/ / / /

Seven weeks pass before Will sees her again. He's convinced himself it was a temporary sort of insanity.

Diego and him are at SuperDawgs, because it's a well established behavior that food is a necessity when D is trying to avoid feeling nervous or stressed. He always gets this way after a gunfire call, moreso when it has something to do with gangbangers. They pointedly ignore that there's still a kid's - Deshawn was his name - blood on Will's vest, nor do they talk about how long they waited during the surgery or how hard Will fought to get a gang kid help. Instead he sits and thinks on the words of the woman he'd convinced, considers his place as a police officer compared to what he believes to be his duty as a human. Something about 'Protect and Serve' makes him believe that it should be extended to all.

"If he lives and kills someone, let's say a cop, how you gonna feel about that?"

It's a reality that he might have just condemned a future officer to death, but he couldn't very well let a kid bleed out in front of him. It was a hard truth, and it cut him like a knife. He thinks about what happens to his dad. Thinks about Deshawn's dad.

Diego spins and walks backward, shaking his head while he tells some joke, and Will isn't listening to him very well, partially because he's used to his best friend's antics and jokes but also because he's beginning to feel... strange; Like the colors are too bright, the buildings around are too tall. Trees are moving too much.. He covers it with a sip of his malt and laughs when Diego does, but doesn't quite understand what feels strange until he's sitting in the passenger seat of their cruiser. He sits and sets aside his malt, glances out the window and sees her. She's surrounded by sunlight like a halo, with that same blue streak and those same hazel eyes. They're dilated, lazy, but focus on him after a second and he's lost among the color while things make more sense. She's high again and he feels it, he's living it. He frowns and Riley makes a face like disbelief, her hand coming up to brush the glass as Diego hits the gas.

Will swears he feels a pressure brush across his fingers. It's ethereal and takes him a moment to remember to breathe.

"Hey, you alright man?" Diego breaks the reverie. Will jumps, rubs his face, his body feeling taut like piano wire. "Your head's been in the clouds since we left the hospital. Still worrying about that kid?"

"I- Yeah." He lies easy. By hiding it in a truth. Checks the side mirror and sees nobody behind him. "Well, no. I've been thinking about what the nurse asked actually."

"It's a good question." A nod. His partner pops a french fry in his mouth and offers them. "Probably one I should've asked when your stubborn ass wanted to save him. Kid's part of the gangs, man."

"He was just a kid, D." Will takes a fry. "You telling me you'd just leave him there? A kid that young?"
"Yeah. I think I would." He looks uncomfortable. Shifts in his seat. "And you know why? 'Cause they'd do the same damn thing to us."

They don't talk for a while. Arguing would just waste time, and Will now has other things on his mind. He sips his malt and thinks about the implications of seeing Riley when she isn't there. He does some mental math about the timing with the migraine the night they saved her life. He considers her use of drugs and the way things feel when he does see her. And while he's not against being able to see an attractive stranger, there's a chance that he belongs in a psych ward… but he somehow feels like he's not just seeing her - she's seeing him too. He feels less empty, it feels so right.

But that is crazy…

Right?

This would have been easier if he'd asked for a way to contact her like Diego had said. If he'd asked and she thought he was insane or creepy, he could simply cut ties entirely. So Will sips his malt and listens to the muffled bass of a nearby car. It's familiar, just loud enough to be heard over the revving of the engine as Diego drives. It also sticks around too long, to the point that when Diego parks at the station he gets out of the vehicle and takes a look around, frowning when the music stays. "Hey, D. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Diego takes a conspiratorial look around, "Okay, You're kinda freakin' me out, man. Are you on something?"

"Nah, I just…" He trails for a second, then shakes his head. "Thought I heard music."

"Maybe it's all in the your head." He puts his hands up and shakes them, "Fourth dimension or some bullshit." He puts his hands up, "So, do your little seance if you need, I'll be inside working. Aight?"

