It was late and it was cold. Hannibal stopped the car, I heard him say something to me but I was already out, folding my arms across my chest and shrugging up my shoulders as I went in search of Jack Crawford.

"Where is Will?" I called to Crawford the moment he appeared.

Crawford spun round to see who had spoken, when he saw me he answered, "Ah, we were expecting you. Will Graham's over there" he pointed to an ambulance that was sitting at the end of the street "a few minor injuries but he'll be fine in a day or so"

I nodded and immediately turned away from him. I was sick of his under-appreciation of Will. The man was a genius and he didn't deserve to be treated as expendable; Will was damaged enough. When I approached the ambulance I saw Will hunched over with a shock blanket draped across his shoulders.

"Will?" I stepped up into the ambulance and walked a few steps to stand in front of Will, "Oh Will, always the hero"

He looked up at me like a rescued puppy, his hair falling all over the place, his glasses in his hands, "Hardly heroic" he scoffed.

"No, of course not" I said sarcastically as I perched beside him, taking in the blood that trailed down his face, now slowly drying, "sheer stupidity really"

Will laughed and stared down at the floor. He pushed his glasses back on his handsome face and turned to look at me. There was blood on his face, blood in his hair, blood on his clothes – some of it, I could tell, was not his. There was something correct about the scene; wrong for all its horror and violence, but right for Will – marked by his deeds, however honourable they were.

There were antiseptic wipes in the ambulance. I reached over and got the packet, sitting up straight again I looked to Will, "Turn round" Will sat round and looked at me expectantly. I tilted my head as I looked at him, waiting for him to take off his glasses. When he didn't realise I smiled, then reached forward and gently took of his glasses for him.

"Oh" he said quietly, then laughed, "Sorry"

I smiled and shook my head, placing his glasses down beside us. The blood, Will's blood, trailed down the side of his face, down his forehead, past his eyes to line his cheekbone before starting towards his lips. The blood splatter from the Un-Sub sprayed across his other cheek and jaw. Carefully, I wiped the spray off first, clearing one side of his face. As I wiped away the crimson trail that remained I struggled to keep focused on what I was doing. Those big puppy dog eyes stared right into me, as if he could see beyond my face and into my mind; though, of course, if he could do that, he wouldn't appear quite as comfortable to be with me as he always did. I felt his features beneath the material of the wipe and as I slowly removed all the blood. Will began to smile. He winced only slightly as I cleaned up the shallow wound that just entered his hairline.

When I was satisfied that I was finished, I put down the wipes and picked up Will's glasses again. With one hand, I brushed the hair back from his face then gently put his glasses back on him. I smiled, "All better." I lent forward and placed a gentle kiss on Will's forehead.

As I lent back, Will cupped the back of my neck and carefully pulled me forward again until our lips met.

"Mmm, Will" I moaned softly, "you've got to be careful, Hannibal will get jealous"

We sat back and Will laughed, "What's he going to do, psycho-analyse me?"

I laughed with him to mask my discomfort. Oh, if only you knew.