Fic: To you my dear, I wish no harm, Chapter 7
A/N: Sorry, I know this chapter was slow as well. I have a minor case of writer’s block. The good news is, I think I have the main sequence of events sorted for the story. How fast it will actually get written is another question. I’m trying my best.
Title: To you my dear, I wish no harm
Rating: T
Fandom/Pairing: The Newsroom, Will/Mac
Summary: "I'm supposed to hate her. That woman ripped my heart out of my chest and chopped it in half before running over it with a bulldozer and then tossing it into a shredder just to be sure there was nothing left. I had every right to be pissed as hell." He was allowed to be angry with her, he was just getting sick of it. He wanted to see if they could try something different.
xxx
When Will walked into Dr. Habib’s office the following week, Jack got the distinct impression there was something the news anchor wanted to talk about. Will did a pretty good job of hiding it, of course. In fact, he spent the first ten minutes of the session complaining about the idiots who wrote into the show and the stupid comments that they left on the website (even though the comments were no longer anonymous). That was followed by five minutes on the latest stupid thing Reese Lansing had the temerity to suggest they cover, along with a story about their latest intern who’d very nearly spilled a cup of coffee over two computers.
“So it’s been a difficult week so far, then?” Jack asked, cutting off Will’s (he was pretty sure mostly fake) tirade.
Will paused. “Nah, it hasn’t been that bad,” he admitted after a second.
“Ah.” Jack replied, knowing he’d been right. “Then what have you been talking about for almost fifteen minutes.”
Will had an answer ready, “My week. I’ve been talking about the last few days. I thought that was what I was supposed to do in therapy?”
“I’d like to think this was something more than just a bitching session,” Jack replied. “But if there’s something else that’s bothering you, feel free to continue.”
“No, I think that’s about it,” Will replied before lapsing into silence.
“Alright, so would you like to talk about something else, then?” Jack asked after a few seconds.
“Well, my last topic of conversation apparently didn’t meet your standards of a worthwhile use of therapy time,” Will replied. “So...”
Jack sighed. “I didn’t say...”
Will interrupted his shrink before he could finish the sentence. “On the other hand, I suppose there is something else we could talk about.”
Jack smiled slightly, before asking the question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to. “And what is that?”
“On Saturday Mac and I went to Don Quixote,” Will reminded his psychiatrist.
Jack decided to play along and pretend that they both thought he’d actually forgotten that fact. “Oh, that’s right. How did that go?”
Will shrugged in an attempt to be casual. “Pretty well. Nothing too exciting, I guess. I picked her up at her place, we had dinner, saw the show. Which was nothing special but was a perfectly good production. It was fun.”
“That’s good,” Jack replied, waiting for Will to fill in the gaps.
“It really wasn’t a big thing,” Will murmured.
“Okay,” Jack agreed, knowing at this point he only had to wait. After all, when it came to Mackenzie McHale, almost everything was a big thing for Will.
Will glanced out the window. “She looked good though.”
xxx
Mac was still searching for her shoes when her buzzer rang.
“Hi,” she said, awkwardly as she ran for it. “Sorry. I can’t find my other shoe. I’ll be down in just a minute.”
She could hear Will’s chuckle. “Just let me up Mackenzie,” he replied.
Maybe it was his laugh that did it. It surprised her for some reason. She let him up without a second thought. Not that she had any objection to Will coming to her door, obviously. That would be foolish. It was just... unexpected. An unexpected courtesy. Yes, that was it. Not that she should be surprised that Will was being courteous. He almost always was. Well, provided you weren’t a fan of reality television. In which case he just lectured you, while holding out your chair, of course.
Mac smiled to herself as she slipped her foot into her (finally located) missing shoe. Then she grabbed her coat from her closet and had just enough time to check that there wasn’t anything embarrassing within view of her doorway before she heard Will’s knock on the door.
Her smile was wide when she opened it. “Hi,” she greeted. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here. I could have met you downstairs.”
Will had a bit of an odd look on his face. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the situation (the situation being a happy Mackenzie McHale looking beautiful and ready for him to take her out). “I think I can manage picking you up at your door,” he replied. He glanced down, scanning her legs as he did it. “I see you found your shoe.”
Mac laughed and stepped back to allow him to step inside the entryway. “I did,” she agreed. “It was hiding in the back of my closet. You look good,” she added. He did. Will wasn’t in a suit, which was how she often saw him. He was wearing slacks and a sweater, one which she knew would be sinfully soft if she touched it. She’d always liked him best that way (even more than in a tuxedo). When he was less formal, he just looked so much more Will.
“So do you,” Will murmured softly. She was wearing knee-length dress that wasn’t one she usually wore to the office. Will wasn’t sure what the distinction was exactly, where the line was drawn. But he knew there was one; the dark purple dress she was wearing was obviously for non-office related events. He liked the idea of that, even as it made him nervous. Not that he’d gotten a particularly good look at the dress yes. Mac had barely stood still since he’d arrived. At the moment, she was spinning around her entryway, her coat tossed over her arm and her purse in the other, obviously running through the mental list in her head, trying to make sure she had everything.
He’d been through this ritual more than once. It was one of the reasons he’d offered to just meet her at her door. She’d say she’d be down in thirty seconds, but Will knew there was always at least a couple of minutes of rushing around her entryway. The other reason he’d suggested she let him in became apparent when Mac finally concluded that she had everything necessary for dinner and a musical and spun back around to face him.
He held up a single daisy.
And Mac’s cheerful, “All set!” stilled in her throat.
“Billy,” she murmured, as she took it. She glanced at him for a half a second (just long enough for him to catch the affection and pleasure in her eyes) before her eyes flicked down. “That’s very sweet.”
Will smiled. He loved nothing more than surprising her. It was always fun to watch her search for a reaction. (Or maybe he just liked knowing that he still had an effect.) And somehow the daisy seemed appropriate. Not a big thing, but still... still a thing.
“I should put this in a vase, or something...” Map was saying, spinning around yet again, obviously not sure what to do with her coat and purse.
“Here,” Will offered, taking them from her. “Let me hold those.”
She nodded absently before flitting into her kitchen, obviously searching for something appropriate to hold her daisy. Inspiration obviously wasn’t striking. Will watched in amusement as Mac finally just grabbed a glass, filled it with water and plunked the flower in it.
“It was the right size,” she told him defensively, catching his expression
“It’s fine,” Will assured her, holding her coat open for her. He rather liked the look of it actually, the single daisy sitting on her counter in a water glass.
Mac bit her lip. Yes, Will McAvoy was a gentleman. She let him slide the trench over her shoulders, and grabbed her purse from where he’d set it on the table in her entryway. “Any more surprises?” she asked with a smile.
“You’re easily surprised,” Will replied. After all, it had only been a single little flower. “But no, I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” Mac replied.
“You ready?” Will asked, double-checking.
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Yes, Will thought to himself. Let’s.
xxx
The drive to the restaurant was uneventful. Mostly, Will found himself trying to not stare at Mackenzie’s legs as her dress shifted whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs. He would have suspected she was doing it on purpose, except that she seemed occupied in (very animatedly) describing an idea she’d had for a new feature on the show.
Although, on second thought, maybe her distraction technique was deliberate, because Will was pretty sure he’d agreed to her new idea without having paid all that much attention to what it actually entailed. Oh well, if it did turn out he hated it, he could always change his mind later.
He’d decided to make reservations at an Italian restaurant. It wasn’t a particularly exciting choice, but it was something he knew they both liked. And anyway, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress Mackenzie. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about spending time together, and seeing if they could somehow have a nice time. Something which so far seemed to be working.
Mac seemed to like the restaurant. For some reason the fact that the walls were burgundy and the ceiling was a deep blue pleased her. She always got so enthusiastic over the smallest things (Will had long ago stopped trying to predict what those would be). Anyway, he didn’t mind her enthusiasm. It was better than hypocrisy. It was better than a lot of things actually. She was always so very genuine.
