It was a beautiful, clear day in New York and he made record time getting from the airport to the newsroom.

Sloan was the first person he encountered as he left the elevator. He nodded her a passing greeting, "Hey."

She stopped midstride, "Will?"

She turned to catch up with him. She looked him over, taking note of his dirty shoes, jeans, white cotton t-shirt, unshaven face and ruffled hair. "Wow Will. You look like you just rolled in from the farm. Where have you been all day?"

"The farm." He answered succinctly, eyes scanning the room, "Have you seen Mac?"

"Wait what? Yeah, she went down the street to grab some food about 5 minutes ago. What farm?"

Will turned and walked to his office with Sloan following behind. "Where you really at a farm or are you just messing with me?"

"Yes I was really at a farm and why would you ever think that I would mess with you?" Will kept a straight face.

Sloan tilted her head, "What farm?"

"My family's farm." He answered as he moved around the desk and picked through the morning memos dropped on his desk.

Sloan frowned in disbelief, "You were in Nebraska?"

He nodded, "Yep."

"Today?"

"Just under 4 hours ago actually." He lowered himself into his chair.

Sloan shook her head, "Why?"

He shrugged, "I went home for the weekend." he replied as if flying to Nebraska was the same as driving to Long Island.

Sloan was about to ask another question when Jim stepped in with a folder, "Hey Will."

Will looked up, "Hi Jim. What do you have there?"

Jim held up the folder, "It's an rough sketch for tonight's copy. I already wrote a draft of the basic stuff but most of the A and B blocks I gave you suggested outlines based on the rundown to build the real copy around."

Will took the folder from him, "Thanks. Prompter needs it...?"

"5 minutes is fine so you have a couple hours." Jim answered for him.

Will flicked open the folder and gave it a quick scan, "Thanks. Looks good. I appreciate the extra help."

Jim shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. Least I could do. I mean, uh, well, hey man, Mac told me about your Dad. I'm real sorry."

Will nodded. "Thanks. Appreciate it."

Jim gave a curt nod then left, leaving Sloan in the room finally piecing it together. "Will? What happened?"

He gave a reserved shrug, "My Dad had a heart attack on Friday night. I went home for his funeral and all of that."

Sloan opened her mouth and then closed it again. She grasped her hands in front of her, worrying her fingers. "I'm real crap at these things." She finally released.

Will looked up at her, "I hadn't noticed."

Determination crossed her face and she crossed to stand next to him behind the desk, "Stand up."

"Excuse me?" He looked up a mix between incredulous and confused.

She gave an annoyed half stamp of her foot, "Stand up please. I don't know what to say but I feel like I should give you a hug which I'm not going to do while you're sitting so stand up...please."

Will considered brushing her off but something inside him advised him otherwise so he stood and sure enough Sloan wrapped him in the biggest hug her petite frame could manage.

After a few moments she stepped back, a genuine frown on her face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what the right thing to say is."

He offered her a conciliatory smile, "You're just fine. Thank you for the hug."

She smiled in return and backed out of the office, "Well, okay. I'll be in my office. Welcome home Will."

He sat back in his chair and idly watched her movement as she crossed the newsroom. When she was gone from his sight he let his eyes wander across the rest of the staff and the general bustle of activity in the room next door. He looked up at the TVs in front of him and down to the notes on his desk.

Suddenly feeling every one of his unslept hours Will let out a weary but contented breath. It was good to be home.

Jim had texted her the moment he saw Will arrive so she had grabbed her order and moved quickly back to the newsroom, going straight to his office.

She found him, slumped over at his desk, pen in hand, sound asleep on the copy Jim had written.

She walked around the desk and stood beside him, taking the opportunity to observe him sleeping. The last time she had such a chance had been when he was in the hospital and she tried to think about that as little as possible.

She loved him when he was all put together,in a nice suit, ready for broadcast but it did certain things to her when he was a little rumpled around the edges; she used to call it his 'weekend mode'. That term certainly had some inappropriate-for-work memories associated with it and unbidden, her hand wove through his hair.

"Come on Billy, wake up."

She could see his eyes move under his lids before starting to flutter open. She pulled back her hand and smiled down at him, "I guess this means you didn't get much sleep this weekend?"

