"19th Wedding Anniversary" Fic - Chapter 7 - Alicia Time
Author's Note: This fic has been collecting dust in a dark corner for two years, but I never gave up on its eventual completion. Life just got in the way. I have a little time in the next few weeks, so I expect to update with the remaining portions fairly shortly after this now that I have gotten back into the groove.
Maybe there are a few fans (beyond the handful I personally know) still out there with some interest in the marriage of Alicia and Peter Florrick. Hope dies last for me. I will continue to hope we get some of this in canon, but given the low chances of that at this stage in the series, I decided it was important to make it happen in fan fiction at the very least!
Thank you to all the loyal "The Good Wife" fans who continue to inspire and support my writing. I owe extra gratitude to Kiki, Josie, Sabrina, Sybil, and Jami for being wonderful sounding boards!
Still don't own "The Good Wife" or the Florricks...
~~~~~~~~~
In that moment, I was undone. I no longer had the strength left to run from Peter or all the emotions I had spent so many years building walls to bury. The dam had burst. There was no going back now. I sobbed, the pain overwhelming me. Unable to fight off his comforting embrace…unsure if I even wanted to anymore…I collapsed against him.
The tears came in torrents, streaming down my face, blurring my vision into a sickening kaleidoscope of colors. I shut my eyes tightly against the sudden forlorn noise that assailed my ears, causing me to burrow deeper into Peter's embrace, before I realized, somewhere in my mind, that the animalistic sound was coming from me. Grief clawed its way out of the shadows of my soul, refusing to be silenced.
Peter pulled me securely to him, guiding my head to his chest. He ran his palms soothingly along my back and arm. I could hear him fighting back tears also as he softly said, "It's okay, Alicia. Let it out. You're safe, honey. I've got you." He took a deep shuddering breath then and tenderly kissed my head. "I'm so sorry, Babe."
I looked up then, meeting his eyes briefly, but the sadness I saw there threatened to push me further into despair. My head was pounding, and my body was wracked by sobs.
It felt like the tears would never end. Slowly, though, the emotional eruption eased. My eyes continued to seep tears as we sat for a few more moments in silence, my sniffling and our syncopated breathing the only sounds in the room. Eventually Peter put his hand to my head again, gently massaging the tight muscles on my neck and lower scalp through my hair. The simple act caused a wistful smile to creep to my face, retrieving fond memories of times past when he had initiated this same simple gesture, knowing it always helped me relax.
As the tears slowed and I swiped at my nose with the back of my hand, Peter hesitantly said, "Want to talk about it?"
An incredulous snort was my reflexive response, but I knew I needed to speak. If we were ever going to move beyond our awkward stalemate, I knew I had to be willing to communicate with him. I had to take a chance on letting him back in. At the prospect of added vulnerability, a wave of nausea washed over me, but I squeezed my eyes shut and steeled myself against it. I wanted this. As terrifying as it was, deep down, I wanted this. I needed for Peter to know what he did to me. I needed him to hear me say it so there wasn't any more ambiguity, but it was all so big and raw…where to start?
I took a shaky breath and slowly let it leak out again, wiping my eyes dry with the heels of my palms. "I trusted you, Peter…completely," I began quietly. "I gave up everything for you-for us. I gave you…everything, and you just…threw it all away like it was…nothing. Like our family, the life we built, was meaningless."
Peter shifted his hand to my leg, and I knew he wanted to speak, but I couldn't let him yet. I grabbed his wrist to stop him, unable to look at him and share the ragged fragments of my heart at the same time. "Wait, Peter…Please…I just need to get it out, okay?"
"Okay," Peter acquiesced, lightly squeezing my leg before returning his arm to embrace me. The moment felt like it was thinning. It was both physically and emotionally awkward sitting in a heap on the entry way floor, but I knew if we were going to deal with the elephant between us, it needed to be now. Still, I needed a moment to regroup, and finding a more comfortable position seemed like a useful diversion. "Can we move to the couch, first, though? This is really uncomfortable," I suggested, moving my stiffening joints.
