Will asks tentatively.

Nico closes his eyes. “They’re releasing Tooms.”

Will feels like he’s been doused in cold water. “Oh. Fuck.”

“They reviewed his psych status, they… he passed all the required examinations.” Nico sounds exhausted. “They’re saying his attack on you was… frustration directed at the wrong person.”

Will lets out a sound of disbelief, and Nico turns to him, tense and unhappy.

“I’m so sorry, Will.”

“Well. It’s – it’s not your fault. Obviously.”

Nico shakes his head. “Yeah, I know, but… fuck.” He presses his face into his hands. “Fuck.”

“So they’re letting him go,” Will says, still trying to make sense of it. “Just like that. He’ll just be – out there –”

Nico takes a deep breath. “Essentially, yeah. He’s – he has to keep his job. With Animal Services. He has to – he’ll be living with people who’ll help him transition back into society.” Nico lets out a mirthless laugh. “And he has to keep going to fucking therapy. Like that’s going to keep him from…” Nico shakes his head.

“Okay,” Will nods. “Okay, so I’ll just… I’ll –”

“You’ll just stay safe,” Nico says, intense, a little desperate.

Will blinks. “I mean… I’ll do my best. Obviously.”

“We’ll –” Nico gazes at him for a long moment. “Okay, I don’t know what they fuck we’re going to do. But we'll figure it out, Will, I promise. Okay? He’s not going to get anywhere near you.”

Notes:

1. Oh no! 2. You guys, they’ve progressed to HAND HOLDING. OMG. It only took 120k words!! 3. Finally I get to add hoodie theft to the tags 4. This chapter is based on the X-Files episode Beyond the Sea 5. Thanks to @rosyredlipstick for the beta (like, six months ago lol) and @stressedanime for the spot check!

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