Springtime in Ohio [Hannibal; Beverly and Will]

[evermissing]

Sooo I'm working on finishing up a longer Hannibal story, but I needed to find something else to occupy myself while I was stuck on a particular scene, and a little one-off story that didn't need a whole lot of plot or setup sounded like a good idea. And this happened.

* * *

Springtime in Ohio

[Hannibal; Beverly and Will]

Jack and Will are obviously not having a friendly day, which always makes things uncomfortable for the rest of them. Beverly has been at the crime scene in Ohio with Zeller and Price for over an hour when Jack and Will finally arrive together, and it's clear just from the way they get out of the car that they didn't enjoy their ride over from the airport. Will goes straight to the body in the kitchen with barely a nod at Beverly, and Jack charges over to interrogate Zeller about their progress. Beverly grins sympathetically at Z as he gives her a long-suffering roll of the eyes and mimes shooting himself in the temple. Their body in here died of a gunshot wound to the head--among other injuries--but as crime-scene humor goes, this is very tame.

When Jack orders the room clear, Beverly lingers in the doorway, casually leaning a hip again the frame to watch Will do his thing. She can't quite put her finger on what's changing, but Will's been getting increasingly odd at crime scenes. There's nothing big, not yet; sometimes she just gets a spooky vibe from him, the way he inhabits space in a room where murder has recently taken place. It's although he doesn't believe he's alone, or he doesn't actually know exactly where he is at all times. There's just something… off. So Beverly keeps an eye on him, and hangs back while the others retreat down the hall.

Her vigilance pays off. His back to her, Will's squatting on his heels at the corpse's side, elbows on knees and chin resting on his cupped hands. He's almost motionless, but Beverly begins to notice that periodically--although following no discernible pattern--he stiffens, his shoulder blades draw back and together, and his whole body jerks just perceptibly. She can't figure out what it is--a new projective technique of his? (With Will Graham, you never know.) With all the stress, is he developing some kind of nervous tic? Does he think maybe the perp has a tic? Is it just a case of the hiccups?

It finally becomes clear to her when he does the same thing twice in swift succession, and the second time seems to take him off guard. He loses his balance and teeters on his heels, saving himself from falling over backward only by catching himself with the arm nearer to Beverly, palm flat on the floor behind him. At first Beverly isn't sure whether she should be concerned or amused. The change in position gives her a view of his profile for the first time. He's blinking slowly, as if in surprise, and then more rapidly. His expression drifts into fuzzy anticipation, eyebrows rising, lips parting, and he swings away from her again, burying his face in the crook of his free elbow. He smothers the sound of it completely, but as Will lurches forward again, she realizes that he's been sneezing this whole time.

Now that she knows, she remembers that his eyes did look a little funny when he came in, and she can hear him sniffling softly but almost continuously. He resumes his former position, and Beverly watches, fascinated and a little impressed by his struggle to stay attuned to the scene when he's in the throes of a half-suppressed sneezing… "attack" is too violent a word for the resigned way he's riding it out, soundless stifling each eruption as his head bobs into his cupped hands, but it's definitely some kind of episode.

It seems like a long time before he finally stands, brushes himself off, and puts his glasses on. Beverly ducks back into the hall, and when Will comes out, she's standing at the far end with the rest of them, Jimmy giving her an strange look but not asking.

"Agent Graham," says Jack, seeing Will emerge, but stays where he is, so that Will has to walk down the hall to them. Will gives his nose a quick, casual swipe with the back of a wrist as he comes up and stands beside Beverly. He seems to feel her scrutiny, and flicks a glance sideways at her, then away. His eyes are definitely red, a little puffy. She's not sure if he sensed her in the doorway back there or not.

Will clears his throat. It seems as though he's about to say something, but then he clears it again, frowns, and casts a glance around the semi-circle of people surrounding him.

"Zeller," he says. To Beverly it sounds like he's grasping for a lifeline. "Can you… what do you guys have for me?"