Peter chuckled, moved to stand, and offered me a hand up, "Absolutely! My legs were falling asleep!" His warm hand felt even warmer in contrast to the loss of contact everywhere else as we walked to the living room. Peter sat in the corner of the couch as I grabbed some tissues off the end table, crumpling them in my fist.
I hesitated for a second, unsure where to sit. Deciding it would be easier to share my darkness without looking at him, but wanting to be close, I pointed in front of him, "May I?" Peter shifted one leg onto the couch to make room for me. "Of course," he said, tenderly welcoming me into the security of his embrace again.
For a long moment, we just sat there together, and I remembered how much I had loved moments like this before. I had always felt so…safe…invincible in Peter's arms back then. I realized I still enjoyed the feeling, but I was wiser now. I knew the demons lurked within and between us, not outside our embrace. The threat that loomed largest over our marriage was the wall of silence that persisted between us. I knew it would only come down by communicating better, so I took another cleansing breath and dove back in.
"There have been times in the last few years when …" I have to resist the urge to hold back the words. It has become such an automatic habit to bite my tongue. "I have hated you…for what you did to our family. For all that our kids and I had to endure because of your…" I struggle mentally, sifting through words to find the one that I'm satisfied feels the best. "…selfish disregard. For making me question my love for you…for making me doubt your love for me. I've hated myself for giving a damn at all about what you think…or how you feel, and why. I've hated how your actions altered the way I think about …everything!"
I realized my voice was loud now, my words filled with more rancor than I expected or intended them to be. I picked up a tissue from my leg, where I had been mindlessly pressing the wrinkles out with one hand as I spoke, and used it to wipe at my nose before crumpling it into my fist again.
With equal emotion but a softer tone, I said, "I never realized how much I depended on you. Then when I needed you most, you weren't there! I had the press surrounding me everywhere, your sex tapes were all over the internet and media." I shook my head, remembering. "None of our supposed friends would even make eye contact after that. They certainly didn't offer any help or support."
My voice cracked as I remembered my children's faces the night I had to tell them we would have to move. "Telling the kids I had to put the house up for sale was so hard! Zach was upset, I could tell, but he tried to hide it like always. Grace fell apart. I think she cried off and on for 3 days. I wanted to cry along with her, but I couldn't allow myself to break. I didn't think I would never be able to stop if I gave in to the darkness I felt."
Peter pulled my head gently towards him then and pressed a kiss on my hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out again to steady myself. "The kids set up Google alerts on our names and knew stuff before I did half the time. I had to have conversations with our kids, about our sex life, that no parent should ever have to have with their children, Peter! I had to make humiliating doctor appointments, just to put to rest the nagging fear that I might have been infected with STDs because of your risky behavior..." The memory of those bitter days made the back of my mouth taste sour. "There were so many bills and so many questions, theirs and my own, but I didn't have the answers.
"I was so angry at you for causing the whole thing and then disappearing. I felt like you abandoned us when we needed you most. I had to be strong for the kids, but I felt…so alone…so tired." I looked at Peter and saw the pain I felt from reliving those memories reflected back to me from his face. I couldn't handle it and had to turn my head away.
"You destroyed my sense of confidence in everything I thought I knew to be true…what, and who, I thought I could count on. Not just you, Peter. Everyone! Everything! I didn't trust my own sense of judgment anymore. My self-confidence…and self-worth were shattered."
The tears ran down my checks as the pitch of my voice betrayed my most painful admission. "I felt so…gullible. It never occurred to me to be suspicious. And then suddenly, my entire life was part of the 24 hour news cycle and …" My voice broke again as I steeled myself against the nausea once more.
I quietly admitted for the first time out loud, "I felt so…dirty…and ashamed," the disgust evident even to my own ears. "I suddenly felt like you didn't think I was good enough for you." Peter leaned his head against my own. I heard him sigh, but he, thankfully, just held me a little tighter and didn't try to speak. I could tell from the way he cleared his throat that the tears were blurring his vision as well as my own then, but I was past the point of no return. I had to finish.
"Then the press said I was frigid…that I wasn't adventurous enough for you. The whole thing made me feel worthless-as a wife-as a woman." I glanced up at him then, clenching my jaw to keep from crying again, before returning my eyes to my lap, where I unconsciously twisted my wedding band. "What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I enough, Peter?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Where did we go wrong? …What did I not see?"
