{ Beside your mouth that smiles now }
Beside your mouth that smiles now
post S1; alicia florrick, will gardner, alicia/will (the good wife)
Will smiles, bitter-sweet, as he remembers.
Beside your mouth that smiles now
My arms reach up as you go down
With buried heads we both forget
All of the past and its regret
'Sleep Tonight' by Stars
--
He stirs his coffee and takes a sip, wincing as he scalds his tongue. Scowling, he places the cup on the bench and his attention is caught by the open door of his bedroom. Inside, she sleeps, and he can see her without actually seeing, dark hair splayed on the pillow, skin pale in the morning light that spills through the windows.
Will smiles, bitter-sweet, as he remembers.
***
Alicia.
She opens her mouth to argue with the lecturer and he is floored. Long hair falling well below her shoulders, skin porcelain white, voice like church bells. This, he thinks years later, was not when he fell completely, but it was certainly the start.
That day, he signs for the same tutorial.
*
Slowly, their friendship evolves, deepens, and one night he leans forward and brushes his lips lightly against hers.
Winces as she pulls back and is glad when they never mention it again.
*
Soon after, she meets Peter, and he knows that - for now at least - she is lost to him.
*
Cassandra.
Smart, sweet, a smattering of freckles across her nose, 'cute' by most people's standards. Will knows she is the sort of woman many men would kill to be with. Yet, when they are in bed, he can think only of another woman who now lies in her husband's arms.
Soon, they part, and he offers an apology she doesn't accept.
*
He vows then to move forward.
*
Hannah.
Cliché. She is his secretary, he is her boss, but the two find a balance. They don't speak of work when outside, they keep separate apartments, neither wanting to move in together. It suits him.
More than casual, less than important.
All-too-soon, though, she wants more than he can give.
“Will, where is this going?”
“What do you mean?”
She packs the small amount of belongings she has at his apartment that night.
“I just need something more, Will,” she says, bag slung over her shoulder. “And you will never be able to give me that.”
He nods and watches her walk down the hallway. Doesn't try to stop her.
*
Kalinda.
It would only ever be a one-time thing.
The case they are working is hard, a minefield of lies and deceit, and they work at night alone. She wears blue, the colour contrasting with her skin, and on a whim he reaches out and runs his hand over her shoulder.
She freezes at his touch and looks at him, brown eyes almost black.
From then, it's a blur. Hands reaching, clothes pulled up, until they combine so fiercely it's impossible to tell one body from another.
The pieces don't fit but that one night (and it will only be one night) they try as best they can.
*
Emily
Smart, sexy, tattoos running across her body. Images he wants to trace.
But she is back and where once he would try, try again to get into this woman's bed, now he backs away citing 'work' and 'conflict.'
*
Alicia.
Her hair is shorter now, less wild, she is more polished but there are times when he can see the carefree girl he knew at college. The one who cared too much.
“I played with that kid's life.”
“You did everything, I know you did.”
Validation; of his effort, of his hard-work, and he looks up when she touches his shoulder and finds her oh-so-close. Without thinking, he stands and cups her cheek in his hand. She doesn't back away and he leans forward and kisses her, remembering their shape, their feel, from all those years ago.
He pulls back, afraid history will repeat itself, that she will leave and is surprised (and elated) when she initiates their second kiss.
Elation that fades when she comes to her senses and runs away.
*
They dance around each other (again) and she makes the same choice she did before.
Peter.
Will bows out of this fight.
(For now.)
“We have bad timing. We've always had bad timing.”
*
Sadie.
She was a talented lawyer, an even more talented professor, and Will thinks that maybe, maybe, she would be able to break the hold Alicia had over him.
No, that's not true, he thinks a second later, but he's always been good at acting.
Intellectual arguments, a request for him to play the part of a judge; teasing and goading, if he had any sense he would take this chance and run with it. Instead, when he sits at night talking with Sadie, he can't help wishing it was Alicia in the armchair opposite.
Then, Jiada ruins it (if there ever was an 'it') with thinly-veiled connotations and Sadie throws him unceremoniously from her office.