"Yeah…" Will takes one more look around, before shaking his head. He thinks to the music from the club two or so months ago then follows into the station. He sits at his desk and rubs his eyes at the remainder of the sunlight, then forces himself to start on the report for his call. He writes and he thinks, consults his notes and finds himself unable to quit wondering about Riley. He's seeing her around, but he's sure he's the only one. The last he 'saw' her before recently was with a face covered with blood in his mirror - could that be his subconscious telling him that she might be… dead?

Will closes his eyes, pressed his palms into them, and tries to wrestle his train of thought back on track.

Eventually he ends up searching obituaries and death notices for the name 'Riley Blue'. He checks Chicago, then Paris, London, and even Berlin. More specifically he checks for strangulation, which seems to be an MO of her attacker. He nearly types her name in a general search engine, but deems that to be a little on the creepy side. Instead he indulges his curiosity about another figure of that night; Nyx. His search of every criminal database he can access brings nil with a side of zilch, and Will is in the middle of deciding if using his father's clearance to go further is warranted in this situation before he catches himself.

"This is ridiculous." He mutters under his breath, rubbing his eyes again. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Hey." Diego gives him a look, then glances around, "I wouldn't talk to yourself, man."

"What, jealous?"

"Guys around here are already talking about you, you know. Since you been pullin' this whole exorcist, astral projection, stare-into-space act." Will snorts, but Diego continues. "I thought you were being weird when you saw that ghost woman in the road a while back. You know, the holy ghost in her underwear or what-the-fuck ever? Didn't think it'd continue."

"Guys? What guys?" Will frowns at him, pointedly ignoring the jabs. "If there's a problem, I should know about it."

He's quiet for a moment. "Nah, it'll just piss you off."

"Uh huh." The notebook hits the desk with a bit more force than he intends. "Well, whatever, I don't give a shit."

"That's part of the problem." Diego blows air, shaking his head. "You should've seen the chief's eyes on you these last few weeks."

He doesn't quite know how to respond to that right away.

"Well, what about you, D? You think I'm crazy?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Diego responds after a beat, with a smile, "But I like 'em crazy. Now finish up."

The report takes longer than it should. Far longer. The sun is down by the time they arrive at the gym. Diego chooses to whine about it long after Will apologizes. But during the sets he mulls over Nyx and Riley, tries to fill in blanks in her story of drug trade, but more importantly wonders how he got out of the country. Once the report had gone through, his name, crime - drug trade - and description would hopefully have at least been looked for. Drug trade was kind of a big deal..

He thinks back to the fight again and remembers how it ended; The man had hit his head. There was blood... If he was dead, it would mean that she was safe away from him… but maybe not from any contacts or business partners he might have. How bad was it all?

"Hey, D, what do you think ever happened to that guy at the club a few months back?"

"Huh?" Diego sets the bar back on the rack and looks at him like he's just said something absurd, "You mean the one that was getting all homicidal on that weird-accent girl you were giving the eyes?"

"Yeah." He shoots Diego a flat look and trades the bench with him. "What was his name?"

"Something weird. Nax? Nux? Ah!" He snaps, then positions himself to spot. "Nyx. I dunno, dude, probably got picked up for something. Guys like him don't stay still for long."

"Hm."

"Why do you ask?"
"Just curious." Will takes the bar in his hands and prepares himself for his set. He looks up at his partner and tries to wash the suspicion with a joke, "C'mon, You never get curious?"

"I do, same as you," Diego rolls his eyes, and Will knows the words before he says them. "I'm always curious when a pretty girl is involved."

He finishes the set before he responds, "Buzz off, Morales."

"Fuck you, Gorski." He responds in good humor, pushing his shoulder. The weights clink together as they're re-racked before a water break. Diego is chatting with other officers when Will feels that familiar…fullness he's come to associate with his visions of Riley. Like an out of body experience. He sips from his water and turns his head to look around the gym and there she is. Riley sits on one of the empty benches where he is, and in a restaurant booth where she is. There's a pair of blue headphones mixing into her hair, a gentle thumping bass that he can all but hear. He thinks the timing is far from ideal, since he's sweaty and hot, his face is probably still flushed and his shirt is sticking to him, but he bites back his smile and moves over anyway, sitting across from her and watching the flicker of surprise and recognition on her face.

