Strings
Rick sure wouldn't call himself an expert on what his teammates truly felt but he was learning. Take Michael, who tended to throw in little bits and pieces within a conversation in the hopes that no one noticed he actually said it. Casey opened up when he heard and saw others doing the same, and Billy talked, he talked a lot.
Which was why, as Rick stopped short on a scene unfolding in the corridor of the CIA, seemed like a rare opportunity to get to know a little bit more about one of his teammates.
One man and one woman stood gazing longingly across the hall from one another. Neither moved and in some moments failed to breath. Like statues made of stone, beautiful in the day till the cast of shadows caused by the night reminded all that not everything could always be blissful and bright. Eyes roamed the other, searching, memorizing, trying to imprint features into the collection already made years back. To fit them into a moment of time untouchable by the rest of the world, knowing all the while some things where maybe not meant to be.
Rick hesitantly shuffled up to the one figure closest to him and also the one he knew. Not even sure if he should break the spell, though from the looks of things this yearning could only lead to heartbreak in the end.
"You all right?" Rick asked, glancing up to watch the Scot stare fixed in front of him at the woman down the hall and remain there even after she blinked, bent her head and turned the corner.
Hands stuffed deep in pockets and eyes still trained on the hope of something more, Billy slowly hitched in a breath filled with halcyon days of the past, then let it out as it whispered away on a distant memory. Blinking several times he turned to Rick with a put upon grin.
"Aye, I hear Casey's springing for a pint later." Looking back up he continued, "You joinin'?"
And strangely, that seemed like enough for Rick. For the tricky thing he learned about Billy, was one could get so lost in tales of nonsense or exciting adventures that a filter was needed or else you would come away from the conversation with a good laugh but no wiser on what was truly going on in Operative Collins head. Because it wasn't about the words he spoke aloud, but about the ones he didn't say that mattered. Those were the true feelings of one lone Scotsman who hid behind his grins and his speeches. One only had to stop and listen and in between hear exactly what was at the heart of the matter, to get the full picture.
Still looking at Billy who was still looking down the hall, Rick softly spoke, "Wouldn't miss it."