He glared at her before straightening and roughly rubbing his hands across his face.

She stood back and put her hands on her hips, "Are you sure you still want to do the show tonight? It's not too late to have Elliot fill in."

He shook his head, "I'm here and I'm fine. Just need some, ah!" He exclaimed happily as Mac indicated the coffee she had brought in for him.

He sat up and eagerly removed the lid and began sipping the coffee. She leaned on the edge of his desk and watched him carefully.

"What?"

She crossed her arms, "One last chance to tell me you're tired and disengaged and would rather not go on tonight."

"I'm fine." He nodded behind the coffee cup.

She regarded him carefully as if deciding to believe him or not. Finally she smirked, "Do you have a good razor in this bathroom?"

"Why?"

She look pointedly at him.

"Ah. Right." He brought his hand up and stroked the 3 days of growth on his chin. "You don't think I should just leave it? This time next week I could have a real beard."

She shook her head, "Absolutely not. You look terrible with a beard. It adds 10 years."

He pouted, "How about a goatee or maybe just the mustache?"

She shook her head, "Even worse. Adds 20 pounds."

"What about the sexy, 5 o'clock shadow thing?" He threw on a cocky half smile.

She shook her head, "You look like a hobo." At his frown she acquiesed, "Don't worry, you make an adorable hobo but I'm pretty sure that's not the look we're looking for in a trusted news anchor."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll make sure there's a fresh blade on the razor."

She smirked in victory. "And what is it you are wearing at the moment?"

He looked down, "A T-shirt and jeans?"

She smiled, "It looks like a regular $5 cotton t-shirt. I didn't realize a little teasing had that kind of power over you."

He rolled his eyes, "It's Mark's t-shirt. I got blood on mine."

The teasing left her face, immediately replaced with a look of concern, "Blood?"

He shifted in his seat and looked to the door as if to verify noone was coming in, "Greg showed up and was in Caroline's face. I ended up punching him; may have broken his nose."

Her eyebrows arched, "This morning?"

"Yeah."

She moved to touch his shoulder, then thought better of it, dropping her hand and asking, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He insisted.

She looked him over, verifying for herself.

He shifted under her gaze. Touched by her concern he forgot his early morning decision to try and forget about the previous night's hurtful conversation, "Look, Mac, about what I said last night..."

"Don't worry about it Will."

She pushed herself off the desk and walked around to the opposite side.

He sat forward in his chair, "I do worry because I appreciated you being on the other end of the line this weekend and I don't want you to think that I would use that time to intentionally do something petty or hurtful."

She sighed, "I know."

He couldn't help himself, he stood and pushed on, "Do you? Because, I really...I mean, you really were...are...great...I just didn't think before I spoke and..."

He drifted off as he watched her attempt to restrain the pain and frustration that still managed to cross her face. If possible he felt worse than before.

He sighed, "I'm sorry.

She shook her head and waved her hand, "It's really fine. Did you want to go over the rundown?"

He ignored her question and crossed to the other side of the desk until he was a foot from her, "I really appreciated everything this weekend."

She sighed sadly and tilted her head to the side, "Will..."

"I spent a lot of time thinking about you." He leaned forward, tilting his neck in mirror, trying to force eye contact.

She looked back at him but instead of the warmth he expected, her face was shuttered, "Will; you need to approve the rundown, finish the script, shower, shave, change and review the graphics book. Not to mention that you're clearly exhausted."

He shook his head, "So? There's time before broadcast." He stepped closer and put his hands on her biceps.

She bit at her bottom lip and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Billy, please. Just stop." She stepped back, her voice was on the verge of breaking.

He blinked, confused, "Why? Mac, seriously, I spent all weekend calling and texting you. And that was only half the times that I thought about it. I only texted Nina once and it was one line this morning and before I even did that I almost called you."

She looked up him and blinked hard. She swallowed and refused to meet his eyes, staring resolutely straight ahead, "You're not going to do this right now. Gary has the rundown book. Don't forget to drop the script off when you're done with it. The earlier the better it is for those guys."

"Mackenzie?" He was exasperated, "I'm trying to talk to you."

"Am I'm saying not right now." She turned and left the room leaving him bewildered and forlorn.