The decor wasn’t the only thing positive thing about the evening. The wine was good. They made it through the appetizers, during which the only awkward moment was when Will stole the olives from Mac’s salad out of habit without even thinking. She’d never liked them, and Will was pretty sure her breath caught when his fork sneaked back across the table after retrieving his prize. Mac recovered quickly with a comment on the salad dressing, but he’d known she’d almost gotten caught going down memory lane. He had too, but he ignored it, trying to focus on how she looked now, beautiful, and digging into her ravioli with gusto. He was enjoying his chicken, albeit less enthusiastically. Actually, he was enjoying more than just the food.
“This is nice,” Will said suddenly.
Mac paused, her expression almost shy. He’d caught her off balance with his casual stealing of her food. It’d been nothing really. It was just the familiarity of it, the intimacy... “Yes.”
Will wasn’t sure what made him say it. Even though most of his brain was screaming at him that it was a bad idea, that he should really just shut up since she still looked happy, the rest of him wanted to tell her. To make sure she knew. “I missed this.”
As he’d feared, the smile slipped off Mac’s face, replaced with an expression Will was only too familiar with now. “I know.”
Will cursed himself. This was why he shouldn’t have said anything. This was why he shouldn’t have rocked the boat. Now he’d hurt her, and wrecked it. He tried to fix it. He wanted to fix it, or at least to move past it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He watched Mac try to get a hold on her feelings. “Like what?” she asked cautiously.
Will ran a hand through his hair. “Like... like it’s your fault.” He’d just wanted to tell her he missed her. God damn it. Sometimes he missed her. He didn’t quite know what to do about it, but he did. He missed her. Was that a crime?
Mac apparently had problems with the idea.
“But it is my fault,” she reminded Will sadly. She was well aware of that. And she was paying the price, even if she was also getting sick of this constant penance. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite see a way of breaking out of it.
“Mac…” Will said tiredly.
“What?” she whispered. “You don’t think I know it’s my fault?”
Will looked at her for a few seconds. Really looked at her. Her eyes full of guilt and sadness, the fact that her heart was obviously cracked showing on her face. “I’m beginning to think you’re more aware of it than anyone,” he said slowly.
It wasn’t the answer Mac had been expecting. It was somehow... better. “Will?”
Will held her gaze. Maybe it was time to take stock of the facts. Mac always liked facts. “We have a past,” he said after a moment.
“Yes, we do,” Mac agreed.
“And I don’t know that it’s possible for us to spend time together and try and completely ignore it,” Will said slowly. It had affected both of them separately so much, that wasn’t reasonable.
“Because the real world doesn’t work like that?” Mac said softly. The happy, fairytale ending wasn’t a guarantee, much as she wanted it to be. She wasn’t a princess, he wasn’t a knight. (Somehow the fact that they were going to Man of la Mancha seemed appropriate). This was reality, not fiction.
“And both of our memories are too good,” Will added wryly.
Mac almost chuckled. Then she sobered. “I’m not asking you to forget what happened,” she said gently.
“That wasn’t what I was trying to suggest,” Will assured her. He knew now that she’d never ask that of him. Whatever it was she was hoping for, it wasn’t that.
Mackenzie frowned slightly. “Then what?”
“I wasn’t trying to blame you Mackenzie.” Will tried again softly. “I just wanted to tell you that...”
He paused, and Mac realized the truth. He’d just missed her. Without all of the other crap. The pleasure threatened to spill out of her, but she kept a lid on it somehow and filled in his hesitation with a truth of her own. “I really missed you too,” she assured him.
Will felt a flash of pain in his chest. She understood; of course she did. “I know.”
To his surprise, she sent him a ghost of a smile. “Okay.”
Will sighed. “But I don’t want today to be about what happened five years ago.”
“You don’t?” Mac double-checked. For some reason, no matter how many times he said it, she still had trouble quite believing that everything didn’t have to be about what had happened between them all those years ago. No matter how much she wanted to.
“You don’t like emotional manipulation. You like to stick to the facts,” Will reminded her with a smirk. “It is a fact that I like having dinner with you, and that there’s no one I’d rather go see Man of La Mancha with.”
“Me too,” Mac replied readily (and keeping her smile under control became that much more difficult).
“Good,” Will said. “Well, that’s all then.”
Mac finally let her smile free, giving a little nod before going back to her ravioli.
Will couldn’t help noticing her sneaking little glances at him every few seconds. “What?”
She smiled. “It’s nothing.”
“Mackenzie...”
She bit her lip. “Are you going to eat your cauliflower?”
With an exaggerated sigh (which also served to conceal his laughter), Will moved his wineglass and spun his plate to give her access to her favourite vegetable (he’d never admit that he might have saved it for her, just in case).
Mac didn’t hesitate to grab one of the last few pieces on his plate. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her then. “You’re welcome.”
xxx
“So you had a rocky moment over dinner?” Jack surmised.
Will shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I guess it was probably inevitable, or something.”
“Yeah,” his psychiatrist admitted dryly. Rocky moments were an understatement when it came to those two.
Will glanced up in annoyance, thinking he heard censure in the other man’s tone. “I know Mac feels badly about what happened. I know she puts all the blame on herself. I’m not an idiot, Doc.”
Habib leaned forward, intrigued by the direction the conversation had taken. He’d been doing this for long enough to recognize when his client’s frustration wasn’t actually directed at him. “I didn’t say you were.”
“Okay.”
“Yet Mackenzie’s answer still surprised you,” Habib reminded the other man.
Will mulled that over in his mind, “Well, not surprised exactly...”
“What then?” Habib prompted.
Will exhaled slowly. “I guess I didn’t realize how screwed up she was about it all.”
Habib raised his eyebrows. This really was a new direction for the two of them. “You thought it was just you?”
Will tried to deny it. “No, I...”
But Habib pressed the point. “You thought that because it was her mistake she dealt with it better?” After all, Mackenzie was guilty in both of their minds (though Jack knew things were more complicated than that for Will). Still, acknowledging the feelings of another person was usually a big step.
“I don’t... maybe,” Will admitted. He’d blamed her because it was convenient, because it was easy, and maybe even deserved. But he also cared about her, and seeing her hurting...
“Will, after the two of you broke things off, the woman literally packed her bags and flew to a war zone,” Jack said, his tone firm but gentle. He was well aware how gentle he had to be with this subject.
As expected, Will turned stubborn. “She’s a journalist.”
“And you don’t think any of it was punishment?” Jack asked. “Not even a little bit?”
“It was an amazing opportunity, career-wise,” Will reminded his psychiatrist. It had been. Obviously it’d been prompted by their breakup as well. But even so, Mackenzie had seized on an amazing opportunity for any journalist. The fact that it was on the other side of the world wasn’t a complete coincidence, but... Oh hell. Of course she’d been running. He’d always known that. He’d been glad of it at the time, to be honest. Even if the alternative might have been healthier for both of them in the long run. That thought had kept him up at night sometimes.
“Yes, it was,” Habib agreed, wondering exactly what was going on in the other man’s head.
“It’s not only my issues that we’re going to have to deal with, is it?” Will asked, feeling suddenly defeated. He remembered the pain in her eyes, and wondered just how deep the guilt went. Wondered if it could ever be routed out.
“No,” Habib told him honestly.
Will sighed. “Great.”
“Sorry Will,” Habib said with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s how real relationships work.”
Will scowled. “I know.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, are you saying that’s why it didn’t work out the first time?” Will asked, suddenly incredulous and angry. “Because I wasn’t considering Mackenzie’s needs? That’s why she cheated on me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Habib assured him.
Will glared at him. “Oh no, you just...”
“I already told you once why I think Mackenzie cheated on you, and it had nothing to do with you,’ Habib reminded him.
“How could it have nothing to do with me?” Will demanded.
“Well, maybe a little bit, I guess,” Habib admitted easily. Their relationship couldn’t have been perfect, or the cheating probably wouldn’t have happened. But Mackenzie’s feelings for Will hadn’t been the driving force. “But, it was mostly not about you.”
“Hmph.”
“Does the thought that maybe you didn’t consider her needs the first time around worry you?” Habib asked gently.
