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There were a few things about his job Colin would never get used to, no matter how many times he saw them happen before his very eyes.
How someone’s life could change, usually for the worst, in a matter of seconds when its trajectory put it on the CIA path (he included his own life in this). Just how deep some conspiracies ran, digging their barbed roots down to the heart of things like hospitals, research facilities, foreign governments, all in the name of some greater, nebolous good. How loud gunshots were.
He’d been around guns long enough to learn to not react to the sound, to keep his flinching internal. He understood their function, even if he didn’t think weapons were always the best answer just because they were quicker.
When he and Bill walked out of the metro station, another arrest made, another bad person with bad intentions stopped, the ringing of the shots was still echoing in his ears. Which was fine, said shots had saved his life and prevented a much worse outcome that would have involved innocent civilians getting hurt.
Still, didn’t mean he liked it.
At his side, Bill was lagging behind a bit, when usually their strides matched quiet evenly. Perks of being both over six-feet tall, he didn’t have to slow down for him, the man could keep up with him with ease.
Colin stopped in the middle of the steps, a pallid sky open over him, the sun covered by a thin layer of clouds. The day was muggy, the air still and warm. God, sometimes he missed England’s sudden thunderstorms, they way the seemed to clean out the whole world, wiping the slate clear, leaving the air chilly and crisp.
He turned around, studying his partner making his way up the stairs, a hand resting on his gun hostler. Mmh, he thought, something was off. He knew Bill was uninjured after the gun fight, he’d checked him over himself. Besides, the immaculate white shirts he was so determined to wear everyday would have let any sign of blood show, no chance to hide. Still, his instinct had reared up.
Colin waited for him, slowed down his steps until they were both up to street level and made their way to the car, the black, obnoxious fed SUV.
“You good?”, he asked, watching him over, noticing the paleness of his skin, the slight labor in his breath. A seed of panic started to stir in his chest.
Bill nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, sure. Just tired, I guess.”
Sweat was beading on his skin, Colin was pretty sure he saw him shiver, despite the man’s best effort to hide it. Frowning, Colin raised a hand and placed the back of it against Bill’s forehead, earning himself a questioning, wary look.
“You’re burning up”, he declared, his frown turning into a scowl. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Bill moved away from his hand, a grimace pulling at his features. “I’m fine, just tired, I told you.”
Colin scoffed. “You have a fever, a quiet high one too. You should not have been anywhere near a live op, you should be at home, resting, healing. I thought you were the responsible one.”
He didn’t mention that his own strategy for when he caught a cold was to down a dangerously high dose of whatever medicine he had on hand with a liter of orange juice and prayer. He was the one making a point here, for once.
Bill rolled his eyes to the sky, more to escape his judging stare than in real exasperation. “We were one step away from closing this case, I had to be here, see it done. We didn’t have the time to find another FBI liaison to take over. We’ve been at it for almost three weeks.”
Colin squeezed his fists at his side, then relaxed them. This man and his sense of duty would drive him mad one day. “That’s way we have a superior in place, so she can take care of these things, flex her authority. It’s not all up to you, you know.”
Bill sent him a sheepish look. “I know, I know. I just need to get the suspect to interrogation, fill out the report and then I’ll go home and get some rest. I promise.”
“Yeah, you’re not doing that”, Colin muttered. “Wait here.” When Bill started to protest, he held up a hand with a stern look that would have made his mother proud. “I mean it, stay put.”
In a few quick strides he reached the tactical team, now intent on putting their suspected, handcuffed and looking rather miserable, into the back of their SUV. He spotted Morris, the team leader, and made a beeline for him. He gave a few quick instructions and got a nod of understanding.
Satisfied, Colin went back to Bill, waiting as asked near the car.
“Your precious suspect will be taken care of. Now that that’s out of the way,” he said, holding out a hand, “give me the keys.”
Bill frowned, defensive. “Why?”
“I’m driving you home”, he stated, plain and simple.
The other man made to reply, then seemed to think better of it. With a discontent sigh, he dug the car keys out of his pocket and handed them over. Colin accepted them with a curt nod, secretly relieved by the lack of arguments.
With the keys safe in his possession, he fished out his phone, tapped the screen a few times and started typing.
“What are you doing?”, Bill asked, a suspicious note in his voice.
Without looking up from the text he was writing, Colin answered: “I’m taking you out of commission for a few days.”
“You don’t have the authority to do that”, Bill mumbled, even if he didn’t sound a hundred percent convinced.
Colin flashed him a hint of a grin. “No, but I know the boss, she listens to me.”
