Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

«Since I cannot prove a lover, 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, 
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.»
– Richard III

If you’d have told 23-year-old Will Gardner that a day would come where he’d hate Alicia Cavanaugh, he’d have laughed in your face.

Then again, Young Will would probably have been confused enough by the fact that her future name was Alicia Florrick, because he was naive enough to believe they’d end up together. And Young Will would insist he’d never ask his best friend to change her name, her identity, for him when they’d always been on relatively equal footing in college - a precedent for how he saw the rest of their lives together going.

No, she’d keep her name in marriage. ‘Cavanaugh’ would get first billing on the law firm they’d ultimately operate together. And if she wanted kids, they’d double barrel it.

Young Will had been wrong about a lot of things, Alicia Cavanaugh being one of them. He never would have imagined someone as smart and cynical as her falling for the charms of a blow-hard as transparent as Peter Florrick. Someone as brilliant as her giving up the career she had studied so hard for just two years in, shelving her ambitions for the sake of her husband’s. Someone as private as her allowing herself and her children to be burned by Peter’s spotlight as she supported his political career.

The last thing Young Will would have predicted, though, was that someone as seemingly kind and morally righteous as his best friend would fuck him over the way that Alicia Florrick did. Maybe as ‘bad timing’ continued to reign supreme over their ill-fated college relationship, he could have foreseen the complicated push-pull, stop-start of their future relationship, and the heartache it would entail for him. But never would he have expected her to spit in the face of his feelings for her, of all the intimate moments they’d shared both a lifetime ago and in recent years, of all the opportunities that came her way as a result of him taking a chance on her when no one else would. He’d never have expected her to sever the one last tie that tethered them together by leaving his firm and stealing clients out from under his nose.

23-year-old Will was a fool. Middle-aged, law firm-owning, Chicago’s 16th Most Eligible Bachelor Will had more going for him; he was supposed to be smarter.

She had the gall to tell him it was never meant personally, which only added insult to injury since, he decided, she must have seen him as a fool to believe he’d accept that. And so he responded to her not personal-personal betrayal by waging a very personal war against her on their professional battleground. She came back at him with full force, and their courtroom showdowns danced on the grave of their decades-old relationship, each of them using how intimately they knew the other to gain the upper hand. Whether the priority was to win their respective cases or wound each other where it hurt the most, he was no longer sure.

All he knew was that hating her gave him a purpose, a drive. It made it easier to see her, to offend and defend when facing off against her in court. Made it easier to decide all bets were off when attempting to retain and win back clients. Made it easier to pretend that Isabel being good in bed was enough to overwrite the memory of the only woman he’d ever wanted whispering This is the happiest I’ve ever been in his ear as she sat on his lap during what might have been the most romantic night of his life.

So yeah, several months into their war and Will Gardner hated Alicia Florrick. At least, he did a pretty good job at convincing himself that he did, until the day his partner knocked at his door and spun everything on its head again — just as she had when she first delivered the blow that Alicia was leaving Lockhart-Gardner.

He was thinking over a case while leaned back in his office chair, absentmindedly throwing and catching his trusty baseball when Diane knocked on his office’s glass door. She let herself in when he looked up, a serious expression on her face.

“What now?” he jokingly greeted her, but he instantly regretted it when she didn’t so much as crack a smile.

“Will,” she said a little breathlessly, closing the door behind her. “I’ve just come from David’s office.”

“Is he staging a coup?” he tried to lighten her mood again, but she waved a hand dismissively.

“With a prospective client. They’re still there now. I was advising a junior associate in the hallway when I noticed him waving for my attention, beckoning me in.”

“Okay,” Will said slowly, confused about where this was going. She still seemed breathless, flustered, as though she had raced over to him. “What’s this about?”

“The client, she wants to file a paternity suit. To prove that the would-be defendant is her four-month-old son’s father, then sue for child support.”

“So? David’s a big boy, why does he need you on the case when family law’s his arena?”

“He doesn’t necessarily ‘need’ me on the case. He wanted my consultation, given the fact that it would be a high-profile defendant,” Diane explained, sitting in one of the chairs in front of Will’s desk.

“Why, who’s the daddy?” he smirked, resuming his game of throw-and-catch. His mind sifted through a variety of Chicago sports stars as potential candidates.

She hesitated, prompting him to frown. It wasn’t like Diane to be this out of sorts.

“Diane?” he asked when her pause dragged on. His voice called her attention back to him, and when her eyes met his, apprehension was still visible within them.

“She’s claiming it’s… the Governor.”

His baseball hit the floor with a soft thump.

They sat in silence for a moment. He leaned forward in his seat, opening and closing his mouth as words failed him. Then he barked a humourless laugh, Diane flinching at how loud and harsh it sounded in the otherwise quiet office.

“The Governor,” he repeated with an incredulous not-quite-smile, hoping against hope that this was all some big joke. She nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question.

“You’re kidding me,” he muttered darkly now, his face suddenly serious. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” Diane said with a sigh, though she knew he wasn’t genuine; he knew her too well to think she’d joke about something like this.

“Is he fucking serious?” he spat, barely containing his rage. “Who is she? His secretary, an intern? God, could he be any more fucking cliché?”

“Will,” she said carefully, unsure whether getting into the specifics was the best idea while he was this riled up.

It was somehow worse; he didn’t know how it could be, but it was. He could read it in her expression, though he also sensed her alarm and knew that she wouldn’t tell him if he didn’t calm down.

He inhaled deeply and repeated in a more measured tone, “Who is she?”

“A young woman named Rebecca Smith,” she gave in.

His face screwed up in confusion. “Why is that name familiar?”

“Because she was the high-schooler that spread rumours online about you and Alicia sleeping together during her first year here,” she answered.

She watched as realisation swept over his features. “Becca,” he said in awe, before the crease between his furrowed brows quickly returned. “But— she was—”

“Zach’s then-girlfriend,” Diane confirmed solemnly.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back towards the ceiling, then rubbed his eyelids so hard he started to see coloured patterns. “Is that not— is she— Zach’s not even out of high school yet,” he spluttered.

“She’s a little older. One of many reasons Alicia didn’t like her being with Zach at the time. She dropped out of college halfway through the pregnancy.”

“How decent of him,” he hissed sarcastically. “To only knock up his son’s of age ex-girlfriend.”

Another moment of silence passed, Will’s eyes still closed as he processed the conversation. Diane watched him with concern. She knew how blurred the line between Will's personal and professional life was when it came to Alicia, could almost see the battle now taking place in his mind.

“David wants to take the case,” she broached, causing him to straighten up in his chair and look at her.

“Of course he does,” he said, voice hard.

“I know that with him, it’s probably not for the right reasons,” she continued cautiously. “But either way, that girl is suing Peter, with significant evidence. If our firm is representing her, we’re—”

“—The vengeful assholes who destroy the family of an ex-employee and a well-liked politician,” Will interrupted.

She shook her head. “I’m saying we can first issue him a demand letter to alert him to the pending suit, before the media gets ahold of any subsequent court documents.”

“I know,” he said, annoyed. “Still doesn’t help Alicia.” Remembering Alicia was the woman he currently ‘hated,’ he added, “So we’re still the ruthless ex-bosses gunning for a former employee who left our firm to start her own.”

“We let that girl go without taking the case and we’re still bound by attorney-client privilege from her consultation, meaning we can do nothing but sit on this information,” Diane explained impatiently, frustrated that he wasn’t catching her drift. “She goes to another firm, the suit is filed, and chances are Alicia and her children find out with the rest of the world through headlines again. But if we take the case, we ensure our client’s intentions and demands are communicated to the other party ahead of time. And should Peter be busy with Governor duties when our letter reaches one of his residencies, it would, in the eyes of the law, be reasonable to leave it in his wife’s hands.”

She emphasised the last few words, giving him a pointed look. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him, considering all that she said. Diane knew to give him a minute, could see the cogs turning as he twiddled his thumbs in restless agitation.

“You said she has evidence,” he said eventually. “Enough to make a strong case?”

“Enough to prove they had a sexual relationship with a timeline that warrants a paternity test.”

“Like?”

“Text exchanges from throughout their affair, including intimate pictures.” She grimaced as Will scrubbed a hand over his face. “Call logs from when she says she informed Peter, and all the outgoing calls and unanswered texts sent from her phone to his afterwards. Around the time she went into labour, the messages stopped delivering altogether, so he either blocked her or changed that number.”

“And this is all before Kalinda even starts digging,” he said quietly, but Diane could still hear the dread in his voice.

She gave another sigh. “You’d think a man in his position would be more careful, especially given everything that went down before…”

Another beat passed.

“Fine, give David the go-ahead and tell him you’ll be joining him on the case,” Will relented, voice tight. “You can monitor it, making sure everything’s handled appropriately and all personal vendettas are left at the door.”

She nodded and rose from her seat, looking somewhat relieved at having reasoned with him. “While he takes care of Becca’s onboarding, I’ll prepare the demand letter. The sooner that’s completed, the sooner it can be delivered.”

She looked at him expectantly then, a wordless question.

“Get it to me whenever it’s ready,” he said, meeting her eyes and ignoring the pit in his stomach. “I’ll handle it.”

Chapter Text

«This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love,
And will at last break out into a flame.»
– Henry VI, Part I

Will knew about Peter’s infidelity long before Glen Childs informed the world about his penchant for hookers. It seemed to be somewhat of an open secret, at least amongst the men of Chicago’s legal scene. He used to wonder how many of them — who weren’t cheating themselves — had told their wives, who’d tell their friends, and whether word would eventually get back to Alicia or whether all her peers would talk behind her back and smile in her face as she unwittingly played the doting wife.

Some four years before Childs released the tape that blew up Alicia’s life the first time around, before Peter even held an office, Will found himself parked across the street from the couple’s Highland Park home. Nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he had tried to figure out the best way to break the news without breaking her.

“I know it’s been a while, but I thought you deserved to know,” he imagined himself telling her before launching into the details: a paralegal; young, blonde, and a smile that meant trouble.

Just like the hookers that came later. Just like Becca.

Prior to this paralegal, Will had largely managed to dismiss the rumours surrounding Peter’s wandering eye as just that — rumours. Even though, deep down, he knew they were true (his younger self had pretty much called it the moment he met the guy), he told himself it was none of his business. Alicia was no longer part of his life, and he certainly wasn’t going to bulldoze his way back into hers based on unsubstantiated gossip.

Then Heather, a twenty-something paralegal at Stern, Lockhart and Gardner at the time, very much substantiated the claims when Will caught her crying at her desk on his way out the door one particularly late night after they had each believed themselves to be the last person in the office. Will gently prodded her, concerned they had been overworking her, until she blurted, “I slept with a married man.”

“Oh,” he had awkwardly replied.

“I didn’t know,” she urgently went on, eyes wild and mascara-smudged. “I never would have— if I’d known—”

“Of course not,” he tried to comfort her, even though he didn’t know her well enough to make a call either way.

“That’s what I get for fraternising with the enemy,” she joked bitterly after a brief but awkward silence. When he raised a questioning brow, she added with a rueful smile, “Prosecutors.”

An ASA. It had to be—

“Peter Florrick?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Yeah,” she looked at him quizzically at first, clearly confused by how he knew. But her expression immediately turned remorseful, and she lowered her gaze in shame.

“I found out a few hours ago,” she said quietly, more to the floor than to Will. “From a friend who just started his internship at the States Attorney’s office. It seems Mrs. Florrick baked too many cupcakes for the school bake sale today, so dropped by to see if her husband and his colleagues wanted the rest.”

He could have thrown up.

“I met him in a bar a few blocks from the courthouse last week,” Heather continued, her voice sounding far and echoey to him, as though they were in a tunnel. “He had won some big case, insisted on buying me a drink to help him celebrate.

“I thought he was single. Didn’t have any reason to believe otherwise — he was the one who approached me, no ring. And the whole night, he never once mentioned his wife and kid.”

“Two,” Will croaked, his throat gone dry.

She looked up at him then, brows furrowed. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “She— They have two kids. A boy and a girl.”

Her eyes glazed over and she looked away, swallowing tightly. “I’m a home-wrecker,” she whispered.

“No,” Will said forcefully, if not angrily, as he shook his head. “This is on him. No offence, but from what I’ve heard, you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”

Her eyes flicked back to him and they lingered on his face for a moment, studying it. “You know her?” she asked, smiling sadly.

He returned her smile before answering. “I used to.”

It turned out that being the one to burst the bubble of domestic bliss your best friend-turned-unrequited love-turned-stranger ignorantly lives in was a lot harder than Will had thought it would be before driving to Highland Park the following week. Or maybe he hadn’t thought at all.

Either way, he couldn’t do it. As he stared up at that godforsaken house and went through all the different conversations he could have with Alicia inside, he realised they’d all end badly. Either she’d be in denial and possibly accuse him of trying to ruin her marriage, or she’d crumble and possibly blame him for her family falling apart. Even if she didn’t accuse or blame him, he couldn’t stand the thought of being the one to ruin things for her, to make her unhappy. It was cowardly, maybe even selfish, but he drove away nonetheless.

Four years later and her face was everywhere, a dazed portrait of betrayal and humiliation. The light had disappeared from her eyes, their lifelessness haunting Will as he and Diane live-watched the press conference together at the office.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty, watching Alicia’s ghost-like figure stare into space as her husband told the world how he’d betrayed her. It was difficult to watch her take such a humiliating public beating, the kind Will wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, and he wondered if telling her what he knew that day in Highland Park years prior would have spared her from it.

His phone buzzed while Peter stood at the podium and denied the charges against him but admitted to (a portion of) what he had put his family through. A text from Heather, who had since moved to New York for law school, lit up the screen.

You were right, it read, no greetings or pleasantries. Neither the first nor the last.

Will hoped the vindication brought her more comfort than it did him.

It almost felt like Alicia’s apartment door was mocking him, challenging him to knock like he had a million times two years before when the kids were at Peter’s and she had arranged for him to come over. Back then, his knocks would be rewarded with a coy “hi,” a flirtatious smile, or even a yank on his tie to pull him inside, depending on her mood.

Will knew no such prizes awaited him on the other side of the door this time around. The best he could hope for was that she actually answered, and preferably, had the place to herself.

He tried to steel himself as the file Diane had handed him hours before burned a hole in his coat’s inner lining. With any luck, she wouldn’t pick a fight, would listen just long enough to work out his legal loophole and then he’d be out of there. Whatever she did after that was up to her.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

A few seconds passed before he heard footsteps shuffling towards the door and then she was suddenly in front of him, fresh-faced, damp hair, a long cardigan over her pyjamas. Judging by how her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of him, she hadn’t checked the peephole.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. The weight of how much their relationship had deteriorated since the last time he’d been to her apartment seemed to hang heavy in the air between them.

“Hi,” he finally said with an awkward smile. Then, in an attempt to break the ice, he added, “Nice socks.”

She blinked a little stupidly, apparently still too stunned to speak. He nodded at the thick woollen rainbow socks that came halfway up her calves, her pyjama pants tucked into them. When her gaze followed his nod downwards, emotion came flooding back to her features in the form of mortification.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled down at them, as though she had temporarily forgotten what she was wearing. Looking back up, she explained with an embarrassed smile, “Grace’s latest hobby.”

“She’s good,” he complimented, as if he knew anything about knitting. “But between that and the devout Christian thing, you might have the first teenage senior citizen on your hands.”

She broke into a grin at that, but it faltered almost as soon as it had appeared. Reality came crashing down on them in one fell swoop like it always did, and he could practically see her guard restore itself as she tensed against the doorframe.

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly, eyeing him with a mix of caution and curiosity.

He answered her with a question of his own. “Are you alone?”

Her breath hitched, and she looked at him with what he could only assume was pity as she sighed, “Will…”

“Not because— it’s not that,” he said, irritated. “I’m here to deliver a demand letter on behalf of Lockhart-Gardner.”

He wasn’t sure whether it was what he said or the annoyance he said it with that made her bristle, but her expression immediately hardened.

“Well, as you’re well aware, I have an office for that,” she said coldly. “Any correspondence between our respective firms and the clients we represent should be directed there, not to my personal home.”

He stifled a snort, finding it hard to take her icy professionalism seriously with the way she was dressed. He must have smirked in spite of his best efforts, though, because her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms.

“Alicia,” he warned, trying to keep his cool. “This isn’t about Florrick-Agos. It’s—”

“Florrick, Agos and Associates,” she corrected, staring up at him defiantly.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, bringing his hand up to rub his neck.

She ignored him, adding: “I’d appreciate if you gave our firm its full title, as Cary and I are trying to pave a path where all partners feel equally valued. Unlike other firms.”

His jaw clenched as she flashed a pointed, condescending smile. It was like she was goading him; he had to focus on his breathing to stay calm and remember why he was there.

He huffed, exasperated. “You know, there’s a million other ways I’d rather spend my Friday night. I’m trying to help you, here.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then hesitated as his words finally seemed to register. “Am I being sued?” she asked instead, her voice a lot less confident than it had been a second ago.

Before he could answer, a large family loudly emerged from the floor’s elevator. When they were a little further down the hall, Will leaned in closer to the doorframe.

“Can we please do this inside?” he pleaded with her, jutting his head back towards the family. After another moment’s hesitation, she wordlessly stepped back to let him in and closed the door behind him.

It was strange to be back. Her apartment felt familiar but not, almost as though Will had seen it on TV as opposed to experiencing it in his senses. Yet as she led him to the living room and gestured for him to take a seat, he remembered just how stimulated all five of his senses had been on this very couch.

“Can I get you anything? Water, or…?” Alicia asked, pulling him out of his reverie. Ever the hostess, tension be damned.

“No thanks,” he answered, glancing around as they sat at opposite ends of the couch. “So, in the most innocent way possible, are we alone?”

She nodded apprehensively. “Good,” he nodded back.

He felt her eyes on him as he reached into his coat, pulled out the file and opened it up.

“Like I said, I’m here on behalf of Lockhart-Gardner,” he began, hoping to get it over with. “I have a demand letter to deliver to Peter Florrick. Can you confirm that he’s not in?”

“Peter?” she said in surprise, then frowned in confusion. “But—”

“Alicia,” he cut her off, knowing that the less words exchanged on this subject, the better off they both were legally. “As you know, the attorney-client privilege that exists between my firm and the sender prevents me from discussing the details of the letter. I just need you to confirm whether or not Peter’s here.”

“No,” she said slowly, brows knitted together.

“Okay, would I find him in Springfield? At the Governor’s Mansion?”

“No, he’s in…”

She trailed off as Will shook his head furiously. Not knowing where Peter was gave him a more valid reason for delivering the letter to Alicia, should it cause issues later. After a careful pause, she settled for, “He’s not in Illinois right now.”

He gave her a single reassuring nod.

“Okay, well, I can leave it with you if you’re willing to accept it for him,” he carried on, all business-like again. “I’d just need you to sign an acknowledgement form to document that the letter was delivered to an authorised household member, which you would be as his spouse. That sound okay?”

“Yes?” She said it like a question, as though she was waiting for him to confirm whether or not it was the right answer. Demand letters were nothing new to her, so her confusion must have stemmed from trying to figure out either what Will was doing, or what her husband had gotten into this time.

“Good.”

He pulled out the pen from his breast pocket and grabbed the form from the file, placing it down on the coffee table. He then filled out the date, time, his signature, and marked where Alicia was to sign, before laying the pen down on the form and sliding it across to her.

As she leaned over the paper to sign, her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face. It took Will back to their Georgetown days, the same thing happening as Alicia furiously scribbled notes in class — notes he’d usually have to borrow to fill the gaps in his own notes from when he’d been too distracted by watching her.

She slid the pen and form back to him. “Thanks,” he said, picking them up from the table and putting the pen back in his pocket. After giving the form a quick glance, he put it back in the file, then pulled out the envelope addressed to Peter.

“Okay, here’s the letter.” He handed it out to her and their fingers briefly brushed against each other as she took it, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He yanked his hand back as though he’d been burned.

“Thank you,” Alicia said, almost too softly to be heard as she stared down at the envelope, which looked like it was vibrating. It took Will a second to realise her hands were trembling.

He wondered about the thoughts that were racing through her head, all the potential scandals she must have been envisioning. And then he had the sinking feeling that none came close to the one that actually awaited her.

Watching her like this, there was a vulnerability to her that he hadn’t seen in a long time — long before stolen clients, heated courtroom exchanges, Go to Hells, threats and accusations. It tugged at something within him, taking him back to watching her stand as a shell of herself at her disgraced husband’s news conference, and how he had regretted not telling her what he knew when he had the chance.

He had the overwhelming urge to just tell her everything himself there and then, but he knew that he couldn’t. So he instead had to make it abundantly clear that she needed to open that letter. He could only hope the more hardened Alicia of recent years had less moral — and legal — qualms about opening up her husband’s mail than she likely would have had a few years ago.

“Please ensure that gets to Peter as soon as possible,” he said, causing her to look up. “There’s a timeframe in which we expect him to respond before we start legal proceedings.”

She gave a resigned nod as he stood to leave. She followed suit and they began walking to the front door, her eyes downcast.

“Alicia,” he said somewhat sternly, needing her to listen, to understand. Her head snapped up at the sharpness of his tone. “It would be better if it didn’t come to that. For all parties.”

As they paused at the door, his eyes bore into hers, trying to communicate what he couldn’t with words like they used to. She just nodded again, welling up this time.

“You should book a trip,” he pushed, trying to cover all bases. “You’ve had a busy year. Should get away from the city for a while. Soon as you can. You and the kids.”

Get out now before the shit hits the fan and the media circus begins, he screamed internally.

She didn’t know what the situation was, but he could see she understood the gravity of it as she chewed on her lip, worry in her eyes. He turned to open the door and as he stepped back into the hallway, he heard: “No Peter?”

“Huh?” He turned back around to face her as she leant against the doorway, surprised to see the hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“I should book a getaway for just me and the kids? No Peter?” Her eyes were still glassy, but she said it wryly, like all the times she made self-deprecating jokes about her situation in their first year of working together.

He couldn’t help his own smile, then. Though he was still gravely serious when he answered, “Definitely not.”