“What? Of course it worries me. Who wouldn’t worry about it?” Will asked in frustration. “After all Doc, it’s not like I have the best track record in this area. Look at me! Most of my dates in the past few years have ended up in the gossip columns or with a drink in my face. And my most functional relationship to date is with a woman who cheated on me with her idiot ex-boyfriend.”
“You’re fighting for the relationship though,” Habib reminded him. “That’s something.”
“Didn’t fight for it right away,” Will grumbled.
“What is it with you and right away?” Habib wondered. “Who cares about that? So you needed a bit of time to make up your mind.”
The idea struck Will as somehow appropriate. “Like Mackenzie did last time, you mean?”
“Will, Mackenzie betrayed you last time, regardless of her reasons, good or bad,” Habib said.
“Maybe she just needed a bit more time to make up her mind,” Will argued. Maybe she had. What had she told him once? That he’d known from the second he’d met her. She obviously hadn’t. Maybe that had been part of their problem. He was sure there were others.
“Maybe,” Habib agreed, more to keep the other man talking than anything.
“It can take time to make up your mind,” Will said quietly.
“Yes.”
The idea made Will unexpectedly cheerful. “This is why I think we need to go slowly. Try and be friends...”
Jack didn’t point out that slow was probably being generous. Whatever speed Will and Mackenzie were moving at, it was probably the pace they needed to go. “I think that’s probably wise.”
“What do you know about wisdom?” Will grumbled. “Isn’t it something you accumulate with age?”
“Not much, but I needed to say something,” Jack admitted easily.
Will smirked.
“You’re trying to make up your mind?” Jack said, summarizing their last few weeks of sessions.
His comment threw Will of guard. “What?”
“About Mackenzie,” Jack clarified. “That’s what you’re doing. You’re trying to make up your mind.”
Will considered that, irritated to discover it was probably true. “I guess... Yeah. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Right.”
“And if we do take our time...” Will said softly, trailing off as he glanced to the side.
Jack smiled softly. “Will?”
“I guess it’ll give her time to make up her mind too,” the anchor murmured. “Apparently I made up mine too fast last time.”
Jack frowned. “Did she say that?”
“Something like it,” Will muttered.
Jack highly doubted that was true, though he could see how Will might think that. “Will...”
Will scowled. “Fine, she said I made up my mind faster than she did.”
“And that made her nervous?” Jack asked.
“I think so,” Will replied. “Yes.”
“Well, maybe this time, if you get that far, you can ask her,” Jack suggested, hoping it would give them something to work towards.
But Will wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge the possibility. “Maybe.”
Jack decided to change the subject. “You said you weren’t trying to impress her.”
Will frowned in confusion. “I did?”
“Yes,” Jack nodded. He hadn’t bothered to call bullshit at the time, but...
“What’s your point?” Will asked.
“Do you honestly believe that?” Jack asked, trying to keep his incredulity out of his tone.
“Sure,” Will replied easily.
“Okay,” Jack agreed, deliberately sounding sceptical.
Will reconsidered his statement, knowing he’d been caught. “Well, okay, maybe I was trying to impress her. I mean, maybe a little. But not beyond...”
“Not beyond what?” his doctor prompted.
“Not beyond how any guy tries to impress a beautiful woman,” he insisted. After all, most men would do a fair bit to impress a woman like Mackenzie McHale. It was practically ingrained in their DNA. He was just particularly susceptible to her. “You know how it is.”
“Sure,” Habib agreed easily.
Will found himself annoyed with the man sitting across from him yet again. “Or maybe, since you haven’t hit puberty yet...”
Habib tried to suppress his sigh. “Will...”
“Fine. Yes, that was probably a lie,” Will admitted.
“You think?” Jack asked sarcastically.
“Shut up,” Will said automatically.
Jack didn’t rise to the bait.
So Will tried to explain a second time. “It’s just... it’s Mackenzie. There’s something about her.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“She’s so insanely idealistic sometimes, or so optimistic. She gets so excited, enthusiasm practically overflows out of her. Sometimes you can’t help wanting to... There’s just something about her is all,” Will said, suddenly sure he might never quite be able to explain it.
Jack thought there might be more to it than that. “Will?”
“When she’s happy, she doesn’t worry about showing it,” Will said eventually.
xxx
Will was willing to admit that he liked a musical. It may not have been the coolest or the most manly thing in the world for a grown man to admit to, but it was true. He enjoyed musicals. There was something about the exaggerated emotion they tended to display. If he was feeling pretentious he could argue that it was through that exaggeration of emotion that some kernel of truth about the human condition was revealed, but that was pretty much bullshit. Or maybe it was true, he didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just liked them.
Mackenzie did too, though she referenced them less frequently in conversation. Except for any and all comparisons to Don Quixote (although, to be fair, that was a fairly recent development). She certainly seemed to enjoy herself at the show. Will couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at her periodically after the curtain rose. Her emotions played across her face while the musical played on stage.
Amusement, sadness, pity, happiness, they were all there for everyone to see. Will was experiencing the same feelings as she was, but he doubted they were as obvious on his face. Mac on the other hand, was more of an open book. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to try to conceal her reaction to what was happening on stage. Why not laugh when the play was funny or cry when it was sad? Though she’d probably deny the latter if he brought it up; sometimes she liked to pretend she wasn’t affected by musicals. She liked to think she was tough, and okay, yeah, she was, at least when it came to facing reality (the woman had spent three years in a literal war zone), but, when it came to a well told story, well... All of her defences deserted her.
Will did his best not to look smug as he handed her a tissue just before the final curtain.
“Shut up,” she sniffled, but she took the Kleenex all the same. Didn’t even bother asking him why he had it. They both knew the answer to that. It wasn’t his first time escorting her to the theatre after all.
Will watched affectionately as she dabbed at her eyes. Mac never fell to sobbing or anything like that; she just sort of welled up until she overflowed, like she couldn’t contain her feelings anymore. By the time the curtain rose so the actors could take their bows, she was smiling again and clapping as loudly as anyone.
Will joined her. It had been a good show. Sancho’s voice had been a little weak, and Dulcinea had tried a little too hard, but overall the show had been solid. There were far, far worse ways to spend an evening. And he did love the theatre, even if he didn’t go as much as he’d have liked. For a start, his work schedule didn’t always make it easy.
And anyway, going to the theatre alone wasn’t much fun.
Not that he was alone today.
His eyes slid back to the woman beside him. Mac was shrugging her coat back on. When she’d finished, Will wordlessly held out a hand to her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she took it readily. He let himself enjoy the feeling of her fingers threading through his own. Sending her a hint of a smile, Will led her out of the theatre, weaving them through the crowd. When he reached the lobby he paused. The rush of their fellow theatre-goers certainly wouldn’t help the traffic situation.
At least, that was what he was going to tell himself.
Squeezing her hand, he got Mackenzie’s attention.
She kept her question non-verbal.
Will could feel his smile reaching his eyes, but decided he didn’t care. “I don’t suppose you feel like getting a drink?”
He decided he rather liked the way her face lit up at the question.
xxx
Ten minutes later they were tucked into the corner of a pub on the corner. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t a dive either. Will figured it would do nicely. He ordered a whiskey and was unsurprised to hear Mac do the same. It was the right kind of night for it somehow.
He watched her curl herself slightly towards him from her side of the table. “So what did you think?” she asked after the waitress had dropped off their drinks.
Will took a sip of the whiskey. It wasn’t bad, just like the musical. “Pretty good,” he told her. “A few of the cast could have been stronger...”
“Like the woman playing Dulcinea, you mean?” Mac murmured.
Will shrugged, “Sancho stood out more for me, actually.”
“It was a bit of a toss up,” Mac replied.
“Still, it wasn’t bad,” Will replied. “Don Quixote was quite good. I’ve seen far worse.”
“That terrible production of Sweeney Todd?” Mac murmured.
To his surprise, the memory didn’t hurt. . “Among others,” he admitted.