She smiles when she sees him, a soft curve of her lips. They lock eyes and his insecurities wash away as the headphones come down. She's focused, sober. "I was just…"

"...thinking about you." He finishes, hiding his grin by drinking from his bottle. Her eyebrows raise and she looks around the gym, before adopting an expression between humor and bashfulness. "Really?" Her eyes flick to the surrounding equipment again, flick up and down over him. "Here? Are-" She shakes her head and furrows her brow, "This is still Chicago, right?"

"Yeah, just the gym I go to. Nothing special." He nods, then looks around where she is. Spots the Union Jack and hears the accents, "And this is in England? London, right?"
"Yeah."
"Wow, that's... That's so cool." He takes another look around, taking in the sights and the people. He can see other buildings through the windows, but not much else. "Man, I've always wanted to go."

"Well," She says with a smile that draws his attention, lifts her drink towards him. Her teeth are painfully white contrasted with her lipstick. "Here you are. Cheers."

"Yeah, but…"

"I know." She shakes the glass. Will touches his bottle to Riley's cup, marvels at how real and physical it all is, then drinks. While he knows he's drinking water, he still tastes the beer in her glass. It's dark, brisque, refreshing. With more concentration, he can taste tobacco on his lips and smell it on himself even though he knows he's never smoked a day in his life. He can even feel the weight of her hair compared to his. Excitement, wonder, and a warmth fills him, and something else unavoidable and unreadable deep underneath when their eyes meet - not all of it good. Which meant that he was experiencing her senses and feeling her emotions alongside his own, though they are fuzzy in comparison. Hesitantly, he reaches out and touches her hand. It's a confirmation of the real, he feels the warmth and softness of her skin, feels something electric. She smiles and her breath catches, a troubled look coming over her. After a moment she grabs his hand, looks down at their intermingling skin and asks; "Will, are we crazy?"

"I've asked myself that a lot, and…" He stops, spots her phone, then feels a lightbulb go off in his head. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and asks for hers, then puts his own number into the dial and hands it back. "There's no way you have this number, so when you call it shouldn't ring through, right?" She nods, then looks down at her phone. After a moment of indecision, he's entrapped by the way her eyes sparkle as she taps the call button. There's a second or two of silence, before he hears his ringtone. Will shows her the phone with a triumphant smile, then winks and calls out, "Diego!" followed by standing and moving over to his friend. Will presents the phone to him and waves at his ear. "Hey, man, there's something going on with my hearing, mind picking this up for me?"

"Uh, sure." Diego gives him a look. Still, he takes the phone, taps the button and asks, "Hello?"

"Uh, hi." To his side, he sees Riley light up. He hears the noise of the weight room through her handset. A flash of triumph goes through him, "Is Will there?"

"Uh, yeah, one sec." Diego hits the mute button and considers the phone for a second. Recognition washes over his face and he shoots Will a very flat look. "It's weird accent chick."

"Weird accent?" Riley repeats, unhappy. Will parrots the same question reflexively, "Weird accent?"
"Yeah, the hot one from that club, remember?" Diego shakes his head and hands him the phone, steps closer. He lowers his voice with a grin. "Thought you didn't have her number, playa'."

"I like him." His visitor gives Diego the once over and shrugs her shoulder.

"Oh, right. Thanks." Will takes the phone and unmutes it as he leaves. He sets the handpiece up to his ear and hears himself say twice, "Safe to say we're not crazy."

"Oh my god." She smiles, this time wide and bright. "This is so cool."