Chapter Text

«To weep is to make less the depth of grief:
Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me.»
– Henry VI, Part III

Alicia sat on the couch in a trance-like state, clutching onto her almost-empty wine glass like it was a lifeline. She had read the letter over and over, but the words still felt foreign, indigestible. She felt hot and cold at the same time, and as badly as she needed to move, the thought that her kids would soon arrive home kept her frozen in place.

When Will had handed her the envelope – she glanced at the clock, 9.53pm – almost an hour ago, she didn’t know what she had been dreading. But it certainly wasn’t this. This was a fuck-up of unpredictably epic proportions, even by Peter’s standards.

The room seemed to spin as she floated through a cycle of shock, hurt, anger, and humiliation. Nothing Peter hadn’t brought her way before – his infidelity hadn’t been shocking news to Alicia or their children for a number of years. Her grip on the stem of the glass tightened as she thought of how her kids had been collateral damage to their father’s selfishness too many times already.

Memories of the two of them coping with the first scandal that upended their lives several years ago flashed through her mind like her own personal torture reel: Grace crying hysterically in the car home when she pulled them out of school early on the day the news broke, Zach channel surfing only for station after station to show his father sucking on a hooker’s toes, the pain on their faces as Peter was taken into custody, both of them comforting her as she sniffled goodbyes to the wall markings that had measured their growth when she was forced to sell their childhood home.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would make the mental images disappear.

The painful memories of ‘last time’ also served as a cold, hard contrast to ‘this time’. This time was even worse – so much worse – not just because it allegedly resulted in a love child, but because the latest in a long line of mistresses was Becca. Becca, who had already caused enough trouble for their family. Becca, who was their son’s first.

It was hard to wrap her head around it – Peter had supposedly gotten Zach’s ex-girlfriend pregnant. The word seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls of her mind like a mocking drumbeat. Their kids were no strangers to Peter’s transgressions, but fooling around with a girl who had also been with his son was a sickening new level of betrayal.

A wave of nausea hit Alicia as she opened her eyes. The air in the room suddenly seemed thick and hot, suffocating her. Feeling as though she was breathing too quickly and yet not fast enough, she haphazardly dumped the wine glass onto the coffee table and raced to the bathroom.

Her knees hit the floor just in time for her to violently vomit into the toilet bowl, her whole body shuddering as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the water. She gripped the rim like it was an anchor, needing to feel connected to something solid.

When it seemed as though she had nothing left to throw up, she made herself stand on shaky legs and flushed. She steadied herself against the sink and rinsed her mouth out before splashing her face. Just as she turned off the tap, she heard the distant sound of her kids bickering as they entered the apartment. She stared at her reflection while trying to pull herself together, the dark circles under her eyes emphasised by the paleness of her skin. With one final inhale, she opened the door to face her children.

She met Zach and Grace in the living room, still arguing over some mindless teenage gossip. They fell silent as she walked in with a forced smile plastered onto her face, but her appearance apparently spoke to them before she had the chance to.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Grace asked, voice overlapping with Zach’s “You look like hell, Mom.”

“Hello, darling children,” Alicia deadpanned. “I missed you too.”

Zach smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean– it’s just that you don’t look so good. In like, a health way.”

“Yeah Mom, are you okay?” Grace asked, a concerned crease already formed between her brows. “You look sick.”

“I was sick,” she conceded. She hadn’t been planning to get into things right off the bat, had wanted at least one normal ‘how’d your day go’/‘how was the movie’ conversation before she had to turn her kids’ world upside down again. But she clearly underestimated just how much they had grown up and how perceptive they had become in the last number of years.

“I feel better now that I’ve gotten it out of my system, though,” she added, trying to sound steady enough to reassure them. “Why don’t you go put your bags away and change into your PJs?”

They made no moves to do so and instead exchanged a worried glance with each other, then turned their attention back to her expectantly. When it was clear they weren’t going to do as she asked, she sighed and started fidgeting with her hands.

“Did either of you talk to your dad today?” she began tentatively. “Or Eli, or any of his people, maybe, or anyone else– have you talked to any of them at all while I was at work, or when you were out, or– did anyone say anything to you that might seem– maybe something about– your dad, or– well, anything at all like that, or just… did you see or hear or talk to anyone that might know anything about– or maybe even something that you don’t really know what it means, or...”

She trailed off, realising her nervous babbling wasn’t making much sense. There wasn’t exactly a handbook for ‘how to tell your kids their politician dad can’t keep it in his pants’. Zach and Grace stared back at her blankly, and she shifted uncomfortably in place.

“Uhh,” Grace said, the crease between her brows deeper now. “…What?”

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked, eyeing the glass and half-empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

“Your father,” Alicia replied bluntly.

“I thought he’s not back in Springfield ‘til tomorrow?” Grace said.

Alicia’s mind immediately went back to trying to tell Will that Peter was on a two-day trade-related trip in Indianapolis before he had cut her off. She hadn’t even had time to process how she felt about Will being the bearer of bad news, or to run through all of his possible motivations for taking the case and delivering the demand letter in person. That can of worms would have to be opened at another time.

“Mom?” Grace pulled her out of her thoughts, both kids looking at her like she was losing it.

“Yes, but they all have phones. I’m just wondering if he or any of his people reached out to either of you, or…”

“Not since yesterday, he sent me a picture of some cute cows,” Grace answered as Zach shook his head. “Why?”

Alicia pressed her lips into a thin line, avoiding her kids' eyes. “He… messed up again,” she found herself saying despite her original intentions of waiting until they had a chance to settle in, get comfy, and tell her about their trip to the movies.

There was a pause before Zach said, “Messed up how?”

She gestured to the couch as she walked towards it. “Okay, both of you, come sit.”

She took a seat first and they followed her lead, sitting on either side of her with matching worry lines marring their foreheads.

“Is this something to do with the election?” Zach asked carefully as Alicia struggled to rip the band-aid off. “Or did he– did he cheat again?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Grace immediately shot at her brother. “He wouldn’t.”

“He already did,” Zach pointed out.

“That was before!” she cried, glaring at him. “He wants them to renew their vows– He wouldn’t do that again. Not to Mom, not to us.”

Alicia sucked in air at that without even meaning to, automatically silencing both teens. Their attention diverted from each other back to their mother, anxiety etched on their faces. She willed her brain to put a coherent sentence together, but the words in her head were jumbled, venomous remarks she couldn’t say to the kids, from your dad fucked Zach’s nightmare of an ex to you might have a new brother, and Becca is the mommy!

Her kids glanced back and forth at one another. She couldn’t stand the looks of concern for her that they exchanged as they seemed to grow more and more unsettled by her silence. Knowing her time for coming up with an answer to Zach’s question had run out, she took one of their hands in each of hers, her thumbs caressing their knuckles.

“I love you both, so much,” she started, voice cracking immediately. “I wish I could still bundle you up and protect you from anything and everything like I could when you were little. But I can’t, and it breaks my heart to have to tell you what I’m about to tell you. It’s what hurts the most, more than…”

She paused and took her hand out of Zach’s to pull a tissue from her cardigan pocket. She dabbed at her nose, trying to blink away the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. Grace continued to hold her other hand tightly, offering her a reassuring squeeze. Zach placed the hand his mother had been holding on her shoulder as he solemnly waited for the bomb to drop.

Alicia swallowed hard and cleared her throat, willing herself to continue. Start with the facts as you know them, she told herself, like she would a witness in trial preparations. Facts gave her a structure, a pathway to follow.

“Tonight, I received a demand letter addressed to your dad,” she said, her voice a little steadier now. “You’ve probably heard me talk about those before, right? They’re often sent out before a lawsuit is filed in order to try and avoid litigation. Usually the recipient has a certain amount of time to respond, and if they don’t, or if a settlement can’t be reached, the sender proceeds with filing the suit.”

Zach nodded for her to go on, but Grace looked more hesitant. “Someone wants to sue Dad?” she asked, wide-eyed.

Alicia bit down on her bottom lip and gave the slightest nod before continuing. Facts, Alicia, she reminded herself. As painful as it was, she knew she couldn’t do them the disservice of fielding their questions.

“Who?” Zach asked at the same time that Grace asked, “Why?”

Alicia shook her head and held up a finger in a wordless plea for them to let her speak. Grace’s hand tightened around hers, anxious and vice-like.

She felt nauseous again – the thought that she was about to drop the news was somehow worse than having them already know. She took Zach’s hand in her free one once more, as if creating a chain between all three of them could somehow stop her family from being torn apart. After another deep breath, she managed to say the name that made her insides churn.

“Becca.”

Zach blinked. Grace’s worried frown turned to one of confusion. “Becca?” she repeated. “As in–”

“My ex, Becca?” Zach finished for her.

“Yes,” Alicia got out.

“Why the hell would she sue Dad?” he asked incredulously.

She was unable to remember the last time her stomach had turned the way it did as she prepared herself to push forward.

“She– Your father– They…” she tried weakly, tears pricking her eyes again.

“Mom?” There was a tremble in Grace’s voice now. “What are you try–”

“Oh God,” Zach suddenly cut her off. Alicia felt his hand go limp in hers, her blood going cold.

“What?” Grace asked, eyes nervously flickering between her mom and brother.

“Tell me it’s not what I think it is,” Zach ignored her, anger creeping into his tone. He fixed Alicia with an intense stare. “Tell me my own damn dad didn’t sleep with my– with the girl I los–” He cringed and shook his head, unable to speak the thought out loud.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia whispered helplessly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Zach stood up abruptly, muttering a series of no, no, nos and swears.

Grace, on the other hand, was back in defence mode. “There’s no way,” she said adamantly. “He wouldn’t– how would that even– there’s just no way.”

“Grace,” Alicia said gently, this time being the one to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “It’s true. They hooked up–”

“One-night stand or full-blown affair?!” Zach whirled around, half-shouting now.

“No,”  Grace insisted, shaking her head indignantly, though tears had started spilling down her cheeks.

“How long?” he demanded before his mother could even answer his last question.

“I don’t know the details yet,” Alicia said. “Could have been one time, could have gone on for months.”

“How do you know?” Grace questioned, her tone accusatory. She let go of her mother’s hand to cross her arms. “It’s Becca. She’s a liar.”

“The demand letter,” Alicia said with a sigh, reaching over to pick up the torn-open envelope from where it lay beside the wine bottle. “She’s– it shows her intention to…”

She had to pause to collect herself, realising her hands were back to the shaky state they’d been in when she first took the letter from Will. She cleared her throat again.

“You might have seen on social media,” she said to Zach, before redirecting the conversation back to the two of them. “A few months ago, Becca had a baby. A baby boy. The demand letter shows her intention to file a paternity lawsuit against your dad.”

There was a pregnant pause as her words sunk in. She could see the shock settling into her children’s features, transforming their angry expressions to ones of confusion, then disbelief.

“So she’s… claiming he’s the dad,” Zach said slowly.

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t change– she could still be lying,” Grace said, but her voice was small now. “She’s always playing games. And given our history with her, and Dad’s history with… everything, and the fact that he’s Governor… he’s an easy target.”

Zach rolled his eyes at his sister’s refusal to accept the latest situation their father had landed them in.

“She could be lying about the paternity,” Alicia acknowledged softly, not wanting her daughter to feel stupid for having hope. “But not about the affair. This–” she held up the envelope “–wouldn’t have been sent if she didn’t have substantial proof that they got together, that she has reason to believe he’s her son’s dad. I don’t know what that proof is, but I know no attorney would take her case based on word alone.”

Grace slumped against the cushions, finally defeated. Zach’s hands balled into fists as he watched his sister bury her head in her hands and begin to cry. Tears started stinging his own eyes, then.

“What is wrong with him?” he asked the room, voice thick with emotion. Alicia took his hand again to pull him back down beside her on the couch, her own tears threatening to free-flow at the sight of her children’s pain.

“I mean, cheating is one thing, but this… This is sick,” he went on.

She wrapped her arms around both kids, pulling them tightly to her sides.

“Why does he keep hurting us?” Grace said hoarsely, letting her hands fall into her lap. “Why do we always have to pick up the pieces of his crap?”

“I know, sweetheart,” Alicia said, then kissed the top of her head.

“No, you don’t,” she snapped, freeing herself from her mother’s side. “You’re the one who went along with it when he wanted to get into politics. Me and Zach had no say. We didn’t ask for a life in the public eye, or to play the perfect kids even when our lives were falling apart. We can’t even do dumb teen stuff without the world judging. You and Dad signed us up for that, and even after everything we went through that first time, you signed us right back up for it again when he wanted to re-run, and then again when he wanted the Governorship. You always give in to him, and we end up getting hurt.”

She stood up this time, taking a step away from her mother as she sat still, unable to speak.

“And I mean, what’s the point?” she continued, swiping impatiently at angry tears. “We all live our lives around a guy who repays us by publicly humiliating us and cheating on you with anything in a skirt? When does it stop, Mom?”

Alicia couldn’t help the sob that escaped at her daughter’s words. It was something she had been repressing all night, but Grace’s uncharacteristic rant was the crack that burst the dam. And once the floodgates had opened, she couldn’t stop. She broke down bawling, choking out apologies between sobs as Zach patted her back.

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, voice laced with regret. She sat back down beside her and cuddled into her side again. “Mom, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it.”

Alicia shook her head, wiping away tears as she struggled to regain her composure. “No, Grace, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. I did go along with it, and I thought I was doing the best for us – for our family – but… I was wrong.”

A silence fell over all three of them as they considered the admission. After a moment, Zach squeezed her shoulder. “We know you tried, Mom. We know it wasn’t easy.”

Finding it oddly liberating to be this honest with her children, Alicia quietly continued, “I think I tried so hard not to become my mom, that I didn’t realise I was kind of becoming a Jackie.”

Her kids’ eyes nearly popped out of their skulls.

“Okay, that’s way meaner to you than anything I just said,” Grace said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, Mom, don’t say that.” Zach nudged her shoulder with his own. “Things aren’t that bad. Yet.”

Alicia found herself belly-laughing at their teasing. It was loud and probably inappropriate and maybe even a little hysterical, but it put a smile on her kids’ faces and she felt like she could finally breathe.

When the laughter died down, they settled into the sofa together. With Grace’s head on one of her mom’s shoulders and Zach’s on the other, the three of them sat in silence again, drained from the night’s revelations.

“What now?” Grace asked after a significant amount of time had passed, her voice low.

“I’m not… entirely sure,” Alicia admitted. “I wish I had the answers or some sort of plan, but I don’t. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You can’t,” Zach said. “There’s no fixing this – not that it’s your mess to fix. But we’ll get through it together. We always do.”

“When did you get so wise?” she replied affectionately, pride swelling in her chest.

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he hesitantly asked, “But what happens next with Becca? The case, I mean.”

This was something she actually could answer. “Well, the letter gave your dad fifteen days to respond. If he doesn’t respond within that timeframe, or if his response denies that he’s the father of her child, she’ll most likely file a Petition to Establish Paternity through the court system. At that point, it’ll probably become public knowledge, because the media can access the court documents.”

“And then we’re back to being pariahs,” Grace sighed.

“At least we got a warning this time,” Zach said. “Can you imagine if Mom didn’t open that letter? It’s not like Dad would have told us he might have knocked up my ex-girlfriend.”

“So in a weird way, Becca kinda did us a favour,” his sister said.

He gave her a look. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I don’t think that was Becca,” Alicia said, more to herself than to them. It was only when Grace asked her what she meant that she realised she had spoken the thought aloud.

“My old firm is representing Becca, they’re the ones who sent the demand letter,” she explained. “I’m still trying to figure out if it’s an act of vengeance or an act of mercy.”

“God, it just gets messier and messier,” Zach mumbled.

“And I have a feeling this is just the start,” she said honestly, the practical side of her brain kicking back into action. “I need to lawyer up to prepare for whatever’s coming. Make sure we’re best protected in terms of Becca… and your dad.”

A beat passed. “Are you going to divorce him?” Grace tentatively asked.

“Yes,” Alicia said, the most definitive she had sounded all night. Both kids raised their heads from her shoulders to look at her.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued, staring straight ahead. “Baby or no baby, I can’t stand beside him through this. Not again. I put myself through the first time for you two, and now I realise how detrimental that was. To all of us. I won’t put us through that again. Once we’ve confronted him, he’s on his own.”

“Damn straight,” Zach said with a determined nod.

Grace looked down, another wave of tears threatening to spill. “Do we have to see him?”

Alicia tucked the hair that had fallen in front of her daughter’s face behind her ear. “Not if you don’t want to. I’ll drive down to Springfield first thing tomorrow morning so that I can talk to him the minute he’s back. And if he wants to talk to either of you, I’ll tell him he has to come to Chicago to face you himself – if you’ll see him. But I’ll make it clear you’re not being forced into anything you don’t want to do.”

Grace nodded and laid her head back down.

“I wanna come,” Zach piped up. “Tomorrow, to see Dad.”

Alicia hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Let me talk to him first.”

“Can’t you talk to him first, then let me in?” Zach pushed. “I mean, this affects me more than just… more than before. I deserve to let him have it.”

She couldn’t argue with him there. “Okay,” she gave in. “I’ll call Owen to see if he can come ‘round to keep Grace company while we’re gone.”

“Mom, I don’t need a babysitter,” Grace whined.

“I know you don’t, but tonight was heavy, and the next couple of days are going to be tough. I don’t want you on your own tomorrow. Besides, I think it’s more likely you’ll be babysitting your uncle rather than the other way ‘round.”

Grace giggled at that, satisfied, and the three of them went into a daze again as the reality of what lay ahead settled over them. As daunting as everything seemed, this was the most honest Alicia had ever been with her children, and it made her feel less alone.

She laid her head on top of Grace’s and stroked Zach’s hair, drawing on their presence to ease the tightness in her chest as she thought of the confrontation that awaited her the next day. For the first time since Will had handed her that damn envelope, she allowed herself to believe that she and her children would be okay.

“Let’s get some sleep,” she said softly after a while. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

As they stood and made their way to their bedrooms, Alicia’s resolve solidified. She wasn’t sure what the next number of weeks held, but she knew one thing for sure: her children were her strength, and for them, she would face whatever was coming head-on.

She resorted to texting Owen instead of calling, afraid he’d ask too many questions she couldn’t yet answer. After giving him the bare minimum information, that she and Zach had to meet Peter in Springfield the following morning and that she didn’t want to leave Grace home alone all day, he agreed to come by for a movie marathon with his niece.

The night was long and restless, filled with fleeting stints of sleep between an endless series of racing thoughts. Amongst the dread for what was to come, Alicia’s lawyer mode was rebooted, and her brain began to outline the vague semblance of a plan.

Half-asleep, she pulled out her phone and dialled the number for Lockhart-Gardner’s offices, punching in the extension for Will’s assistant. Being close to 3am, her call predictably went to voicemail, so she left a message asking to be scheduled in for an appointment sometime on the earlier side of next week if possible, or any time if not.

By the time she fully woke up to sunlight breaking through the gap in her curtains, Alicia felt oddly put together. She knew it was probably the calm before the storm and that there was no predicting how she’d feel once she and Zach hit the road. For now, though, she felt the same sense of quiet determination she had when she knew she was about to embark on a difficult case. She got up and started preparing for the day, readying herself to face Peter and the chaos he had once again brought her way.

Chapter Text

«Thus hath the course of justice whirled about
And left thee but a very prey to time,
Having no more but thought of what thou wast
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.»
– Richard III

It would be comical if it wasn’t so devastating; Peter sort of embodied everything Georgetown Alicia had feared Will would turn out to be. There were various moments throughout her forties in which this cruel irony had occurred to her, forcing her to recognise how unfair the judgements of her 20-something-year-old self had been to Will.

None of those moments held a candle to the latest revelation.

In light of Peter’s most recent transgression, saying that he was the embodiment of the kind of partner she had once worried Will would be was actually a further injustice to her former best friend. Peter was irrefutably worse than the worst version of Will her anxious, young, child-of-divorce mind had conjured up. Whatever concerns she had had about Will hurting her back then didn’t come close to the reality that Peter had dealt her over and over in the time since.

She thought about it a little during the first scandal. Not in a comparative, ‘bet on the wrong horse’ kind of way – this was before she met Will in that elevator the day they came back into each other’s lives, and it was only when she started working for him that it felt like there was some sort of choice to be made. Back when she first started dating Peter, it hadn’t felt like she was choosing him over Will, because she hadn’t even been sure Will was an available option for her to choose.

During the first scandal, she more so thought about the irony of it all with a self-critical lens. In retrospect, it seemed almost funny how much her younger self had tried to prevent herself from entering into the frying pan with one man, only to wind up directly in the fire with another.

Yet it wasn’t until their affair was well underway that she fully realised how wrong her younger self had been about Will’s ability to commit. That misjudgment was probably a large part of why she finally gave into their chemistry that first night in the hotel; she expected passion and excitement and ‘no strings attached’. He delivered on the first two, but gave her an accidental “love you” and an intentional “I’m not interested in anyone else” in place of the third.

She, on the other hand, had been the flighty, flaky, unable-to-commit one who always had one foot out the door. Another cruel irony.

The scariest part about love you/I’m not interested in anyone else-gate was that she wholeheartedly believed him. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch, read it in his endless understanding and willingness to let her go without holding anything against her (until Florrick-Agos, at least).

Alicia had found the whole thing to be, for lack of a better word, a mindfuck. She apparently wasn’t enough, sexually or otherwise, for the husband that she had birthed two children and given up a career for. Yet this man who had no ties or obligations to her, who had the option of a new twenty-to-thirty-something bombshell eating out of the palm of his hand every other week, had looked at her with an awe of sorts, like she was the only woman to ever exist.

He had been willing to give up the girls and get flack for sleeping with an employee and put himself in Peter’s firing line and face possible disbarment and meet her kids and embrace the chaos that was her life and— the list was seemingly endless. It was unnerving and overwhelming, how much everything seemed to be the opposite of what she had thought it was, how little she seemed to know right from left since she was first informed of Peter’s extramarital activities by a TV news broadcast.

And yet, when she really thought about it, Will’s dedication to their relationship wasn’t that out-of-left-field at all. It was what his younger self had promised a lifetime ago back in law school – she just hadn’t been sure it was a promise to her.

She had been under the impression that they’d have his place to themselves for a hardcore study session one Saturday in March of 1L. But when Will answered the door to her, he was mid-argument with his roommate Eric. His greeting came in the form of an eye roll and a shake of his head, and Alicia smiled knowingly as she stepped into the shoebox of an apartment.

