Chapter Text
Bill’s heard about Holden’s panic disorders; he’s seen the way the kid gets wound up, starts wheezing in the slightest. He remembers seeing Holden’s face, white as a sheet, and how he didn’t stop staring off into the distance when they got t-boned by that prick of a shitty driver. He was there to pick Holden up at the hospital, to give him a fresh change of clothes.
He had never seen Holden like that.
But in all honesty, Holden should get over himself. Not like he was the only individual dealing with any external or internal stressors.
Wendy’s been all sharp scowls and gritted teeth since their last meeting, arms crossed and tense. But she still did her job damn well. While Bill was happy to keep doing what they were doing, he could tell Wendy wanted a change. What that meant for the group? Bill didn’t know.
She had done well on the interviews. She was too smart for her own good - her small conversations with him had been intelligent but genuine. Wendy was someone that Bill didn’t mind sharing silence with.
Holden, on the other hand, struggled with it. Ever since day one, Holden always wanted to interject some sort of conversation, keep things moving. He could never sit still. Bill watched him out the corner of his eye when they drove, saw how he fidgeted occasionally on a long ride. Noticed how he bit at his nails, but never chewed them off. Anxiety, stress; common things for their job. Talking with murderers was never an easy thing — Bill could feel his stomach twisting during some of the conversations, and whenever he looked at Holden, somehow his face was usually calm. Most likely internalizing whatever dread or fear he was taking on.
But the new duress Holden’s been under, he seems to be managing it worse since Atlanta. Bill’s been happy to pin two of the kills to someone - that was one less person causing havoc out there. Like all other situations, Holden didn’t feel like it was enough.
‘Don’t be fucking ridiculous Holden. You did good.’
‘It’s not enough, Bill. Someone’s still out there, killing these boys. How can you be so relaxed about this when you’re a parent too?’
In a sudden surge of rage, Bill left with heavy steps and a slammed office door. In the last couple of days, he had shared what was going on with Brian, had shared Nancy’s move, told Holden about the first call he got from her. But Bill decided over the past couple of months to never give him the full story. Even while they had lied in bed together for a couple of days just after it had happened.
Nancy’s voice wasn’t sad, wasn’t distant. In fact, she sounded happy. 'We’re taking a break, Bill. Brian’s okay. We just needed a change of scenery. I don’t want to tell Brian everything that’s going on, it’ll stress him out too much. No need to alert everyone to the ‘D’ word around here.’
We. Not just Brian, but Nancy too. She told him over the phone that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring since she moved. Divorce proceedings - the words still throw him off.
It felt odd, sleeping on the couch she had left behind, in a home that was completely devoid of any life. Holden had provided some sort of comfort in the initial aftershock, but Bill didn't feel right staying over. Nancy was still his wife and Holden- he didn't quite know what Holden was to him.
After the first week, Wendy had offered him a room in her apartment. Bill was ready to decline - he figured Wendy didn't actually want him to live there temporarily - but when he opened his mouth, Wendy gave him one of her 'don't be foolish' kind of looks.
"I asked someone to move in, and it didn’t work out. The room’s just sitting there empty. I’m not home most of the time, so it would work just fine. It’s a ten minute drive away - just take the damn room, Bill."
So it’s how he finds himself sitting on the spare bed in his pajamas, suitcase open on the dresser, reading over the transcripts from their latest interview, photos splayed out at his side. It was nice, not having to lock his work away - there was no fear of Brian finding it.
He misses him. A lot.
The phone rings in the living room, and Bill looks to the closed door, remembering that it’s not his call to answer. Nothing here is his, except for his life in the suitcase. He looks back down to the paper, skimming over the words.
"Wendy - hi, it’s Holden. I’m trying to get in touch with Bill but he’s not answering his home phone? It sounds disconnected, it just keeps doing the busy signal - can you get him to call me tonight? I also didn’t realize you got one of these messages machines…"
At the sound of Holden’s voice saying his name, Bill stumbles out of the bed and quickly grabs the phone before the message clicks off.
“Holden?”
“Bill?”
“Yeah, hey.”
“What are you doing at Wendy’s? Am I interrupting-”
“No.” Bill pinches the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t wanted to bother Holden with any of this, wanted to keep things smooth at work (and he was doing a terrible job of it) but the silence on the other line makes him sigh. “We’re- taking a break. I’m staying with Wendy for the sake of sleeping in an actual bed and having cutlery. Nancy took everything. Except the couch. I always hated that couch.”
“Oh. Bill— I didn't it had... I'm sorry."
“Thanks, Holden. It’ll sort out.” Bill knows it’s not true but he’s not sure what he’d do without the thought of it working out with Nancy. She had been his rock for over a decade. “What do you need?”
Silence again on the other line. Bill finds himself growing impatient.
“Can we go for a walk?” It’s an odd tone, coming from Holden. He almost sounds on the brink of crying.
“What? At this hour? Holden—”
“Please, Bill. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
That’s not true. Holden asks for shit all the time, whether it’s important or not. But in the end, there’s usually a beneficial result.
“Shit, fine. I’ll come get you and we can… go to the park or something.”