Jimmy meets Beverly's eyes over Will's head and quirks an eyebrow. Agent Graham doesn't usually ask them for a briefing at this point in the process, and when he does, it's not Zeller he goes to. Z has told Beverly that he likes Will just fine but finds him a little "intense" to be around too much, whatever that means, and for his part Will seems to approach Zeller with a constant shield of vigilant suspicion, as though he's never sure if Zeller's being straight with him or laughing at him or screwing with him. There's something a little sad about it, how around some people Will is like a bullied kid or a dog that expects to be kicked.

Beverly lifts her shoulders at Jimmy: who knows?

Zeller also hesitates for a second, looking to Jack. When no one else says anything, he starts trying to summarize their findings on the spot.

The first time Will sneezes, it's a short, muffled, breathy "Htch," almost inaudible unless you're listening for it. Which Beverly is.

He isn't going to get off that easily, though. Within ten seconds he does it again, a more insistent and recognizable "Htttch!" This time everybody looks at him except for Beverly, who doesn't want to embarrass him, and Jack. Zeller even stops speaking for an awkward beat before he forges ahead. Beverly gives it a few seconds, then glances over. Will's still got his nose pinched between thumb and forefinger, circumspectly massaging the bridge. His pinkening nostrils quiver every now and then, and his eyes are glistening. But he's keeping his focus on Zeller with a resolutely squared jaw, so Beverly tries to follow suit.

About a minute later, she feels him shift at her side as his torso again clenches up expectantly.

"Htttch."

Zeller doesn't falter this time. Jack barely seems to be paying attention to any of them.

"Htttch."

By the fourth sneeze, it's pretty clear that this isn't going to stop any time soon. You can just hear it: Will's getting no relief and it's driving him crazy. Beverly feels her own body stiffen in sympathy as he discreetly draws in another hitching inhale. She looks over again and winces as she catches his eyes closing, nostrils flaring desperately, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"Httttttch-eh!"

He sneezes once more against the blockade of his pinched nose, but this time apparently he can't quite maintain control all the way through, and a soft, congested, painful-sounding noise, halfway between a squeak and a gasp, escapes him at the end. Now that he doesn't have the distraction of the body, he's clearly starting to lose the mental battle, the resolution to just not think about whatever's setting him off. Still, a moment later his head comes back up, and although he sniffs a few times and shivers minutely, he makes no other acknowledgement of what's happening.

The awkward thing is that no one else does, either. Jimmy is toe-curlingly uncomfortable; Beverly can tell by the way he's not looking anybody in the face. Zeller's got his hands fisted in his pockets and seems to be addressing his monologue to a spot somewhere above and to the left of one of Jack's ears. The handful of cops listening in are completely perplexed. They keep glancing at each other and then attempting to make eye contact with her or Jimmy or Z, as if trying to figure out if this is an FBI thing, this absolute refusal to accept physical vulnerability. No, Beverly thinks; just a Crawford thing.

It goes on like this for a few excruciating minutes, until Jack finally says, curtly, "Thank you, Zeller." He looks around the huddle. "Anything else in the way of evidence?" Then, like a challenge, he says, "Well, then" (Beverly hears an ill-timed, viciously repressed "Htttch!" slip out beside her), "Agent Graham, please enlighten us."

Will freezes for a second, looking at Jack as if for confirmation. But Jack is impassive, with a hint of impatience tugging at his mouth. So Will makes a valiant attempt, somehow managing to stagger his stifles into the natural pauses between sentences, letting his eyes close for only a split second each time. The price, of course, is that he's breathless and exhausted before he gets very far.