“I’m sorry we didn’t all make reading the Washington Post our entire personality from the minute we moved to Georgetown, William,” Eric was saying as he walked over to the kitchen counter with a rolled-up newspaper in hand. “Isn’t that right, Alicia?”

“Wrong person to ask,” Will answered for her as he came to stand by her side, opposite his roommate. “Alicia’s a classy girl. I guarantee you she’d choose WaPo over that rag any day of the week.”

“What rag?” She tried her best to sound earnest despite her amusement, placing the heavy books and notepad she brought with her down on the counter.

Will nodded towards Eric as he unceremoniously dumped the paper on top of her books, allowing her to see that it was a copy of the New York Post. “I wouldn’t even wipe my ass with that.”

She grinned at him. “Weren’t you just talking about class?”

“Precisely,” Eric said, gesturing at her in agreement. “The New York Post is apparently too low-brow for him, but talking about ass-wiping isn’t.”

“Some people say using crass language is actually a sign of intelligence,” Will replied as Alicia took a seat on one of the stools and started skimming the front page.

“Yeah well, some people say the world is flat and the moon landing was fake, so what now?”

“Inside the Trumps’ Multi-Million Dollar Divorce,” Alicia read aloud before flipping pages to find the full spread.

“See? Nobody can resist a good divorce story, William. Especially not aspiring lawyers,” Eric said smugly.

“Yeah, but everywhere’s reporting on that,” Will said. “You don’t have to lower yourself to the Post. I want better for you, man.”

“But would the New York Times or WaPo print a full recap timeline of the divorce proceedings, from the affair right up to the settlement, and all the salacious details in between?”

“Like Mistress Maples: ‘Best Sex I’ve Ever Had?’” Alicia asked, tapping the subheading she was quoting from the two-page timeline in front of her.

“Exactly,” Eric said.

“That’s gotta be bullshit, right?” Will leaned to look over her shoulder at the page and she had to suppress a shiver as his breath tickled her skin. “There’s no way that you’re a model who gets attention from men all over the world and Donald Trump is the best you’ve had.”

“The money probably helps,” Eric pointed out.

Alicia screwed up her face in disgust. “Is any amount of money worth that?”

“Oh, come on,” he chastised. “You’re both acting like he’s some sort of bridge troll. As far as screwing an older rich guy goes, Marla Maples didn’t do so bad. He’s not even 20 years older than her. There are plenty of decrepit rich bastards that would’ve been worse.”

“‘Rich’ being the operative word, though,” Will said. “Isn’t he almost bankrupt?”

“And this won’t help.” Alicia pointed at the section detailing the $14 million plus assets Ivana took as part of the settlement. “Besides, I don’t just mean worth screwing him for. I’m also saying, is any amount of money or jewellery or designer labels worth being internationally known as a homewrecker who was flown out during the family vay-cay only to be screamed at on the street by the wife, in front of the kids and the general public?”

Eric shrugged. “For some women, ‘married with kids’ is part of the appeal.”

Alicia shook her head. “That, I don’t understand.”

“It’s probably a sense of competition that goes back to primal instincts, wanting to be picked as the superior mate,” Eric said.

“Alright, let’s cool it on poor Marla, folks,” Will interjected. “It takes two to tango, and Trump is the one who actually had a family home to wreck.”

“Yeah, but that sort of comes with the territory when you marry a man of status,” Eric countered. “I doubt Ivana was naive enough to believe he’d never stray. There was probably a lot of looking the other way for the sake of remaining Mrs. Trump.”

“Sounds like you’re blaming her,” Alicia said.

“I’m not,” Eric replied. “I’m just saying, it’s hardly a shock that this is how their marriage ended when ‘rich guy cheats on wife’ is a tale as old as time.”

“So, what, you think rich men are just destined to cheat?” she asked.

He paused. “Not necessarily just rich men. Again, it goes back to primal urges, I think. Men are inherently hardwired to want sex, like, all the time, and I don’t think any amount of love or apparent subscription to monogamy is going overwrite that.”

“Jesus Christ,” Will muttered, rubbing his eyebrow before looking directly at Alicia. “See what reading the Post does to a person’s brain?”

“Pretty rich for you of all people to disagree when you’re practically the poster child of that hardwiring,” Eric said with a smirk.

Alicia bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Will give him a thunderous look. “Am I married? Or someone’s boyfriend? No.”

“Not anymore,” Eric allowed. “But your reputation speaks for itself. You obviously dumped what’s-her-face back home so you could play the field here without feeling guilty. No one’s going to believe you’re the monogamous type.”

Alicia shifted, averting her eyes back to the newspaper spread. She had heard whispers about Will, but even though they had grown close enough that she easily considered him the best friend she’d made at Georgetown, sex and dating were topics of conversation they notably avoided. He never volunteered the details of his breakup with Helena – she didn’t know who broke up with who or why. All she knew was that before going home for Thanksgiving, he had a girlfriend, and when he came back, he didn’t. He was also mum about whether or not he’d hooked up with any of the girls she’d seen make googly eyes at him in the months since, and if she was really honest, she didn’t want to know.

“I— that’s not— things just weren’t working out with Helena,” she heard him stutter. “Long distance was too hard.”

“Suuuuuuure,” Eric drawled. “Bet that wasn’t the only thing that was too hard.”

“Okay, you know what? Wanting an active sex life doesn’t mean a person’s incapable of settling down.” The annoyance in Will’s voice caused her to look up, unable to resist a peek at his face. He was still glaring at his roommate. “Maybe it’s just about finding the right person.”

Eric laughed. “Is that what you tell your conquests? How romantic.”

“Think whatever you want,” Will shot back, his voice lower. “But when I’m in, I’m all in.”

She hadn’t realised her ‘peek’ at him had turned into a full-on stare until his eyes flicked over and met hers. She quickly glanced away, focusing on a mundane ad in the corner of the page as her cheeks burned.

“I dunno if I buy that,” Eric went on, not knowing when to quit. “Whaddiya think, Alicia?”

“About Will, or your theory on men as a whole?” She looked up again and kept her eyes trained on Eric this time, despite feeling the intensity of Will’s gaze.

“Both.”

“Well, I think you might be projecting when it comes to Will, and one of these days he just might surprise you. As for your idea that men are sex-crazed cavemen incapable of monogamy, I think that’s offensive to both men and women,” she said, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Will break out into a smile.

“How?” Eric asked with a frown.

“You’re absolving men who cheat of responsibility by saying they’re effectively pre-programmed to, that they can’t help it. Making it out as if men have no self control is infantilising guys who cheat, as well as insulting to the ones that don’t. And you’re implying men are, by design, more interested in sex than women are, which isn’t true.”

“It isn’t?”

Alicia narrowed her eyes. “We’re the ones who give birth. If you’re so set on reducing everything down to primal nature and what our bodies are ‘inherently’ driven by, then sex is arguably more important to our biology than it is to yours. Unless you’re transgender… or a seahorse, I guess.”

Eric, now visibly pissed at her challenging of him, opened his mouth to retort. But before he could get a word out, Will gave a loud clap to wrap things up.

“Well, uhh, as fun as this has been, Torts isn’t gonna study itself.” He picked up Alicia’s books and nodded towards his room. “Alicia?”

Once they were inside and Will had closed the door, he smiled apologetically at her. “Sorry about him. He can be such an ass at times.”

She smiled back and shook her head. “If he thinks women have less ‘primal urges’, he should meet my mom.”

Will snorted. “You argued him like a pro, though. Did anyone ever tell you you’d make a good lawyer?”

“Funny you should say that,” she said with mock amazement. “I’m thinking about law school.”

He grinned and threw her books down on the bed, causing her to groan, “On second thought…”

“Oh, wait, I forgot,” Will said suddenly, opening his bedroom door again. “Be right back.”

He reentered less than half a minute later and said, “Catch,” before flinging a blur of yellow at her. She just about caught it, only realising that it was a big bag of peanut M&M’s when it was in her hands.

Alicia looked up at him in surprise, her eyes asking him what her mouth didn’t.

“They’re your favourite fuel — coffee aside, obviously,” he explained. “You have them whenever you’re pulling all-nighters and need a sugar rush, or the occasional 8am start when you were too tired to have breakfast beforehand. Maybe I’m an enabler, but I don’t wanna see you go broke for those small packs from the vending machine.”

She felt a rush of warmth spread through her chest and up to her cheeks again. She was a little embarrassed to learn Will had noticed a habit of hers that she hadn’t even been aware of herself. But more than that, she was touched by the fact that he had taken note of it, and the small but thoughtful gesture he made as a result.

She couldn't help but beam at him, her heart fluttering. “Will, that’s… thank you,” she said softly, voice carrying more emotion than she intended.

His easy smile mirrored hers, eyes full of something as he shrugged a shoulder. “Anytime.”

They settled into their respective study spots — her sitting up against the headboard, Will atop a blanket on the floor with his back against the side of the bed — and soon got into their usual rhythm. In between the books, notes, and the occasional M&M she’d shoot-and-score into his mouth, she found herself stealing glances at him as he worked. It wasn’t just Eric he apparently had the potential to prove wrong, and the likes of negligence and strict liability fell into the background as her brain became preoccupied with how else he might surprise her.

“Okay, peanut M&M’s, a latte, and a water,” Zach announced as Alicia opened the passenger door for him, his hands too full to do it himself. They were just finishing up at a rest stop on the I-55, Zach responsible for grabbing snacks and coffees while she filled up on gas, used the restroom, and called Grace to check that Owen had arrived.

She took the drinks from him and he freed his arms by dumping the excessive snack haul on his seat, then picked out what he wanted for now and threw the rest in the back. Only when he climbed back into his seat did he notice his mother still standing at the passenger’s side, gaping at him.

“What?”

“Are we on our way to Springfield or an apocalyptic shelter?” she asked, handing him his iced-whatever that was supposed to be a coffee but looked more like a milkshake to her. “We’re halfway there already.”

He smiled sheepishly as she closed his door, crossed over to the driver’s side, and sat in. “The shelter sounds more fun,” he said, passing her one of the two share bags of M&M’s he had, ridiculously, bought her. “And it’s not just for now. We still have the journey back. I mean, we’re not staying there after telling Dad he’s dead to us, are we?”

“I suppose not,” she said, taking a sip of her latte and then almost choking on it as what he said fully registered. “Zach!”

“What?” he repeated.

“He’s not… dead to us,” she said unsurely, putting her coffee in the cupholder. She didn’t really know what Peter was to them anymore, but he was still her kids’ father.

Zach’s jaw clenched as he turned away from her to look out the window. “He’s dead to me,” he muttered.

Alicia faltered as she started the car but didn’t put it in drive. The tension in the air was palpable as she wondered what her responsibilities as a ‘good’ mother were now. Regardless of whatever issues she and Peter went through in the past, she had tried not to put her feelings on the kids, had instead tried to separate him being a bad husband from how he was as a father.

But Peter’s continued indiscretions had made that line more and more blurry, and her children were grown enough to see it for themselves. Grace’s outburst the night before had proven that. Was it fair to police how her children felt and spoke about their father when she had the freedom to divorce him? Was she really supposed to tell them they had to respect the fact that he was still their dad when he had repeatedly shown a lack of respect for how his actions affected them? 

“I get it, Zach,” she said gently, glancing over at him as she began to pull off. “Believe me, I do. Let’s just try to get through today, okay?”

Zach gave a reluctant nod, still staring out the window. “Yeah, sure.”

They sat in silence for some time as she drove, Zach munching away on his various snacks, Alicia taking the occasional swig from her coffee. The miles flew by as they cruised down the expressway, the farmland on either side of them a far cry from the bustling city they called home.

“Did I get the wrong candy?” Zach asked after a while, nodding at the yellow bag lodged between their now-empty Dunkin’ cups.

“No, no, they’re my favourite. I’m just not really hungry right now,” she replied, glancing at the bag anyway. Her mind wandered to Will all those years ago and how excited she had been as she gushed to her roommate about his sweet gesture when she got home from their study session. How quickly her bubble had burst as Jenny simply shrugged and said, That’s what friends do in response.

“Too anxious to eat?” Zach continued, pulling her back to the present.

She offered him a tight smile. “Maybe a little. Mostly just want to get this over with.” She paused. “What about you, how are you feeling?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, staring thoughtfully out the windshield instead. “I’m glad Grace didn’t come,” he finally answered, so quietly she almost missed it.

“Are you saying that in an impatient big brother way or a protective big brother way?”

“Both,” he said, returning his mom’s teasing smile. His expression quickly turned serious again as he added, “But mostly the second.”

Alicia sighed and nodded with understanding, eyes back on the road. “Grace is… sensitive. This would be too much for her. Not that— I mean, it’s a lot for anyone. But I think she has a harder time dealing with things than you. Maybe it’s an age thing, the fact that she’s the youngest…”

“Yeah. I think sometimes she doesn’t fully… get it.”

She frowned and quickly glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe because she’s younger, I don’t think she ever really saw the full picture…” He hesitated, clearly struggling to articulate what he was trying to say. “Remember when you kicked Dad out right after he was reelected as State’s Attorney, and we were confused by the timing of it?”

“Yes?”

“Well, Grace made a big deal about how it didn’t make any sense to kick him out then when you had let him back in after he slept with hookers. I agreed, but instead of blaming you, I figured there had to be a reason. I thought it was most likely that there was someone else, and you found out about her. So I asked Dad for myself, and he pretty much confirmed it.”

“Yes,” she said softly, the memory of how caught off guard she had been coming back to her. “I remember Owen asking me about it because you had told him. And you seemed so worried when you asked me if I thought you were like your dad.”

“I was worried,” he said. “But it’s stuff like that, I think, sometimes Grace isn’t as aware of. I don’t know, I guess the oldest kid notices more. You had that too, right? Like, Owen gets along better with Grandma than you do. Sometimes when she visits, it seems like you’re—”

She took another glimpse at him after he stopped himself mid-sentence. “What?”

He hesitated. “Like you’re sick of her shit, I guess. That’s the only way I can explain it. There are times where you just look so done with her.”

Jesus, he really was perceptive.

“Not nearly as done as you look around Dad’s mom, though,” he quickly added with a grin.

“Am I that much of a bitch?” she asked incredulously.

“No! It’s not like you say anything mean to them, it’s just… I don’t know. Your whole—” he gestured vaguely “—vibe around them.”

She stared out at the road in front of her for a beat before answering. “Well, Jackie, I don’t have to explain,” she began and he smiled again in agreement. “As for my mom, like you said, sometimes as the eldest you’re privy to things your siblings aren’t. Those things can stick with you.”

He nodded in understanding, a faraway look in his eyes as he turned back to face the window. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of him — her son, who grew up too quickly, who bore the weight of public scrutiny and their family baggage with more grace and maturity than she could have ever expected. Than should ever have been expected of him. Owen always said she had grown up long before she was a grown up, and now it looked like Zach had followed in his mother’s footsteps.

They mostly spent the rest of the drive in a contemplative silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Alicia’s mind raced faster than the car as the small towns, cornfields, and patches of woodland they passed all seemed to merge together in an endless blur. Eventually, the sprawling landscape gave way to Springfield’s boxy cityscape, and she was soon driving them through its grid-like streets.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she drove through the familiar surroundings of Old Aristocracy Hill, her knuckles white against the black leather. Zach, too, seemed to grow uneasy as they approached their destination, no longer capable of sitting still in his seat.

“Is he back from Indiana yet?” he asked, shifting for the umpteenth time that minute as the Governor’s Mansion came into view.

“He should be,” Alicia answered, the time on the dashboard telling her it was almost noon. “His flight was supposed to get in around an hour and a half or so ago.”

She slowed the car to a stop as they arrived at the mansion’s security checkpoint, flanked by personnel. A familiar state trooper stepped forward and Alicia lowered her window.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted with the polite, all is well smile that had been her armour ever since Peter became a politician and rendered her a politician’s wife. “It’s just Zach and I, today.”

“Welcome back, Madame First Lady, Zach,” he said with a nod, his voice formal but not unfriendly. “We’ll notify the Governor of your arrival.”

He stepped back, allowing them to proceed through the gates. As Alicia drove towards her reserved parking space, Zach fidgeted with his seatbelt.

“Do you think he knows we’re coming?” he asked, seemingly full of nervous questions.

“He does now,” she replied dryly.

Upon exiting her car, they were met by another guard to escort them to the mansion’s private residential quarters — much to Alicia’s chagrin. She was well used to protocol, but not even being able to chew out her cheating husband without an array of staffers in her shadow felt like a cruel joke about what Peter had turned her life into.

Their footsteps echoed against polished marble and hardwood floors as they walked through the hallways. Once they reached the family’s private quarters, Alicia told the guard she’d wait for Peter in the study. He nodded and bid them goodbye, assuring them of the security presence that loomed just beyond the veneer of privacy.

She gave Zach’s shoulder a squeeze. “Go wait in the living room.”

He frowned. “But—”

“Zach,” she said firmly. “That was the deal, remember? You can come and say your piece, but only if I talk to him alone first.”

He gave a resigned nod. “Okay,” he said, reluctantly pushing the living room door open. “But if you need me—”

“I know where to find you,” she finished, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she started for the study.

Inside the cosy, wood-panelled room, she made herself comfortable in a leather armchair while she waited. She tried to distract herself from the pressure building in her chest by counting the number of book spines she could see on the shelf from her seat.

Then the heavy wooden door creaked open behind her, and she froze in place.

Chapter Text

«O, tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide!»
– Henry VI, Part III

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” Alicia heard Peter say as he closed the door to the study behind him. His tone was sultry and it made her skin crawl.

“Hi, hon.” He was suddenly at the side of the arm chair, bending down to kiss her cheek. It took everything in her to stop herself from physically recoiling. “I heard you and Zach came down for a visit. I wasn’t expecting you—”

“Were you expecting somebody else?” She immediately couldn’t help herself.

He straightened up, somewhat taken aback. “Uhh, no…? I’m not really used to unannounced visitors here,” he answered, looking confused but cautious. “Where’s Zach?”

“Living room.”

“And Grace?”

“Home.”

He looked at her oddly, as if trying to read her clipped tone. Alicia could tell he knew something was wrong, and that he was waiting for her to tell him what. She stared right back, not wanting to make any of this easy for him. After several seconds of the pair in a standoff, he moved to the chair opposite her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my trip went?” he tested, but she was done playing games.

“I don’t give a shit about your stupid trip.”

He gave a low whistle at her bluntness, then smiled bitterly. For a brief moment, it looked like he was going to give a smart-ass reply, but he seemed to think the better of it as his expression neutralised again.

“Alicia, whatever I’m supposed to have done, I'm sorry,” he started, causing her to roll her eyes. “Just tell me what it is so I can fix it, okay?”

She continued to stare him down for a moment. Then, she reached into the purse at her feet and pulled out the fresh envelope she had put the demand letter in after tearing open its original one the night before.

“Good luck fixing this,” she said sardonically, holding it out to him.

He looked at it, then at her, and back again before taking it from her and opening it up. She could see the colour drain from his face as he read the letter’s contents. She expected the excuses or denials to start the moment he finished reading, but instead, he looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Well?” she demanded, hands shaking in anger. She had been keeping her emotions in check all morning, but now, with his cowardly, scared-shitless face in front of her, she could no longer control herself. And his silence only aggravated her more, even though she knew she wasn’t going to like it once he started speaking, either.

“I can explain.”

Bingo. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Instead, she scoffed.

“Which part can you explain? You breaking your marital vows yet again? You putting your dick over your family yet again? Or how about the part where you fucked your own son’s ex-girlfriend and apparently forgot to wrap it up?”

He rose, holding a hand up in an effort to calm her. It had the opposite effect, prompting her to stand up too, her fists balled.

“It’s abundantly clear you don’t give a fuck about me, and now the kids, but I thought you were at least smart enough not to jeopardise your career for the sake of getting laid again. This won’t be like the last time, you know that, right? You know what happens to political careers when news gets out about a love child. So tell me, Peter, because I really want to know: just how much of a complete fucking moron are you?”

“Calm down,” he said in a low, warning tone, anger beginning to cross his own features.

At that, her mind flashed to watching ‘Snapped: Women Who Kill’ with Owen one night over a bottle of wine. Honestly? Good for her, her brother had commented as the mugshot of one particular woman who had murdered her husband appeared on screen. She smacked his arm at the time, but now she felt like maybe she understood.

“You’ve got some nerve, Peter, I’ll give you that.”

“Just— let me speak.”

“Oh, please, by all means!” she yelled, gesturing dramatically in front of her. “The floor is yours.”

He looked away from her, scratching his forehead. His shoulders were tense and he didn't move or say anything for a moment. When he finally looked back at her, his gaze was steely.

“Yes, I messed up,” he said, in what had to be the understatement of the decade. “But I’m not that child’s father.”

“But you slept with her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, great. What’s sleeping with the girl who took your son’s virginity, right? I mean, as long as you didn’t get her pregnant.”

“Alicia—”

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How. Many. Times. Did you fuck. Our son’s. Ex?” she got out through gritted teeth.

“I—” She could see him scrambling, contemplating coming up with a lie. But then he seemed to crumble under the intensity of her glare, shoulders slumping.

“I’m not sure,” he mumbled pathetically, sinking back down into his chair.

“So, more than once.”

“Yes.”

“On a regular basis?”

His expression was pained. “Alicia…”

“Well, that answers that. For how long?” Her voice had become oddly matter-of-fact, as though she was questioning a witness rather than her own husband.

“It’s hard to say.”

She clicked her tongue. “Try.”

“It was on and off. She was away at Illinois State for most of it, so it wasn’t ever really full-on.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes again or make another biting comment, afraid it would stop the information she was getting in dribs and drabs. “When – and how – did it start?”

“December - not just gone, the year before. She was back in Chicago for Christmas.”

“Oh, you mean the Christmas you insisted was special because we were ‘back together as a family’ after the separation?”

He dipped his head.

“So? How’d it start? How the hell does a man of your age end up in the same room as his son’s ex, who hasn’t even hit the legal drinking age?”

He rubbed his face tiredly. “You remember that year, Eli had me at every charity event he could get me into?”