“Thank you, Bill.” And Bill doesn’t bother saying anything back before he hangs up. Looking out the window, it looks be drizzling. He gets dressed, grabs his rain coat, and just as he’s about to head out the door, it clicks open and Wendy steps in, a look of surprise on her face at seeing Bill.
“Oh. Were you heading out?”
“Yeah. Just- got a few things to do.”
“At this hour? Well, enjoy.” She smiles at him and walks past him, dropping her keys in the dish. Bill lingers for a moment, wondering if he should say anything. “Are you going to see Holden?”
Just as Bill’s about to leave, he freezes, shifts from one foot to the other. “Why do you say that?”
“Just a guess. He’s not feeling very well today. Earlier— he mentioned you.” Wendy’s hiding a sly smile, but Bill can see it. She’s not being completely honest with him, but when does Wendy ever give the full picture? “It’s nothing to be concerned about. I’ll see you around.” She turns her back, done with the conversation and Bill mumbles a goodbye before closing the door behind him.
-
He pulls up to Holden’s and steps out of the car, and when he’s halfway to the front steps of the apartment building, Holden steps out of the entrance way.
It’s odd, to see Holden in jeans.
Holden gives him a small wave, and Bill nods towards the car.
They sit in silence, and just like every damn time, Bill can see Holden fidgeting. For the first time, to Bill’s surprise, Holden doesn’t say anything. He's been weird around Bill, in the office, in the car, at the cafe, ever since they had slept together.
-
The park isn’t very well lit, but the street lights keep it from being completely obscured by darkness. Bill parks and closes the door behind him, keeping an eye on Holden, who walks up beside him.
“You good?” They stand shoulder to shoulder, and Holden looks up at Bill with a soft expression, lips slightly parted. He nods.
The ground is damp from the rain from earlier, and there’s a cold chill hanging in the air that has Bill hugging his arms to himself. Even with a jacket on, the chill bites through him. Holden’s wearing a grey pull over hoodie, no jacket. Kid must be frozen.
“Bill, I can’t stop thinking about Atlanta.”
Here we go.
In all honesty, Bill had thought Holden was going to go off about their tirade almost a three months ago. It hadn’t evolved into much. Bill didn't want to overstay any welcome. Even though Holden seemed to enjoy it, he always seemed distant. At this point, Bill had been over to Holden’s place four separate times. Once in the past week - after a couple of whiskeys.
The talk about Atlanta isn’t a fun either though.
“Yeah?”
“It’s—those women, Bill. They banded together and they had a goal, and they were smart, but they just weren’t… able do anything about it. It must be terrifying to feel that helpless all the time. No one took them seriously. They still don’t.” Once Holden got started talking about a case, Bill found that sex was the last thing on his mind.
Glancing over at Holden, he’s biting his lower lip and a strong sense of empathy is written all over his gentle features. His breath is slightly stunted and he's talking faster than he can keep up with.
“What if it were Brian? And no one was taking you seriously? How much anger would you feel? What would it drive you to do—”
“Don’t bring Brian into this. We've done this already - remember?”
“Sorry.”
“Holden, what the fuck is this really about? A park? Really?” And Bill’s never been one to mince his words, especially when it comes to Holden. “In the middle of the night? Wendy knows.”
“Wendy doesn’t know.”
“Don’t discredit her. She’s sharper than you.” The comment makes Holden pout. Bill can see the kid’s back straighten out, and there’s something about his expression that changes. It’s a little shift, but Bill’s been good on picking up on Holden’s cues, especially since Gunn made Bill his babysitter.
It’s funny how that’s turned out.
There’s a glassy look in Holden’s eyes, and Bill doesn’t clearly see it until they walk under a street lamp. Bill exhales sharply in frustration. He stops walking and grabs Holden's arm.
“Get it out, will you?”
And that seems to do it. Suddenly, Holden’s breathing is shallow and quick, and he’s backing up from Bill, raising his hand to his chest.
“Bill—”
Seeing Holden like this, his knees trembling and face flushing red, Bill wants to move forward to comfort him. At first, he had thought the panic was a made up thing, something that Holden could resort to if he was feeling uncomfortable. A way to escape. But as he turns away and makes his way to a park bench, reaching out as if he were drowning, Bill feels a lurch in his stomach.
He walks over to the bench and sits down next to Holden, who reaches for the little orange bottle that Bill’s noticed over the Atlanta cases. Shuffling over, Bill touches the back of Holden’s shoulders and he can feel a flinch under his hand. After a moment, Holden relaxes into his touch.
“Don’t.” Bill mumbles, plucking the pill bottle from Holden’s quivering fingers.
Holden, much to Bill’s surprise, doesn’t put up much of a fight. Bill returns his hand to Holden’s back, feeling the sweat through the material of his hoodie.
In the distance, Bill picks up the sight of a figure and within a few quiet moments, it’s a woman walking her dog. Bill gives her a small smile, and she looks straight ahead, not meeting his eyes.
He removes his hand from Holden’s back.
“Come on - let me take you home. You’re shivering.”