"He's not physically… uh, powerful," Will is saying, audibly flagging. "Or-- um, no, well--" He frowns and clears his throat. "I mean, he's obviously strong enough to drag the body of a full-grown, large-framed woman all the way from the front hall to the kitchen in the back, and then…" He breathes in and out through his mouth, subtly, with deliberation. One of his hands drifts upward, a reflex that he disguises by adjusting his glasses, but Beverly can tell that he's preparing to cover the sneeze if necessary. She all but cringes for him. "A-and then to… to carry the kids' bodies down to the basement. But he doesn't thuh… doesn't think he's powerful. He's not imposing. He doesn't want to ge-- heh!" His face falls, and he shakes his head once, sharply, frustratedly. He picks up the pace. "--To get close to her when she's alive, he's not confident in his ability to physically subdue her, hence the gun hence the element of surprise hence the absent father hence ee-eh-ettttttch!"

The whole room seems to collectively exhale as Will does.

Will sniffs, dropping his hand from his nose, and finishes his thought. "Hence even the restraints on the kids."

Jimmy Price looks at Will, then at Jack, then at Beverly, then back at Will. "…Bless you?" he offers.

Will's already flushed face is suffused with a darker red, and Jack actually turns and glares at Price, which gives Will a chance to sneak out another sneeze without the full spotlight on him.

"Huh… htttch-eh."

Jack rounds on him almost belligerently and asks, "Well, are you all right?"

"Fine," says Will, in a tone so reasonable it's ridiculous. "Httch."

"You've been doing that all damn morning!" snaps Jack. Zeller and Beverly both jump, and Jimmy gives the group at large a look of terror.

"Allergies," says Will. He's taken off his glasses and is wiping his eyes, though Beverly can see from the tension in his posture that he really wants to scrub at them. Or disappear into a hole in the floor. Whichever's easier.

"You don't have allergies," says Jack. For a second, Beverly really almost believes that the situation is now resolved. If Jack Crawford tells you that you don't have allergies, then by God you don't have allergies.

"Httttttch!" Will gives Jack an unhappy smile. "Nod id Virgidia, I dod't." He sighs and looks defeatedly around at them all. "Uhh, does adybody have ady Kleenex?"

Nobody does. Beverly and Jimmy have actually taken to packing aspirin when they know they're going to be working a crime scene with Will, but for this they're unprepared. Eventually Jack tells Will to just go back to the hotel and pound out a written report by the end of the day, Zeller makes for the basement bodies, and Jimmy wanders off dazedly, probably to go do some deep breathing exercises. Sometimes Jack scares the living shit out of him. Everybody else starts working on appearing busy.

Will wheels down the hall into the nearest bathroom. Beverly goes and talks to some cops, but she always has one ear out for Will, and the acoustics of the bathroom are such that she can hear him have a small but more unrestrained fit. Then there's some nose-blowing and splashing in the sink. When he comes out, his skin is marginally less flushed, and the curls fringing his face are damp.

Beverly catches up with him as he heads out the front door, speaking to no one.

"Did that help?" she asks.

He starts at her approach but keeps walking, his eyes averted.

"What?"

"Washing your face."

"Oh." His lips twitch, and he turns his head aside and waits a moment, but it seems to be a false alarm. He makes a self-deprecating face. "A little. Think I'm going to take a shower at the hotel."

"Good idea. Hey." She almost touches his arm, but resists the urge. "Here."

He looks down at the package of travel tissues she's pressed into his hand, then up at her for the first time.

"Got it from one of the cops," she says.

He doesn't respond. Carefully, intently, he opens the pack, pulls out a tissue, and unfolds it in both hands.

"I have--" she begins, then trails off as his breathing quickens. Holding the tissue to his nose, he slows to a standstill in the middle of the path that runs through the front yard to the street. Beverly stops with him. His brow wrinkles, his eyelids flicker, she can see the tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth as his mouth opens fractionally. But he can't seem to get it out. If only he'd had that problem back at the scene, Beverly thinks wryly.

He glances sideways at her in glassy-eyed apology, and she smiles and shrugs: not your fault. At long last he tilts his face and squints into the clear, mild spring sun; his eyes screw up, his breath catches, and he actually reaches out for a small tree at the side of the path and braces himself against the force of the sneeze.