He can't bring himself to care.
*
Jiada.
Young (too young?), savvy, fun; Will lets himself be pulled in.
“I met Alicia Florrick. Felt as if I was being looked over by someone who had skin in the game.”
At that moment, Will wonders if women have a sense for this sort of thing.
Or perhaps he has 'Alicia' tattooed on his forehead.
Either way, $8000 bottles of wine notwithstanding, he walks away.
*
Alicia.
It always comes back to her.
Jiada's $8000 bottle of wine is open before him, the taste on his tongue, and he swallows as he dials a familiar number. She picks up quickly and he hears noises around her, people talking, cameras clicking.
“Where are you?”
“Peter's press conference.”
Where she will play 'the wife' again. He grits his teeth, glad she can't see him. Hates that the people out there, who will no doubt watch the news tonight, won't see the woman he knows. Won't know that she is fiercely intelligent, able to weave words that sound sweet but which can cut through a person's life like a knife, that her laugh (when real) bubbles right from the back of her throat. No, they'll see a pretty, little wife who stood at her husband's side.
“Show me a plan.”
“Not everything in life needs a plan.”
“Everything that matters does.”
He pauses. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go. In his head, he'd seen her professing her own feelings, ones that matched his, envisioned her running to her side. Now, he sees that this is far more complex than he'd imagined. Alicia cuts the connection and he falters, unsure whether or not to re-dial.
He has no plan. Or rather, his is simple. He wants one thing: her, along with any 'baggage' she believes she has.
He takes a breath. Dials the number.
Is crushed when she doesn't answer.
*
“You didn't answer.”
“Eli Gold took my phone.”
Part of him rejoices that it wasn't her choice not to answer.
Another despairs that she didn't fight harder.
*
They fall into their dance, spinning through the familiar steps. Drawing close, pulling away, back-and-forth, a pendulum clock.
*
He finds her one night, in her office, eyes closed as she lets her head fall back. It is dark, everyone else has left, and he knocks on the door frame.
“It's late,” he says, gesturing unnecessarily at the dim lights.
“Mm.”
She is out-of-sorts and he steps inside, sits on the couch.
“Talk to me.”
She laughs and then falls silent. Will waits, knowing she will speak in her own time.
“You saw our latest clients?” she says.
He frowns. “The two men from San Francisco? They said they were re-locating to Chicago and needed a law firm.”
She nods and bites her lip. “Friends of Peter's,” she whispers, barely audible. “I'll always be an extension of him, won't it?”
The question is rhetorical, not that Will would know how to answer anyway.
*
He watches as she works by day (probably most of the night as well) and poses for photographers on the weekend. Peter is on the campaign trail, blazing forward, gaining support left, right and centre. And Alicia is always there, on the side-line, smiling for the cameras.
Will wonders if she hates it as much as he hates watching.
*
“I'm tired.”
An admission and he waves her inside his office. She stands in the centre and he crosses until he is front of her and, when she doesn't move or speak, takes hold of her hands.
“Alicia?”
She looks up, and he is surprised to see just how... exhausted she looks. She hides it so well that even he, who looks more than he should, hadn't noticed.
“I'm so tired.”
Of what, she doesn't say and he doesn't ask as he wraps his arms around her and holds her close.
*
She holds her head up high and Will sees how she becomes more selective of the calls she takes. He is speaking with her, discussing their latest case, when her assistant pokes her head inside.
“Alicia? It's your husband.”
She nods and keeps her eyes firmly away from him as she answers.
“Take a message.”
*
He holds up a beer, grins as she nods, and opens the bottle and hands it over. They had won in court (over Cary Argos no less - Alicia trumping him in her closing argument) and he felt a celebration was in order.
“I did good, didn't I?” Alicia murmurs, swirling her beer, the liquid sloshing in the bottle.
Will raises an eyebrow, surprised that she still needs to hear she is doing well. Its not that she wants to simply hear the praise, it's as if she needs to hear it, to make sure she isn't doing anything wrong. Strange, he thinks, people much less talented would brag if they had her skills.