He finished typing his text to Nikki, informing her that their token FBI golden boy had fallen ill and would be out of the game for a couple days, that the op had been a success and the suspect was on his way to her. Then, he put away his phone and gestured for Bill to get in the SUV.
Once they were both in the car, seat belts on, he turned the key in the ignition, thinking briefly of what a weird turn his life had taken for him to now find himself at the wheel of an FBI SUV, driving a too stubborn for his own good FBI agent home. He had not seen this coming.
He asked Bill for his home address (he kind of knew it already, but he wanted to save appearances), then they were off.
“This is really unnecessary, I can get home on my own”, Bill grumbled, even if Colin did not miss how his whole body had slumped, all the tension, duty and responsibility holding him together slowly leaching out now that the he didn’t need to keep being the strong, reliable one.
Colin only gave him a vague sound, neither agreeing nor denying, as an answer. “When was the last time you took a sick day off?”
Bill thought about it for a moment, shrugged, began to undo the straps of his bulletproof vest. “Maybe early 2022? I… uh, I had to get kind of emergency surgery. My appendix nearly burst.”
Colin decided it would be wiser to keep looking ahead at the road, focusing on navigating the traffic, not thinking too hard about Bill’s answer, about how he wanted to yell at him, just a little bit. The same man who gave him shit every time he ate a candy bar for lunch while they were in the middle of an investigation, preaching about the importance of a balanced diet, could not be bothered to go to the doctor and have his symptoms checked before they devolved into full blown appendicitis?
“Let me guess, you were in the middle of a case and did not have the time to get checked out before one of your organs almost exploded?” The jab was out, squeezing its way through gritted teeth, before Colin could really stop it.
Bill had made his way out of the vest in the meantime, hands shaking slightly. “More or less.”
He didn’t even try to deny having neglected his own health in such a blatant way. Colin could not decided what was worse, him plainly admitting to putting work over his own well"being or the fact that he wasn’t even making the effort to defend himself.
They let the silence fill the space between them, a comfortable quiet that allowed their nerves to calm down and reset after the action of the op. With the corner of his eye, Colin caught a shiver go through Bill, who had folded his arms at his chest, as if looking for any scrap of warmth.
He sighed softly, then reached into the back seats with one hand, searching around for a bit until he found the sleeve of his jacket and dragged it to the front. He draped it over Bill’s legs with a pointed look, before turning up the warm air in the AC.
Bill muttered a thanks, wrapping the jacket around his shoulders. He must have been really feeling poorly to accept it without even a hint of protest, Colin mused. He didn’t comment though, giving him the grace to wallow in his sick state without judgment. There would be time for that later.
Colin parked on street, along the curb, the SUV rumbling dying slowly. At his side, Bill was even paler than before, dark circles now appearing under his eyes, shoulder hunched under Colin’s jacket. His iron strong will was loosening its grip, letting him feel the full weight of the fever sweeping through him. It was honestly impressive he’d managed to go through the op at all, let alone engage in a firefight and get out of it unscathed.
Colin got out first, went around the car to open the passenger door. His hand went to Bill’s back as he was getting out, a rush of protective instinct coming alive somewhere in his chest.
They walked over to the front of the building, where he stopped them and asked for the house keys, which were promptly handed to him. It was not lost on Colin just how many lines he was crossing right now, how deep he was wading into the territory past the coworker status and into something else altogether. How readily Bill gave him that trust.
One could argue he was not himself due to the fever, chills running through his body, making his judgment hazy, but Colin had seen the raw, unguarded gratitude in his eyes when he’d taken over for him. And that was… well, it was something, but he had no intention on finding out what exactly right now.
“You can go now, you delivered me safely”, Bill said when they arrived in front of the door of his apartment.
Colin made a non committal sound, hands working to find the correct key and open the door. A part of him recoiled at the idea of walking over that threshold, all the implications and consequences of such a step piling up high in his mind. He should go, cut his losses, keep everything on the safe, professional side of things.
And yet, he found himself stepping forward, his hand once again on Bill’s back, guiding him in, the door closing behind them. Apparently he had decided to dig his own grave today.
They passed the entrance hall, made their way into the kitchen. The place was tidy and well kept, not a thing out of place. It almost felt like a house made ready for a realtor showing. Only a few pictures, of Bill’s family, his graduation at Quantico, holidays when he was a boy, gave it a more homey sense.
Colin deposited both the SUV and the apartment keys on the kitchen table. When he turned back around, Bill had shrugged off his jacket, was now handing it back to him.
“Thanks”, he muttered. “I’m good, really, you can go.”