"Wow." He can't stop the smile, even as they hang up and return to where they were both sitting before. Or, at least, he returns to where he was sitting in his space. To her neither of them had moved. It takes him a second to adjust to being in two places at once, but once he does he looks at Riley and feels the both of them begin to have questions. How did this visiting thing work, they don't know. Why them, they don't know. And... Her smile disappears when he hits the third. His good mood sobers. "I was worried about you, after the whole thing with Nyx."

"Oh. I'm fine." She blinks, takes a drink, and seems to deflate. "It... turned out okay."

"But the fight-"

"You?" A revelation seems to come to her. Riley rubs her neck, where wire marks had once pocked her skin. "That was you."

"I- yeah. Are you okay?" There's a pregnant pause, "I'm sorry, if it's none of my business-"

"I'm fine. Just… it's complicated." He can feel her lying, intuitively and in a way that he wasn't prepared to face. Riley takes a look around both physical spaces and frowns. Will can't help himself from pressing further, he asks if Nyx has bothered her any more and she draws in on herself. He can feel her fear and anxiety like a coil in his gut. He feels it like it's his own. She furrows her brow and looks at him. It becomes apparent that she's coming to the same conclusion. "I-I should get to sleep."

"Oh, okay." He nods, glancing at the time. "Right, it must be pretty late over there."

"Dj hours." She offers as a way of explanation, placing a hand on his forearm. "Good night, Will." Will watches her stand, walk and when he blinks next she and London are gone. The space in his chest appears again. He stares at his phone for a long time, wondering if he shouldn't have asked anything at all.

/ / / /

Diego thinks he's insane when he mentions going to see the gang kid.

Well, not in so little words, and not just Diego is saying them. But Will takes his time to go anyway, if only to distract himself from what he knows waits for him at the bar tonight. He wants to distract himself from everything for a while, get some time that doesn't let him sit and think alone. The nurse at the desk, the same lady who'd accepted the kid, greets him cordially and leads him to Deshawn's room. The kid is asleep, but his condition is stable, his breathing is even, and there's no sign of pain on his face. Will thanks the nurse and drapes his vest over the chair, sitting with his elbows planted on his knees. It's almost disappointing when his mind wanders, lulled by the steady sounds of medical machinery nearby.

Mostly, Will just thinks about his dad. He knows that he's gonna catch flak later for everything he does now. I'm already unpopular, he figures, so what can make it worse? But he does know that the moment he talks to his dad about this, there's going to be another problem, one with a name and one that hasn't ever been found. Sara Patrell. He remembers why everything with Riley feels so familiar - it's because he's felt it before. Not the same physicality or warmth, but that same sensation of someone being there. A missing girl, something he obsessed over during the first few months as a cop, something his father had adamantly tried to remove from him in every way possible, from therapy to punishment. Nothing worked bu t time. It's confusing to him how he hadn't made that connection before, but now that it's on his mind it makes more and more sense with each passing moment. He rolls the idea around in his head, plays with it and decides that it's something he can tackle at a later date, when he's back at the office and can go through his files on her.

He steeples his hands, rests his mouth on them and watches Deshawn for a moment. It strikes him how young the boy is. There are no worry lines or wrinkles, no cracked skin or even any acne. Will closes his eyes and exhales, lets the weight of his decision fall away. He did the right thing. He did the right thing.

"Got a funny look in your eye, Will. You hot for me or somethin'?" Deshawn asks, twitching his eyebrows. "I know I'm prime cut beef, but you should know I don' swing that way."

Will nodded, feeling his lips curl up in a half smile. "Thanks for clearing that up."

"Thought you should know." The kid pushes himself up to sit, nodding towards him. "Havin' a 5-0 sittin at my bedside ain't doing much for my rep, you know?"

"Yeah, well it's not doing too great for mine either." Will leans back, feeling the edges of his vest bite into his back. "But here I am."

"You think you own me now or somethin?" Deshawn lays back down, and Will is reminded that this kid is part of a gang, no matter how young he looks. So he sighs and folds his hands in his lap. "No. What I did for you is what I'd have done for anyone."

"One good act ain't gonna clear bad blood."