She shrugged. Eli was always insisting Peter attend this and that, especially in the run-up to an election. She couldn’t possibly remember them all, especially from the race for Governorship.

“There was some holiday party fundraising for the homeless. Eli wanted you to go with me, but you said you were too tied up in a case. Sure enough, when the night came, you were working late.” He paused, then looked up to meet her eyes. “With Will.”

Her own eyes narrowed, but she refused to break the stare. “Be very careful, Peter.”

Okay, she had kissed Will – twice – after reuniting with Peter. But a kiss wasn’t sex and Will wasn’t some thirty years her junior or one of her kids’ exes, so she really wasn’t in the mood to listen to him imply that she shared some blame for his latest transgression. Especially when she had burned – or more accurately, nuclear bombed – her bridges with Will to take away temptation and recommit to her marriage, only to learn that Peter was still being led by the wrong head.

“I’m just saying, you were working late, Eli had to run off almost as soon as we arrived, and then suddenly Becca was there with a tray of champagne. She told me her mom was on the board and roped her into helping out while she was home, then she asked about Zach and… we just got talking, I guess.”

“Talking? Is that what you call it?”

He sighed. “It started with talking, Alicia. She apologised for being a brat back in the day and we reminisced a little. She told me she was studying politics and showed an interest in my campaign, and then it just… escalated.”

“I’ll say,” she snarked. “A casual conversation at a charity event and suddenly you’re in bed with her? That’s quite the escalation.”

“It wasn’t like that. We exchanged emails so she could reach out when it came to her studies.” He ignored the humourless snort that elicited from her. “She ended up getting in contact sooner than I thought, before she went back to school. We kept in touch, went for coffee, and… one thing led to another.”

Alicia closed her eyes. “Miss me with the clichés, please.”

“I—”

“And then what?” she cut him off, eyes flying open again. “You just kept it going, every time she was in town?”

His lowered gaze said it all. “Just for a few months. Alicia, it didn’t mean anything. It was… a distraction, until I woke up and called it off.”

“A distraction from what, exactly? Your loving family? Your dream campaign? The idiot wife you managed to convince to give you another chance for the kids’ sake, while you were busy betraying one of those kids in the most humiliating way possible?”

Her voice cracked on the last couple of words, much to her annoyance. But she couldn’t help it when talking about Zach – she was more angry and hurt on his behalf than she was for herself.

She swallowed thickly before continuing, “Maybe you doing this to me again is on me, for actually believing you were capable of change. For believing you were anything other than the same selfish, impulsive bastard you’ve always be—”

“I know I’ve hurt you—”

“I’m not finished!” she shouted impatiently, willing the angry tears that were pricking her eyes not to spill as she didn’t want to show weakness in front of him. “To me is one thing, but how could you do this to Zach?”

“I never meant— I made a mistake.”

“You make a lot of mistakes,” she said, her voice cold and controlled again. “I’ve heard this song and dance before. We all have.”

He stood up again and tried to approach her, at which she instinctively took a step back. “Whatever it takes to fix this—”

“Why do you keep saying that?” she asked, flabbergasted. “Peter, you had an affair with your son’s ex-girlfriend. You got her pregnant. There’s nothing left to fix.”

He shook his head insistently. “The kid’s not mine, Alicia.”

“Well, the timeline adds up, so what makes you so convinced?”

“Because it’s Becca,” he said simply, then held up the letter. “This is extortion.”

She balked at him. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“I thought you might at least try to assure me about protection or claim she had a boyfriend or something,” Alicia said. “But no, you have the unmitigated gall to tell me you think you’re not that child’s father solely because you don’t trust Becca. Well guess what, Peter? I don’t trust you.”

“Well then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice was raised, officially done with the remorseful act now that he had lost his cool.

“What do I want? A divorce, like I should have gotten a long time ago!”

“Alicia, I know you’re upset—”

“No, Peter, I’m angry,” she said. “And I’m done. No more mistakes, no more apologies, no more chances. I want a divorce. But first and foremost, I want you to settle that—”  she pointed to the letter still in his hand “—out of court. Deny it and get a test proving you’re not the dad, or accept it and come to an agreement with her — I don’t care. But do not let this go before a courtroom, do you hear me?”

“I’m not settling,” he said resolutely.

“Then take a damn test,” she hissed.

“No.”

“Because you know there’s a chance it’ll come back a match. A high one, I’m betting. But whether it comes out from you taking a test now or being court-ordered to take one, you’re finished, so what fucking difference does it make? Spare us the media frenzy of a court battle, for the love of God.”

“She’s calling my bluff. She wants my attention. If I don’t respond to that letter, she’ll drop it.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Alicia gave an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “You can’t seriously be that naive. Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m not settling,” he repeated in a harsher tone.

She took a deep breath to try and collect herself again, then stepped closer to him. When she spoke, her voice was dangerously low.

“Peter, let me be very, very clear. Here’s what’s going to happen: you are going to respond to Becca’s demand letter explaining that you’ll take a DNA test and that the results of that test will determine your future correspondence, or any potential negotiations. And then you’re going to give me a no-fuss divorce. Everything will be as low-key as possible to minimise public spectacle. Do you understand me?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Minimise public spectacle for who? You? Like you said, if that test comes back a match then the story comes out either way and I’m done. You just want to make sure you’re off the sinking ship by the time that happens.”

“Well excuse me for refusing to let you subject me and my kids to any more public humiliation than you already have!” she screamed.

“Your kids?” he challenged, raising his brows.

“Yes, my kids,” she fired back, the whole ‘good mothers shouldn’t speak ill of the father’ contemplation from her car journey gone out the window. “Who’s the one who gave up a career to raise them? Who’s the one who had to reenter that career to become the sole earner while also being the main support system for them at home? Who’s the one who once again has to pick up the pieces after their sorry excuse for a father—”

He lunged forward and grabbed onto her biceps, backing her up against the wall.

“You’re not taking the kids this time. I won’t let you poison them against me.” His voice was eerily quiet, but his eyes were filled with rage.

She scoffed again, trying her best to appear unfazed. “Firstly, they’re practically adults and are no longer up for the ’taking’. Secondly, you’ve done a pretty good job at that all by yourself.”

His grip on her loosened ever so slightly as realisation swept over his features. “What did you tell them?”

“The truth, for once. They know everything I learned from the letter. Zach says you’re dead to him, and Grace doesn’t want to see you.”

It was probably unfair to speak on behalf of the kids, as well as a bad idea to poke the bear while he had her in this position, but Peter wasn’t the only one who had lost control.

His fingers tightened around her arms again and he shook her roughly, her shoulders just about protecting her head from banging against the wall. “You manipulative bitch,” he growled. “You could have at least given me the chance to—”

“To what? Have them find out through the news again? I don’t think so.”

“It wouldn’t have come to that. I would have—”

“Bullshit.” Her voice remained defiant, but she tried and failed to shrug out of his vice-like grip. “There’s no way you’d have voluntarily looked Zach in the eye and told him what you’ve done. You’re too much of a coward. Now let go of me.”

He shook his head, then put his face intimidatingly close to hers. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I am what you made me,” she retorted, struggling again. His grip was now tight enough that it was painful, leaving her wondering if it would bruise. “Peter, let go.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even blink. For the first time in a marriage that had been filled with screaming matches in recent years, the look in his eyes genuinely frightened her.

“Peter,” she urged, an edge to her voice as panic started to creep in. “You’re hurting me.”

His grip remained as it was, a dark look in his eyes as they bore into hers. Time seemed to stand still as she stared back at him, wide-eyed, in territory she had never navigated before. Her marriage had a lot of problems, and Peter had made her feel a lot of things over the years, but afraid had never been one of them. She tried to swallow, her throat gone dry.

Fight, flight, or freeze. She had heard the phrase countless times in an array of cases over the years – murders, rapes, assaults, both criminal and civil. Nobody wanted to believe they’d be a ‘freezer’, Alicia included. But in this moment, the only moving parts of her were the thoughts whirring inside her head and the heart that hammered in her chest.

She willed herself to do something – anything – but it was like her brain and body were operating on separate planes. They only seemed to reconnect when Peter broke the silence.

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

Something about that finally activated her fight mode and another surge of rage went through her. She gave a forceful jerk in his arms, much more aggressive than her prior attempts to break free. Still, she wasn’t strong enough for him, and so she found herself screeching “Let me fucking go!” in a volume and pitch she didn’t even know she was capable of reaching.

For a split second, she thought he was releasing her as the grip on her upper arms disappeared and her body tipped ever so slightly forward. But he had only let go to readjust his position; as quickly as she had felt his fingers leave her arms, she was shoved back into the wall with enough force that the wind was knocked out of her. Before she could even take a breath, she realised that his entire body was pinning her to the wall this time, and then his left forearm was pressed against her throat.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up to the sudden restriction in air – and to accept the fact that this was really happening – but then her hands started pulling at Peter’s arm as instinct took over. She tried to cry out again in the hope that she would be heard by the guards she was earlier assured wouldn’t be far, but all that came out was a wheeze. Realising her efforts were useless, she redirected her limited energy to clawing at the skin of his face and neck. When she left a particularly nasty scratch on his Adam’s apple, he used his free hand to grab both of her wrists and wrenched her arms up above her head, causing her to choke out what would have been a cry of pain.

His arm pressed harder against her windpipe and she thrashed against his body again, but her struggles were becoming weaker with the lack of oxygen. There was a hissing in her ears and even her thoughts seemed to slow. She looked at Peter through heavy eyelids, thinking he almost seemed possessed before her vision blurred. Panic gave way to an oddly peaceful sense of resignation, and she allowed her eyes to droop closed.

Then, she heard a loud bang.

A voice said “I heard scr—” and suddenly she was sliding down the wall until she collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.

Through the black dots in front of her eyes, she saw the door ricocheting against the wall from how hard it had been flung open as Zach barrelled into the room. Before her still-slowed brain could even fully register his presence, he made a beeline towards them and gave Peter a hard shove, causing him to stagger back.

“Get away from her, you piece of shit!” Zach roared, face as red as the T-shirt he was wearing.

Peter hadn’t even regained his footing when Zach pummelled a fist into his father’s side, causing him to groan and bend over. Alicia was paralysed by the shock of everything that had just happened, unable to do anything but gulp air and watch the scene that was unravelling before her.

Peter, too, seemed to be in a state of shock, but whether it was at his own rage or his son’s, she wasn’t sure. He straightened up, clutching his side, and made eye contact with Zach for only a second before the teen surged forward to punch him again. This time, however, Peter managed to block it.

“Let’s all calm down,” he tried, but blind fury and adrenaline had consumed his son. He kept swinging, and so Peter kept blocking, which only seemed to fuel Zach’s anger.

“Zach,” he said, his tone one of warning this time.

That snapped Alicia out of it. Peter was a big man, and his height and build meant that Zach would be at a disadvantage if his father decided to properly fight back. She forced herself to stand and stumbled over to her son, yanking his arm.

“Zach, honey, stop,” she got out, her voice half-croak, half-whisper. When he ignored her, she unsteadily moved in front of him, arms open at her sides. “Stop it.”

“Get out of the way, Mom,” he said while staring at Peter, voice hard.

“We can work this out,” Peter said behind her, and she had to try and physically restrain her son despite her lack of energy.

“Can you shut the hell up?” she hoarsely threw over her shoulder at him as she tried to hold Zach back.

“What do you wanna work out? Sleeping with my girlfriend, or almost killing my mom?” Zach goaded over his mother’s head, visibly struggling between trying to resist her and not wanting to hurt her like his father had.

“Zach, please,” Alicia begged, still wheezy. “There’s security outside who won’t care that you’re his son. The last thing we need is you taking a bullet or facing charges for assaulting the Governor, okay? He’s not worth it, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

He finally looked at her, his face still flushed. “He can’t get away with this,” he said between pants as he tried to regulate his breathing.

She turned her hold of restraint into a tight hug, using up the last of her energy to hold him close. “I promise you, he won’t,” she mumbled, her chin on his shoulder. “But let me handle this my way.”

He sighed deeply and then nodded. She blinked away tears of relief, her chest still heaving. Once they broke apart, she wobbled slightly on her feet, and he wrapped a supportive arm around her to keep her steady as they walked. As they made for the door, he threw a gruff “Stay the hell out of our lives” at his father, whose breathing was also a little ragged.

“So that’s it, huh?” Peter said in a strained voice, falling back into the chair he had been sitting in. “I’m cut off, just like that?”

They halted at the door and Zach huffed, but Alicia gave him a nudge that warned him not to take the bait. She trained her eyes on Peter, who was again holding where their son had landed a punch. Eyes winced, he was clearly in pain. Good. Even though it was likely nowhere near what he had inflicted on her, it was a small justice.

“‘Just like’ nothing – after six years of bull, you’ve finally pushed us all to our limit,” she said croakily. “I’ve asked you to do one thing to try and make your latest mess a little easier on us, and you refuse. So go ahead, blow up our lives, ruin your career, make whatever stupid decision you’re going to make like you always do. You’re on your own. If I have to see you again, it will be in the company of our attorneys. Goodbye, Peter.”

As Zach stepped through the doorway, Peter called after her.

“What?”

“I meant what I said. If I go down, you’re going down with me.”

Zach looked at her questioningly as she paused, her hand lingering on the doorframe. She turned around to look her husband in the eye once more. He had already done his worst, and she refused to be intimidated by his parting threat.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in Hell.”

And with that, she slammed the door on Peter, her marriage, and the myth of Saint Alicia.

Chapter Text

«Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep
To undertake the death of all the world,
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.»
– Richard III

The first time Will heard the nickname ‘Saint Alicia’ wasn’t in a newspaper headline comparing her to her less-than-saintly husband. It was some seventeen or so years prior.

He had been in a rather cheery mood the morning after his study session with Alicia – the one that came after 'primal urges'-gate – and was never so eager to spend a Sunday with his nose in a book. He padded around his apartment with a spring in his step as he readied himself for another day of it, this time at her place.

Eric, on the other hand, was not quite as dedicated to his studies. He emerged from his room looking like he had been dragged through a bush backwards, making Will chuckle as he almost tripped in a desperate sprint to the bathroom.

“Rough night?” he asked once Eric reentered the living room, his skin still showing a green tint.

“Ugh, don't remind me,” his roommate answered with his face screwed up, as if the mere mention of the night before was enough to make him sick again. “Why didn't you go?

“Too tired. We wrapped up late.” He held up the notepad he had ready to take with him to Alicia's for emphasis.

“Studying, or other things?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Studying. Just like we'll be doing again all day today.”

“That was a joke. Believe me, nobody's under any illusions about you having a wild time with Cavanaugh.” He pulled a face, his tone sarcastically emphatic on the words 'wild time'.

Will frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.”

“No, I really don't.”

“Alicia's not exactly... known for her wild side. I imagine she's more likely to spend her Saturday night organising her sock drawer or like, writing out the rosary than doing anything remotely fun.”

Will was so taken aback at how starkly different Eric's view of Alicia was from his own that the only defence he managed to get out was, “She's an atheist,” before Eric went on.

“I'm just saying, it's kinda surprising you two hit it off so well. She's all strait-laced and by-the-book, and you— well, you're a bit more, shall we say, adventurous.” He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Will stared at him. “Is that your way of saying I like a drink, or your way of calling me a man-whore yet again, like yesterday’s performance that made me sound like a walking STD?”

His smirk widened to a grin. “Little'a this, little'a that.”

“You should stop being so obsessed with my sex life. I might start thinking you have feelings for me.”

Eric put a hand on his chest in mock offence. “If I was to switch teams, I hope I'd do much better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Is that why you're ragging on Alicia so much? Jealous of all the time I'm spending with her?”

He gave him a look. “That's exactly it. I'm sooo jealous of all the crazy fun you're having with Saint Alicia.”

“Seriously, what gives?” Will snapped, unable to hide his annoyance any longer. “So Alicia's a little quiet. Big fucking deal. She's also smart, kind, and has the most dry sense of humour that—” He paused, not wanting to give himself away. In a calmer tone, he continued, “I just don't get why you're being such a dick about her.”

Eric shrugged. “She can kinda be a know-it-all.”

“So can you, so can I. We're in law school, Eric. Look around, being kind of a know-it-all is basically a prerequisite.” Another thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute, is this is because of yesterday? You're mad she wiped the floor with you during your little kitchen counter debate!”

“She did not wipe the floor,” Eric said defensively. “She thought she did.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” Will shot back as he made his way to leave. “Maybe work on your arguments for next time instead of blaming your opposition for being better than you. It'll do you good in court someday.”

Right as Will was shutting the door, he heard his roommate say, “I'm not the only one who thinks she's a wet blanket, asshole.”

He sincerely thought that was a lie, that Eric was just butt-hurt about her refusal to back down from him in a stupid argument. But a few days later, Eric was proven right. It seemed Alicia’s position at the top of their class was an isolating one, and her quiet demeanour – alongside her careful two-beer limit before heading home early from get-togethers – had allowed people to make all sorts of assumptions about her.

He ran into another 1L, a girl called Lynn, while doing laundry one evening in the middle of the week. After flirting with him, she invited him to a party she was throwing with her friends in 3L that weekend.

“Yeah, maybe,” he answered as he took his clothes out of the dryer, not really interested in her. She was pretty, but the more and more time he spent with Alicia, the less and less thought he seemed to be able to give other women.

“It's gonna be a real rager,” she pushed. “I wouldn't miss it, if I were you.”

“I'll see if I can pencil it in,” he joked as he folded. A party was a party, after all.

Her face immediately lit up. “Guess I'll see you there,” she said in a lower octave, seemingly trying to be seductive. And then her voice was back to normal when she added: “Oh, but don't bring Alicia.”

He laughed at her bluntness, thinking she was just being forward in her flirtation with him and trying to jokingly mark her territory or something.

“No, seriously,” Lynn said then, causing the laughter to die in his throat.

“Why not?” he asked.

She snorted. “She doesn't exactly fit in with that kinda crowd.”

“But I do?” He kept his tone carefully neutral.

“Oh yeah, I've seen you do a keg stand. You're fun, you like to party. You'd be a real crowd-pleaser.” She smirked flirtatiously again, then added with an eye roll, “They'd probably think Alicia was an undercover cop.”

“Wha—”

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure she's a great study buddy. She's super smart,” she said patronisingly, clearly having underestimated how close he and Alicia were. “But like, she's so uptight. And kinda serious. And a little judgy. So basically the exact opposite of the vibe we're going for.”

“And what kinda vibe is that, exactly?”

She didn't seem to notice the defensive edge to his voice. “Like a huge rave, I guess. Everyone getting blackout. E being passed around like candy.”

“Yeah, that doesn't really sound like Alicia—”

“Right?!”

“Doesn't really sound like my scene, either.”

Her face dropped. “Oh. Really?”

“Nah, sounds a little too much for me. Rave music, that many people out of it, party organisers who apparently didn't leave high school in high school…”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a frown.

“I mean it's pretty pathetic to go excluding people you don't see as belonging at the popular table at our age,” he said with a shrug.

She looked gobsmacked for a moment, but quickly recovered herself with a scoff.

“Really, Will? I was just telling you that it wouldn't be her scene. It was actually kinda doing her a favour, in a way.”

“Wow, that’s really kind of you,” he said sarcastically. “But maybe next time let her decide for herself. Y’know, it’s ironic, you deciding you know so much about Alicia based on seeing her in class a couple times or talking to her once, and then calling her the judgy one.”

Lynn's face flushed with anger. “What are you, her bodyguard?”

“Nope, but I’d rather spend hours watching paint dry with Alicia than spend another minute talking to you, even with all the alcohol in the world.” He knew he was kind of being a dick at this point, but whatever, she had earned it.

She snorted again. “Okay, dude. She’s not your girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.”

“Good, ‘cause she’s so frigid you’d probably shrivel up down there if she was.”

If Lynn had been a guy, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from throwing a punch. “You don’t even know her,” he spat instead.

“I know she’s got a stick up her ass the size of the Washington Monument,” she said, all smug as she picked her laundry basket up. “So have fun trying to do the horizontal tango with her, Will. It’ll probably be similar to that paint-watching session you described.”

She marched out the door, leaving Will with his half-folded laundry bundle and his blood boiling.

As he walked back to his apartment a little later, he couldn't believe how many people seemed to have such a narrow view of Alicia. From the moment he met her, he enjoyed how she challenged him. But the more he had gotten to know her, the more he saw that there was so much more to her than beauty and brains. While it pissed him off that not everybody saw that, he also felt lucky to be amongst those who did.

He entered the apartment to find Eric sprawled on the couch, flipping through TV channels aimlessly. Things had been a lot less friendly between them since their exchange about Alicia on Sunday, and Will was growing tired of walking on eggshells in his own apartment.

"Hey," he offered as he set his laundry basket down.

"Hey. What's up?" Eric didn’t even look up from the TV.

Will, still irked, briefly considered venting about the conversation he'd just had. He ultimately decided against it, not wanting to give Eric more ammunition. “Bumped into Lynn while doing laundry. She invited me to a party this weekend.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. You going?”

“Nah,” Will replied, shaking his head. “She made it sound like a scene out of Animal House.”

Eric laughed. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because unfortunately, I’m getting too old for that kinda thing.”

“You’re younger than me!”

“Not in spirit,” Will smiled. “Besides, I have other plans.”

Eric threw him a knowing look. “Plans with Alicia, I presume?”

Will nodded. “Back to the books.”

“Of course.”

He sighed. “Look, Eric, I need… to do well. I’m here on a scholarship. My dad, he’s…” he trailed off, unsure of how vulnerable he was willing to be. “Things aren’t good at home. Failing, flunking, re-sitting – those aren’t an option for me. And Alicia— she makes it easier. Not just because she's smart. We actually have fun, believe it or not. I like… being around her.”

Eric didn’t say anything for a moment, and when he finally looked back up at Will, his expression was uncharacteristically serious. Maybe even a little guilty. “Okay, fair enough. I’ll lay off. And I’m sorry for being a jackass. I shouldn’t have called her a wet blanket.”

“Thanks,” Will said, feeling a small sense of relief. As annoying as Eric could be sometimes, he did consider him a friend. And he wanted his friends to like Alicia. “For what it's worth, she likes you . Thinks you’re funny.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so before? We could’ve been best friends a long time ago! Suddenly she seems pretty great.”