Mac cradled her glass against her chest as she studied the man sitting across from her. He looked good, god he looked good, just sitting there nursing a drink in a bar. Handsome, strong, reliable. And she was probably getting pathetic, but she didn’t really care. Because for the first time in a while, things didn’t feel awkward between them in a context outside of work.
“Yeah, this was award-winning theatre in comparison to that thing,” she murmured in reply. “I’ll never understand why the costume designer decided it would be a good idea to dress everyone in primary colours.”
“It hardly set the mood for a murderous barber,” Will agreed. “Leaving at intermission was probably a wise choice.”
“Mmhm,” Mac agreed, taking a sip of her whiskey.
“Besides,” Will added. “I think you enjoyed tonight’s performance more than you’re letting on. Someone got a little emotional towards the end there,” he teased.
Mac hoped the bar was dark enough to conceal her blush as she cursed her inability to hide her emotions. She tried to play it off, “Oh come on...”
“I’m pretty sure I even heard a sob,” Will continued cheerfully.
Mac tried to defend herself. “Oh you did not! I’ll admit, there may have been a tear or two, but...”
“You were practically bawling,” Will said neutrally.
Mac burst out laughing, setting down her drink she leaned forward to smack him in the arm. “Hyperbole,” she informed him lightly.
“Just reporting the facts ma’am,” Will replied with twinkling eyes. “Like any good newsman.”
“And you’re sure you’re never prone to exaggeration, sir?” Mac asked with mock-seriousness.
Will shook his head with a smile. “Never. My producer keeps me honest.”
Mac leaned back in her chair, pleased. “She sounds like she has her hands full.”
Will shrugged. “I think she can handle it.”
“She can,” Mac assured him. Then more softly, “I’m glad you liked your Christmas present.”
“I did like my Christmas present,” Will agreed. In fact, his Christmas present had far exceeded any expectations he might have had when she’d first given him the tickets.
“Good,” Mac murmured.
“How on earth did you manage to find a theatre actually putting on the musical?” Will asked.
“It’s New York,” Mac answered simply. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of theatres in this city. And Google helped.”
Will nodded. “It often does.”
He watched her cross her legs, obviously pleased with herself. He understood the feeling. It had been a long time since he’d genuinely enjoyed a Christmas gift.
The ride back to Mac’s apartment was uneventful. Will would have said they managed to keep things easy between them, except that it hadn’t felt like work. Maybe it was the effect of a good play, maybe it was the whiskey, but he didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. He just felt... good. (It’d taken him longer than it should have to recognize the feeling.) So he was vaguely disappointed when they pulled up in front of Mac’s building.
As he walked her to her door, Will found her hand again. He saw the question in her eyes when he wrapped his fingers around hers, but she didn’t actually ask it, and he didn’t volunteer an answer. Instead, he waited until they were just outside her door before raising her hand to his lips and brushing his lips across her knuckles.
Mac’s sharp intake of breath was audible.
Will smiled softly. “Have a good night, Mackenzie.”
She stared at him for a moment. “You too,” she whispered, before turning towards the door.
Will took a step backwards and waited until she was safely inside. He was pleased to see her glance back at him more than once, and even more pleased to notice she was biting her bottom lip the last time she did it.
Once the door shut behind her, Will turned, sticking his hands in his pockets. For some reason, he had to stifle the strangest urge to laugh.
xxx
“Do you worry about looking happy?” Habib asked when Will reached the end of his story.
It wasn’t the question Will had been expecting. “What?”
“Before,” Jack clarified. “You mentioned that Mackenzie doesn’t. I was wondering if you did.”
Will paused, considering the question. Did he worry about looking happy? There were two answers to that. It depended on what he was happy about. If he was happy because of a particularly good book, or a glass of scotch, or a nice day, why not show it? Not too much obviously, wouldn’t want to frighten the people who knew him. And the other type of happy? The type that went bone-deep and lasted? Well, he hadn’t had that for a while, and he knew exactly what it felt like when it disappeared. The idea of having it back, well, he wasn’t sure if... Mentally shaking himself, Will went with the easy answer. “Who would be afraid of looking happy?”
“You don’t always look happy,” Jack observed.
Will barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Because like most people, I’m not always happy, thanks for bringing it up.”
“That was exactly what you did when you walked in here and complained for fifteen minutes,” Jack reminded him.
“Yeah, it’s quite an effect you have on people, Jack,” Will quipped.
Jack caught the humour in the other man’s voice. As leery as Will was of the emotion (and as much as he liked to complain about the general state of the world), there was no denying the fact that Will MacAvoy was happier this week than he’d been last week. “I’m just saying, it sounds like you had a good weekend,” Jack said neutrally.
Well, obviously he’d had a good weekend, Will thought. “A meal and a show with an intelligent, beautiful, interesting woman, what’s not to like?”
“Is this the part where we’re supposed to high five and I congratulate you, or something?” his psychiatrist asked dryly.
Will almost smiled. “Please don’t.”
Jack did smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to.”
Will nodded, more to himself than anything. It was an expression Jack was beginning to recognize. Will was lost in his own thoughts again, trying to sort something out. Jack waited patiently for the anchor to reach his mental conclusion.
“We did have a good night though, in the end,” Will murmured. “Mackenzie and I, I mean. In spite of everything. Saturday was... nice.”
And that was when Jack realized something. Will definitely wasn’t looking for someone to congratulate him on getting a date with a beautiful woman, or for enjoying himself, or even to pat him on the head about how well he was doing being able to spend time with a woman whose name he could barely stand to hear mentioned two years ago. Will was looking for reassurance. Reassurance that he’d done something social well. Reassurance that moving slowly with Mackenzie was the right thing to do and wasn’t going to blow up in his face.
He’d had a good weekend, and now he was trying not to freak out. And mostly trying not to worry that it might all disappear in a flash again if he made one wrong move. Or if Mackenzie changed her mind.
It made Jack wonder just how much Will had isolated himself from any meaningful connection with the world over the three years Mackenzie had been out of his life. Jack wasn’t assigning blame, but reading between the lines, it sounded like Will had no significant romantic relationships, and professionally none of his staff had lasted more than a year. Instead, he’d had his fans and the media.
Then Mackenzie had come back and flipped everything on its head.
Jack wondered if she was aware of the power she wielded. He wondered if Will was.
But he knew better than to bring any of that up. “So you had a good time.”
“Yeah,” Will agreed easily.
“You made her happy,” Jack continued.
That made Will pause. On some level he’d already known that of course, but hearing it so matter-of-factly was different somehow. He almost sputtered. “Yeah... Well... Sure.
But Jack wasn’t done. “Were you happy?”
Will resisted the urge to squirm in his chair. “I had a good time.”
And with that, Jack went in for the kill and asked the question they’d been leading up to all session. “Do you think you’re afraid of letting yourself be happy with Mackenzie?”
Will looked away. “I was happy with her, before I mean.”
“And if you forgive her,” Jack pressed. “What then?”
Will swallowed. That was the question, wasn’t it? He turned back to look at his doctor. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Jack decided he’d pushed enough for one week. It was a question Will was probably going to have to sit with, and not something that a single good night at the theatre (or an hour’s therapy session) was going to answer. “You had a good time on Saturday?” he half-asked, half-reminded.
Will’s lips almost quirked up into a smile, realizing what the other man was doing. “Yeah.”
Jack stood, signalling the end of the session. “Well, for now, I’d focus on that. And give the rest a little more time.”
Will nodded, standing and heading for the door. “See you next week,” he said.
Jack nodded. Stopping the other man just before he could leave. “And Will?”
The anchor turned towards him.
Jack smiled. “The daisy was a nice touch.”
Will tried to scowl at him, but they both knew his heart wasn’t in it. In fact, Jack would bet the man was maybe even smiling as he walked down the hall.
Not that Will would ever admit it, of course.
xxx
TBC
SO, random question, do people prefer if I refer to Dr. Habib as “Habib” or “Jack”? Or does it make no difference? Because I seem to keep switching at random. Some days I like one, some days I like the other, and it’s starting to bother me, so I just thought I’d ask if any of my lovely readers/reviewers had a preference, since I obviously don’t.