Maybe there are a few fans (beyond the handful I personally know) still out there with some interest in the marriage of Alicia and Peter Florrick. Hope dies last for me. I will continue to hope we get some of this in canon, but given the low chances of that at this stage in the series, I decided it was important to make it happen in fan fiction at the very least!
Thank you to all the loyal "The Good Wife" fans who continue to inspire and support my writing. I owe extra gratitude to Kiki, Josie, Sabrina, Sybil, and Jami for being wonderful sounding boards!
Still don't own "The Good Wife" or the Florricks...
~~~~~~~~~
In that moment, I was undone. I no longer had the strength left to run from Peter or all the emotions I had spent so many years building walls to bury. The dam had burst. There was no going back now. I sobbed, the pain overwhelming me. Unable to fight off his comforting embrace…unsure if I even wanted to anymore…I collapsed against him.
The tears came in torrents, streaming down my face, blurring my vision into a sickening kaleidoscope of colors. I shut my eyes tightly against the sudden forlorn noise that assailed my ears, causing me to burrow deeper into Peter's embrace, before I realized, somewhere in my mind, that the animalistic sound was coming from me. Grief clawed its way out of the shadows of my soul, refusing to be silenced.
Peter pulled me securely to him, guiding my head to his chest. He ran his palms soothingly along my back and arm. I could hear him fighting back tears also as he softly said, "It's okay, Alicia. Let it out. You're safe, honey. I've got you." He took a deep shuddering breath then and tenderly kissed my head. "I'm so sorry, Babe."
I looked up then, meeting his eyes briefly, but the sadness I saw there threatened to push me further into despair. My head was pounding, and my body was wracked by sobs.
It felt like the tears would never end. Slowly, though, the emotional eruption eased. My eyes continued to seep tears as we sat for a few more moments in silence, my sniffling and our syncopated breathing the only sounds in the room. Eventually Peter put his hand to my head again, gently massaging the tight muscles on my neck and lower scalp through my hair. The simple act caused a wistful smile to creep to my face, retrieving fond memories of times past when he had initiated this same simple gesture, knowing it always helped me relax.
As the tears slowed and I swiped at my nose with the back of my hand, Peter hesitantly said, "Want to talk about it?"
An incredulous snort was my reflexive response, but I knew I needed to speak. If we were ever going to move beyond our awkward stalemate, I knew I had to be willing to communicate with him. I had to take a chance on letting him back in. At the prospect of added vulnerability, a wave of nausea washed over me, but I squeezed my eyes shut and steeled myself against it. I wanted this. As terrifying as it was, deep down, I wanted this. I needed for Peter to know what he did to me. I needed him to hear me say it so there wasn't any more ambiguity, but it was all so big and raw…where to start?
I took a shaky breath and slowly let it leak out again, wiping my eyes dry with the heels of my palms. "I trusted you, Peter…completely," I began quietly. "I gave up everything for you-for us. I gave you…everything, and you just…threw it all away like it was…nothing. Like our family, the life we built, was meaningless."
Peter shifted his hand to my leg, and I knew he wanted to speak, but I couldn't let him yet. I grabbed his wrist to stop him, unable to look at him and share the ragged fragments of my heart at the same time. "Wait, Peter…Please…I just need to get it out, okay?"
"Okay," Peter acquiesced, lightly squeezing my leg before returning his arm to embrace me. The moment felt like it was thinning. It was both physically and emotionally awkward sitting in a heap on the entry way floor, but I knew if we were going to deal with the elephant between us, it needed to be now. Still, I needed a moment to regroup, and finding a more comfortable position seemed like a useful diversion. "Can we move to the couch, first, though? This is really uncomfortable," I suggested, moving my stiffening joints.
Peter chuckled, moved to stand, and offered me a hand up, "Absolutely! My legs were falling asleep!" His warm hand felt even warmer in contrast to the loss of contact everywhere else as we walked to the living room. Peter sat in the corner of the couch as I grabbed some tissues off the end table, crumpling them in my fist.