Will shook his head again, but he was smiling this time.

“That being said, I do hope I get to see Miss Goody Two-Shoes drunk at some point,” Eric added.

Will grinned. “Me too. I guess we’ll have to work on that.”

The rest of the week flew by, and before he knew it, it was Saturday again. Alicia had told him her roommate would be at her boyfriend’s all weekend and proposed they study at her place. He eagerly arrived at her apartment, knocking with a smile on his face.

She opened the door and he could have sworn her eyes brightened when she saw him. Or maybe it was because he had brought another offering of M&M’s. “Hey, come on in.”

He stepped inside, the neatness and orderliness of her apartment a stark contrast to the chaos that often came with a roommate like Eric. Her place felt calm, inviting.

“Ready to hit the books?” she asked, leading him to the dining table where she had already laid out their materials.

“Absolutely,” he replied, sitting down across from her. She smiled warmly at him as he tore open the bag of candy and set it down halfway between them.

They spent the next few hours immersed in their studies, the company lessening the chore. They debated legal theories, compared case studies, and managed to sneak in a few laughs as usual. Will couldn’t help but watch her at times, admiring how she bit her lip when deep in thought, how heartily she cackled when something really amused her. Being the one to pull that out of her gave him a strange sense of achievement, and he wanted to spend every waking hour making her laugh.

As dusk came and the room grew dim, Alicia looked up from her notes. “Wanna finish up?”

It caught him off guard; their study sessions usually wrapped up anywhere between 10pm and the early hours of the morning. “Already?” he asked as he stretched, not wanting to leave.

She nodded, yawning tiredly. “I think we may have been overdoing it, and I don’t know about you, but it’s finally taking its toll on me.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Okay.” He hoped his voice didn’t betray his disappointment as he stood. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She rose so suddenly that her chair screeched against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. “No, I didn’t mean— I was thinking we could maybe order some takeout and watch a movie,” she said with a shy smile that faltered as she added, “Unless… you have somewhere to be…?”

His heart jumped in his chest, the invitation leaving him tongue-tied. They were months into their friendship but had never hung out one-on-one unrelated to the pressure of their studies. Moments of respite had always been spent in a wider group, and Alicia usually left early.

She watched him nervously, prompting him to realise he still hadn't said anything. He forced his mouth to work again.

“That sounds good.”

“Great.” She breathed what seemed to be a sigh of relief and her smile recovered, even wider than it had previously been.

They ended up ordering a pizza and settling in the living room with its box on the coffee table. As he sifted through her VHS collection, she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Why are most of these about killers and the like?” Will called out to her from his spot on the floor in front of the TV stand.

“What were you expecting, sunshine and rainbows?” she asked as she came back into the living room, plates in one hand and two bottles of Bud between the fingers of the other.

He raised his brows in surprise as she set the plates down and handed him a beer.

“What? I thought Bud’s your favourite,” she said, a little defensively.

“It is,” he answered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But that’s not fair. You’re outdoing me. My favourite is a little pricier than a bag of M&M’s.”

Alicia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Well even though they’re your favourite, I didn’t just get them for you.” She made a big show of taking a swig of her beer then, and Will had to tear his eyes away from her glistening lips when she pulled the mouth of the bottle away from them.

He shifted his attention back to the VHS tapes. Alicia apparently had a habit of picking up the most obscure B-movies, which he found hilarious.

“You know, when you said we could watch a movie, I thought you meant, like, Pretty Woman or something. Not —” he pulled a random tape to read its title “— Evil Dead 2? What the hell is that?”

“A cinematic masterpiece, Will,” she said mock-scoldingly as she got comfy on the couch. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen it. Put it on.”

“Does it matter that I haven’t seen the first one?” he asked, but he was obliging her by inserting the tape anyway.

“Probably not,” Alicia admitted with a grin.

She put her feet up on the coffee table and he took his place beside her on the couch, then kicked up his own feet. As she passed him a plate, it occurred to him just how comfortable this felt and how well their dynamic flowed. He wondered if it had occurred to her, too.

He spent more time watching her watch the movie than he did watching it for himself. The glow of the screen played across her features as they tucked into their pizza, allowing him to discretely enjoy her reactions and expressions. She was unfazed by the blood and guts, laughing at the slapstick gore.

It wasn’t long before they were finished eating, and when Alicia went to grab them more beer, she wound up bringing the rest of the bottles she had in the fridge with her.

“Having a wild Saturday night, are we?” he teased as she carefully placed all six down on the coffee table.

“Thought you might need some liquid courage to get through such horrors.” As she popped the caps of their bottles, she nodded at the screen. A decapitated body was coming at the main character with a chainsaw.

“Should I be worried by how entertained you seem to be by graphic violence?”

She passed him a beer and threw herself back down on the couch, feeling a little closer to him than before. “If anything, it’s probably preparing me for the future. Who knows what kind of horrific evidence we’ll see while working on different cases.”

He chuckled. “Somehow, I think we’re safe from headless bodies that can run, body-less heads that can talk, and spurting blood that looks like it came out of a ketchup bottle.”

When she gave another one of those hearty, Alicia laughs in response, he decided that no party or raucous night out compared to how he was spending his Saturday night.

Some time later, Will blinked his eyes open, suddenly aware he'd dozed off. The screen was displaying white noise, providing just enough light for him to see that the gentle weight on his shoulder and the warmth against his side was Alicia’s sleeping figure. At least he wasn’t the only one.

He smiled to himself as he took in the intimacy of the scene: the completely dark and silent apartment (save for the faint light of the TV and the ticking of the wall clock), the silhouettes of the eight empty beer bottles they had managed to get through before apparently passing out, the feeling of Alicia breathing in and out as she slept peacefully on him. It was the best way he had ever woken up.

Not wanting to startle her, he whispered her name softly to no avail. Slowly and gently, he moved his free hand to brush a few stray hairs from her face, then allowed his fingers to linger in her tresses for a moment. When he retracted his hand, she stirred, turning further into him and resting her fist on his chest. His breath caught in his throat and he froze, not wanting to break the spell.

But a minute or so later, her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, her expression sleepy and confused at first. Once it dawned on her that she was partially on him, the embarrassment seemed to wake her up and she jolted upright. He immediately missed her body against his.

“God, I’m sorry,” she said, and even in the low light, he could see the colour in her cheeks. “I invite you to watch a movie and then I fall asleep during— and on top of you—”

She stopped suddenly and winced, and he had to stop himself from laughing.

“Alicia, it’s fine,” he said gently with a smile. “I woke up about two minutes before you.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. “You dozed off too?”

“Yup. Either we were way more tired than we thought, or your cinematic masterpiece wasn’t as exciting you remembered.” Hoping to ease her self-consciousness, he added: “I just hope I didn’t drool on you.”

She returned his smile and stretched. “Not that I can tell.”

Then she was staring at him with an amused expression, and it was his turn to feel self-conscious. “What?”

“Your hair is sticking straight up.”

His hands shot up to try and flatten it, causing her to giggle.

“I was actually thinking that it's a good look for you,” she said.

“Right,” he grumbled.

“I’m serious! The bedhead kinda makes you look cute.”

He felt the heat rise to his face as she continued to stare at him with a sleepy smile. It was hard to know whether she was just teasing him or if that was a confession brought on by tiredness and alcohol.

“I’m not cute,” he said right before the silence between them grew awkward. “I’m manly.”

She burst out laughing again. “You can be manly and still be cute.”

The fact that she wasn’t letting this go, despite the flush in her own cheeks and her half-asleep state, made him think that maybe it really was a compliment. His heart started pounding and he suddenly had the urge to tell her how he felt – that he had been drawn to her from that very first pool party, that as their friendship developed, so had his crush, that she was the reason he broke up with Helena, that the more time they spent together, the more he was pretty sure he had fallen hopelessly in love with her. That he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in she felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for her.

But it was intimidating; he had never felt they way he did about Alicia about anyone else, ever. Nor did he have a genuine friendship with any of his past crushes or girlfriends. If he placed the wrong bet, he risked ruining what they had, and not even having her as a friend would be the end of him. So he opted for a safer, semi-confession instead.

“Can I say something crazy?”

“Crazier than being bitten by your girlfriend’s freshly decapitated head?”

He grinned. “Okay, not so crazy after all. Just... this is nice. I really like spending time with you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and her smile softened, the colour in her cheeks deepening. “Me too. Not— with you, I mean.” She realised how that sounded and shook her head. “Not ‘not with you’. I meant I like spending time with you, not with myself. Well, not that I don’t enjoy being alone, I just— You know what, never mind. I’m tired and maybe a little tipsy. At first it sounded like I was saying I enjoy spending time with myself, which in itself sounds weird, and then when I tried to explain, it sounded like I was saying I don’t enjoy your company, and that would make it seem like I’m not happy you’re here when I'm really trying to say that I’m enjoying our— um, time, and— Why are you looking at me like that?”

Will couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly as she rambled, finding it adorable. When she finally caught him, his smile widened to another grin. She gave him a look, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.

“We should drink together more often,” he said instead of answering her. “Make it a Saturday night tradition.”

“Every Saturday?” she asked incredulously.

“Oh, yeah. If this is you tipsy, I can’t wait to get you drunk.”

Alicia’s mouth fell open, her eyes popping, and he felt the colour drain from his face. “That sounded bad,” he said, briefly squeezing his eyes shut before reopening them again. “I didn’t mean—”

Her laughter cut him off and she put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Will, relax. I’m teasing.”

He gave a half-laugh, half-sigh of relief, and then they settled into silence again.

“Well, we’re both exhausted. I should probably get going,” Will said after a moment.

“Right,” she agreed as they both rose, sounding a little sad.

“Thanks for tonight. That was a nice change from the books.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re right, we should do it more often.”

“And I meant what I said. I wanna see what you’re like when you’re really wasted. We’ve gotta get you to do some shots or something.”

“As long as you’re buying,” she quipped with a smirk.

He grinned again and turned away from her with a salute. But he had barely taken three steps when Alicia blurted, “Stay.”

He spun back around so fast he nearly stumbled in the dark, almost convinced he imagined the word. The light from the screen illuminated her face as she bit her lip nervously, making his stomach twist with… desire? He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus.

“You can stay here,” she amended. “On the couch. If you want. I didn’t realise just how late it was, and it’s not like Jenny’s here…”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. It makes more sense than you walking home by yourself at this hour and waking yourself up even more. I don’t know why I didn’t think to offer in the first place.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” she repeated with another shy smile, starting for her room. “Let me get you a blanket.”

She reappeared a minute later with it, weighty and woollen, as well as a pillow. After he took them from her, she pulled the throw from the back of the couch and draped it over the seat parts.

“Is this okay? Do you need anything else?”

“Nope, that’s perfect.” He smiled gratefully and flopped down on what was his bed for the rest of the night, then started to fix the blanket over him.

“If you think of anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks again, Alicia.”

She lingered for a moment, hovering at the edge of the living room. The way she hesitantly opened her mouth made him think she was going to say something important, but then all she said was, “Well… goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he called as she retreated to her room.

Her door clicked closed and he turned off the TV, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the darkness. He smiled to himself at how the night had shown him another side of her, and he was pretty confident that the more comfortable Alicia became around him, the more she’d disprove Eric and Lynn’s ‘Saint Alicia’ crap.

It wasn’t long before sleep came, and when it did, he dreamt of her.

Chapter Text

«For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ’d with a wilderness of sea.»
– Henry VI, Part III

It was nearly a week since Will delivered the demand letter to Alicia, and he had almost managed to forget about her and her situation. Almost.

He had told Diane that outside of giving Alicia the letter, he wanted no involvement in Becca’s case whatsoever. That didn’t stop him from hearing about it during conference room meetings, though, which is how he knew they still hadn’t received a response from Peter’s attorneys.

Knowing that much, it was hard not to think about the look in Alicia’s eyes and the way her hands shook as he desperately tried to speak to her without actually speaking to her. He was pretty sure she understood he wanted her to read the letter, but whether she actually had or not, he had no clue. He hadn’t heard from her since she saw him off at her apartment door after their chat.

But whether or not she had opened it, or what she decided to do about it if she had, really had nothing to do with him. He had done his part in trying to warn her about the potential suit – within the parameters of the law – so that she and her children wouldn’t be blindsided should it hit the press. And he was pretty sure it would hit the press should the lawsuit be filed, and he was pretty sure the lawsuit would be filed since Peter had yet to respond to the demand letter.

He still had a week to surprise them, of course, but Will wasn’t holding his breath. Part of him had considered texting or calling Alicia to ensure she had actually passed the letter on, but he figured that would not only be insulting, but pointless, given that he’d have to take her word anyway if she said yes. The other option was getting in touch with Peter himself to check he had received the letter, but Will would rather eat glass. If it came to it, he’d most definitely pass that buck to Diane or David.

So, all things considered, Will told himself there was nothing more he could do and that he was better off trying to put the whole thing out of his mind. And so he relied on his usual two distractions: work and sex.

He threw himself even further into the medical negligence case he had been knee-deep in when Diane first dropped the paternity bombshell on him. Yesterday evening, his hard work resulted in a multi-million dollar settlement. He naturally celebrated by getting shit-faced with Kalinda in a bar a few blocks away from the office, and so he was a little worse for wear today.

But the hangover hadn’t dampened today’s mood. He was still riding the high of yesterday’s win, as well as the afternoon delight he was on his way back to the office from. Despite the demands of the case, he had managed to meet Isabel for lunch all week. Not that he actually ate lunch, unless Isabel herself counted.

So in high spirits from an overall successful week and fresh from a romp in the hay, Will swaggered past reception with a subconscious smile on his face.

“You took your time,” his new, no-nonsense assistant, Katie, said as she suddenly appeared beside him while he walked. She checked her watch. “It’s 3.08.”

“Does coming back from lunch late count if you’re the boss?” he quipped with a grin.

“It does if your 3 o’clock has been waiting for you for close to ten minutes.”

That knocked the wind out of his sails. “My— what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Right now, you’re supposed to be in a consultation that was scheduled for 3?”

“I thought I was clear for the rest of the day. Did you forget to—”

“It’s been on your calendar since Monday.”

He hesitated, then said in a small voice, “The online one?”

“Obviously,” she said, and when he made an ‘oops’ face, she groaned. “Willllllllll.”

“I know, I know.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You can kill me later. For now, what’s this consultation?”

“Funnily enough, it’s the Governor’s wife. She used to work here, right?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, what?”

“Alicia Florrick,” Katie said slowly. “She’s your 3 o’clock, currently waiting in your office. I told her you were held up on your way back from an offsite meeting.”

“Why?”

“Uhh, because ‘he’s busy getting laid’ didn’t seem very prof—”

“No, I mean, what’s the consultation for? Did she give a reason?”

“Ohhh. No, she left a voicemail over the weekend looking for an appointment, so I gave her a call back on Monday. She was pushing for earlier in the week, but since you were so busy, I told her Thursday was the earliest you could see her.”

His thoughts raced. This was obviously about Becca’s case, or what Alicia assumed was his involvement in it. But if she wanted to interrogate him on things she probably knew he legally couldn’t tell her anyway, why not just call or drop by his apartment? Why pay for an appointment?

“Alright, well, I guess I shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer,” he said, hoping he sounded more casual than he felt. “Thanks, Katie.”

As he made his way through the firm, he felt a number of eyes on him. Alicia’s presence in his glass-walled office had clearly attracted attention, and by the looks of it, news had travelled fast. It had undoubtedly spiced up the workday of the many who, unlike poor Katie, had either witnessed or heard about him furiously sweeping Alicia’s stuff off her desk before having security escort her out of the building the day he found out she was leaving his firm and taking some of his biggest clients with her. And while it wasn’t like she hadn’t been back to Lockhart-Gardner in the months since, she was usually here with Cary or another associate on behalf of a client.

When he approached his office, his stomach lurched at the sight of her sitting there in front of his desk. He couldn’t even see her face, but he’d know her from any angle, anywhere, in any life. Her hair was down and neatly styled as usual, her black turtleneck sweater tucked into an elegant grey pencil skirt. She anxiously bounced a black nylon-clad leg as she waited, and— were those the heels she had been wearing the first time he took her in his office bathroom? He averted his eyes and gritted his teeth, willing himself to pull it together.

With his hand on the door handle, his eyes landed on Diane, who was taking a seat behind her own desk across the way. She shot him a questioning look, one brow arched, and he shrugged back at her, feeling equally clueless.

With a deep breath, he stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.

Alicia turned her head when she heard him come in, and a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. “Hi.”

“Alicia,” he greeted with a nod as he made his way to the other side of his desk. “Sorry I’m late, I got held up.”

She nodded in understanding. “Your assistant told me. I appreciate you fitting me in.”

There was a terribly awkward silence between the two of them as he took his seat. Never did the leather and springs of his chair seem to squeak so loudly.

“She’s new,” Alicia said suddenly, if not a little too enthusiastically, as if she was grateful to have something to say.

“She is.” He hadn’t meant to be curt, but the words seemed to hang heavy in the air.

Another painful pause.

Alicia cleared her throat. “I, um, wanted to thank you, first of all.”

He looked at her, waiting.

“For last week,” she clarified, then smiled thinly. “For dropping by and giving me the demand letter in person.”

Well, there it was. He studied her expression, but it was unreadable. Still, he doubted she’d be here if she didn’t know the letter’s contents.

He nodded again. “I take it you got it to Peter?”

The look on her face darkened for a second, and he realised she looked sort of worn. Her skin was a little paler than usual and there were bags under her eyes.

“I did.” Her expression neutralised again and she asked, “He hasn’t responded yet?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” he said as they watched each other intently. His interest had been piqued despite himself; if she didn’t know what Peter was doing with regards to the suit, it was likely that they weren’t on speaking terms.

She pursed her lips, then pressed them into a thin line. “I opened the letter.”

He frowned. “I guessed, but I don’t think you should be telling me that.”

“This is a consultation. Whatever’s said here is protected by attorney-client privilege.”

When he didn’t say anything, she went on, “So, thank you. For giving me a heads up. I— That’s what that was, right? You wanted me to open the letter?”

He gave her a hard look. Attorney-client privilege here applied to her confessions, not his. “I wanted to deliver a demand letter on behalf of my colleagues representing a client of our firm. The intended recipient happened to not be in the state, so I felt it was perfectly reasonable for his wife to accept it on his behalf.”

She looked away for a moment, but then another thought seemed to occur to her and her eyes locked onto his. “On behalf of your colleagues?”

“Yes…?” he replied, confused.

“You’re not representing Becca.” It wasn’t a question.

“Me personally? No. That’s David and Diane’s case.”

Again, Alicia’s expression failed to give away her thoughts or feelings about that. She nodded thoughtfully to herself.

“He has about a week left to respond,” she said then.

He shrugged, not wanting to comment.

“How long do we ha— how long, do you think, until she files if he doesn’t?”

“Alicia, I washed my hands of that case the minute I handed you that envelope. I don’t know anything, and you know I couldn’t tell you even if I did.”

“I’m not asking for confidential details, I’m asking for your professional opinion,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering.

His jaw tightened. It was grating on him, how quickly she seemed to have forgotten everything she’d done to him, how she apparently felt entitled to his answers or help. What he did last week was a courtesy, if not a mercy. He didn’t owe her anything, and yet she still felt comfortable enough to ask.

“If you wanted to ask me questions I can’t – and won’t – answer, you could have saved both our time and just called. You didn’t have to pay to do it in a fake consultation.”

She was the one frowning now. “This isn’t fake. I really want to hire you.”

His patience was wearing thin. “Is that right?” he asked, almost mockingly. “For what?”

“To represent me in my divorce.”

He looked at her for a moment and then began to laugh, shaking his head. She just continued to frown at him, and his laughter subsided at her silence.

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” she said matter-of-factly, as if this was a perfectly reasonable request for one’s former lover-turned-professional rival. “I’ve already told Peter I’m filing. If possible, I’d ideally like to file before Becca files her—”

“No.”

She faltered. “No we can’t file before then, or no you won’t represent me?”

“Both.”

Her frown deepened. “Why not?”

He stared at her like she had ten heads. “Where the hell do I start? Want me to make a list?”

“Will—”

“Or would you rather I number the reasons in order of ascending insanity?”

She closed her mouth, effectively silenced, though she still refused to break eye contact. His temper flared. How typical of her, to swan into an office she had been kicked out of and expect him to give her all the time in the world like he used to, before she threw it all back in his face. Those days were long over, and she had been the one to bring them to an end.

He mentally chastised himself for not providing Katie with a blacklist of names she shouldn’t give appointments to.

“The first thing,” he said with irritation, “is the minefield of ethical issues that would present. There are quite a lot of conflicts of interest to consider, such as our past relationship, Peter being part of the reason I was temporarily suspended from practicing law, and the paternity suit. The ABA warns against firms representing two clients that could have adverse interests. And since Becca got here first, the firm’s loyalty is to her.”

“But if—”

“Second,” he cut her off, holding up a hand to stop her, “Peter is the Governor. We’re already coming at him with one case. I don’t think it’s in the firm’s best interest to launch a second attack on him, especially when he hasn’t been shy about retaliating against us in the past. And third, I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but the partners at this firm currently hold a professional grudge against you and your business partner.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm aware of that—”

“So then you understand why I would never agree to represent a former employee who stole clients out from under our noses.”

That seemed to annoy her. “We didn't steal—”

“I'm not going to argue about this again.”

He could see that she was agitated, but she kept her composure.

“I know I’m not your favourite person right now,” she started. “But I thought…”

She trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“What? That I’d forget everything and go back to being at your beck and call? ‘Idiot Will, he’ll do whatever I want’, that’s the way it’s always been, right? Well—”

“You don’t really believe that,” Alicia said, stern but less combative than he had expected.

Will looked away, then. “I don’t know what I believe anymore. Not when it comes to you.”

Another silence followed, this one more somber than the others. He continued to avoid looking at her, staring out at the busy hallway until she blurted, “Why the hell is it so warm in here?”

He finally regarded her, watching as she fanned herself, her cheeks a little flushed. “Maybe because you’re wearing a turtleneck?”

Her eyes widened and she stiffened in her chair. “It’s March,” she said defensively. “It’s cold outside.”

“Okay, so why did you ask me when you already have everything all figured out?”