"Probably not." Will doesn't hold out hope that it will even make a dent. "But it was the right thing to do."

"I won't forget it." Deshawn looks away, as if what he says is embarrassing. Will hides a smile, letting the kid have his privacy. After a long stretch of silence, though, Deshawn itches at where the IV is set and locks eyes with him. Brave kid, he thinks. Maybe. "So… what then?"

"Thinking about our conversation in the car. About your dad being shot." Will frowns, then chews on the inside of his cheek. "My dad was shot, too."

"Dead?"

"Finished his career, so… parts." Exhaling, he scratched his jaw. "Well, whatever parts were left after my Mom died."

"My dad died. Long time ago. Things ain't different now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, cop gets shot, it's on the news. Name up like they a hero or somethin'. It'll be on all day." Deshawn fiddles with his fingers, scratches his head and does everything he can to not be sitting still. Looks uncomfortable. Will relates to that restlessness. "One of us, though? Nothin'. We don't mean nothin' to nobody."

"I'm sorry."

"Will…" There's a stretch of silence before Deshawn talks again. "Tell me about your gangsta' days."

"Not much to tell." Will half smiles as he's looking in the past. "Tried some soft stuff as a teen, you know. Marijuana. But dad stamped that out pretty quick and I didn't really take. I got this one memory you might like, though. I was young, maybe about your age. I stole a couple things from a convenience store, tried to hide it under my jacket. Mostly it was candy, I got a real sweet tooth. But it didn't go so well."

"One of those little seven-elevens?" A scoff, "Of course not, there ain't enough people to hide in."

"Yeah, well. He caught me, got ahold of me before I could get out. Dad answered the call of course, handcuffed me to the back seat." He jingles the cuffs on his belt, as if to emphasize. "So I grabbed a paperclip from his files, picked the lock, and took off running."

"You picked the handcuffs?" Deshawn chuckles, his eyebrows lifting, "Alright, you gotta teach me that."

"Yeah. Dad was always working and I was always waiting. Had to do something to pass the time." Will glances at the time and sighs. He lifts his vest off the chair as he stands. "Look, I gotta head out. You call if you need something, yeah?"

"Uh huh." Deshawn nods, and Will is almost out of the door when his name is called. He looks back to see the kid sitting again, fiddling with his IV line. "You know I don't owe you nothin', but I did tell you that I won't forget it."

"Yeah. Take care." He nods and leaves, ignoring the confused looks from nearby nurses. Maybe he could help this kid out at some point, try to help him find his way to a better life. Or maybe that's just his idealism talking. Diego meets him outside, leaning on the cruiser and holding one eyebrow up. He expected a snarky comment, but it doesn't come until the car is moving. "You enjoy your date?"

"There it is." Will sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not in the mood, Diego."

"I'm just saying, if I were you I'd be going after weird-accent-hottie and not some ghetto kid who held a gun to you." D shrugs, and Riley pops into Will's head for a moment. "But hey, that's just me."

"Icelandic."

"What?"

"She's Icelandic. Haven't heard from her since yesterday. Conversation didn't end great."

"Ah." That sobers his partner. "Sorry."

"Yeah."

"You want me to help you?" An elbow jabs into his arm, "With your dad, you know?"

"Nah, thanks." Will sighs and tries not to think about what he's going to find this time. "I can get it."

"Alright."

Truth is, he doesn't want Diego to see his dad how he knows he's going to find him. Even if everybody knows, although nobody will ever talk about it with him around. At least, they used to not. It's a hard thing realizing that the amount of worth respect has, especially in comparison to how easy it is to lose and how hard it is to gain. His dad still had clout, whereas he... When they pull up to the bar, the sun is hidden behind the buildings, leaving the streets dark and like something out of D's favorite movies. He looks to the neon and the filth, works his jaw and only stops his exit when Diego's hand slaps down on his forearm. "Hey, man." He says, "Really. If you need help..."