Title: To you my dear, I wish no harm
Rating: T
Fandom/Pairing: The Newsroom, Will/Mac
Summary: "I'm supposed to hate her. That woman ripped my heart out of my chest and chopped it in half before running over it with a bulldozer and then tossing it into a shredder just to be sure there was nothing left. I had every right to be pissed as hell." He was allowed to be angry with her, he was just getting sick of it. He wanted to see if they could try something different.
xxx
When Will walked into Dr. Habib’s office the following week, Jack got the distinct impression there was something the news anchor wanted to talk about. Will did a pretty good job of hiding it, of course. In fact, he spent the first ten minutes of the session complaining about the idiots who wrote into the show and the stupid comments that they left on the website (even though the comments were no longer anonymous). That was followed by five minutes on the latest stupid thing Reese Lansing had the temerity to suggest they cover, along with a story about their latest intern who’d very nearly spilled a cup of coffee over two computers.
“So it’s been a difficult week so far, then?” Jack asked, cutting off Will’s (he was pretty sure mostly fake) tirade.
Will paused. “Nah, it hasn’t been that bad,” he admitted after a second.
“Ah.” Jack replied, knowing he’d been right. “Then what have you been talking about for almost fifteen minutes.”
Will had an answer ready, “My week. I’ve been talking about the last few days. I thought that was what I was supposed to do in therapy?”
“I’d like to think this was something more than just a bitching session,” Jack replied. “But if there’s something else that’s bothering you, feel free to continue.”
“No, I think that’s about it,” Will replied before lapsing into silence.
“Alright, so would you like to talk about something else, then?” Jack asked after a few seconds.
“Well, my last topic of conversation apparently didn’t meet your standards of a worthwhile use of therapy time,” Will replied. “So...”
Jack sighed. “I didn’t say...”
Will interrupted his shrink before he could finish the sentence. “On the other hand, I suppose there is something else we could talk about.”
Jack smiled slightly, before asking the question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to. “And what is that?”
“On Saturday Mac and I went to Don Quixote,” Will reminded his psychiatrist.
Jack decided to play along and pretend that they both thought he’d actually forgotten that fact. “Oh, that’s right. How did that go?”
Will shrugged in an attempt to be casual. “Pretty well. Nothing too exciting, I guess. I picked her up at her place, we had dinner, saw the show. Which was nothing special but was a perfectly good production. It was fun.”
“That’s good,” Jack replied, waiting for Will to fill in the gaps.
“It really wasn’t a big thing,” Will murmured.
“Okay,” Jack agreed, knowing at this point he only had to wait. After all, when it came to Mackenzie McHale, almost everything was a big thing for Will.
Will glanced out the window. “She looked good though.”
xxx
Mac was still searching for her shoes when her buzzer rang.
“Hi,” she said, awkwardly as she ran for it. “Sorry. I can’t find my other shoe. I’ll be down in just a minute.”
She could hear Will’s chuckle. “Just let me up Mackenzie,” he replied.
Maybe it was his laugh that did it. It surprised her for some reason. She let him up without a second thought. Not that she had any objection to Will coming to her door, obviously. That would be foolish. It was just... unexpected. An unexpected courtesy. Yes, that was it. Not that she should be surprised that Will was being courteous. He almost always was. Well, provided you weren’t a fan of reality television. In which case he just lectured you, while holding out your chair, of course.
Mac smiled to herself as she slipped her foot into her (finally located) missing shoe. Then she grabbed her coat from her closet and had just enough time to check that there wasn’t anything embarrassing within view of her doorway before she heard Will’s knock on the door.
Her smile was wide when she opened it. “Hi,” she greeted. “You didn’t need to come all the way up here. I could have met you downstairs.”
Will had a bit of an odd look on his face. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the situation (the situation being a happy Mackenzie McHale looking beautiful and ready for him to take her out). “I think I can manage picking you up at your door,” he replied. He glanced down, scanning her legs as he did it. “I see you found your shoe.”
Mac laughed and stepped back to allow him to step inside the entryway. “I did,” she agreed. “It was hiding in the back of my closet. You look good,” she added. He did. Will wasn’t in a suit, which was how she often saw him. He was wearing slacks and a sweater, one which she knew would be sinfully soft if she touched it. She’d always liked him best that way (even more than in a tuxedo). When he was less formal, he just looked so much more Will.
“So do you,” Will murmured softly. She was wearing knee-length dress that wasn’t one she usually wore to the office. Will wasn’t sure what the distinction was exactly, where the line was drawn. But he knew there was one; the dark purple dress she was wearing was obviously for non-office related events. He liked the idea of that, even as it made him nervous. Not that he’d gotten a particularly good look at the dress yes. Mac had barely stood still since he’d arrived. At the moment, she was spinning around her entryway, her coat tossed over her arm and her purse in the other, obviously running through the mental list in her head, trying to make sure she had everything.
He’d been through this ritual more than once. It was one of the reasons he’d offered to just meet her at her door. She’d say she’d be down in thirty seconds, but Will knew there was always at least a couple of minutes of rushing around her entryway. The other reason he’d suggested she let him in became apparent when Mac finally concluded that she had everything necessary for dinner and a musical and spun back around to face him.
He held up a single daisy.
And Mac’s cheerful, “All set!” stilled in her throat.
“Billy,” she murmured, as she took it. She glanced at him for a half a second (just long enough for him to catch the affection and pleasure in her eyes) before her eyes flicked down. “That’s very sweet.”
Will smiled. He loved nothing more than surprising her. It was always fun to watch her search for a reaction. (Or maybe he just liked knowing that he still had an effect.) And somehow the daisy seemed appropriate. Not a big thing, but still... still a thing.
“I should put this in a vase, or something...” Map was saying, spinning around yet again, obviously not sure what to do with her coat and purse.
“Here,” Will offered, taking them from her. “Let me hold those.”
She nodded absently before flitting into her kitchen, obviously searching for something appropriate to hold her daisy. Inspiration obviously wasn’t striking. Will watched in amusement as Mac finally just grabbed a glass, filled it with water and plunked the flower in it.
“It was the right size,” she told him defensively, catching his expression
“It’s fine,” Will assured her, holding her coat open for her. He rather liked the look of it actually, the single daisy sitting on her counter in a water glass.
Mac bit her lip. Yes, Will McAvoy was a gentleman. She let him slide the trench over her shoulders, and grabbed her purse from where he’d set it on the table in her entryway. “Any more surprises?” she asked with a smile.
“You’re easily surprised,” Will replied. After all, it had only been a single little flower. “But no, I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” Mac replied.
“You ready?” Will asked, double-checking.
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Yes, Will thought to himself. Let’s.
xxx
The drive to the restaurant was uneventful. Mostly, Will found himself trying to not stare at Mackenzie’s legs as her dress shifted whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs. He would have suspected she was doing it on purpose, except that she seemed occupied in (very animatedly) describing an idea she’d had for a new feature on the show.
Although, on second thought, maybe her distraction technique was deliberate, because Will was pretty sure he’d agreed to her new idea without having paid all that much attention to what it actually entailed. Oh well, if it did turn out he hated it, he could always change his mind later.
He’d decided to make reservations at an Italian restaurant. It wasn’t a particularly exciting choice, but it was something he knew they both liked. And anyway, it wasn’t like he was trying to impress Mackenzie. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about spending time together, and seeing if they could somehow have a nice time. Something which so far seemed to be working.
Mac seemed to like the restaurant. For some reason the fact that the walls were burgundy and the ceiling was a deep blue pleased her. She always got so enthusiastic over the smallest things (Will had long ago stopped trying to predict what those would be). Anyway, he didn’t mind her enthusiasm. It was better than hypocrisy. It was better than a lot of things actually. She was always so very genuine.