“Is this how it’s going to be forever?” she asked, voice laced with frustration. “Everything’s always going to be my fault?”

“Not everything,” he allowed. “But I don’t think you realise just how much of a hand you have in your own suffering.”

She crossed her arms. “Meaning?”

“A lot of the less-than-ideal situations you find yourself in are of your own making.”

Her eyes flashed. “I didn’t ask for my hus—”

“I mean in terms of the decisions you make for yourself,” he amended. She didn’t choose to have her husband repeatedly cheat on her, but she had chosen to stay with him. Just like she had chosen to burn her bridges with Will, and was now struggling with the consequences.

“You make it sound so black and white,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Like people don’t ever make certain decisions because they have no other choice.”

“There’s always a choice. There are always options,” he said as he stared at her, clenching and unclenching his fist on the desk. This was a bad idea; they were heading into dangerous territory now.

She stared right back at him. “Not always.”

“There’s no gun to your head. Nobody forced you to put on that turtleneck this morning, you chose to wear it. And now you’re too hot.”

An odd expression crossed her face, another one he couldn’t quite read. “You can be forced into making certain choices because of circumstance.”

“That’s such a cop out.”

“No,” she insisted. “It’s… life.”

“Here we go,” he said with a dismissive eye roll.

“What?” she asked, her tone defensive again.

“You coming out with the same old justifications—”

“Sorry for living in reality,” she snapped, her composure slipping.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re the only one who has to face reality, who has a life, because you’re married with kids—”

“Don’t,” she warned.

“—That’s how that works, right? It’s not like the rest of us have responsibilities or pressures or problems or people who care about us or otherwise full lives or—”

“Don’t do that. I never once suggested you had it easier or that you didn’t have your own things going on. For you to act like I never cared about you or your life is unfair and untrue.”

“You cared about me? You had a funny way of showing it.”

“You don’t get to rewrite history just because you’re angry,” she said, exasperation creeping into her tone. “On top of everything I was worried about in my own life, I was also worried about how we— how our thing was complicating things for you, especially when it came to work.”

He scoffed, his anger now taking over. “How noble of you. You were so concerned for my career that you used my firm’s clients to start a rival firm.”

She opened her mouth to retort but before she could get a word out, he bulldozed on, “Oh, wait; that’s not the only thing you used to launch your firm. I forgot the part where your joke of a marriage came in handy and your husband’s name gave you the type of notoriety no other lawyer would manage to accumulate in the space of five years after a fifteen-year career break – can you even call it that if you were only in that career for two years beforehand? – no matter how hard they worked or how qualified they were.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly in a state of shock at how cruel he was being to her. But he couldn’t take it in as he was so blindly consumed by the anger and hurt that had been bubbling up inside of him for months. He was the circus lion who had been whipped one too many times before going on a rampage and eating its tamer.

The next words seemed to come out of his mouth before they were even formed in his brain, because if his mind had had the chance to register them, he likely would have stopped them.

“I knew you were ambitious, but I had no idea you were so desperate for success that you’d trade in your dignity for the sake of a name. I mean, were you even surprised by the latest revelation? His affairs are probably just par for the course at this point, right?”

“Go to hell,” she got out, but the words sounded strangled.

“Truth hurts, huh Alicia?” It was as if his mouth had a mind of its own now, because he wasn’t sure he recognised the venomous voice that had spoken as his own.

“That’s not what I did and you know it.” Her voice, in comparison, was shaky, and he wanted to stop beating this dead horse before he got any more blood on his hands, but he couldn’t.

“No, what I know is that all I ever did was give to you – chances, opportunities, support, partnership, Jesus— myself. And all you ever did was take, just like you came here to do today. And you know what the sad part is? What’s really pathetic? I was perfectly fine with that dynamic until you fucked me over. So I guess you did me a favour, in getting the hell out of my life, because otherwise you’d probably still be bleeding me dry, and I’d still be letting you.”

She flinched, recoiling in her seat as if he had physically struck her. And then she was struggling to put the mask back into place as she straightened up again and smoothed out her skirt. She tried to look unaffected, but the way she swallowed hard told him she was holding back tears. They sat in silence again as she fought to compose herself and he fought with his own emotions, his mouth finally shut.

You’re awful, he had told her the day he found out what she was doing, how she had schemed behind his back. That day made him question everything he knew about her, about them, and made him wonder if she’d been playing him the whole time. The Alicia that sat in front of him then – a liar, a manipulator, a stranger – was a far cry from both the kind, demure-but-principled Alicia he knew back in college and the hardened-but-still-moral, more self-assured, outspoken Alicia he knew in recent years. Since the day he discovered her betrayal, he had no idea if she had simply changed, or whether he ever really knew her at all.

Even looking at her now as she stared out at the city, furiously blinking as if it would stop her from crying, Will couldn’t tell if it was real or an act. But that didn’t stop him from feeling like the awful person he had told her she was all those months ago. Actually, he felt like a real piece of shit, especially when he heard her sniffle and it suddenly occurred to him that the only reason she hadn’t left yet was because she had to fight tooth and nail to keep it together before she could trust herself to walk back out into the hustle and bustle of the firm without breaking down.

He was so mad at her. He was mad at himself, too, because he was supposed to be stronger than this, less affected than this. But he couldn’t be, not when it came to her. Because no matter how much he tried to convince himself he hated her now, he knew it wasn’t hatred. It was anger, an anger that stemmed from the hurt she had caused him by rejecting him over and over before ultimately betraying him. And he never would have experienced that hurt if he hadn’t loved her so damn much, and for so damn long.

He loved her long before the ‘one hour’ of good timing that turned into a seven-month affair, long before he ever knew the taste of her skin and the feel of her legs around his waist. He loved her long before the two times he told her he did, once in an accidental slip of the tongue that she brushed off and once in a voicemail she never got. She had been in his head every single day since they were bright-eyed college kids, back when he first realised she had the power to make or break him.

And even now, even after all this time, hurt, and their endless cycle of starting and stopping and closeness and distance and friendship and rivalry and sex and fights and her running away from him and into him and fate pulling them together and apart and things left unsaid and so much external noise, she was still his one weakness. He often felt like he was drowning in his feelings for her, in love and longing, in resentment and helplessness.

In that sense, maybe Alicia really had tried to do him a favour by severing their ties. She was bad for him, possibly for his career, most certainly for his mental health. And maybe he was equally bad for her. But the problem was that he was never fully cut loose; no matter how sharp her knife, there was one tiny thread between them that refused to tear. And now she was pulling on it, even though there were so many reasons why she shouldn’t – and so many reasons why he shouldn’t let her. Here they were, yet again, stoking the flames of a fire they should have let burn out a long time ago.

“Alicia,” he called quietly, but she refused to look at him as she swallowed tightly again at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

She continued to stare out the window, bringing a hand up to dab below her nose. Only as he absentmindedly glanced around his office while searching for something else to say did he notice that Diane’s office was now empty.

He opened his mouth to expand on his apology when Alicia quietly asked, “Why’d you do it?”

Her voice was still quivering, but she had turned back to face him, her watery eyes searching his.

He lowered his gaze in shame. “I didn’t mean i— I don’t know what got into me. There’s no excuse, and—”

“No, not that,” she said, sounding a little steadier and drawing his eyes back up to her face. “Dropping by last week, warning me. If you hate me so much, why help me? Or was it for your own enjoyment, to be the one to drop the bomb?”

Her tone wasn’t callous. If anything, someone else might have heard it as pragmatic, but he didn’t miss its wounded undertone.

“Alicia, we may not have been on the best of terms lately, but believe me when I say there’s not a single part of me that takes pleasure in what you’re going through,” he said firmly, looking her in the eye again to try and convey his sincerity. She eyed him warily in return. “I really do feel for you – and your kids.”

At that, she squeezed her eyes shut, finally releasing the tears that had welled up and causing them to spill down her cheeks. He knew the trigger had been the mention of her children – just as she was his weakness, Zach and Grace were hers.

“And I don’t hate you,” he added, his voice much more gentle, and she opened her eyes to meet his again. “I tried. I wanted you to believe I did. Hell, I wanted to believe it myself. But apparently I’m incapable of hating you.”

She let out a long, shaky breath, all the fight seeming to drain out of her with it. He wanted so badly to reach over and wipe away her tears, but he knew how inappropriate that would be, especially when he had caused them. Instead, he pushed the box of tissues on his desk in front of her.

She wordlessly grabbed one and began dabbing at her face, expertly managing to avoid smudging her makeup. Another brief silence followed, this one significantly less charged. He was still mentally beating himself up when Alicia said softly, “For better or worse, you’re always honest with me.”

She paused, then adjusted, “Well, maybe not always, but a lot of the time. And that’s more than most.”

Will titled his head and gave her a questioning look.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she said with a final sniffle. “But I still want you as my lawyer.”

His eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing he expected her to say after the way he just spoke to her. She gave him a wry half-smile, and he found himself returning it as he rubbed a hand over his face at the absurdity of this, of them.

“Why? How could you possibly want that?”

“Because you’re a great lawyer?” she offered drolly.

“Well now you’re just mocking me,” he said, but he was still half-smiling.

She snorted, and it pained him to have to burst their bubble of respite.

“Alicia, I can't,” he started.

“Just hear me out first,” she interjected.

He sighed. “You’re not thinking straight. You want to hurt him—”

“Is that such a bad thing, after everything he’s done?” she cut him off impatiently. “Since when do you care about Peter?”

“I don’t, I care about you— your div— the outcome of your divorce,” he stammered, then huffed in frustration. “What I’m saying is, you need to make sure you have the best representation possible. We both know that isn’t me, so you shouldn’t have me as the lawyer at your side just because it’ll piss Peter off.”

“That’s not the only reason,” she said, and when he gave her a look, she went on, “Okay, so maybe I thought that having you beside me would rile him up enough to throw him off his game a little. But that’s only one small part of why I want you to represent me.”

“That’s the only reason there could possibly be,” he countered. “You know family law isn’t my area. I could probably count on one hand the amount of divorce cases I’ve handled. You need someone experienced.”

“No, I need someone I can trust.”

He couldn’t help but be thrown by that, wondering how she could possibly trust him of all people with where they currently stood. She watched him expectantly while it took him longer than usual to respond.

“Then you should ask Cary,” he eventually said, and she rolled her eyes again. “That wasn’t snark, I’m being serious. You have a lot more reasons to trust Cary than you have to trust me. And Cary worked for Peter, so he knows how his tactical mind works – how he strategises.”

Alicia studied him for a moment as if trying to gauge whether he was brushing her off or making a genuine suggestion. “Cary is… too close to home,” she said carefully. “I don’t want it to be someone at my firm. I want— I need this to be separate from work. And besides, nobody knows how Peter’s mind works better than me, so that’s not a concern.”

“Okay, I can understand that. But I still can’t be your lawyer. I know I went off-course, but everything I said earlier about conflicts of interest and all the other reasons why this would never work were true. My personal feelings aside, I can't represent you in your divorce from Peter, not when the firm's already representing the plaintiff in a paternity suit brought against him. There’s way too many risks with regards to competing interests, confidentiality, and duty to clients. Diane and David would never allow it, ethically speaking, even if our firms weren't rivals.”

“But what if Becca and I gave informed consent, acknowledging all the risks and agreeing to each other’s representation?”

He hesitated, caught off guard again. So this wasn’t a totally impulsive request; she had actually weighed up potential options and obstacles. He should have known better – this was Alicia, after all.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Your informed consent is one thing, but there’s no guaranteeing Becca’s.”

“I could… talk to her,” Alicia said slowly, as though she was considering it in real-time.

His mouth fell open. “You— n— that’s a terrible idea,” he said when he recovered, urgency stopping him from being less blunt. “Why would you even want to? She banged your damn husband, Alicia. You didn’t like her when she was nothing more than your son’s high school fling, and now that she’s using your ex-firm – which she had to have done on purpose, right?  – to sue your husband to support the child she claims they had together, you’re willing to play diplomat? On what planet does that conversation not end in murder, when she so clearly has it out for your family and you’re obviously willing to do anything to protect it?”

Alicia threw her eyes up. “You’re being dramatic. If I managed to get through confronting Peter without murdering him, I’m pretty sure Becca’s safe. And you’re right; I am willing to do anything to protect my family, including having a conversation with my husband’s latest mistress, no matter how difficult that might be. That should tell you how sure I am that this is what’s best for us – that you representing me is what’s best for my family.”

His stomach somersaulted. God, she was good. At least when it came to him. Or maybe he was just exceptionally weak when it came to her.

“But I still don’t understand why,” he said, parking his own feelings for the time being. “Apart from Peter’s jealousy… And don’t give me the ‘I trust you’ crap. It’s hardly like we’ve had a lot of that lately.”

“We haven’t had much trust on a professional level lately,” she agreed. “But I still trust you’d do right by me with this. And even if I doubted your willingness to fight for me out of personal loyalty, I don’t doubt your commitment to your clients. I know you fight for every client as if you’re fighting for yourself, even if you think they’re guilty or in the wrong. And I know you’d do the same even if that client was me.”

“I would, which is why I have a duty of care to tell you that I can’t take your case. If you have a shot at getting through this amicably—”

She interrupted him with a hollow laugh. “‘Amicably’ has left the building. Actually, it’s dead and buried.”

“Or at least not… contentiously,” he tried, “then you need to take it and not give Peter reasons to gun for you by hiring your former lover—” he cringed a little at referring to himself that way, and he was pretty sure he saw her wince, too, but no other label really seemed to fit “—from the firm that’s already bringing a paternity suit against him as your representation.”

“Will, Peter doesn’t need any more reasons to gun for me,” she argued. “The fact that I’m even filing – that I have the audacity not to publicly stand by him through this – is enough for him.”

“How do you know? Maybe he’ll want to settle the divorce as quickly as possible since the paternity suit is already a terrible look for him.”

“Believe me, I know,” she insisted. “I tried to reason with him, and it didn’t go well. He basically promised to make this as hard as possible. You’re forgetting that this won’t just be a legal battle – the minute either filing goes public, it’ll be a PR battle. He’ll do anything to try to save himself, and now that I have my own firm, I have a lot more to lose when it comes to public opinion. There’s no getting around the mess this is going to be, and the only way through it is to fight fire with fire.”

“You say that now, but tensions are always at a height at the start of divorce proceedings,” he said, not buying that someone as private and family-focused as Alicia would be able to fully commit to going scorched-earth. “Don’t make that choice now when you’re angry, only to regret it the minute it turns into a media circus that negatively impacts your kids – who might be mad at him now, but there’s no guaranteeing it’ll stay that way forever. They’ve forgiven him before. And even if this time is different for Zach, how would he feel if you were to sort of publicly team up with the ex that screwed his dad?”

“You’re not listening to me!” she hissed in frustration, leaning in closer to his desk as if that would help her words sink in better. “The media circus is happening no matter what I do because Peter isn’t willing to meet me halfway! I’m tired of being at his mercy, waiting for disaster to hit and then having to scramble to shield my kids from the fallout. We’ve been given advanced warning this time, so to hell with waiting to defend ourselves. It’s about time I go on the offence and let Peter be the one scrambling! And both Zach and Grace agree, I’ll have you know, because I’ve talked all of this through with them and wouldn’t be pushing for this without their go-ahead.”

“Again, you say that now, and they agree now, but there’s no guaranteeing all of your feelings won’t change by the time it’s too late,” Will said, still unconvinced she fully understood the path she was choosing.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, throwing her head back and running a hand through her hair in exasperation. The move caused the neck of her sweater to shift slightly and expose more of her skin. He caught a brief glimpse of a dark mark on her throat before her head was upright again, and then she was rising in her seat, throwing her purse over her shoulder and mumbling something about how this was a waste of time. He didn’t hear a word of it as he was trying to understand what he just saw, staring at her turtleneck as if it would jump out from under the fabric and reveal itself again.

“What’s that?” he asked while he also stood, just as she was turning towards the door.

She threw him a – rather impatient – look of confusion. “What’s what?”

“I saw a mark,” he said, rounding his desk towards her, his gaze trained on her throat. “On your neck.”

She froze, momentarily looking like a deer in headlights before she recovered herself and continued for the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But since you’re not willing to take my case, I have to go and try find a lawyer who will.”

Maybe if she had blushed or if she hadn’t just told him how bad things were with Peter, Will could have put it down to some bedroom activity he’d really rather not think about the couple doing. But her reaction suggested something else entirely, and so he never crossed his office so fast in his life.

He caught her by the elbow right as her hand was on the door handle. “Alicia.”

She looked down at his hand on her arm, then out at the various Lockhart-Gardner personnel coming and going. “Glass walls, Will,” she said, her voice low. “Don’t make a scene.”

“I won’t make a scene as long as you agree to let me escort you down to your car where we can talk more privately.”

She glared at him. “No.”

“Alright, loudly chasing after you through the office it is.”

She continued to glower at him, clenching her jaw before sighing deeply. “You’re a real asshole today, you know that?”

He took that as her reluctant acceptance of his proposition and opened the door for her. “Fair enough. After you.”

They walked through the firm together in silence, most of the nosy employees that had eyeballed him earlier now too pre-occupied with trying to get whatever they were working on done before the weekend hit to notice. By the time they reached the elevator and he pressed the button, they had done a pretty good job at avoiding unwanted attention, and that in itself seemed to make her less tense.

Then the elevator doors dinged open and Kalinda was in front of them, her lips parting in shock at the sight of them side-by-side. He immediately felt Alicia stiffen again beside him as Kalinda’s eyes bounced between the two of them.

“Hey, K,” he greeted when neither woman said anything. “Another wild goose chase already?”

“Hi,” Kalinda replied, offering Alicia a single nod, then leaning against the metal frame to stop the doors from closing and to let them in. “Yep, courtesy of Julius.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Will said with a smirk, following a still-mute Alicia into the elevator.

“How’s your head? You seem in better shape than you did this morning.”

“Much better,” he agreed. “Not that that would be hard. You?”

She gave him one of those typical Kalinda smiles, like she knew something nobody else did, as she took her weight off the doorframe and stepped fully out of the elevator. “I told you, I don’t get hungover.”

“And I told you I think that’s a lie,” he said, still smirking at her as the doors slid closed, leaving him and Alicia alone again.

The enclosed space was initially silent except for the whirring sounds of the elevator, both of them staring straight ahead until he could feel her curiously side-eyeing him. He looked at her expectantly, but she quickly returned her attention to the numbers counting down above their heads as he patiently waited for her to speak. Finally, she broke.

“You and Kalinda had a late night?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

He had to bite back a snort, though he couldn’t tell whether she was bothered because of whatever had went down between the former best friends a few years ago or because of some sort of misplaced jealousy. The thought of the latter was funny to him, both because Alicia could have laid claim to him a long time ago if she had so desired and because his relationship with Kalinda was so pleasantly platonic that it had started to feel sibling-esque. If they didn’t have more serious matters to attend to, he might’ve allowed himself a moment to enjoy the prospect of her jealousy.

Instead, he opted for a rueful smile. “We got pretty carried away celebrating a big win.”

She blinked, visibly taken aback, as if she hadn't expected him to confirm it. But it was only when she bluntly retorted, “Well, I hope you celebrated safely,” that he realised that confirmation meant different things to each of them.

The doors opened with a ding again, this time to floor -1, and he had to speed-walk to catch up to her as she raced through the exit to the underground parking lot. He had wanted to object at first, but he couldn’t keep from smiling as he watched her storm ahead of him, her heels rapidly click-clacking on the concrete. He was reminded of how much of a kick they used to get out of teasing each other back when they were on better terms.

“‘Safely,’ you said?” he prodded as he fell into step beside her once more.

She glanced up at him, then did a double-take at his smile. “What’s so funny?”

“‘Celebrating safely' doesn't generally imply tequila shots.”

She frowned. “I thought you hate tequila.”

“I do, but you and Kalinda can both be very persuasive.”

“Well obviously she’s more persuasive, considering I can’t convince you to represent me.”

They came to a halt at her car, and as she vigorously rooted around in her purse for her keys, he realised his teasing didn’t have the intended effect.

“In different ways,” he said gently, feeling bad again.

“What?” she said with another irritated frown, not looking up from her bag and growing increasingly frustrated at not finding her keys.

“You and Kalinda, you’re persuasive in different ways,” he explained. “At least when I’m the one you’re persuading. Kalinda’s like the little sister that pulls you into trouble.”

He wasn’t just saying that to ease Alicia’s mind; his relationship with the investigator really did remind him of how it was with Aubrey growing up, while his relationship with Diane more closely resembled his dynamic with Sara. It struck him once when the three of them were working on something together, Diane sending him and K off with clear-cut, above-board instructions only for Kalinda to rope him into taking some morally (and, if he was honest, legally) questionable shortcuts to get the job done. When they were sat back in front of Diane’s desk, her staring the pair of them down like a school principal who knew they had broken the rules but couldn’t quite prove it, he felt almost giddy, half expecting her to say “I’m telling Mom.”

Alicia seemed to consider his words, finally pulling out her keys. “And what am I?”

The siren that pulls me down to my death was his first thought, but he replied, “C’mon, Alicia, do you really need to ask?”

Her expression softened and she looked away from him, then unlocked the car and tossed her purse in the backseat. She gestured at the passenger side in a silent invitation to him before opening up the driver’s door and sitting in.

The minute he closed the door on his side, he became acutely aware that the last time they were alone in a car together like this was the last time they kissed. She had told him then that she couldn’t figure her way out of… them, and he insisted they’d give ‘bad timing’ the middle finger and talk once the chaos surrounding the election was over. But of course, she never gave them that chance.

She wouldn’t look at him now, staring out the windshield with a faraway look in her eyes. He couldn’t tell whether it was because she was thinking about the same thing or because she didn’t want to have the conversation they were about to have.

“Alicia—”

“First things first,” she said suddenly as she finally turned to face him. “I’m not talking about this unless you promise you won't push me to press charges or file a restraining order or— or tell anyone else. It would only make things worse with— headlines and just— I can’t deal with anything else like that right now. So please, promise me you’ll respect how I want to handle things. If you can’t promise that, then you should go back upstairs and pretend today never happened, because I’m not talking to you about it.”

He wanted to protest and tell her that was an unfair ask, particularly as she had now confirmed his worst suspicions about what had happened to her neck. How was he supposed to bite his lip when it came to Peter not only putting his hands on her, but getting away with it?