Colin picked up the coat, draped it absently on one of the chairs. “Yeah, you’re so good you can barely walk straight.”
“It’s the adrenaline wearing off, nothing to worry about”, Bill replied, a defensive note in his voice. “I just need to sleep it off.”
Colin took a deep breath, blew it out, more to give himself time to react without sounding too exasperated. “You’ll have a few days off, sleep sounds like a solid plan.”
Bill shook his head. “No, we still have to close this op. I need to be back tomorrow morning, since you barred me out for today.” The last part was delivered with a pointed, accusatory look Colin’s way.
There was urgency in his words, a hint of desperation too, like the idea of having control slip his hands was unbearable. His body failing him, falling victim to something as common and inconvenient as a cold, leaving him too debilitated to do his duty, it was his worst nightmare, Colin knew him well enough now to gauge that.
“It’s fine, crime won’t win just because you take a day off”, he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Bill was not convinced, he could almost feel the nervous energy coursing through his body, heightened by the illness. It was a kind of restless hum he knew well, the kind you couldn’t just rationalize your way out of.
The man was looking at him like an animal caught in a trap, paw stuck in the metal jaws, the sheer, unadulterated fear of not knowing if the person looming over him was there to kill him or set him free blazing in his eyes, now glassy from the fever.
Goddammit. Catching up on just how precarious the situation was, Colin had to decide quickly how he wanted to handle it to avoid having a nearly delirious FBI agent wandering off on his watch to try and go interrogate a suspect.
He took out his hands, holding them low and open in what he hoped was a placating gesture. He let his shoulders drop, forcing his body to relax in order to appear less of threat. It was down to pure instinct now, trying to convince a not so reasonable Bill he could rest, that the world would not burn in his absence.
“Listen, here’s what we can do”, he started, keeping his voice low, tone neutral. “We’re going to get you sorted out, and then I’m going back to the office. I will interrogate the suspect myself, Nikki will be there too. We’ll get what we need from him, then make sure he gets processed the right way. Okay? How does that sound?”
Bill’s chest was heaving with quick, shallow breaths. Colin could almost see his tired mind registering his words, assessing them, trying to resist the fever’s hold at the same time. He seemed to reach a decision, some of the tension winding him tight melting away.
“Okay”, he conceded, rubbing a hand on his forehead, a grimace of pain pulling at his features. “Yeah, that… that sounds good.”
Colin nodded, relieved. He wasn’t sure what else he could have done if this had not worked out. Maybe lock him in his own bedroom? Slip a sedative in his glass? All the options seemed to come with very poor outcomes. He was definitely glad some nice, simple logic had done the trick.
“Good, let’s get you to bed then”, Colin said, trying not to think too much about how absurd the whole thing was. “Before you pass out in your own kitchen.”
Bill frowned at him, a shiver going through him. He had the audacity to appear skeptical at the possibility of fainting, like he wasn’t holding himself upright with sheer willpower. He managed to shrug off his suit jacket with only minimal struggle, draping it over the kitchen table with care. He then stopped, features contracting in a grimace when a flash of pain went through his temples.
Colin's hands went up to Bill's chest, he was about to start undoing his tie when the man frowned, his own hands going up to his neck.
“I can undress myself”, he muttered. “Besides, I don't understand why you need to be here for this. You got what you wanted.”
Colin watched him fumble with the tie knot, clumsy fingers not finding enough grip. He let him try for a few seconds before sighing and taking over, gently pushing his hands down.
“That's why”, he whispered, almost to himself.
Bill let him undo his tie, start with the buttons on the front of his shirt. Colin's fingers moved carefully, light and cautious, putting care into avoiding brushing bare skin. The unnatural warmth of Bill’s body was seeping through the fabric. Colin kept flicking his gaze up to his face to check on him, making sure he was still doing okay.
“Do you really have the keys to my place?”, Bill’s question was little more than a whisper.
Colin kept working, mentally cursing whoever decided shirts needed that many buttons. “No. But I do have lock picks.”
Bill’s frown returned at that. “That’s illegal.”
A grin pulled at Colin’s mouth. “Didn’t you know? I’m a hardened criminal under the CIA badge.”
He finally managed to take care of the last button. How Bill could voluntarily submit to such a hassle each morning just to go into work was beyond him.
Bill shook his head slightly, sweat collecting at the base of his neck, between his collarbones. “Maybe. But there’s a hearth somewhere in there.” He gestured vaguely at Colin’s chest.
Something inside Colin’s aforementioned chest gave a traitorous lurch. It was true, despite the appearances and his daily efforts to put distance between himself and everyone else, he cared. Deeply. It was his biggest curse, having a big heart in such a cruel world.