"Heh-errtttttch-eh!" He starts to straighten up, then hesitates, seeming to hold his breath before squelching a second "Httttch-eh!"

"Bless you," says Beverly.

But yet another quick, dry, incredibly itchy-sounding sneeze overtakes him.

"Httch!"

Finally he wipes his nose, pockets the tissue, and pulls out another one. "Just in time," he says, waving the packet at her. He blows his nose. "Thank you."

"It's something out here, huh?"

"Apparently." He passes a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what it is exactly, but it's not around DC. People think I've stuck to coastal living because that's what I grew up with. The secret real reason is that sometimes I get like this when I go inland."

She chuckles. "I was going to say--"

"Htttch!"

"--bless you, I was going to say that I should have some Benadryl in my carry-on back at the hotel."

He sniffles. "You too?"

She shakes her head, scanning the blooming, beautifully manicured, almost obscenely fecund front garden. No one here left to tend or appreciate it now. "No, not here, thank God. Sometimes summers in DC bug me, though."

"Summers in DC bug everyone," Will observes--a joke, but it comes off as a little sour. "Fu-- h-hehhehHTTTTCH-eh. Httch, httttch, htttch-eh. Fuck." He rips another tissue out of the package and blows his nose hard, savagely.

Beverly winces but doesn't comment. "Maybe I should talk to Jack about it." She sees Will's shoulders lift defensively at the name as he crumples up his tissue. "You know. Shoot for a miracle cure. Have Special Agent Jack Crawford explain to me why I don't have allergies."

Will laughs, a surprised note, and his stiffness lessens slightly but visibly.

"Ohhh. Well, Jack is under a lot of stress right now. I mean not just the Ripper and this and whoever's going to be dead next week, but also--" He seems to catch himself and rethink what he was going to say. "Also just, y'know, he has a personal life too, and I think the Bureau's been putting some kind of pressure on him recently. I'm not certain about what exactly." He wrinkles his nose for a second, then exhales. "Maybe about me, who knows," he adds ruefully.

"I'm not sure that's entirely under your control," says Beverly in a neutral tone.

"Httttch. 'scuse me. Well, to be completely fair, I was like this the whole way here--the car's AC was out, we had the windows open--and I ih-htttch! Sorry, I could tell it was driving Jack around the bend."

Sometimes it amazes Beverly, the things that Jack and Will can find to butt heads over.

"Probably wasn't that much fun for you, either," she points out, but doesn't go any further.

Will shrugs. "Anyway. I'm s-- httch! I'm sorry. He's in a shitty mood, I'm in a shitty mood. Just tell me when I start putting you in a shitty mood, too."

"You know I will," she says warmly, but her smile fades as his face takes on that familiar expression of dismayed, quavery expectation again. This time she ventures to take his elbow. "Okay. C'mon. Car with closed windows. Hotel. Benadryl." It's the boldest she's ever been with him.

He shakes his head, taking a step back, trying half-heartedly to shake her off. His chest is heaving. She lets him go, but only in order to retrieve the packet from him and feed a ready tissue into his hand, since he seems too distracted to manage it himself.

"One sec-- uh-httch! Huh-ettch-eh! Htttch! Htttch! Huh-tttchh-tttch-eh! Huh-eh-ETTTTCH-eh!"

That desperately stuffed-up noise at the end is getting more marked, sounding increasingly uncomfortable. Will touches his free hand to the side of his head for a moment, as if his ears just popped.

"Sounds like you need a decongestant just as badly," Beverly says. "The hotel shop has some, I think."

Will gazes at her forlornly over his tissue. "I cad't be drugged whed I'b workig a case." He tries to blow his nose, but he can barely even make a sound through it. Beverly starts to say something, but he shakes his head. "I bead, I really cad't be… off by gabe… ad all whed I'b doig this." He blows again, at greater length. "Not just for the sake of Jack and the Bureau, not just because I'm less effective that way. I can get kind of… confused, at scenes, if I'm not clear-headed to start with." Beverly looks at him searchingly and he fidgets a little, breaking eye contact. "Just disoriented. I have trouble… keeping track of things. Httch. And then I get kind of weird dreams if I take the nighttime stuff. Which I get enough of during cases anyway."