“That you did,” Will says, not voicing his thoughts.
She looks up, grins, and he is taken aback by how different she looks at that moment. Free and - happy?
Then she looks over his shoulder, sees the clock on the wall.
“I have to get home.”
He nods, hating this, whatever 'this' was.
*
Will frowns as he looks out through the glass walls. Alicia walks past, holding case files close to her chest, and his frown deepens. Kalinda raises an eyebrow and gives a silent 'ah' that he ignores.
“Didn't she wear that yesterday?” he asks, more to himself.
“That's very observant,” Kalinda mocks, unaffected by the glare he sends her way. “She stayed at a hotel last night,” she explains a moment later. “She and Peter haven't been getting along recently,”
Will doesn't even attempt to decipher what he feels about that statement.
*
“Damn it!”
He flinches in the doorway. The movement is enough to catch Alicia's attention and she swears under her breath from where she kneels on the ground, surrounded by papers, no doubt from the empty file she holds in one hand.
“Alicia?”
“Is it too much to ask for?” she mutters, reaching for the papers and slamming them into the file with more force than is necessary.
“Alicia?” he repeats, genuinely concerned.
Her hair is untidy, having fallen from its usual immaculate style; mascara smudged, as if she had rubbed her eyes too many times to count; jacket unbuttoned to reveal a rumpled blouse.
“Just once,” she continues, apparently ignoring him, “just once, can something with this goddamn case go right? The witnesses are lying, the evidence is contradictory, Cary is just itching to tear my guys to shreds and have hours of witness prep helped even a tiny bit? No!”
Slowly, he crouches down and takes hold of her wrists, keeping her still.
“Alicia, what is going on?”
She straightens and rests against her heels, looking so tired that it's painful to see. Deep breaths run in-and-out her throat, her chest rising and falling, and she tugs her hands away. Her eyes are bright, almost wild, and he freezes as she leans forward until they are inches apart.
“I feel like I'm going mad,” she confesses, her breath hot against his skin. “Mad, Will.”
He swallows, unsure what to say or do, and settles (as he all-too-often does) for silence.
*
The news is playing muted in the background, and Will watches with disinterest. Peter is speaking again, at a charity event, and Will's eyes drift (as they always do) to the left where Alicia will inevitably be standing.
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth when he finds that she isn't there.
His cell phone rings and he answers without looking at the screen, his attention still focused on the empty space where Alicia so often stood.
“Will?”
He starts at the sound of her voice and quickly turns off the television.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“With Kalinda,” she answers. “This case just doesn't make sense. Are you at the office?”
He gives a short laugh. “Where else on a Saturday afternoon?”
He can almost see her smile and grins to himself.
“We might come in later.”
“Okay.”
She hangs up and Will leans back in his chair, still smiling.
*
It's late, ridiculously so, and it comes as a surprise when Will looks around as he enters the building and sees the sleeping figure of Alicia on her couch. Sighing, he walks to her office and takes off his jacket, draping it over body. She shifts in her sleep and he sits down, keeping an eye out lest someone else arrive.
“Will?”
Alicia looks up through heavy lashes, voice slurred from sleep and he stays silent as she sits up, hugging his jacket close.
“I wanted a couple of hours,” she explains, “I didn't think anyone else-.”
“Go home,” he interrupts, “this is ridiculous.”
She laughs; it's harsh in the otherwise silent office.
“Not an appealing option, Will,” she says, voice bitter.
He says nothing, and she runs her hand through her hair.
“I need a shower,” she mutters, changing the subject.
“Here,” Will says, digging into his pockets and taking out his keys, “go to my apartment and use mine. Get a couple of hours sleep.”
She frowns and looks at his out-stretched hand. “I'm not sure that's appropriate, Will.”
He shrugs. “No one need know.”
At this, she grins, takes the keys from his hand.
“How true.”
*
It was strange, he thinks as he steps inside his apartment, how different it seemed. Alicia hadn't left anything behind, except for a rinsed coffee cup, but it's as if she had taken the apartment over. He unbuttons his shirt as he walks and goes into the bathroom, drawn to the still-damp towel that hangs on the rack.