"No, it's okay. I've got this." Will instead grips his hand and slips out of the cruiser. "Just… pick me up as usual. See you in a few."

His dad is just one of the many ways he expects; Asleep, drunk, unabashed and as broken as always. He sees his father's pants on the floor, legs laid bare to the cool air. He smells the liquor coming off of him, harsh and acute, and hears the low snoring. Will sees, most of all, the way his father huddles in on himself like a child. The lion of a man he grew up admiring, who became a hero to his fellow officers, brought down to nothing but a drunken mess. Mechanically, he unholsters the snub-nosed 357 his father carries on his ankle. Will runs his fingers over the scratches on the handle, unloads the shells, then pockets it. Out of sight, out of mind. As he's situating his father, he's listening to the song playing over the jukebox and resigns himself to hear the chorus a thousand times as it sticks in his ear like a worm.

"Come on, Dad." He pats the older man's leg, which does nothing to rouse him. "Time to go."

He's singing along by the time he's deposited his father in the back seat of his own car, snatching the keys from his pockets and cranking the beat up old sedan to life. It's still strange to him, how much he's grown used to picking his father up every few nights. Will sets his forehead on the steering wheel and closes his burning eyes. He stays like that for a minute or two, maybe more, before he lifts himself back up and wipes the tears away. With the whole in his chest threatening to tear him apart, he finds himself on a plane, the gentle roar of the engine a lull on the passengers nearby.

"Are you okay?" Riley asks from his right, as if he hadn't just appeared to her from air. She looks around the car and he sees her eyes focus on his father, snoring away with his arm as a pillow. The headphones come down and the song in his head disappears. She looks at Will again. "Will?"

"Sometimes." He parrots her words and clears the emotion out of his throat after a beat, sniffing and wiping away his tears. He visits her area instead, escaping the confines of a car and leaning back into the aircraft chair to stare at the back of the seat. "It's my dad. He's… not doing well."

"Oh." She whispers, "I see."

"He wasn't ever the same after Mom died." Will finds himself explaining. He sees her entire face contort in what he would consider pity if he couldn't feel her empathy. Warm like sunlight. "Then he lost his job… got shot and uh..."

"Started drinking."

"Drank more." He corrected, keeping his voice soft. Though he was certain that Riley wouldn't be able to hear him over the snoring or the airplane, she nodded and closed her eyes. "And… and I don't know how long he can keep this up."

"You are scared." She says, her words carrying the weight of finality. Her hair bobs as she nods, a quick, rabbity motion. And she understands, he knows she does. He can feel it in his bones, the way her gut twists and how she feels like running to the bathroom to be sick. Will frowns, but Riley knocks him off-kilter with a sad smile. "I am going to Iceland. My father has been asked back to the symphony. I want to be there. I have no friends anywhere else."

He thinks otherwise. Says nothing on his mind but feels her heart clench when he thinks it.

"Iceland?" Will asks instead. He wipes at his eye, searching his memory. "But that's where you're from…"

"Yes. I would rather not talk about it right now." Riley cuts in before he can finish his question. Instead of pushing his luck and having things end like they did yesterday, he apologizes silently and keeps his jaw takes his hand, cradles it between the two of hers and sets it on her lap. He knows it's not physically possible, as he is not there and she is not with him, yet when she rests her head on his shoulder he can feel her weight. He can feel the comfort of the gesture, how soft and warm she is. How small she is compared to him. Just as well, he can feel her anxiety dissolving. Behind everything, he can see glimpses of what she's hiding and what she's afraid of. Cold. Biting, unearthly cold that sucks away heat like a sponge in water. Dark red blood, vertigo, and such deep sorrow that he's afraid that it could suck him in like a black hole and stick in his bones. Will feels her settle into her position on his arm, and hears her ask very quietly. "Can... Will you try to stay with me? I don't have anyone else."

She sounds so small that he can't help himself.

