Author's Notes: Beta'd by faye-dartmouth, who has also drawn me into that fandom with her awesome stories.
There is an off-screen major character death in this story. Also this is my first time writing a Chaos fic. I also needed to rewrite an paragraph about personal effect after Saturday's episode aired, this part is unbeta'd so all mistakes you find are mine :)
The Parting Glass
Michael let himself fall back heavily into the chair. It rolled backwards for a few inches, before he stopped the motion with his feet. A deep sigh left him as he stared at the desk before him. An empty box was sitting on his knees, waiting to be filled with the little things that made that desk special.
It wasn't the first time that he had to clean out a fellow operative's desk, but this time it certainly felt like the hardest.
Taking a deep breath, Michael knew that he had to start, whether he wanted it to or not. He started with the small blue stress ball, kneading it a couple of times before he dropped into the box. There was an old wrapper from a chocolate bar that he threw in the trash can. His eyes scanned the desk and his heart got heavy when he realized that there weren't any more personal effects than that little blue ball.
This was their office for more than six years. Rick still had his old baseball hidden away in a drawer of his desk container. Hell, even Casey had some small training equipment stashed away. And Michael was an avid reader. He had always stored his current book on his desk rather than taking it home, since most of them were work related anyway. While nothing was too personal, it still showed the character of the desk owner. But Billy's desk was clean, nothing that reflected his personality, nothing that showed that he had been working here for so long.
A sob forced its way up Michael's throat and he tried hard to suppress it. More than six years and they hardly knew anything about Billy. While he had been talking more than anybody else on the team, he had actually said nothing at all. And now they hadn't had the chance to get to know the Scot.
Silent tears made their way down his cheeks. He had planned that mission and he had send Billy out to his death. The guilt was slowly but steadily eating at him and now sitting in Billy's chair, looking at the lonely stress ball laying in the corner of the big, empty box, it threatened to destroy him.
Footsteps coming into the room made him look up and he saw Casey and Rick, standing side by side in the doorway. Both men looked worn, older than just a few days ago.
And that was Michael's fault too. He had let them down.
"We, ehm, we were going to be pub. Have a drink on, on Billy," Rick stuttered, refusing eye contact and trying to look everywhere but at Billy's desk.
"And we're not doing it alone," Casey added.
Michael's eyes scoured over the desk again, only to land back on the blue stress ball. He picked it up and kneaded it a few times before he got up. Billy was gone and it was his fault, but he also knew that the Scot wouldn't want them to be sad. After all, Billy had always tried and mostly managed to brighten up even the most dire situations.
"Yeah," Michael sighed, "let's go." He left the box on Billy's chair, the stress ball still in his hand. Giving it another quick squeeze, he left it on his own desk, where it sat right beside his keyboard. Where it would stay until someone would clean out Michael's desk.
The End