The decor wasn’t the only thing positive thing about the evening. The wine was good. They made it through the appetizers, during which the only awkward moment was when Will stole the olives from Mac’s salad out of habit without even thinking. She’d never liked them, and Will was pretty sure her breath caught when his fork sneaked back across the table after retrieving his prize. Mac recovered quickly with a comment on the salad dressing, but he’d known she’d almost gotten caught going down memory lane. He had too, but he ignored it, trying to focus on how she looked now, beautiful, and digging into her ravioli with gusto. He was enjoying his chicken, albeit less enthusiastically. Actually, he was enjoying more than just the food.
“This is nice,” Will said suddenly.
Mac paused, her expression almost shy. He’d caught her off balance with his casual stealing of her food. It’d been nothing really. It was just the familiarity of it, the intimacy... “Yes.”
Will wasn’t sure what made him say it. Even though most of his brain was screaming at him that it was a bad idea, that he should really just shut up since she still looked happy, the rest of him wanted to tell her. To make sure she knew. “I missed this.”
As he’d feared, the smile slipped off Mac’s face, replaced with an expression Will was only too familiar with now. “I know.”
Will cursed himself. This was why he shouldn’t have said anything. This was why he shouldn’t have rocked the boat. Now he’d hurt her, and wrecked it. He tried to fix it. He wanted to fix it, or at least to move past it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He watched Mac try to get a hold on her feelings. “Like what?” she asked cautiously.
Will ran a hand through his hair. “Like... like it’s your fault.” He’d just wanted to tell her he missed her. God damn it. Sometimes he missed her. He didn’t quite know what to do about it, but he did. He missed her. Was that a crime?
Mac apparently had problems with the idea.
“But it is my fault,” she reminded Will sadly. She was well aware of that. And she was paying the price, even if she was also getting sick of this constant penance. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite see a way of breaking out of it.
“Mac…” Will said tiredly.
“What?” she whispered. “You don’t think I know it’s my fault?”
Will looked at her for a few seconds. Really looked at her. Her eyes full of guilt and sadness, the fact that her heart was obviously cracked showing on her face. “I’m beginning to think you’re more aware of it than anyone,” he said slowly.
It wasn’t the answer Mac had been expecting. It was somehow... better. “Will?”
Will held her gaze. Maybe it was time to take stock of the facts. Mac always liked facts. “We have a past,” he said after a moment.
“Yes, we do,” Mac agreed.
“And I don’t know that it’s possible for us to spend time together and try and completely ignore it,” Will said slowly. It had affected both of them separately so much, that wasn’t reasonable.
“Because the real world doesn’t work like that?” Mac said softly. The happy, fairytale ending wasn’t a guarantee, much as she wanted it to be. She wasn’t a princess, he wasn’t a knight. (Somehow the fact that they were going to Man of la Mancha seemed appropriate). This was reality, not fiction.
“And both of our memories are too good,” Will added wryly.
Mac almost chuckled. Then she sobered. “I’m not asking you to forget what happened,” she said gently.
“That wasn’t what I was trying to suggest,” Will assured her. He knew now that she’d never ask that of him. Whatever it was she was hoping for, it wasn’t that.
Mackenzie frowned slightly. “Then what?”
“I wasn’t trying to blame you Mackenzie.” Will tried again softly. “I just wanted to tell you that...”
He paused, and Mac realized the truth. He’d just missed her. Without all of the other crap. The pleasure threatened to spill out of her, but she kept a lid on it somehow and filled in his hesitation with a truth of her own. “I really missed you too,” she assured him.
Will felt a flash of pain in his chest. She understood; of course she did. “I know.”
To his surprise, she sent him a ghost of a smile. “Okay.”
Will sighed. “But I don’t want today to be about what happened five years ago.”
“You don’t?” Mac double-checked. For some reason, no matter how many times he said it, she still had trouble quite believing that everything didn’t have to be about what had happened between them all those years ago. No matter how much she wanted to.
“You don’t like emotional manipulation. You like to stick to the facts,” Will reminded her with a smirk. “It is a fact that I like having dinner with you, and that there’s no one I’d rather go see Man of La Mancha with.”
“Me too,” Mac replied readily (and keeping her smile under control became that much more difficult).
“Good,” Will said. “Well, that’s all then.”
Mac finally let her smile free, giving a little nod before going back to her ravioli.
Will couldn’t help noticing her sneaking little glances at him every few seconds. “What?”
She smiled. “It’s nothing.”
“Mackenzie...”
She bit her lip. “Are you going to eat your cauliflower?”
With an exaggerated sigh (which also served to conceal his laughter), Will moved his wineglass and spun his plate to give her access to her favourite vegetable (he’d never admit that he might have saved it for her, just in case).
Mac didn’t hesitate to grab one of the last few pieces on his plate. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her then. “You’re welcome.”
xxx
“So you had a rocky moment over dinner?” Jack surmised.
Will shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I guess it was probably inevitable, or something.”
“Yeah,” his psychiatrist admitted dryly. Rocky moments were an understatement when it came to those two.
Will glanced up in annoyance, thinking he heard censure in the other man’s tone. “I know Mac feels badly about what happened. I know she puts all the blame on herself. I’m not an idiot, Doc.”
Habib leaned forward, intrigued by the direction the conversation had taken. He’d been doing this for long enough to recognize when his client’s frustration wasn’t actually directed at him. “I didn’t say you were.”
“Okay.”
“Yet Mackenzie’s answer still surprised you,” Habib reminded the other man.
Will mulled that over in his mind, “Well, not surprised exactly...”
“What then?” Habib prompted.
Will exhaled slowly. “I guess I didn’t realize how screwed up she was about it all.”
Habib raised his eyebrows. This really was a new direction for the two of them. “You thought it was just you?”
Will tried to deny it. “No, I...”
But Habib pressed the point. “You thought that because it was her mistake she dealt with it better?” After all, Mackenzie was guilty in both of their minds (though Jack knew things were more complicated than that for Will). Still, acknowledging the feelings of another person was usually a big step.
“I don’t... maybe,” Will admitted. He’d blamed her because it was convenient, because it was easy, and maybe even deserved. But he also cared about her, and seeing her hurting...
“Will, after the two of you broke things off, the woman literally packed her bags and flew to a war zone,” Jack said, his tone firm but gentle. He was well aware how gentle he had to be with this subject.
As expected, Will turned stubborn. “She’s a journalist.”
“And you don’t think any of it was punishment?” Jack asked. “Not even a little bit?”
“It was an amazing opportunity, career-wise,” Will reminded his psychiatrist. It had been. Obviously it’d been prompted by their breakup as well. But even so, Mackenzie had seized on an amazing opportunity for any journalist. The fact that it was on the other side of the world wasn’t a complete coincidence, but... Oh hell. Of course she’d been running. He’d always known that. He’d been glad of it at the time, to be honest. Even if the alternative might have been healthier for both of them in the long run. That thought had kept him up at night sometimes.
“Yes, it was,” Habib agreed, wondering exactly what was going on in the other man’s head.
“It’s not only my issues that we’re going to have to deal with, is it?” Will asked, feeling suddenly defeated. He remembered the pain in her eyes, and wondered just how deep the guilt went. Wondered if it could ever be routed out.
“No,” Habib told him honestly.
Will sighed. “Great.”
“Sorry Will,” Habib said with a slight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s how real relationships work.”
Will scowled. “I know.”
“Okay.”
“Wait, are you saying that’s why it didn’t work out the first time?” Will asked, suddenly incredulous and angry. “Because I wasn’t considering Mackenzie’s needs? That’s why she cheated on me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Habib assured him.
Will glared at him. “Oh no, you just...”
“I already told you once why I think Mackenzie cheated on you, and it had nothing to do with you,’ Habib reminded him.
“How could it have nothing to do with me?” Will demanded.
“Well, maybe a little bit, I guess,” Habib admitted easily. Their relationship couldn’t have been perfect, or the cheating probably wouldn’t have happened. But Mackenzie’s feelings for Will hadn’t been the driving force. “But, it was mostly not about you.”
“Hmph.”
“Does the thought that maybe you didn’t consider her needs the first time around worry you?” Habib asked gently.