His job and his past had hardened his shell, made him more leery and cynical, but the soft, tender core beneath remained. And sometimes it made an unscheduled appearance, breaking containment and reaching outside.
These were the results, he mused bitterly, finding himself in his partner’s house, taking care of him when no one had asked him to, just because his stupid, soft heart couldn’t help it. He should have just called him a taxi, give the driver the address and be on his way. But no, of course, he had to go the extra mile and put himself in such predicaments.
Colin made quick work of the shirt cuffs buttons, then helped Bill slide off the shirt, the fabric slightly damp with his feverish sweat clinging to his body. Bill was left with only a white undershirt on, pale skin prickly with goosebumps, a dusting of freckles on his shoulders.
They had never been that close for such a prolonged period of time. Surely never so close with so little clothes between them. He could count Bill’s eyelashes from there, observe the strands of his hair curl against his temples, the faint lines etched into his face by his semi permanent scowl.
Colin had to stop for a second, eyes drawn to the planes of his body, the amount of fair, bare skin he had not been prepared for. For some obscure reason, his mind called back the image of Toni, that one time a bullet had grazed her shoulder and Colin had had to clean and bandage the wound for her, while the waited for it to be safe to go find real help. He relived how he carefully cut away her shirt, stiff and sticky with blood, the goosebumps blossoming over her skin, the comfort they had both found in that closeness, the worry and care filling his chest. Just like now.
With a grimace, he pushed those images away. Toni was a closed chapter, and was supposed to stay that way. Out of sight, out of mind. Besides, Bill was his partner, sure, but it was a completely different relationship.
While he was busy fighting with his own subconscious, his hands had found their way on Bill's waist, on the path to take off the next item of clothing. He grew very, very still. That was a bit more complicated territory.
Colin swallowed, sent a searching look to Bill’s face to gauge his reaction, but found him scrunching his forehead and rubbing his eyes, victim of another headache pulse.
Colin cleared his throat, calling to mind images of the current British king to keep his brain from wandering into dangerous avenues, and unclipped the gun hostler from Bill’s belt, setting the weapon carefully on the table. He was very careful not to think about any ulterior meanings that might hide in the gesture of him taking away his partner’s means of protection, of said partner trusting him with it while in such a vulnerable state.
He went back to Bill’s belt, unbuckling it and letting it slide through the loops of his pants and dropping it to the ground with the rest of his clothes.
That seemed like a nice, safe place to stop. Yes, why tempt fate any more than he already had?
“Let's get you to bed, uh?”, he said, his voice soft.
Bill let himself be guided to his bedroom, where Colin opened his bed sheets for him before going to the window to draw the curtains, leaving the room in a soft gloom. Colin’s promise to see the op through seemed to have worked wonders in quieting Bill’s anxiety, he had took a seat on the mattress without a word of protest.
Colin caught the tension melting from the man's shoulders, the sigh escaping his lips. Goddamned martyr, he thought with a fondness he did not expect.
“I'm going to get you some ibuprofen”, he said, walking back to the door. “Where do you keep it? Bathroom cabinet?”
Bill frowned, elbows leaning on his knees, like holding himself up was too much trouble. “No, medicines should be kept at a stable temperature, the bathroom is the worst place for them. They're in the dresser, first drawer to the left.”
Colin lifted his eyes up to an absent God. Of course Bill Goodman could not be normal about his medicine cabinet.
The pills were where he had said they would be. Colin picked up a couple, made a brief detour to the kitchen to grab a glass of water then went back to the bedside.
He nudged Bill’s knee with his own, gesturing for him to get into bed when the man looked up at him. With a sigh, Bill obliged, sliding his legs under the covers. He still kept upright, a last stubborn attempt to maintain whatever semblance of control over the situation.
“Here, take this and drink this”, he instructed, sitting on the side of the mattress, handing Bill the ibuprofen and the water.
“You need to ask the suspect about the missing car”, Bill said, glassy eyes finding his. “There’s probably more evidence in it.”
Colin bit the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I know.”
Bill nodded, expression getting more distant for a second before a flash of alarm passed over his features. “You need an FBI agent with you, for the interrogation. We need to find someone from 26 Fed to come down and…”
Colin deposited pills and water on the nightstand to free up his hands and wrapped his fingers around Bill’s forearm to still him. “I know. I already texted Nikki about it, she’s taking care of it. It will be fine.”
Bill looked down at his hand on his own arm, swallowed. “Okay, that’s… that’s good. Just remember that he has the right to a lawyer. And a call. And…”
“Hey, I got this.” Colin squeezed his arm softly, the skin unnaturally warm under his fingers. “I’ve been doing this for a bit, you know? I know the rules and the procedures and everything.”