But when he saw her still staring at him with such intensity that her eyes looked a little wild, he decided against it. He swallowed his own feelings and found himself nodding instead.

Her shoulders relaxed a little, but she still didn’t look satisfied. She searched his face, apparently trying to determine if he could be trusted or if he was only agreeing to get the full story out of her. But he had always struggled to lie to her – or do anything she didn’t want – and she was well aware.

He tentatively reached for one of the hands in her lap, caressing her pinky with his to reassure her as he had done countless times before. She dropped her gaze to their fingers, and took a deep breath before quietly saying no more than “Alright.” He waited, giving her whatever time she needed.

“Last week, after you left, I obviously read the letter,” she began. Then she lifted her head to give him another wry smile. “As you can imagine, I didn’t take it very well.”

He smiled apologetically and took her hand more solidly in his so he could give it a squeeze.

“The kids came home about an hour or so after you dropped by. I broke the news, and they were devastated at first, but then Zach and I agreed to drive to Springfield the next day. Peter had been on a trip to Indiana, but was due back Saturday morning. So Zach and I went to confront him first thing.”

“Zach was there?” Will asked in surprise.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea, but he had his own things he wanted to get off his chest,” she said, and Will nodded in understanding. “So I agreed he could come as long as I got to speak to Peter alone first. In the end, it’s just as well he was there, because… well, my conversation with Peter didn’t go well.”

She paused, and he took the opportunity to gesture to her neck and ask, “Can I… take a look?”

Her eyes darted away from him, but after a moment, she gave him a tight nod.

He gently pulled the neck of her sweater down and had to concentrate very hard on keeping his expression neutral and not gasping. It was worse than he had anticipated; even in the low light of the parking lot, the bruises across her throat were stark and angry. The fact that they seemingly hadn’t started to yellow and were still this dark almost a week later told him how much force had caused them.

She kept her gaze focused on the sun visor as he carefully ran his thumb over deep purple. He couldn’t help the “Jesus, Alicia,” that escaped his mouth then. When he realised she was trembling slightly, he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before letting her turtleneck cover up her bruised throat again.

She swallowed, her eyes glazed as they stayed fixated on the sun visor. As he watched her, he knew she needed him to keep a handle on his emotions, and that it would take a lot of effort.

“What happened?” he eventually managed.

“We argued,” she said curtly, starting to close up again.

“That is a lot more than arguing,” he replied, an angry edge to his tone despite himself.

Her eyes sliced into him then. “I don’t really know how it happened, okay? He just… snapped. I was trying to get him to settle with Becca and make it an easy divorce but he was being so difficult, almost entitled, as if I was being unreasonable for finally putting my foot down after everything he’s done—”

She shook her head furiously. “And I got so mad, madder than I’ve ever been in my whole life, and I was yelling about how I wasn’t going to let him publicly humiliate me or the kids again, and I think I might’ve called him a shitty father, and then he was in my face with his fingers digging into my arms, accusing me of trying to turn the kids against him. So I told him he didn’t need my help there, and that they knew about Becca and the paternity suit, and then his grip kept getting tighter and tighter and I was trapped against the wall. And I started to panic, because he was looking at me like he never had before – with so much rage and hatred that I really didn’t know what he might do and— and I just froze. It was like my body wouldn’t cooperate with my brain, and I felt so stupid and scared. And then he said he was going to take me down with him and it was like I woke up, and I started kicking and screaming and it must’ve made him panic or even angrier or something because next thing I knew, his whole body was pinning me to the wall and his arm was pushing against my windpipe. I tried to fight back— clawing and such but he was able to stop me with his other hand and I was getting weaker and weaker. And then I couldn’t hear or see properly and it was like everything was in slow-mo and I was just so, so tired.

“I thought— I thought I was going to die,” she said shakily, raising a trembling hand to swipe at the tears she had seemingly only just realised were falling. “But at that point I wanted it to be over, wanted to die just so it would end. And then Zach came in and pushed Peter away and I was on the floor, suddenly able to breathe again.”

Will was shaking himself, though whether it was from sadness or rage, he didn’t know. All he knew was that if he was to ever end up in jail, it would be for Peter Florrick’s murder.

He could have killed her. Would have killed her, if it wasn’t for their son interrupting just in time. It had been so close, and the chilling realisation that Alicia had almost died – at the hands of a husband who had already put her through the wringer, no less – made Will physically ill. The resentment and anger he had been carrying towards her for so long, even up until the last hour, now seemed so insignificant. She had endured so much already, she certainly didn’t need his bitterness compounding any of it.

Alicia was studying his face again, her chest heaving. He worked hard to control himself, to shove his fury and sorrow as far down as they would go, because she was more important.

“If Zach hadn’t been there…” His voice was surprisingly steady, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought aloud.

She nodded, back to sniffling. “Now you know why this time is different for us all. There’s no coming back from what Peter did, what Zach saw. I didn’t want to tell Grace, but there was no way around it. It must’ve been written all over our faces when we got home.”

She stared down at the steering wheel then, her index finger drawing small circles in the leather. Neither of them spoke for a while, and when she did, it was barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know who else to go to.”

A lump formed in his throat, stopping him from answering. His silence caused her to look up at him again with more vulnerability than he had ever seen in her before, and it almost broke him.

“I know I was asking a lot,” she went on when his silence continued. “Asking you to put what I did and the past couple of months aside to represent me. But because you were able to do it to warn me about the suit, it made me think that maybe you didn’t hate me as much as it seemed, that you still had the ability to look out for me even after everything that happened between us. And I realised that there was nobody I trusted more to handle my divorce the way I want it handled. I know it’s complicated and risky and probably selfish, but I had to at least ask.”

There was another moment of silence between them before Will said, “You’re sure about not pursuing charges or a restraining order?”

When she gave him a look, he held up his hands. “Not pushing, just asking.”

“He’s the Governor, Will,” she said with a sigh. “And it’s already going to be messy enough as it is. Plus, I— I’m tired of Peter’s actions defining me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, thanks to him, I’ve been the good politician’s wife, the scorned and/or pitiful woman, Saint Alicia, an inspiration – or an embarrassment – to women, depending on who you ask,” she said with a weak smile. “I don’t want ‘battered wife’ added to that list, especially when that list is being written by people who couldn’t care less about me as a real person. It’s not about letting Peter away with anything, it’s about managing whatever few things I can actually control.”

“And that’s why you want to go scorched-earth in just about every other way, including hiring me, and as far as the public is concerned, showing a united front with the mistress he left high and dry with a kid by using the same law firm as her.”

“Exactly.”

While he’d personally prefer to see Peter skinned alive, he had to admire her strength and smarts. In such a short space of time, she had managed to weigh up what was likely to work and what wasn’t both in a court of law and in the court of public opinion, and quickly put together a plan based on her calculations. She was good at this – for all that Peter had put her through, it had given her quite the political savvy.

“You said you’d be willing to talk to Becca – you really think you could get her on side?” he asked then.

“Like you said, there are no guarantees,” she said evenly. A smile played on her lips as she added, “But you also said I can be very persuasive.”

He chuckled. “I did.”

The idea was brilliant on her end, but terrible on his. Diane would be pissed, and David would straight-up want his head on a stick. Every logical part of his brain told him not to say what he was going to say. But he had never been good at saying no to Alicia, and with everything he knew now, there was no way he could.

“I’ll do it,” he heard himself say, and she tilted her head in confusion. “You get me Becca’s informed consent in writing, and I’ll represent you in your divorce.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice, seemingly at a loss for words for a moment. “But— the other partners and— everything,” she got out.

“Get her consent and I’ll handle the partners,” he said resolutely. “Everything else, we’ll figure out as it comes.”

She welled up again, but judging by how she closed her eyes and exhaled, these were tears of relief. He instantly felt lighter.

“Thank you,” she whispered, opening her eyes again to meet his.

He touched her pinky with his once more. “We’re gonna nail that son of a bitch to the wall.”

Chapter Text

«Let me embrace thee, sour adversity,
For wise men say it is the wisest course.»
– Henry VI, Part III

Working – and sleeping – with Will had, for all of its complications, brought Alicia back to the comfort of their Georgetown relationship. Life as Peter’s wife had been lonely, and it was only when she regained her friendship with Will that she fully realised how much she had missed it. She was now convinced that she never had a real friend – never had anyone – who knew her so intimately, who she trusted so implicitly. Not the so-called ‘friends’ from Highland Park who left her high and dry at her lowest, not even the brother she loved so dearly, and most certainly not her philandering husband. Kalinda had come close, but ever since the revelation that she had slept with Peter, Alicia couldn’t get past feeling like their friendship had been built on lies. Besides, Alicia also liked to think she knew Will just as well as he did her – she couldn’t say the same for the ever-mysterious Kalinda/Leela/whatever her actual name was.

When Alicia looked back on her early days at Lockhart-Gardner, it struck her how quickly she and Will slot back into their old dynamic of books and late nights and teamwork and stress and banter and stolen glances and longing and beating around the bush. They eventually added another layer to that dynamic, of course, by crossing a line they hadn’t quite gotten to in college (though they had come close). But overall, it was strange how it felt like several lifetimes and yet no time at all had passed since their college days, how so much and yet so little had changed, how everything was so easy and yet so complicated between the two of them once more.

The past number of months, however, had seen them as rivals, a dynamic that had only once existed between them in their very earliest weeks of law school. Ever since she left his firm to form her own, Alicia had seen a side of Will that reminded her of her younger self’s first impressions of him. And she didn’t like that, just as she didn’t like him when they first met.

Well, technically they first met at a pool party in which she thought he was cute. But she had very quickly decided he was an arrogant show-off due to his incessant need to counter almost everything she said from the moment the academic year began.

It drove her crazy. Not because he disagreed with her, not even because he insisted on doing so in front of the rest of 1L and/or their professors. It annoyed her that he was the only classmate that managed to throw her off, get a rise out of her, and make her lose her composed, practical argument style in exchange for a more passionate, emotional one. But the most irritating thing of all was how much he seemed to enjoy it: the more heated Alicia got, the more satisfied Will looked.

And so the first time he asked her to study with him, she was completely caught off guard.

She had been silently fuming, power walking down the hallway after yet another classroom showdown when Will suddenly fell into step beside her.

“God, his voice could put you to sleep even if you just snorted the hardest stimulant the world of narcotics has to offer,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just come close to making her cry with temper in front of their peers.

“What?” she snapped, still trying to get ahold of her anger.

“Clarkson,” he said obliviously, clarifying that he was talking about the professor he had been trying to humiliate her in front of less than a minute prior. Asshole.

“There’s not enough cocaine, speed, whatever in this world to keep a person up if they were left alone in a room with that man for an hour,” he went on.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, coming to a halt.

He stopped too and questioningly glanced to the side. “Walking… and talking?”

“I mean, why are you talking to me like we’re friends?”

His eyes widened in surprise, but then that smug look of amusement he always got when he successfully riled her up returned. “We’re not friends?”

She rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks get hot as she started to storm off again.

“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait,” he said as he rushed to catch up with her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. When she immediately shrugged it off, he held up both hands in surrender. “I was wondering if you wanted to… I was thinking maybe we could hit the library later. Or over the weekend. Whatever works.”

“What?” she said again, in the same tone one might use in response to a drunk person who had slurred their words.

“To make a start on Clarkson’s essay? You and I are clearly destined to be the best lawyers to come out of this bunch, so I figured we’d be in good company together.”

She’d later realise that had been a joke, but in the moment, when she saw Will as a pompous ass who thought he knew everything, it made her bristle.

“Thank you so much for the offer,” she said sarcastically. “But I think I’ll survive without your help. Believe it or not, I’m actually enjoying constitutional law, and have a pretty decent handle on the concepts we’ve covered so far.”

“I know?” he said slowly, as though what she had said was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s kinda kicking my ass, so I was hoping to pick your brain.”

She stopped dead in her tracks again, her sneakers emitting a loud squeak in the now-empty hallway. “Wait, what? You… want me to help you?”

“Jesus, I’m not asking for a kidney…”

“No, I mean, why?” she asked, unable to reconcile why the guy who had been challenging her every word for the past couple of weeks would ask her for help.

“I’m struggling with parts of Clarkson’s class, and I don’t want my grades to drop, and you’re obviously gonna do really well on this essay, so I thought maybe you’d do me a solid and help me out,” he said with a shrug.

“But— why me?” She still didn’t get it, was half expecting him to reveal a lame prank.

Instead, he mirrored her confusion. “Because you’re the smartest 1L?”

She felt her eyebrows almost disappear up into her hairline. “I’m so smart that you need to debate every little thing I say?”

“Not everything,” he said with the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, just everything in class.”

“You make good points, I like to counter them,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You like trying to make me look dumb,” she corrected.

“What? No,” he said with a frown. “Is that how it comes across?”

She answered him with a look and his face fell.

“Well, I’m sorry, because that’s definitely not how I want you to feel,” he said genuinely, but she eyed him suspiciously anyway.

“Then why do you keep coming at me so damn hard?”

“I’m not trying to come at you. I like countering your points partially because I know you’ll respond with something I haven’t thought of that’s worth adding to my notes, and partially because it’s like we’re simulating our future professions, so it’s… kinda thrilling.”

She blinked at him and they stared at each other in silence for a moment. Just when she was about to protest further and question his sincerity, he mumbled, “That sounded way lamer out loud than it did in my head.”

And then he gave her a smile that she’d soon come to know as one of Will Gardner’s greatest weapons. It was the sort of charming, disarming smile that often went along with a compliment, or an apology, or an attempt to smooth over some sort of awkwardness, and usually had people right where he wanted them in a matter of seconds. Her first time seeing it there in that hallway, she, too, fell prey and found herself growing into a smile in response.

With that, their academic rivalry was laid to rest. And overtime, a wonderful friendship blossomed from its grave.

Alicia sat at her desk, one hand massaging her pounding temples and the other flat against the open planner in front of her. She stared down at the calendar on the page – physical proof that not even two weeks had passed since she was first informed of Peter’s latest transgression, even though it felt like a lifetime ago.

In the time since, she had broken the news to her children, confronted her cheating husband, was physically assaulted, got the ball rolling for a divorce, and got into a pretty heavy argument with Will before opening up to him about the reality of her situation. To say that recent events had taken their toll on her was an understatement.

She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. While she felt much better knowing Will was on board to represent her – well, provided she got Becca to attend a joint meeting with him that would hopefully end in her signing the informed consent agreement he had drawn up – she was hyperaware that this was only the beginning of what was likely to be a very long and rough number of months. And she was already so drained.

Not to mention the fact that keeping some semblance of normality was a task in itself. Alicia was pretty sure Cary knew something was up, that she was distracted. But he hadn’t said anything yet, and she wanted to enjoy the lack of questions before the affair and divorce became news and everyone was in her business yet again.

She eventually decided to root around in her purse for some aspirin. While she was washing the pills down with water, her phone lit up with a buzz beside the planner.

She eyed it cautiously, wondering if it was yet another text from Eli. He had been trying to get ahold of her since her impromptu visit to Springfield that she didn’t even know if he was aware of, but she had dodged every call. The voice messages he left had grown more and more impatient, culminating in him texting between each missed call – starting off with variations of, Why aren’t you returning my calls?, getting closer to the point with, What’s going on with you and Peter? He’s off his game and you’re clearly avoiding me, then, Helloooo??????? Do I need to send out a search party??????, and finally, today’s horror movie humdinger: You can’t hide from me forever, Alicia.

As though she was the last woman standing in such a film, she slowly reached for her phone with her heart in her mouth. Relief flooded through her when she saw it was just a text from Grace, but then her sense of dread returned once she realised her daughter was warning her that Owen was over. Alicia groaned, mentally rallying for the inevitable line of questioning she’d soon face at home.

Upon her return from Springfield, her brother had pulled her aside and demanded to know what was going on. He told her that Grace had been a ball of anxiety the entire day, and that it was clear Alicia and Zach hadn’t gone to visit Peter for the fun of it. Overwhelmed by the day’s events, Alicia had broken down and told him she couldn’t talk about it yet. He accepted that in the moment and focused on comforting her, but a few days later, he began a campaign of showing up at her apartment every night and pressuring her to tell him what went down. After three nights in a row of putting up a fight and stonewalling him, she eventually conceded in telling him that Peter had had yet another affair. While he seemed to sense that there was more to the story, it had gotten him off her back for the past couple of days, and she really wasn’t looking forward to more prodding about what else had happened or what she was going to do about it.

Right when she was beginning to type her reply to Grace’s text, Cary’s voice suddenly said, “You’re still here,” making her jump and drop her phone on the desk.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she scolded, looking up at him with a hand on her chest.

“Since when does ‘walking up’ qualify as ‘sneaking up’? You either have bad hearing or a bad case of paranoia.”

She didn’t answer that. Maybe she had been a little jumpy since Springfield. Or maybe she was on edge from half expecting Eli to ambush her by showing up at Florrick-Agos unannounced.

“I was just wrapping up,” she said with a glance at her watch that told her it was almost 7pm. “How was court?”

She hadn’t seen him since a brief interaction that morning; he must have only recently returned to the office.

“Awful,” he said flatly, still hovering around her desk instead of sitting at his own. “Canning’s whooping my ass.”

She felt a little guilty – she had barely spoken to him about the copyright case he was currently fighting on behalf of one of their artist clients. Actually, she had barely engaged with any of the firm’s active court cases since what happened with Peter, instead busying herself with paperwork and half-heartedly listening to some of the younger associates when they needed her approval on something or wanted a sounding board for their legal strategies. She hadn’t intentionally checked out from work, but it was like she was on autopilot – as though her brain had locked into some sort of survival mode where the only thing that got her through each day was the thought of getting Peter out of her life once and for all. Still, she couldn’t afford to withdraw from work, and so she hoped her recent performance was merely a reflection of the immense stress and, dare she label it, trauma she had just endured. With any luck, her brain would soon adapt to balance its coping mechanisms for the latest mess her life had become with her regular routine.

She offered Cary a sympathetic grimace. “Are you looking for me to commiserate, or did you want to run over strategy?”

“Neither, actually,” he said, then hesitated. She suppressed a sigh and waited.

“What’s going on with you?”

It would have been easier to swallow if his tone hadn’t been so gentle, like she was fragile and in need of delicate treatment. She’d have preferred him to be chastising. But if he was going to treat her with kid gloves, she was going to play dumb.

“What do you mean?” she asked with feigned surprise.

“Come on, Alicia, don’t do that,” he said, calmly but firmly. “I’m not an idiot. You’re all over the place this week, distant and distracted, like you’re here but not really here.”

She couldn’t argue with him there. So instead, she decided to test the waters by saying nothing. He sighed and sat on the edge of her desk, looking as though he was carefully selecting his next words.

“I don’t like being lied to. If there’s something you’re not telling me…”

The way he was looking at her was odd, as though he was… suspicious? Now Alicia really was confused. She frowned and leaned back in her chair.

“Cary, if you have something to say, just say it.”

He eyed her for a long moment, seemingly challenging her like he used to several years ago when they were in competition for the junior associate job, or right after he had lost it to her and became her opponent in court as an ASA. At least he currently looked less smug than he did back then.

“What were you doing at Lockhart-Gardner last week?”

That caught her off-guard at first, but then a thought occurred to her.

“Was your girlfriend spying on me?” she asked, unable to keep the bitter disdain from her voice.

“So you were at Lockhart-Gardner.”

She shrugged theatrically. “That’s what Kalinda reported back, right?”

“I didn’t hear it from Kalinda,” he said, looking a little wounded at finding out that his on-and-off lover had run into his business partner on their old stomping grounds and failed to inform him. Alicia resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Then where did you hear it?”

“Canning,” he answered, and this time she gave in to her eye roll. “He took great pleasure in lording it over me today, telling me how one of his associates was there on behalf of a client on Thursday and saw you in a meeting with Will.”

There was a pause as they studied each other, like poker players trying to gauge the opposition.

“What’s it to him?” she finally said. “I could’ve been there representing a client, just like his associate was.”

“But you weren’t, and he could tell that you weren’t, because my reaction obviously told him I had no idea about this meeting with one of our former bosses.”

“Okay…?” she said slowly, to which he mimicked, “Okayyyy, sooo, what was it about?”

She sat up a little straighter. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

He gave her one of his wry smiles and shook his head slightly. “Really? You don’t see how you meeting with a name partner at the competitor firm we used to work for – a meeting that apparently served no purpose for our firm – might concern me?”

She frowned again. “What exactly am I being asked here? Are you accusing me of something?”

“No, I’m asking you to be honest with me so that I don’t have to.”

It wasn’t a threat, it was a plea. Her defensiveness was replaced by an understanding for how it might seem, how she probably would have read it the same way if the roles were reversed. She relaxed in her chair again.

“It wasn’t anything untoward. I was there on a personal matter,” she said carefully, not wanting to get into the details.

He considered her for a moment, and when she didn’t elaborate, he said, “That’s… not exactly reassuring. ‘Personal’ and ‘professional’ are never really separate with you and Will, so you’ll have to forgive my paranoia.”

She sighed. “Cary, I’m not running back to Lockhart-Gardner. I was there for a consultation.”

His smiled incredulously. “I’m supposed to believe you went to Will for legal advice?”

“Believe what you want, it’s the truth,” she said with another, less sarcastic, shrug. “I needed his help and he gave it to me.”

“Help with what?”

“I told you: a private, personal matter,” she said, and when he scoffed, she added, “I can’t tell— I’m not ready to divulge that yet. You’re my business partner, this is my workplace, and I’m entitled to leave my personal life at the door when I come to work.”

“Not if your personal life lands you in legal shit that would negatively reflect on or affect our firm.”

“It won’t,” she insisted, though she knew there was no guaranteeing that. Still, she wanted to secure Will’s representation before she started disclosing why she needed a lawyer in the first place. “But if I at any point feel like it will, I’ll be fully transparent with you.”

She stared at Cary, willing him to trust her. He scrutinised her with sceptical eyes in return. After a beat, his shoulders sagged slightly. “It doesn’t look good.”

“I’m not asking for blind acceptance of everything I say,” she said. “I’m asking for you to trust me just enough until I’m… in a better position to tell you. If things go the way I want, I’ll be able to fill you in by the end of the week.”