“What? Of course it worries me. Who wouldn’t worry about it?” Will asked in frustration. “After all Doc, it’s not like I have the best track record in this area. Look at me! Most of my dates in the past few years have ended up in the gossip columns or with a drink in my face. And my most functional relationship to date is with a woman who cheated on me with her idiot ex-boyfriend.”
“You’re fighting for the relationship though,” Habib reminded him. “That’s something.”
“Didn’t fight for it right away,” Will grumbled.
“What is it with you and right away?” Habib wondered. “Who cares about that? So you needed a bit of time to make up your mind.”
The idea struck Will as somehow appropriate. “Like Mackenzie did last time, you mean?”
“Will, Mackenzie betrayed you last time, regardless of her reasons, good or bad,” Habib said.
“Maybe she just needed a bit more time to make up her mind,” Will argued. Maybe she had. What had she told him once? That he’d known from the second he’d met her. She obviously hadn’t. Maybe that had been part of their problem. He was sure there were others.
“Maybe,” Habib agreed, more to keep the other man talking than anything.
“It can take time to make up your mind,” Will said quietly.
“Yes.”
The idea made Will unexpectedly cheerful. “This is why I think we need to go slowly. Try and be friends...”
Jack didn’t point out that slow was probably being generous. Whatever speed Will and Mackenzie were moving at, it was probably the pace they needed to go. “I think that’s probably wise.”
“What do you know about wisdom?” Will grumbled. “Isn’t it something you accumulate with age?”
“Not much, but I needed to say something,” Jack admitted easily.
Will smirked.
“You’re trying to make up your mind?” Jack said, summarizing their last few weeks of sessions.
His comment threw Will of guard. “What?”
“About Mackenzie,” Jack clarified. “That’s what you’re doing. You’re trying to make up your mind.”
Will considered that, irritated to discover it was probably true. “I guess... Yeah. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Right.”
“And if we do take our time...” Will said softly, trailing off as he glanced to the side.
Jack smiled softly. “Will?”
“I guess it’ll give her time to make up her mind too,” the anchor murmured. “Apparently I made up mine too fast last time.”
Jack frowned. “Did she say that?”
“Something like it,” Will muttered.
Jack highly doubted that was true, though he could see how Will might think that. “Will...”
Will scowled. “Fine, she said I made up my mind faster than she did.”
“And that made her nervous?” Jack asked.
“I think so,” Will replied. “Yes.”
“Well, maybe this time, if you get that far, you can ask her,” Jack suggested, hoping it would give them something to work towards.
But Will wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge the possibility. “Maybe.”
Jack decided to change the subject. “You said you weren’t trying to impress her.”
Will frowned in confusion. “I did?”
“Yes,” Jack nodded. He hadn’t bothered to call bullshit at the time, but...
“What’s your point?” Will asked.
“Do you honestly believe that?” Jack asked, trying to keep his incredulity out of his tone.
“Sure,” Will replied easily.
“Okay,” Jack agreed, deliberately sounding sceptical.
Will reconsidered his statement, knowing he’d been caught. “Well, okay, maybe I was trying to impress her. I mean, maybe a little. But not beyond...”
“Not beyond what?” his doctor prompted.
“Not beyond how any guy tries to impress a beautiful woman,” he insisted. After all, most men would do a fair bit to impress a woman like Mackenzie McHale. It was practically ingrained in their DNA. He was just particularly susceptible to her. “You know how it is.”
“Sure,” Habib agreed easily.
Will found himself annoyed with the man sitting across from him yet again. “Or maybe, since you haven’t hit puberty yet...”
Habib tried to suppress his sigh. “Will...”
“Fine. Yes, that was probably a lie,” Will admitted.
“You think?” Jack asked sarcastically.
“Shut up,” Will said automatically.
Jack didn’t rise to the bait.
So Will tried to explain a second time. “It’s just... it’s Mackenzie. There’s something about her.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“She’s so insanely idealistic sometimes, or so optimistic. She gets so excited, enthusiasm practically overflows out of her. Sometimes you can’t help wanting to... There’s just something about her is all,” Will said, suddenly sure he might never quite be able to explain it.
Jack thought there might be more to it than that. “Will?”
“When she’s happy, she doesn’t worry about showing it,” Will said eventually.
xxx
Will was willing to admit that he liked a musical. It may not have been the coolest or the most manly thing in the world for a grown man to admit to, but it was true. He enjoyed musicals. There was something about the exaggerated emotion they tended to display. If he was feeling pretentious he could argue that it was through that exaggeration of emotion that some kernel of truth about the human condition was revealed, but that was pretty much bullshit. Or maybe it was true, he didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just liked them.
Mackenzie did too, though she referenced them less frequently in conversation. Except for any and all comparisons to Don Quixote (although, to be fair, that was a fairly recent development). She certainly seemed to enjoy herself at the show. Will couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at her periodically after the curtain rose. Her emotions played across her face while the musical played on stage.
Amusement, sadness, pity, happiness, they were all there for everyone to see. Will was experiencing the same feelings as she was, but he doubted they were as obvious on his face. Mac on the other hand, was more of an open book. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to try to conceal her reaction to what was happening on stage. Why not laugh when the play was funny or cry when it was sad? Though she’d probably deny the latter if he brought it up; sometimes she liked to pretend she wasn’t affected by musicals. She liked to think she was tough, and okay, yeah, she was, at least when it came to facing reality (the woman had spent three years in a literal war zone), but, when it came to a well told story, well... All of her defences deserted her.
Will did his best not to look smug as he handed her a tissue just before the final curtain.
“Shut up,” she sniffled, but she took the Kleenex all the same. Didn’t even bother asking him why he had it. They both knew the answer to that. It wasn’t his first time escorting her to the theatre after all.
Will watched affectionately as she dabbed at her eyes. Mac never fell to sobbing or anything like that; she just sort of welled up until she overflowed, like she couldn’t contain her feelings anymore. By the time the curtain rose so the actors could take their bows, she was smiling again and clapping as loudly as anyone.
Will joined her. It had been a good show. Sancho’s voice had been a little weak, and Dulcinea had tried a little too hard, but overall the show had been solid. There were far, far worse ways to spend an evening. And he did love the theatre, even if he didn’t go as much as he’d have liked. For a start, his work schedule didn’t always make it easy.
And anyway, going to the theatre alone wasn’t much fun.
Not that he was alone today.
His eyes slid back to the woman beside him. Mac was shrugging her coat back on. When she’d finished, Will wordlessly held out a hand to her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she took it readily. He let himself enjoy the feeling of her fingers threading through his own. Sending her a hint of a smile, Will led her out of the theatre, weaving them through the crowd. When he reached the lobby he paused. The rush of their fellow theatre-goers certainly wouldn’t help the traffic situation.
At least, that was what he was going to tell himself.
Squeezing her hand, he got Mackenzie’s attention.
She kept her question non-verbal.
Will could feel his smile reaching his eyes, but decided he didn’t care. “I don’t suppose you feel like getting a drink?”
He decided he rather liked the way her face lit up at the question.
xxx
Ten minutes later they were tucked into the corner of a pub on the corner. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t a dive either. Will figured it would do nicely. He ordered a whiskey and was unsurprised to hear Mac do the same. It was the right kind of night for it somehow.
He watched her curl herself slightly towards him from her side of the table. “So what did you think?” she asked after the waitress had dropped off their drinks.
Will took a sip of the whiskey. It wasn’t bad, just like the musical. “Pretty good,” he told her. “A few of the cast could have been stronger...”
“Like the woman playing Dulcinea, you mean?” Mac murmured.
Will shrugged, “Sancho stood out more for me, actually.”
“It was a bit of a toss up,” Mac replied.
“Still, it wasn’t bad,” Will replied. “Don Quixote was quite good. I’ve seen far worse.”
“That terrible production of Sweeney Todd?” Mac murmured.
To his surprise, the memory didn’t hurt. . “Among others,” he admitted.
Mac cradled her glass against her chest as she studied the man sitting across from her. He looked good, god he looked good, just sitting there nursing a drink in a bar. Handsome, strong, reliable. And she was probably getting pathetic, but she didn’t really care. Because for the first time in a while, things didn’t feel awkward between them in a context outside of work.