The other man sighed deeply, looked up at him and caught his eyes. “Yes, I know. I trust you.”
Colin’s mouth dried up, his mind suddenly empty. His life was lived in the subtext and the margins of things, where no one really talked straight and everything was left to interpretation, to be twisted, cut and compacted to fill one narrative or the other.
He could not remember the last time someone had looked him in the face and said something so direct to him. No subterfuge, no additional meaning. Just stating a fact.
It was a novelty, one of the rare things that could still genuinely surprise him. He decided he would just lock it away for now, to go over it at another, more suitable time. Maybe never.
“Take your pills”, he managed to say, placing them in Bill’s palm and picking up the glass too.
Bill dutifully obeyed, placing the pills in his mouth and drinking a sip to send them down.
Colin took the glass from him, made sure he was fully covered and comfortable enough, then raised from his spot on the side of the bed.
“Get some sleep now”, he murmured.
Bill's eyes were already closed, his features still holding a bit of tension in a hinted scowl.
Colin lingered for a few seconds, making sure he had actually fallen asleep. Once his breathing became more regular and deep, he made his way back to the kitchen, collecting the discarded clothes from the floor, retrieving the FBI badge and phone from the jacket pocket and dropping them into the laundry basket in the bathroom. After, he picked up the gun and left it on the nightstand next to Bill, together with the badge and cellphone.
All the while, he kept feeling like an intruder playing pretend, acting like he had any right to be there.
He hesitated for a moment, back in the kitchen, watching the car and house keys on the table. He had done his (arguably self assigned) part, he was free to go back to his own work and his own life, away from the intricate, possibly dangerous implications that house held.
He had every intention of keeping his promise to Bill to go and make sure the suspect they had arrested after days of investigating was processed correctly and gave them enough for a conviction, that was never in doubt. What he still had reservations about was walking out of there, leaving his partner to sleep off his fever. Alone.
Technically, he could do it, it’s not like Bill’s life was in danger. Problem was, his battered, stubborn creature of a heart wouldn't let him.
After being stuck there for a good five minutes, he gave himself a metaphorical shake and picked up both sets of keys. First things first, he would go the fusion cell office and see the work down, he could decide the rest after.
Colin met with Nikki directly on the floor where the interrogation room was. He had shoot her a text from the SUV, letting her know he was on his way to the office.
She greeted him with a head nod, standing with her arms crossed in front of the two"way mirror looking into the interrogation room. Their suspect was in there, sitting at the table, hands handcuffed and chained to a ring embedded into the surface, a bottle of water next to him.
There was another woman at Nikki’s side, shorter than her, with her dark brown hair held in a high ponytail that brushed her shoulders. Everything about her said “fed”, from the way she held herself to the serious, almost somber look she regarded him with.
Maggie Bell, Colin thought, recognizing her from the one time they had briefly worked together a few months ago. That was just perfect, they couldn’t have sent some other, random agent, no, they had to pick the one he had had a not so brilliant first encounter with.
Nikki regarded Colin with a sideways look when he stopped at her side. “Welcome. It will be you and agent Bell in there. I already briefed her and we went over the case files together. I’ll monitor from here. Are you good to start?”
Colin ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, sure.”
He would have very much liked a coffee before diving in, but life was unfair like that.
Maggie studied him, the corners of her mouth trending downwards. “You’re more familiar with the case, so I’ll let you take the lead. Don’t make me regret it.”
Pleasure to work with you too, agent Bell. Colin gave his best impression of a professional smile.
“Of course.” He moved for the door, opened it for her. “After you.”
She sent one last glare his way before entering the room. Colin caught Nikki’s eyes over the woman’s head, lifted his eyebrows in a private, wordless reaction. Nikki just inclined her head, in what read like both an understanding nod and a warning gesture.
“Good luck”, she whispered and he was sure he saw the beginning of an amused smile on her lips.
The interrogation had been a success, in the sense that they had gotten the information they needed, including names and even a phone number, which would be quiet useful to keep digging in the behind the scenes of the whole thing. Colin had managed to dig out the location of the missing car too, which had earned him a begrudgingly impressed look from Maggie.
Colin had been meticulous, even writing down notes (something Bill usually did), had checked that all procedures had been followed as they should, down to the transfer of custody to the FBI.
The entire process had taken a few hours, between the passage of intel with Maggie and the other two agents sent over for the transport, the writing of reports and updating the case files.