"All right." She's actually so shocked to hear Will says something so self-preserving that she lets the matter drop. "I'll give you my room number, though, if you change your mind about the Benadryl."

"Thanks." He rubs his nose, looking back at the house. "I should go say something to Jack, shouldn't I." Beverly withholds her opinion. "You heading back to the hotel?"

"I'm done here," she says. "Zeller's just wrapping up. I was gonna dig Jimmy Price out of whatever closet he's hiding in and go with him." She can see Will smile a little, and then his mouth wavers uncertainly and he turns fully away from her and dissolves into another round of sneezes. "Do you want us to wait for you?"

"No," says Will, recovering slowly. "I should spend more time in there. I don't--" He gestures at the empty space on the path before them. Beverly has the very definite, very eerie feeling that he's indicating a third person standing there. "--I don't have all of him yet."

"Okay," Beverly says. And just like that, Will's no longer the horribly allergic, awkward, oddly sweet person about whom she feels affectionate and maybe a little protective. He's turned back into that too-intense stranger who lives inside his own head and--maybe for your own good--won't let you see what's in there. In moments like this, Beverly is ashamed to admit even to herself that she understands why Zeller gets nervous around Will. It makes her feel a kind of bleak, amorphous dread to think about it too much, which is why she rarely does.

So Will goes to find Jack, and she goes to find Jimmy.

*

As it turns out, her hotel room is next to Will's and the walls are very thin, which is why she knows that he doesn't get back until well after nightfall. She can't imagine that the police have been there that long, so, what, has he been alone in that house? For how long? She doesn't know if that's standard operating procedure for him or not. No one really knows for sure what's normal for Will Graham and what's beyond the pale.

His breathing is audible from the hallway; he obviously hasn't taken a decongestant. The door to his room bumps shut and she hears him launch into a lengthy, wretched-sounding fit, though he's obviously trying to be as quiet about it as he can. Then there's just the noise of the shower for a long time. Beverly's got a documentary about gorillas on the hotel TV--anything but another rerun of Law & Order or CSI or Criminal Minds--but her attention is wandering.

The shower stops and… there it is, Will's off again, gasping for breath between buildups, groaning a little after each spate of sneezes. He sounds completely done in. She keeps hoping he'll change his mind and come over for the Benadryl, and of course he doesn't.

But Beverly's exhausted too, between the red-eye flight here and the hours they put in at the scene this morning and a month of generally overworking and under-sleeping. She dreams about all this a lot, too. Probably not as bad as what Will gets--although they look at the same bodies, what Will sees is clearly somehow worse than what she and Jimmy and Zeller see--but more than bad enough for her. She makes herself a generous gin and tonic from the mini-bar, mutes the TV, and climbs into bed.

It's gotten a little quieter next door, too. Beverly drifts off to an ongoing, erratic two-part rhythm through the wall: the squeak of a congested sneeze from Will, the creak of the bedsprings as his body spasms. She keeps the Benadryl out on the nightstand, just in case. She hopes they solve this case soon.

* * *

[Garnet]

Aw yisss new evermissing fic. Allow me to ramble.

I love the way you wrote the terrible trio of crime scene investigators, especially the snarky and awful humor they share. The kind of stuff that makes you wince even as you're laughing.

Also, the relationship between Beverly and Will is perfect. She's one of my favorite supporting characters from the show, and I can appreciate the way she takes care of and protects Will without putting on kids gloves, or at least not making obvious that she is.

For that matter, all of the characters are written well, here. Even Zeller, I like that you emphasized the slight tension they have, while also ascribing it more to Will's paranoia and poor grasp of social situations than any actual animosity between them. Ugh, breaks my frikkin' heart. And Jack, hnnn Jack. This line:

If Jack Crawford tells you that you don't have allergies, then by God you don't have allergies.