I hesitated for a second, unsure where to sit. Deciding it would be easier to share my darkness without looking at him, but wanting to be close, I pointed in front of him, "May I?" Peter shifted one leg onto the couch to make room for me. "Of course," he said, tenderly welcoming me into the security of his embrace again.
For a long moment, we just sat there together, and I remembered how much I had loved moments like this before. I had always felt so…safe…invincible in Peter's arms back then. I realized I still enjoyed the feeling, but I was wiser now. I knew the demons lurked within and between us, not outside our embrace. The threat that loomed largest over our marriage was the wall of silence that persisted between us. I knew it would only come down by communicating better, so I took another cleansing breath and dove back in.
"There have been times in the last few years when …" I have to resist the urge to hold back the words. It has become such an automatic habit to bite my tongue. "I have hated you…for what you did to our family. For all that our kids and I had to endure because of your…" I struggle mentally, sifting through words to find the one that I'm satisfied feels the best. "…selfish disregard. For making me question my love for you…for making me doubt your love for me. I've hated myself for giving a damn at all about what you think…or how you feel, and why. I've hated how your actions altered the way I think about …everything!"
I realized my voice was loud now, my words filled with more rancor than I expected or intended them to be. I picked up a tissue from my leg, where I had been mindlessly pressing the wrinkles out with one hand as I spoke, and used it to wipe at my nose before crumpling it into my fist again.
With equal emotion but a softer tone, I said, "I never realized how much I depended on you. Then when I needed you most, you weren't there! I had the press surrounding me everywhere, your sex tapes were all over the internet and media." I shook my head, remembering. "None of our supposed friends would even make eye contact after that. They certainly didn't offer any help or support."
My voice cracked as I remembered my children's faces the night I had to tell them we would have to move. "Telling the kids I had to put the house up for sale was so hard! Zach was upset, I could tell, but he tried to hide it like always. Grace fell apart. I think she cried off and on for 3 days. I wanted to cry along with her, but I couldn't allow myself to break. I didn't think I would never be able to stop if I gave in to the darkness I felt."
Peter pulled my head gently towards him then and pressed a kiss on my hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out again to steady myself. "The kids set up Google alerts on our names and knew stuff before I did half the time. I had to have conversations with our kids, about our sex life, that no parent should ever have to have with their children, Peter! I had to make humiliating doctor appointments, just to put to rest the nagging fear that I might have been infected with STDs because of your risky behavior..." The memory of those bitter days made the back of my mouth taste sour. "There were so many bills and so many questions, theirs and my own, but I didn't have the answers.
"I was so angry at you for causing the whole thing and then disappearing. I felt like you abandoned us when we needed you most. I had to be strong for the kids, but I felt…so alone…so tired." I looked at Peter and saw the pain I felt from reliving those memories reflected back to me from his face. I couldn't handle it and had to turn my head away.
"You destroyed my sense of confidence in everything I thought I knew to be true…what, and who, I thought I could count on. Not just you, Peter. Everyone! Everything! I didn't trust my own sense of judgment anymore. My self-confidence…and self-worth were shattered."
The tears ran down my checks as the pitch of my voice betrayed my most painful admission. "I felt so…gullible. It never occurred to me to be suspicious. And then suddenly, my entire life was part of the 24 hour news cycle and …" My voice broke again as I steeled myself against the nausea once more.
I quietly admitted for the first time out loud, "I felt so…dirty…and ashamed," the disgust evident even to my own ears. "I suddenly felt like you didn't think I was good enough for you." Peter leaned his head against my own. I heard him sigh, but he, thankfully, just held me a little tighter and didn't try to speak. I could tell from the way he cleared his throat that the tears were blurring his vision as well as my own then, but I was past the point of no return. I had to finish.
"Then the press said I was frigid…that I wasn't adventurous enough for you. The whole thing made me feel worthless-as a wife-as a woman." I glanced up at him then, clenching my jaw to keep from crying again, before returning my eyes to my lap, where I unconsciously twisted my wedding band. "What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I enough, Peter?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Where did we go wrong? …What did I not see?"