When the whole bureaucratic ordeal had been concluded and the suspect was safely loaded in the feds SUV, Maggie lingered for a second, dark eyes boring through Colin.
She was quiet an intense woman, this one. He could see why Bill liked to work with her: she was sharp, quick, had a great instinct for picking up a person’s weaknesses and soft spots and use them to her advantage. They had played off each other quiet well in the interrogation room, after the first moments on hesitation when they both were trying to get each other measures.
The whole ordeal had been a not so pleasant reminder of how much he was taking for granted the connection he now had with Bill: how easy and immediate things were with him, how something just a look was enough to communicate, how they had learned to catch up to the other on the fly.
Was he actually starting to reevaluate feds? No, Colin told himself, it was just a fluke, he had appreciated finding competence and efficiency, that was all. The one fed he could actually bear for more than a couple hours at a time was his partner and that was only because he had been mellowing out the most pointy, coriaceous spikes of his federal upbringing over the course of their partnership.
To his surprise, Maggie extended a hand to him. “That was good work.”
Colin hid his stupor behind a mask of professional courtesy and shook her hand. “Right back at you.”
Her grip was strong, solid, and she looked him in the eyes the whole time. When she let go, she
burrowed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, which made her appear slightly more approachable.
“You’re not too bad, after all”, she admitted. “Maybe I judged you a bit too harshly.”
Uh, that was new. A fed backtracking and acknowledging to be wrong? It was almost unheard of in his experience. It was also not really true, he’d been quiet the menace when they had first met each other, even he could see it now. Hindsight being perfect and all.
He’d be damned if he told her that, though. So he smiled, polite and agreeable. “Glad I could change your mind.”
She just nodded, serious again. “Did not say it was changed. Have a good evening.”
Before he could reply, she was turning and walking away, letting the exit door close behind her.
Nikki had been a few steps away, busy typing away on her phone. She made her way towards him now, taking in the scene before her.
She looked him up and down, as if she was evaluating a dress on a mannequin. “I approved Bill’s days off. Next time the request should come from the interested party, though, just so you know.”
Colin nodded, putting a conscious effort into keeping his face blank. “Of course.”
They way she was observing him had him feeling exposed, like she could see inside his brain and pick out all the thoughts swirling in there, the bad ones, the angry ones, the nostalgic one he tried really hard to sink as deep as possible. She was good like that, and he was feeling raw enough to might just let something slip.
Bill’s apartment keys were a leaden weight in his jacket pocket, he could almost picture them burn a hole in the fabric and fall to ground right there at Nikki’s feet, an unmistakable proof he could not deny. Proof of what, he wasn’t sure.
“Anything else I should know?”, Nikki asked.
“I did drive an FBI SUV. Twice”, Colin admitted, holding out the car keys for her to see. “I don’t know if it’s something that should be reported or documented.”
She frowned slightly. “It’s fine, if anyone asks I’ll tell them I approved it. I’m surprised Bill let you, though.”
Bill liked to be the one driving, first because he was a bit of a control freak, and second because the one time he had let Colin drive… well, they had arrived at their destination quickly, but they had spent twenty minutes arguing because apparently the FBI frowned upon cutting stop sings (even in obviously clear intersections) and riding the curbs. So now Colin didn’t drive.
He shrugged, dismissive. Not guilty at all. “He was feverish, tired. We decided it was safer if I dropped him off at home.”
Nikki briefly raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Okay then. Let’s go, we still have a lot of paperwork to go through.”
They took the elevator back to the fusion cell office floor, where they split up to dive into the last leg of the day’s work.
After actions reports, interrogation transcripts, evidence logs… It was all stuff he shared with Bill under normal circumstances, more often than not crammed at the same desk, because they both kept going back and forth between the same documents and it was just easier this way. Bill had even started keeping post"it notes and colorful markers in his desk drawers, since Colin liked to use them when pouring over cases to help him visualize connections between people, events, clues, and write down theories.
He told himself that was why he was now sitting at the desk labeled “B. Goodman” now, only for the stationary.
When he finally wrapped up everything, the sun was starting to set. Most of the other occupants of the office had already gone for the day, leaving only him, Nikki and a couple other analysts still typing away. At least Colin had gotten his coffee though.
He leaned back in his (Bill’s) chair, flexing his neck to try and stretch out the aches in the muscles. He checked his phone, found no new notifications waiting for him, then got up, tidied up the desk a bit and pulled on his jacket. A soft metal clink coming from the breast pocket reminded him of the keys still resting there, waiting for him to make a decision.