“Uh..." Holden swallows, looking down at his lap. "Will you stay again?”
Bill hates that question. He had stupidly set up expectations on their first night.
“No. Wendy knows I’m seeing you tonight. I would prefer not to arouse any suspicion, especially with the divorce.” The word feels like a hot coal in his throat. The therapists must love it to explain Brian’s fucked up state. Nancy said it would give them an answer, and give her something to build off from to create a new life. 'No more murder talks at the dinner table', she had said with disdain in her voice. It had only taken two fucking months. How long had she been processing that information before dropping it on him?
“Right.” Holden’s breathing slows, and Bill can see him focusing in on it. “Just one. Please. I can’t—”
In his palm, Bill offers him one small pill. Holden grabs it and leans back, dry swallowing it and looking to the dark sky. Bill looks at his throat. He takes out a smoke to busy his hands and distract his head.
The rain begins to come down, and Bill struggles to light his cigarette. “Fucking Christ…” It doesn’t take long for the rain to grow heavy and soak through them both, and Holden’s able to get onto his feet and walk back to the car, Bill’s hand on the small of his back. When they rush into the car and slam the doors, they both exhale slowly.
Bill laughs and Holden looks at him.
“You bring me out to a park in the middle of the night, have one of your panic disorders things, and soak me to the bone with the rain. You know, I was happily sitting on my bed when you called. I was also dry.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“Sure I did, Holden.” Bill turns his head and looks at Holden.. “You’re a pain in my ass, but…” Holden was there for him when he needed it. It would be cruel of him to not reciprocate, especially after the past two times when Holden didn’t turn him away. “It’s good. Let me take you home.”
Holden doesn’t ask again about Bill staying, but he nods and looks out the window. Bill shrugs out of his jacket, throwing it onto the backseat. It lands with a solid slap, and Bill knows he’ll need a hot shower when he gets back to Wendy’s. He’s not going into Holden’s place because he has a feeling he won’t leave if he’s sucked in.
They drive in silence, and Bill could get accustomed to this sort of driving. Oddly enough, it feels out of sorts, like Holden’s not fully there.
It could be the Valium.
When they arrive, Holden's out of the car before Bill turns the ignition. He watches Holden for a moment walk up the stairs, and when he holds the door open for Bill, Bill gets out of the car and crosses the rain soaked street.
"Look, you're home, I should go."
"Just come in to kiss me goodbye, Bill?" And in the rain, with Holden looking like that, almost doe eyed, Bill can't decline. They go up the stairs, loud at this time of the night, and Bill wills himself to stop in the entrance way when he closes the door behind him. He doesn't take off his shoes.
"You're soaked - come shower." Holden turns around and his hands reach out to the collar of Bill's shirt.
"Holden."
"You'll catch a cold."
"Whose fault would that be?"
"Definitely not mine. You were out in the rain on your own accord." Holden closes the space between them, and Bill resigns to a kiss, tender and soft, and it feels good to kiss Holden sober.
The apartment is dark, and Bill can hear the rain whipping against the window pane. Holden makes his knees weak, and he blames Holden for the way he pushes him up against the wall, kissing him against the surface. It's like a match striking, and Bill wants nothing more than to consume Holden, keep him here, just the two of them. They're a wet mess of limbs, and Bill can feel his stomach drop as Holden presses his hard on into Bill's thigh.
"You're relentless."
"And you're staying." Holden whines, and Bill has to peel himself away.
"No. Not tonight."
"When?"
"Another time."
A look of annoyance flickers across Holden's face, and he stumbles away, waving his hand. "Alright. Go. See you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow, Holden. Get some sleep." He watches as Holden undresses, leaving a trail of clothes to the bathroom. He closes the door before the briefs come off, and Bill sighs before leaving, thinking about that ass as he trudges down the stairs.
Bill tells himself that it's nothing. That Nancy'll rescind the divorce papers, that things will work out just fine, or that even if the proceedings go through, he'll find someone new - a nice girl. But hell, he's too old to try and date again and most women his age are already happily or unhappily married.
The idiot in him says that Holden's his only option. It makes him laugh.
-
"You're back sooner than I expected." Wendy's eyes flicker over the paper she's reading, a soft classical tune is playing from the record, and Bill tosses his keys into their spot on a table. He has a simple triangular black ceramic dish, and Wendy has a dark blue one. In the dark, they're hard to tell apart.
"He's fine. Holden's just being a baby, as usual." He hangs his jacket on the door and grabs a towel, making sure to stuff it underneath to collect the water.
"Good to hear it wasn't anything important."
"Yeah. Me too."
As Bill walks down the hall and into the bathroom, he closes the door and flips the fan on. Throwing his wet clothes into the sink, he hears Wendy's voice. He opens the door slightly.
"What?"
The record player is paused. "Don't fuck up this dynamic, Bill. I left Boston for this. Without Holden, there is no Behavioural Science Unit."
"You realize I created this before him, right?"
She laughs. "And he made it into something special. We both know that. Don't be an idiot, Bill." The record pin drops, and the music continues.
Bill closes the bathroom door.
Something special.
Shit.