That's it, that's his character. I'm dying over here, hahaha. Also, Will being frustrated with him but defending/explaining him at the same time. Very in-character.

His brow wrinkles, his eyelids flicker, she can see the tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth as his mouth opens fractionally.

Nnnh Wiiill! This gave me a perfect mental image of this gifset. Which should just be freaking illegal.

Beverly has the very definite, very eerie feeling that he's indicating a third person standing there.

Ugh, this line. Aaaand I think you might be right, Bev.

No one really knows for sure what's normal for Will Graham and what's beyond the pale.

No one, including Will, I think!

Anyway, I could go on, but I enjoyed it. It's just a sweet and awful little interlude into their daily lives, and that is my very favorite kind of fic. Muh <3

[Dusty15]

Garnet said basically all the intelligent things I could try to say about this fic so now I can just GUSH OVER IT. EVERMISSING! What did I do before you were on this board? Holy moley I LOVE your Hannibal fic! <3

I adore the characterization of Will trying to stifle as much as possible until the allergies just become too intense. Perfect.

The relationships between the characters are SPOT ON.

The ending bit with Beverly able to hear him going to bed is so lovely ahhhhh

[MusicaDiabolos]

Oh my goodness, this is just the best! Will + allergies makes my day I am so glad you are such a prolific writer <3 And you always capture the characters so well - Will's self-consciousness, Jack's grouchy certainty, Beverly's caring attitude combined with sass...have I mentioned this is the best?

[Bruyere]

*runs round in circles screaming* Beverley POV fic? *\0/* *\0/* What a totally unexpected delight!

I enjoyed this so much. I loved the team science interactions and the way that even though Will and Jack deeply respect each other they are just terrible at working together sometimes and how this ends up rippling out to everyone else.

I love that Beverley's keeping an eye on Will and knows that something's up with him (and that she and Jimmy have taken to carrying aspirin for him) but not what it is. It ties in so well with the section towards the end where Will stops being "the horribly allergic, awkward, oddly sweet person" and becomes the guy that makes you shiver slightly instead.

The handful of cops listening in are completely perplexed. They keep glancing at each other and then attempting to make eye contact with her or Jimmy or Z, as if trying to figure out if this is an FBI thing, this absolute refusal to accept physical vulnerability. No, Beverly thinks; just a Crawford thing.

I burst out laughing at that.

"Well, are you all right?"

"Fine," says Will, in a tone so reasonable it's ridiculous. "Httch."

"You've been doing that all damn morning!" snaps Jack. Zeller and Beverly both jump, and Jimmy gives the group at large a look of terror.

"Allergies," says Will. He's taken off his glasses and is wiping his eyes, though Beverly can see from the tension in his posture that he really wants to scrub at them. Or disappear into a hole in the floor. Whichever's easier.

"You don't have allergies," says Jack. For a second, Beverly really almost believes that the situation is now resolved. If Jack Crawford tells you that you don't have allergies, then by God you don't have allergies.

"Httttttch!" Will gives Jack an unhappy smile. "Nod id Virgidia, I dod't." He sighs and looks defeatedly around at them all. "Uhh, does adybody have ady Kleenex?"

Oh God, this whole bit. Jack just bulldozing through the whole thing because he doesn't want to have to deal with it and Will's health not even registering on his list of priorities at that moment and Will going along with it. Beverley's reaction and her later quip to Will were also great.

"All right." She's actually so shocked to hear Will says something so self-preserving that she lets the matter drop.

Their relationship throughout this whole fic is so great, and I love that Will actually explains this to her rather than shutting her out.

Also poor allergic Will is just ridiculously adorable throughout this and his sneezes are perfect. <3

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

I can't put words how perfect this story is! Well done :3 I love this story alot. I meen it <3 it's just so well written . c:

[phoenix]

I'm a little behind on replying to things, but I still want to express my love for this fic!