His brow knitted in a frustrated frown. Life was much easier when he didn’t have anyone he cared about around, so many less details and choices to stress about. Well, he had always had Nikki, but it was different with her, she was solid, like a mountain rooted deeply into the ground, unshakable and strong. She’d picked up his broken pieces many more times than he’d ever seen a crack in her armor.
Hoping to lend even an ounce of her stoic, quiet strength, he stopped by her office, knocking softly on the open door. She looked from her laptop, eyes softening when she saw it was him.
“I’m done with the paperwork”, he announce, feeling like a child telling his mum he had finished his homework. “And I wanted to leave you these”, he added retrieving the SUV keys from his pocket. “I’m sure someone at the FBI will sleep sounder knowing you have them and not me.”
Nikki smirked, watching him leave them on her desk. “That was great work you did. You and Bill”, she said closing her PC.
He leaned a shoulder against the door frame. “Yeah, thanks.”
“How are you finding it, having a fixed partner?” She inclined her head slightly when asking this. “I know you we’re exactly thrilled with the idea at first.”
He hadn’t been shy with his discontent at the idea of being paired up with someone, especially a fed. “Shackled to a dweeb in a suit” were the exact words he’d used. Nikki had heard him out, patient but firm, then sent him back on his way with the choice of being parked behind a desk sifting through internet posts looking for possible national security level threats or swallow his pride and accept his new reality.
He held her gaze, keeping his whole body relaxed, a blank slate. “It’s fine. At least I still get to keep working the field.”
Nikki nodded. “Right. Jubal told me they’re quiet happy on his side with the results you two are bringing. This relationship must be working.”
Colin offered her a sharp, sarcastic grin. “Oh yes, we’re actually in the process of choosing rings right now.”
She leaned back on her chair, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Don’t forget to send me an invite for the big day then. Go home, get some rest. Let me finish here so I can do the same.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Colin bowed his head in a mock salute. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She went back to her laptop. “Tell Bill I hope he feels better soon.”
Colin was already turned around, which was good, because his instinctive reaction was to raise his eyes to the sky with a sigh.
Colin climbed the stairs, a plastic bag of takeout food hanging from one elbow. Another, smaller bag with its handle threaded through his fingers swung with each step, clinking softly with the keys he held.
He tried not to think too much about where he was going, what he would say. He actually kind of hoped he wouldn’t have to say anything, just drop the bags and go, saving himself the embarrassment of admitting to care.
The apartment door appeared before him when he turned the corner, exactly as he had left it a few hours before. His heart picked up its rhythm, the little sucker. Since when had it stopped being a shriveled, cold thing sitting heavy and silent in his chest?
Colin forced himself to ignore it, and kept walking. He fidgeted with the keys for a second, both to find the right one and to buy himself some time. As he was about to insert the key in the latch, the door opened from the inside, stopping him in his tracks like a deer caught in the headlights.
Bill was in front of him, still pale and with dark circles under his eyes, but looking stronger and more solid. He had showered, according to the slightly damp hairs curling at his temples, and changed into sweatpants and a hoodie with a college logo stitched over the chest.
“You stole my keys”, he said scowling.
Colin regained his composure after a second of hesitation, handing back the incriminated keys. “Couldn’t risk you making a run for it. Nikki would have never let me hear the end of it.”
Bill sighed softly, picking them up. “Right.”
“Good to see you’re back to you usual sunny disposition”, Colin commented, biting back a grin.
The man in front of him just rolled his eyes, not dignifying him with an answer. He then did something Colin did not expect: he stepped back and gestured him in with a resigned “come in”, like it was an obvious, unavoidable consequence of Colin showing up at his door unannounced.
His feet moved for him, carrying him inside, finger still clutching the bags, his brain lagging behind a bit. Bill closed the door behind him, left the keys on the top of a tall, thin dresser just next to it, which was already occupied by the little notepad and pen he carried with him on the job.
“You can leave those on the table if you want”, he added with a nod towards the bags in Colin’s hands.
He did just that, depositing them on the kitchen table, making sure the contents were still safe.
Colin then turned around, facing a softer, more vulnerable version of his partner he had never thought he’d get to see. The baggy clothes partially hid his broad shoulder, the sharp edges of his body, making him seem younger, less imposing. A stark contrast to the cutting figure he presented in his suits and ties, accentuated by the slightly messy hair, curling freely at his neck, at his forehead. They were longer, fuller that Colin expected.
Colin flexed his fingers at his sides, fighting the urge to raise a hand to check his temperature again. He had no right to touch him like that, not now that the urgent part had passed and they were both back to their predetermined roles.
“The suspect interrogation is done, paperwork is done, the op is officially in its final stages”, he said instead, steering towards safer, more reliable topics.