“Yeah, this was award-winning theatre in comparison to that thing,” she murmured in reply. “I’ll never understand why the costume designer decided it would be a good idea to dress everyone in primary colours.”
“It hardly set the mood for a murderous barber,” Will agreed. “Leaving at intermission was probably a wise choice.”
“Mmhm,” Mac agreed, taking a sip of her whiskey.
“Besides,” Will added. “I think you enjoyed tonight’s performance more than you’re letting on. Someone got a little emotional towards the end there,” he teased.
Mac hoped the bar was dark enough to conceal her blush as she cursed her inability to hide her emotions. She tried to play it off, “Oh come on...”
“I’m pretty sure I even heard a sob,” Will continued cheerfully.
Mac tried to defend herself. “Oh you did not! I’ll admit, there may have been a tear or two, but...”
“You were practically bawling,” Will said neutrally.
Mac burst out laughing, setting down her drink she leaned forward to smack him in the arm. “Hyperbole,” she informed him lightly.
“Just reporting the facts ma’am,” Will replied with twinkling eyes. “Like any good newsman.”
“And you’re sure you’re never prone to exaggeration, sir?” Mac asked with mock-seriousness.
Will shook his head with a smile. “Never. My producer keeps me honest.”
Mac leaned back in her chair, pleased. “She sounds like she has her hands full.”
Will shrugged. “I think she can handle it.”
“She can,” Mac assured him. Then more softly, “I’m glad you liked your Christmas present.”
“I did like my Christmas present,” Will agreed. In fact, his Christmas present had far exceeded any expectations he might have had when she’d first given him the tickets.
“Good,” Mac murmured.
“How on earth did you manage to find a theatre actually putting on the musical?” Will asked.
“It’s New York,” Mac answered simply. “It’s not like there’s a shortage of theatres in this city. And Google helped.”
Will nodded. “It often does.”
He watched her cross her legs, obviously pleased with herself. He understood the feeling. It had been a long time since he’d genuinely enjoyed a Christmas gift.
The ride back to Mac’s apartment was uneventful. Will would have said they managed to keep things easy between them, except that it hadn’t felt like work. Maybe it was the effect of a good play, maybe it was the whiskey, but he didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. He just felt... good. (It’d taken him longer than it should have to recognize the feeling.) So he was vaguely disappointed when they pulled up in front of Mac’s building.
As he walked her to her door, Will found her hand again. He saw the question in her eyes when he wrapped his fingers around hers, but she didn’t actually ask it, and he didn’t volunteer an answer. Instead, he waited until they were just outside her door before raising her hand to his lips and brushing his lips across her knuckles.
Mac’s sharp intake of breath was audible.
Will smiled softly. “Have a good night, Mackenzie.”
She stared at him for a moment. “You too,” she whispered, before turning towards the door.
Will took a step backwards and waited until she was safely inside. He was pleased to see her glance back at him more than once, and even more pleased to notice she was biting her bottom lip the last time she did it.
Once the door shut behind her, Will turned, sticking his hands in his pockets. For some reason, he had to stifle the strangest urge to laugh.
xxx
“Do you worry about looking happy?” Habib asked when Will reached the end of his story.
It wasn’t the question Will had been expecting. “What?”
“Before,” Jack clarified. “You mentioned that Mackenzie doesn’t. I was wondering if you did.”
Will paused, considering the question. Did he worry about looking happy? There were two answers to that. It depended on what he was happy about. If he was happy because of a particularly good book, or a glass of scotch, or a nice day, why not show it? Not too much obviously, wouldn’t want to frighten the people who knew him. And the other type of happy? The type that went bone-deep and lasted? Well, he hadn’t had that for a while, and he knew exactly what it felt like when it disappeared. The idea of having it back, well, he wasn’t sure if... Mentally shaking himself, Will went with the easy answer. “Who would be afraid of looking happy?”
“You don’t always look happy,” Jack observed.
Will barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Because like most people, I’m not always happy, thanks for bringing it up.”
“That was exactly what you did when you walked in here and complained for fifteen minutes,” Jack reminded him.
“Yeah, it’s quite an effect you have on people, Jack,” Will quipped.
Jack caught the humour in the other man’s voice. As leery as Will was of the emotion (and as much as he liked to complain about the general state of the world), there was no denying the fact that Will MacAvoy was happier this week than he’d been last week. “I’m just saying, it sounds like you had a good weekend,” Jack said neutrally.
Well, obviously he’d had a good weekend, Will thought. “A meal and a show with an intelligent, beautiful, interesting woman, what’s not to like?”
“Is this the part where we’re supposed to high five and I congratulate you, or something?” his psychiatrist asked dryly.
Will almost smiled. “Please don’t.”
Jack did smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to.”
Will nodded, more to himself than anything. It was an expression Jack was beginning to recognize. Will was lost in his own thoughts again, trying to sort something out. Jack waited patiently for the anchor to reach his mental conclusion.
“We did have a good night though, in the end,” Will murmured. “Mackenzie and I, I mean. In spite of everything. Saturday was... nice.”
And that was when Jack realized something. Will definitely wasn’t looking for someone to congratulate him on getting a date with a beautiful woman, or for enjoying himself, or even to pat him on the head about how well he was doing being able to spend time with a woman whose name he could barely stand to hear mentioned two years ago. Will was looking for reassurance. Reassurance that he’d done something social well. Reassurance that moving slowly with Mackenzie was the right thing to do and wasn’t going to blow up in his face.
He’d had a good weekend, and now he was trying not to freak out. And mostly trying not to worry that it might all disappear in a flash again if he made one wrong move. Or if Mackenzie changed her mind.
It made Jack wonder just how much Will had isolated himself from any meaningful connection with the world over the three years Mackenzie had been out of his life. Jack wasn’t assigning blame, but reading between the lines, it sounded like Will had no significant romantic relationships, and professionally none of his staff had lasted more than a year. Instead, he’d had his fans and the media.
Then Mackenzie had come back and flipped everything on its head.
Jack wondered if she was aware of the power she wielded. He wondered if Will was.
But he knew better than to bring any of that up. “So you had a good time.”
“Yeah,” Will agreed easily.
“You made her happy,” Jack continued.
That made Will pause. On some level he’d already known that of course, but hearing it so matter-of-factly was different somehow. He almost sputtered. “Yeah... Well... Sure.
But Jack wasn’t done. “Were you happy?”
Will resisted the urge to squirm in his chair. “I had a good time.”
And with that, Jack went in for the kill and asked the question they’d been leading up to all session. “Do you think you’re afraid of letting yourself be happy with Mackenzie?”
Will looked away. “I was happy with her, before I mean.”
“And if you forgive her,” Jack pressed. “What then?”
Will swallowed. That was the question, wasn’t it? He turned back to look at his doctor. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Jack decided he’d pushed enough for one week. It was a question Will was probably going to have to sit with, and not something that a single good night at the theatre (or an hour’s therapy session) was going to answer. “You had a good time on Saturday?” he half-asked, half-reminded.
Will’s lips almost quirked up into a smile, realizing what the other man was doing. “Yeah.”
Jack stood, signalling the end of the session. “Well, for now, I’d focus on that. And give the rest a little more time.”
Will nodded, standing and heading for the door. “See you next week,” he said.
Jack nodded. Stopping the other man just before he could leave. “And Will?”
The anchor turned towards him.
Jack smiled. “The daisy was a nice touch.”
Will tried to scowl at him, but they both knew his heart wasn’t in it. In fact, Jack would bet the man was maybe even smiling as he walked down the hall.
Not that Will would ever admit it, of course.
xxx
TBC
SO, random question, do people prefer if I refer to Dr. Habib as “Habib” or “Jack”? Or does it make no difference? Because I seem to keep switching at random. Some days I like one, some days I like the other, and it’s starting to bother me, so I just thought I’d ask if any of my lovely readers/reviewers had a preference, since I obviously don’t.