Things that are great:

- Setting the scene with little details about the interactions between Will and Jack and among the crime scene trio;

- Beverly keeping an eye on Will (somebody has to!);

- Will being compared to a dog that always expects to be kicked... poor guy.

- Everyone ignoring Will's sneezing fit during the briefing until it becomes "toe-curlingly uncomfortable";

- Jack just declaring that Will doesn't have allergies. It's so in line with his bit in Rôti about how clearly, you should be able to keep from getting sick just by sheer force of will.

- Beverly acquiring tissues from one of the cops;

- The image of that car ride down, with Will sneezing incessantly and Jack getting tenser and tenser;

- Beverly listening to Will sneeze through the hotel walls.

With one fic, you've managed to increase my appreciation of Beverly tenfold. (I like the character, but I'm not always on board with Hetienne Park's line readings. Just a matter of preference, I guess.) I love their dynamic here - that tension of determining how much caretaking is appropriate, and the subtle little ways that she does find to take care of him without crossing any lines.

(p.s. That gifset Garnet linked to. My god. I think I'll just watch that on repeat.)

[evermissing]

Ugggh, sorry it's taken me so long to respond to feedback. I've actually been kind of trying to save it until a day when I needed a little pick-me-up. So, anyway, THANK YOU ALL!

Garnet: \o/ Glad you liked it! I wasn't sure about writing Beverly+Zeller+Jimmy, but they ended up being a lot of fun to work with. I love their dynamic. Also, oh my godddd, I hadn't seen that gifset before, I may just need to watch that a thousand more times today, thank you.

It's just a sweet and awful little interlude into their daily lives, and that is my very favorite kind of fic.

Haha, that's a good way to describe it--and it's my favorite, too.

Dusty15: Awwww, thank you. What did I do before I was on this board?! You guys are awesome.

MusicaDiabolos: I've become a biiiig fan of Will+allergies too. Glad I could contribute to the pool of stories about the subject.

Bruyere: Yeah, I love Team Science, and how they sometimes have to very awkwardly work around the tension between Will and Jack. And yay, you liked the Beverly POV! That idea was actually kind of what sparked the story for me--having an outsider point of view on Will and Jack--and Beverly seemed like the obvious choice, especially at a crime scene.

DeathNoteOwner: Thank you! I'm really glad it worked for you.

phoenix: I'm WAY behind on replying to things, so we're even. Yep, I was definitely thinking about Rôti when I wrote that bit for Jack. (GUH, that scene with them in the car in Rôti. Just everything about it is so awful and perfect.)

The image of that car ride down, with Will sneezing incessantly and Jack getting tenser and tenser

Not gonna lie, I'm a fan of that image myself.

I actually know what you mean re: Park's portrayal of Beverly. In the first couple of episodes, I really wasn't sure what exactly she was trying to do with the character, and had mixed feelings about her. Later in the season she either grew on me significantly or Park got more consistent--not sure which; I'm in the process of doing a full rewatch right now, though--and a lot of that is down to the relationship she develops with Will.

[fufufufu]

This whole story is just... GUH. AMAZING. I can't even list all the most delicious parts because I'd be copy/pasting almost the entire story into this comment. Oh god. This was just. Everything.

[24Me]

Oh my gosh! I love this so much!!!

[evermissing]

fufufufu and 24Me: yay, thanks for the comments! I'm thrilled you liked it. I liked writing it.

[Amberlight24]

This is AMAZING. So very cute!!!!

[beatlelover22]

Ahhh the whole thing was totally adorable! I especially loved the line, "If Jack Crawford tells you that you don't have allergies, then by God you don't have allergies." Nice job!

[AngelEyes]

"You don't have allergies," says Jack. For a second, Beverly really almost believes that the situation is now resolved. If Jack Crawford tells you that you don't have allergies, then by God you don't have allergies.

Too funny!

Anyway, this is just lovely. So well written in character. Very much love!

[a_nonny_mouse]

Oooh, this is gorgeous.