A visible sigh of relief passed through Bill. “Thank you. I… I really appreciate that. Who did they send with you?”
“Maggie Bell”, Colin answered, a flash of the woman’s judging face appearing in his mind.
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Did you behave?”
“Of course, I was a perfect gentleman”, Colin scoffed.
Bill pressed his lips in a tight line that Colin had a strong suspicion was a way to hide a smile. “I can imagine.”
He was looking at him with eyes bright and soft with gratitude. It made Colin want to flee. It kept him rooted in place.
Colin cleared his throat, fixing his gaze somewhere, anywhere else. “Also, your car is in the office garage. I left the keys with Nikki.”
“Thanks.” A pause, a deep breath. “And thank you for driving me home, putting up with me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I only did that to get in the FBI good graces, don’t flatter yourself”, Colin joked tilting his head to the side. “Who knows when it could come in handy.”
Bill smiled, genuine, amused. “Of course, silly me for thinking otherwise.”
“Just don’t ever do it again”, Colin turned serious, brown knitting in a pretend frown. “All that responsibility and paperwork almost gave me an ulcer.”
Bill lowered his gaze, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Right, sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”
A tiny voice in Colin’s head called him a liar: he would have done it all again, the reports, the interrogation from hell with Maggie Bell, dealing with the FBI transport team, everything, for him. Hell, he probably would volunteer himself just to make sure the job was done right.
He didn’t like to think too much about it though, it felt like a weakness, a fault in his armor. And the problem with such defects was that things might get in.
Colin took a deep breath, locked all those annoying, unhelpful thoughts away and squared his shoulders. “I’ll let you get some rest. I… I brought you some chicken soup to eat, some more ibuprofen and vitamin C.” He nodded to the bags on the table. “Next round of paperwork is on you, you better get your strength back quick.”
Bill’s eyes followed his gesture towards the table and the contents on it. He went still for a moment, almost like he needed time to come to terms with what he was seeing. It was just food, Colin thought, it’s not like he had slayed a dragon for him and laid it at his feet. Then again, he was talking to the man who had rather risk going into septic shock from a burst appendix than taking two hours to go see a doctor. He probably was not familiar with the idea of making his own health a priority.
“That’s…” Bill started, the words dying on his lips. “I mean, thank you, you did not have to do that. It’s… thank you.”
Something under Colin’s ribs twitched in an almost painful manner.
“Much to my displeasure, I kind of need you to do the work, you’re my partner. It’s like the saying goes, in sickness and in health and all that,” he muttered, shrugging.
Bill looked back at him, eyes wide. “Those are marriage vows.”
CIA and FBI united in a faithless, painstaking union to try and do some good, wasn’t that something?
“It does feel like a marriage sometimes”, Colin admitted, because he could not backtrack now, could he?
Besides, wasn’t it true? There had been no fancy ceremony, no witnesses, no celebration, but since the moment Colin had trusted Bill with his suspicions about Toni’s death (when he was still blissfully ignorant of the truth) they had swore a silent oath to each other.
Something had changed in their relationship that evening, the walls both had built around each other shifting to accommodate the other. In the beginning it had felt like a breach in his defense, unforgivable and stupid in the eyes of his hardened survival instinct. Now, it was second nature.
Each time he walked into the unknown, towards a sketchy informant, a murder with international links, a buy of illegal material, he knew his side was covered.
A corner of Bill’s mouth twitched, the beginning of a smile. “It does.”
Colin nodded, not trusting his voice. He ordered his body to move, to cross the room until he was in front of the door, a hand on the doorknob, where it was safe and professional for him to be.
Bill watched him go, then stepped closer. He raised a hand and carefully put it on his forearm, his little finger touching the bare skin of Colin’s wrist. He gave him a soft squeeze.
“Thank you again,” he said, looking him in the eyes like it was the most natural thing.
Colin allowed himself two second to hold his gaze, to linger in that closeness, before muttering “of course” and opening the door. Bill’s hand fell away, the softness in his face remained.
“See you at the office”, he added.
“After your sick days are over,” Colin reminded him, arching an eyebrow.
Bill rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Then the door closed between them. Something between a sigh and a bark of laughter escaped Colin’s breathless lungs. He racked his hands through his hair, astonished at himself.
He made himself walk, climb down the stairs, exit the building into the colder air of the evening.
He stood on the sidewalk, watching the traffic go by in front of him, the noises of the city mixing in the background of his very loud mind.
“Fuck”, he growled, earning a judging look by a passing elderly woman.
He had really gone and fallen for his partner, hadn’t he?