"I will. " The car kicks into drive at his beckon, his arm still firmly held in Riley's grasp. He checks the back seat, hears the snores coming from his father, and sighs as he turns out of the parking lot and into the Chicago streets. Neither he nor Riley speak during the drive, but he can feel her smiling as he traverses the sprawling roads of his home town. She's in awe, she's in love with the lights and the people out so late, her eyes linger on clubs and restaurants they pass, then onto extravagant houses as they enter the suburbs his father lives in. His cheeks are hurting with hers by the time her emotions and thoughts go fuzzy. She's tired, fighting the inevitable sleep that's threatening her consciousness - and by proxy their connection. There's an inexplicable warmth blossoming when he feels how much she wants to stay, so when he parks his father's car in the driveway he reaches his free hand over to brush a lock of Riley's hair out of her face. Her thanks flows into him. "Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

And she does.

He misses her presence within moments, but he can feel her now in the back of his consciousness; alive and in the world. It's reassuring to him. His father groans in the back seat, sitting up on one elbow. "Who're you talking to?"

"You, Dad." Will twists around to look at him. He hopes that he doesn't look as badly as he feels, not like his father is in any condition to notice. "You okay?"

"The fuck're we doin' here?" There's a bleary look to him. His father rubs at his eyes and squints, before opening the car door and moving to leave. Will is quicker, coming around to help his father out before he can fall and hurt himself. With distant eyes, Michael Gorski takes a good, long look at Will. "You're a good boy, you know that?"

"Yeah." Will throws his arm around his shoulders and lifts, ignoring the way his eyes burn. "Careful now, Dad."

"Royal pain in my ass as a kid but…" He prods a hard finger into Will's chest, "You turned out good."

"Thanks."

"Even if you saw ghosts and saved that gang kid."

"I did." Will nixes the idea of talking about Sara. "I-"

"I know you'ere doin' the right thing'n all. God knows I tried to teach you right from wrong." Will winces at the slurred speech. "But you know that if he kills someone, you gotta live with'at."

"I know, Dad." Will unlocks the door and helps his father into the house, traversing across the rooms by memory alone in the dark light. He's grateful for the lack of light - it hides the tears he can feel sliding down his cheeks. He clears his throat before he talks again, depositing his father on his bed. "Let me get you some water before you go to sleep, okay?"

"Alright."

By the time he gets back, his father is snoring again. Will sets the glass of water on his nightstand and pulls his blanket over the old man, before patting his chest, telling him he loves him, and wishing him good night. Before he goes he changes the catheter bag, then after setting the revolver and the keys on the mantle in the den, he locks the house on the way out and calls Diego for a ride. The cold air bites at his skin, curling under his clothes and caressing him. Will leans against a brick half-wall and crosses his arms, thinking about the cold that he glimpsed in Riley's... memories? Or thoughts? Compared to that, this was nothing more than the shock of cool pool water on a summer day. He connects the memory to Iceland and her fear of the place, but lets the train of thought go no further. That is her story to tell.

Diego pulls up fifteen minutes after the call, slides out of the cruiser and stops Will before he can move past. "Hey, man. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good." He lies, nodding, "It wasn't that bad this time."

"You're kind of a shit liar, Gorski." D nods, rubs at his face and looks him straight in the eye. "Be straight with me man."

"It was pretty bad." Will relents, if only because Diego is rarely this serious. "He can't keep up like that."

"Yeah, I thought so." His partner rubs his eyes, then pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to see if I can get him some help. Nothing big just… I can help him out sometimes instead?"
"D, I can't ask you to do that."

"The fuck you can't." Diego scoffs, "The amount of shit you do for my kids, what your old man has done for me... Get in the car, Gorski."

"I-"

"-am freezing my ass off out here, I bet."

"Diego." Will sighs, feels himself smile and chuckle. "I didn't think you were serious."

"I know. And I was serious." Diego pulls himself up and shuts the door. The window rolls down and his head jerks towards the passenger side. "Get in the damn car, we'll talk about it on the way."

Will gets in the car.

/ / / /