He reaches for the towel, holds it to his face and inhales deep.
*
David Lee swaggers into his office and Will closes his eyes for a brief moment. He doesn't like the divorce lawyer, but he brings in money that the firm desperately needs.
“Alicia Florrick,” David announces, stopping before Will's desk. “How are we charging her?”
Will falters and David laughs, high and scathing. “You didn't know?” he asks. “Alicia came to me last week. I think she's more than capable of handling this herself, but she wants to do it properly. Her husband's being most uncooperative and because they didn't sign a pre-nup...”
Will holds his hand and the other man falls silent.
“Bill it to the firm,” he says finally, “I'll sort it from then on.”
*
“Were you going to tell me?”
Alicia raises an eyebrow as he steps inside her office and shuts the door.
“David told you,” she states, not needing to ask what he is referring to.
He nods. “Alicia-”
“It's my business, Will,” she interrupts. “I didn't tell you because it doesn't concern you.”
His eyes widen and his throat stings. “Please, tell me it does,” he whispers.
Alicia stares at her desk as she answers.
“Don't hate me.”
“Please, don't end up hating me.”
*
Peter's popularity lessens when the divorce becomes common knowledge and Will can't help but feel a degree of vindictive glee. Alicia and the kids are staying in the flat, he hears through Kalinda, Peter has moved to a different building across town.
“Will?”
He looks up at the sound of Alicia's voice but doesn't say anything.
“This case has just got more complicated,” she continues.
“Complicated?”
“As in $30 million, complicated.”
His eyes widen.
“Get everyone together. Conference room in ten minutes.”
*
Another late night and Will watches, enthralled, as Alicia takes a sip of water. Eyes closed, she tilts her head back and he traces the long line of her neck.
“I wonder if you know just how much you look at me.”
Her words pull him from his observations and he blushes, warmth rising in his cheeks. Eyes still shut, a smile tugs at her lips and he sees how her lips glisten with water, the light from from her office lamp glinting off her lipstick and turning it blood-red.
“Sorry,” he says softly.
A smile tugs at her lips as she opens one eye.
“Are you really?” she asks sceptically.
He shakes his head. “Not particularly.”
She laughs - a real laugh - and he can't help but join in.
*
One a.m, his doorbell rings and he yawns as he opens the door.
“Don't ask what I'm doing here because I don't even know.”
He says nothing as he ushers her inside, the door closing softly behind him. She stands in the centre of his living room, her eyes darting about, landing on the bookshelves, the photographs, anywhere but him.
“Alicia,” he says loudly to get her attention.
Her eyes snap to his and he is floored once again, as if he is back in that lecture theatre at college. He doesn't move as she crosses the four steps where he is standing and places one hand flat against his chest. She stills, looks down at the floor, and he can almost see the rush of thoughts flying through her mind. The knowledge she should leave, that she has kids at home, that he is her boss...
“Just don't think for a while,” he says softly, pulling her close.
He lifts her chin with two of his fingers and leans down, pressing his lips against hers, their kiss as familiar as if they've been doing this for years.
***
“What time is it?”
Will starts at the sound of Alicia's voice, drawn from his memories. She leans against the door frame, wearing only his shirt, which is several sizes too big. The buttons are mainly undone, dipping down low, and he swallows reflexively.
“Six-thirty.”
She nods and rubs her eye with the heel of her palm. It's almost child-like and he can't help but smile slightly, something that is not lost on Alicia.
“What?”
He shrugs. “Just you.”
“Ha.”
She walks to the kitchen, bare feet silent against the polished wood floor and stands before him. She is a good half-foot shorter and he cups her cheek in his hand, tracing circles against her skin.
“Alicia-”
She shakes her head and reaches up, placing one finger against his lips.
“One day at a time,” she says softly.
His brow furrows. “What happened to 'the plan'?” he asks.
Alicia pauses before answering.
“Not everything in life needs a plan.”