“I’m not just talking about how it looks to me. You don’t think our clients will find it strange that you’re running to our old firm – and in some cases, our clients’ former lawyers – for legal help? Maybe they’ll think that if their own attorney hires Lockhart-Gardner, they should too.”

“Oh, come on, Cary,” she said. “Even lawyers need lawyers. Good ones don’t represent themselves, and better ones won’t even look for representation within their own firm.”

“And which ones hire their former employer and biggest rival?” he asked with a determined stare.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “This one, apparently. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to actually get home at a reasonable hour for once.”

He eyed her again, and she could see him thinking about pushing for more information. Eventually, he gave another sigh and got to his feet.

“Fine, keep me in the dark. But what you said about how you should be allowed to leave your personal life at the door works both ways. You can’t keep letting whatever you’ve got going on affect your work – our work. You need to get your head back in the game.”

He was irritating her, but since she had won this round, she figured it was better to quit arguing while she was ahead. “Okay, okay, understood.”

By the time Alicia let herself into her apartment, the aspirin had dulled the pounding in her head, though it hadn't completely gotten rid of it. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and shut the world out under the covers, but she knew she wasn’t that lucky.

“Grace?” she called as she dumped her purse and keys on the hall table and kicked off her heels.

“Hey sis.” Owen was suddenly in front of her when she glanced back up. “You look terrible.”

She glared at him as she shrugged out of her coat. “I didn’t realise your name was Grace.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said as she followed him back to the kitchen, where he began opening up various drawers and cabinets. “Wine?”

“No, thanks,” she said as he pulled out a bottle, looking satisfied with himself. “But please, continue to help yourself to the contents of my kitchen.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He poured himself a generous glass. “Have you heard from Peter?”

“No,” she said curtly, offering nothing else.

“Weird how this time he’s MIA when he’s been so determined not to let you go the other times.”

“Yeah, well, this time he knows I’m absolutely done and there’s nothing he could say or do that would convince me otherwise.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” As soon as the words were out of Owen’s mouth, panic crossed his features. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“You never do,” she shot back.

“I’m sorry,” he whined. “You know nobody would love to see you divorce Peter more than I would. But it’s starting to feel like if you haven’t yet, you never will. I mean, what makes this time so different?”

She was saved from answering as Grace entered the kitchen and approached her. “Hi Mom.”

“Hi, honey,” she replied, enveloping her daughter in a tight embrace. “How was school?”

“School,” Grace said with a face as they broke apart. “How was work?”

“Work,” Alicia said with a smile. “Zach’s still at Brian’s?”

“Yeah. But—” Grace turned to pull a sticky note from the fridge and then held it out to her mother “—he left this for you.”

Alicia could feel Owen’s eyes on her as she took the piece of paper, already knowing what it was. After her long chat with Will, Alicia had informed Zach that her former boss would only represent her if she got Becca’s go-ahead, and in order to do that, she needed to speak with Becca herself. Zach said that the last he heard through their network of mutual friends-of-friends, Becca was no longer living with her parents. Due to the many ethical and privacy issues Will was trying to work around to take on her case, Alicia couldn’t exactly get Becca’s new contact information through Lockhart-Gardner. So while he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, Zach had agreed to ask around in a bid to find out where his ex now lived.

In his messy scrawl, the note read, Turns out she’s friends with Brian’s girlfriend’s sister, alongside the address of an apartment building on the other side of town. Alicia almost laughed at the degrees of separation – she was following the word of her son’s friend’s girlfriend’s sister. It wouldn’t exactly hold up in a court of law, but it was all she had to go off, and time was running out if she wanted to get the divorce filing in before Becca’s lawsuit.

“That will help you out with Will, right?” Grace asked, pulling her mom out of her thoughts.

Alicia didn’t even have the chance to open her mouth before Owen blurted, “Will? As in theee Will? Will Gardner?”

She gave him another hard look, one she hoped told him to shut up, but it only caused his eyes to light up and a smile to play on his lips. Grace’s gaze curiously flickered between the pair, and so Alicia was eager to change the subject.

“Yep, that’ll help. Have you eaten?”

“We got Thai,” Owen answered for her.

“There’s some leftovers in the fridge,” Grace added.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I’m not hungry right now, so I’m gonna go see what I can do about this,” Alicia said, holding up the note. “I might be back late, so don’t wait up.”

“‘Kay. I gotta get back to studying for my trig test tomorrow.”

“Okay, but don’t stay at it much longer.” Alicia gave her another hug and kissed the top of her head.

“I won’t, love you.”

“Love you too,” she said as Grace made her way back to her room.

“So, Will,” Owen said the second they heard Grace’s door click closed.

Alicia inhaled slowly, longingly staring at her brother’s glass of wine. If only she didn’t have to get back behind the wheel.

“Ahem. Will,” he repeated, this time more pointedly. He gestured at the note in her hand. “What’s going on there? You two were barely talking, and now you’re, what, exchanging love letters?”

She rolled her eyes. “This is from Zach.”

“But Grace said it’ll help with Will.”

“Correct,” she said, making a beeline back to the hall for her exit.

Owen huffed and followed in tow. She ignored him, tucking the note safely into her coat’s pocket while it was still hanging up and then grabbing her keys.

“Alicia, what the hell is going on? Peter has yet another affair and suddenly it’s like you and the kids are in the CIA. You won’t tell me what happened when you confronted him. You’ve worn so many turtlenecks this past week that I’m half expecting you to tell me you’re starting a tech company. Now your ex-boss-slash-fuck-buddy—”

“Shhhhhh!” she hissed midway through slipping her heels back on, but he was undeterred.

“—is back on the scene? And where are you going now? You’re home all of five minutes! Why won’t you tell me what’s happening?”

“Because there are a lot of things I need to keep under wraps right now, and you have a big mouth!”

She expected him to let out an exaggerated gasp in offence-but-agreement. Instead, he looked genuinely hurt, and she sort of felt guilty.

“I would never do anything to hurt you or the kids,” he said defensively.

She sighed and placed a hand on his upper arm. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally,” she said softly. “But…”

“But I’ve put my foot in it on a public scale before,” he said remorsefully.

She gave him an understanding smile and patted where she had been holding his arm. “To be fair, you were pretty subtle when Will and I were— when we were a thing. Well, up until two seconds ago.”

“That’s right, I was!”

“For you, at least.”

“See, I can be subtle,” he said, fixing her with puppy dog eyes.

She held his gaze for a moment before letting out another sigh. “I swear to god, if you let anything slip – I mean it, Owen, any viral ‘professor rants’ or whatever else – your life won’t be worth living.”

He mimed zipping his mouth and then crossing his heart.

“I don’t know if you remember Becca – she was Zach’s girlfriend a few years ago, when you were still in Oregon?”

“Not really,” he said, clearly wondering where this was going.

“Well, like I said, she was Zach’s girlfriend. Older than him. A real bitch, actually— I know,” she acknowledged as he raised his eyebrows in surprise at her crassness. “At the time I felt bad for thinking that way about a kid. But it turns out she’s Peter’s latest mistress – well, I hope she’s the latest, I wouldn’t put anything past him anymore – and she’s filing a paternity lawsuit against him, because apparently he’s the father of her four-month-old son. So yeah, ‘bitch’ is the least offensive thing I could call that girl right now. I found out because she’s using Will’s firm, and so I asked Will if he’d represent me in my divorce, but he needs me to get Becca to basically sign off that she’s okay with it, and so I got Zach to find out her new address—” she held up the note “—so that I can go talk to her, which is what I’m on my way to do.”

There was a moment of silence as Owen stared dumbly at her, his mouth slightly open. She realised her breathing had become somewhat ragged at speaking it all aloud – and that was without the part where Peter had put his hands on her. She pushed her back against the door behind her for some support.

“Well, say something,” she blurted a little breathlessly after a minute.

He blinked. “Holy shit.”

She didn’t reply, wondering if he had anything else to contribute.

“That’s… a lot,” he added.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, then let him pull her into a hug.

“God, sis,” he said into her hair as she rested her head against his shoulder, his cologne mixing with a faint scent of wine. She suddenly had to fight the urge to cry.

“I know,” she repeated, muffled.

“Zach’s girlfriend…”

“Ex,” she said firmly. “Well, not that that’s much better, but you know.”

“You believe her? That it’s Peter’s kid?” He pulled away from her to look her in the eyes with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

“I think so,” she said slowly. “It’s less about believing her and more about knowing Lockhart-Gardner wouldn’t have taken her case without probable cause.”

“And that’s another thing: them taking it. That’s a shitty thing to do to someone they… uh, used to… work with?”

She shook her head. “If they didn’t take it, someone else would have, and I wouldn’t have found out before she filed.”

Owen considered this, but didn’t look entirely convinced. “How do you know Will’s not screwing you over?”

“Because I had to practically beg him to represent me.”

His expression softened. “And why did you do that?”

She suddenly felt vulnerable, scrambling like an animal that had walked into a snare trap. “I— because— he’s a good lawyer,” she stammered.

He gave her a knowing look.

“I trust him,” she added lamely. “And it’ll drive Peter crazy.”

That earned her a grin, but he wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily.

“And why would it drive Peter crazy? It’s almost as if you know that he knows you—”

“Owen,” she cut him off sharply, grabbing her coat but merely folding it over her arm so that she could escape faster. “I have a lot on my plate right now. I don’t need anything else. And now I have to go talk to my husband’s love child’s mother.”

With that, she flung open the door, but then backtracked to give her brother a quick kiss on the cheek before swiftly exiting her apartment.

About a half hour later, Alicia was sat in the darkness of her parked car. She chewed on her lip as her gaze flitted between the phone clutched in her hand and Becca’s supposed apartment building across the street.

She didn’t know why she was nervous to call Will. He had agreed to help her, after all. But that was after he unceremoniously offloaded a number of ugly truths he had clearly been holding against her for some time: how awful and selfish a person she was, how her husband had effectively given her a career, how pathetic she was for standing by a man who repeatedly defiled her marriage and made her a public laughing stock.

Given everything that had gone down between them, it seemed inevitable that they would come to blows. So why had his words stung so badly? Why did the wounds they left still linger even though he had apologised, said he didn’t mean it, and agreed to represent her?

The glow of her phone’s contact screen cast a pale light over her face as she hovered over his name. This wasn’t about dredging up old wounds; it was about getting through the shitstorm in front of her. And just like he had the first time she was in the eye of the storm, Will was offering her a lifeline. She finally tapped his name and pressed call, then lifted the phone to her ear.

“Gardner,” he answered on the third ring.

“Hi,” she said, a little shyly.

There was a pause before he unsurely asked, “Alicia?”

“Yes, sorry, hi,” she said more authoritatively, though she was cringing at herself.

“Hey, it’s good to hear from you.” His tone was so warm that she found herself instantly relaxing into her seat.

“I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark all weekend. I just didn’t want to bother you until I had something to report, and…” She trailed off.

“And now you have something to report?”

“Not yet, but— are you still at the office?”

“Where else would I be at almost 8.30 at night? Home?”

She couldn’t help but smile at his sarcasm. “Yes?”

“You must have me mistaken with someone.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone who has a life.”

“Ah, right,” she said, still smiling.

“Wonder what that’s like, having a life.”

“You should try it sometime. Although to tell you the truth, I’m beginning to think it’s overrated.”

He chuckled. “If we’re taking you as an example, I’m inclined to agree.”

“Will you be there much longer?”

“What?”

“The office, I mean.”

“Oh. Well, I’m nearing the end of the final draft of a very tedious contract for a very tedious client. Should be all wrapped up in the next twenty minutes or so. Why?”

“Are… many people still there? Diane? Or David?”

“David and Diane left a while ago,” he said, and then it sounded like he stood. There was another pause in which she could picture him having a quick glance around the office floor.

“It’s looking pretty empty, just a few stragglers whose names I don’t know,” he continued after a moment. “Why?”

“I’m about to talk to Becca – well, hopefully I’m at the right place. I was wond— if I manage to convince her, do you think… Could you hang on? At Lockhart-Gardner, I mean. Like if I could… convince her to sign the agreement, could we try get it done tonight? Or, well, if—” She closed her eyes and banged the back of her head against the headrest in frustration at herself. “Forget it, this was a silly idea. There’s no point in you hanging around when I don’t even know if she’ll agree to go—”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t mind waiting it out to see what happens. If she agrees to the terms but can’t get here tonight, see if she can do an early morning meeting sometime, before David and Diane get in. Tomorrow morning, preferably, if not tonight. The sooner I have Becca’s go-ahead in writing, the sooner I can officially take you on. And it would be better for me to get that done when the others aren’t around so that they don’t find out and put a stop to it.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said, feeling a small thrill go through her at being reacquainted with this side of Will. She had always admired how invested he got in each case, how much of a bulldog he became while fighting for something he believed in. And then she suddenly found herself at the other end of the bulldog’s relentless wrath for months on end. It was nice to feel like they were fighting alongside each other rather than against each other once more.

“Yeah, I’ll stay put. Just let me know if or when you’re on the way. Or if it goes to shit, or it’s delayed ‘til tomorrow, give me the heads up to head home.”

She let out a breath. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what you’re hiring me for,” he said breezily. “Y’know, when I first realised that it was you calling, I thought maybe you had finally come to your senses.”

“My senses?”

“Hired someone else instead of me.”

“Oh. No, still senseless, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a bummer. Chicago is full of ruthless divorce lawyers. You could easily get anybody else—”

“I don’t want anyone else, I want you,” she impatiently cut across him, annoyed that he was starting this again. It was only when he didn’t respond that she realised the terrible irony of her words.

Alicia held her breath, biting down on her lip again and mentally cursing herself as the silence between them stretched on. The other end of the line was so quiet that she found herself straining to hear something – anything, even his breathing – to tell her he was still there. But the line seemed so dead that she felt the need to glance at her phone and check they were still connected. Sure enough, he hadn’t hung up on her.

Relieved as she was to put the phone back up to her ear, she couldn’t help but ask in a small voice, “Will, are you still there?”

“I’m here,” he answered immediately, though his voice was soft, if not distant.

She sunk down lower in her seat.

“I…” she tried, though she didn’t really know what to say. “What I m—”

“I know,” he said gently, with more understanding than she probably deserved.

“I just— I want this to work,” she pushed on. “So can we stop going in circles with the whole ‘I should hire somebody else’ thing? I’ve made my mind up. Unless… you’re getting cold feet?”

“Nah,” he said with a sigh. “You know me. Once I take on a case, I’m sticking beside my client until the bitter end. Even if it means riding shotgun while they drive headfirst off a cliff.”

“Wow, inspiring words. You really know how to instil confidence in a person.”

“To be fair, we have a rocky road ahead of us. I mean, if this visit of yours doesn’t go well, it’s over before we’ve even started. There’s no other way I can get past David and Diane…”

“I know, I know,” she said tiredly, when another thought occurred to her. “Speaking of, did Diane give you a hard time? After our consultation?”

“She was more… curious,” he said evenly. “As in, about what you wanted. I didn’t tell her it was a consultation, because I knew she’d shut down any notion of me representing you.”

“So what did you tell her?”

“I said you wanted to thank me for the heads up that I denied was a heads up. Which technically isn’t a lie.”

“And she bought that that’s all it was?” Alicia asked, surprised. “I was there for— we were talking for quite a while. A lot longer than it takes to say thanks.”

“Well, no,” he admitted, a little hesitantly. “She noticed that. She also noticed that we disappeared together for a while. And obviously she wanted to know what that was about, so I told her that me denying the heads up turned into me accusing you of fishing for info on Becca’s case and that things got heated and I followed you down to the parking lot for an argument away from the prying eyes of our glass-walled office in the name of professionalism. Which is also not technically a lie. Not completely at least, I mean we did argue, it’s just—”

“And what did she make of that?” Alicia interrupted, not really wanting to be reminded of just how awful their argument was.

“She wasn’t happy about it. She thought that arguing in the parking lot with a former employee with whom I’d had relations was still highly unprofessional of me.” He sounded ever-so-slightly amused that Diane found even the fake version of what had transpired between them worth scolding him for when she was bound to see the reality as a much greater offence against the firm. “God, I’m screwed.”

“Chin up, Gardner; there’s a high chance Becca will tell me to go fuck myself and then you’ll be free of me and Diane will never know.”

She had aimed to be teasing, but it only seemed to highlight that that would put her back to square one. And it also begged the question as to where that would leave them – was their precarious truce entirely dependent on her case tying them together? Would it dissolve when he had no obligation to her, no reason to keep talking to her, no motive to stop himself from hating her again? She suddenly felt her chest tighten.

But Will merely laughed, the sound low and comforting. “Are you saying I should be hoping you fail?”

“Well, you’ve had plenty of practice at that these past few months,” she jibed, though she was smiling.

“Touché.”

She looked across at the apartment block again, her anxiety returning as quickly as it had left.

“I should probably get this over with,” she said reluctantly.

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be here, hanging by the phone,” he said, and the smile in his voice made the corners of her own lips turn up again.

“Don’t you have a contract to finish?”

“Goddammit! You distracted me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said without thinking. They were barely back on speaking terms and yet the flirtation seemed to slip out of her as a natural response to his playfulness, a choice as subconscious as breathing.

Before she had time to overthink it or chastise herself, though, she heard him sharply inhale. A few seconds that felt like hours passed, and then his voice was strained when he said, “You better get going, Alicia.”

“Right,” she breathed, but neither of them moved to hang up.

The silence that returned between them was charged, making her heart hammer and her breath quicken. Her body was betraying her, giving her away to nobody but herself.

Shit.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Whatever electricity they had together was supposed to have died when she detonated the bomb that was starting her own firm. It wasn’t supposed to be crackling and sparking like a live wire through a damn phone line – not this quickly, not when they had only just put down their weapons. Not when her life was falling apart and she needed his help and they both had a million and one other things to focus on.

Shit, shit, shit.

Will finally exhaled something between a laugh and a sigh, pulling her out of her trance. “I’m hanging up now. For real.”

“Okay,” she said, still a little dazed.

“Good luck – and see ya later, maybe,” he quickly added before the line went dead and she was left alone with her thoughts once more.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to sit with them, to ruminate over what had just happened and what it might mean. There was too much at stake and too much to do.

So she instead turned on the overhead light, pulled down the sun visor and slid its mirror open, then made quick work of tidying up her under-eye area and touching up her lipstick. Once she felt relatively presentable – she had to push Owen’s earlier “you look terrible” from her mind – she turned the light off again, grabbed her purse, and forced herself to get out of the car.

As she walked across the street, a young couple emerged from the building. While the guy was holding the door for his girlfriend, Alicia sped up to catch it before it closed after them. She couldn’t imagine Becca being receptive to her announcing her arrival over the buzzer intercom, and so she hoped the odds would be more favourable with a surprise door knock.

When the man noticed Alicia, he paused to hold the door for her, too. She thanked him and pushed her way inside to an entrance area that looked like it hadn’t been furnished since the seventies. Still, it struck her that neither the neighbourhood nor the building itself felt sketchy – dated, certainly, maybe even neglected, but not unsafe.

She made a beeline for the elevator while taking Zach’s note out of her pocket to double-check the apartment number. The elevator was already there, probably from the couple that had just left. A damp, musky scent hit her the moment she entered. She pressed the button for the fourth floor and the elevator loudly whirred into action, slower than most.

A ding! and a short walk down a narrow hallway later, she arrived at her destination: apartment 4E. She knocked before giving herself time to think about how little she had prepared for this, afraid that she would back out otherwise. And then she waited.

…And waited.

Her fist was barely an inch from rapping the door again when it suddenly swung open. There Becca was, looking older, a little gaunter, and more dishevelled than the last time Alicia had seen her several years ago. For a moment, they were both frozen as they stared at each other, each taking the other in. Even though she was the one who had come here, Alicia felt almost ambushed staring into the face of the girl who had once dated her son, now the woman who had birthed her husband’s child.

Becca was the first to react; once her face had quickly rotated through expressions of shock, confusion and alarm, she went to shut the door.

“Wait,” Alicia said at the same time she instinctively jammed her foot between the closing door and its frame, wincing in pain when it did the job. “Becca—”

“Get lost before I call the cops,” she sniped between the gap.

But Alicia didn’t move, even when Becca upped the pressure she was pushing against the door. “I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I just want to talk.”

“Yeah, right. How the fuck did you even know where to—”

“I mean it, I’m not here to make things… difficult. Well, not for you, anyway—”

“I doubt that—”

“Please, just hear me out,” Alicia tried, voice strained with the pain she was subjecting her foot to. “I have a proposition for you.”

There was a pause as the pushing against the door stopped. Several seconds passed before Becca reopened the door fully. Alicia retracted her foot and took a good step back when Becca gestured for her to back up, and then the girl leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

“Well? Talk.”

Alicia apprehensively glanced around the hallway. “Here?”

“If you think I’m letting you in and anywhere near my kid, you’re on crack.”

She threw her eyes up to the heavens but stopped herself from retorting. While it wasn’t exactly a fair assessment of her character, she supposed she could see why Becca was cautious.

“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “Uhh, so, Lockhart-Gardner is representing you. In the paternity suit.”

Becca stared at her blankly. “And?”

“And… I want to use them too. To represent me.” When Becca continued staring at her, she clarified, “In my divorce. I’m divorcing Peter.”

Becca smirked, voice laced with mirth as she asked, “For real this time, or Clinton-style separation like before?”

Alicia inhaled deeply. This was going to be a long, arduous talk.

“I was thinking,” she pushed forward, ignoring the remark, “that it might strengthen both of our cases if we were to show a united front. We’re going against the most powerful man in the state, after all.”

“Is that so? I didn’t realise,” Becca said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “And what, us sharing a lawyer is supposed to show solidarity?”

“Well, it wouldn’t even be the same lawyer, just the same firm. And it wouldn’t be the only way for us to show solidarity. I mean, the press will be all over us once both cases are filed…”

“How do you know I’m even filing? We might come to a settlement.”

Alicia shook her head, almost feeling sorry the girl. “You won’t. He told me he won’t settle.”

Becca narrowed her eyes, seemingly affronted. “Of course you’d say that.”

“I asked him to respond to you before it goes to court,” Alicia said, frustrated. “I told him to either settle or else take a test that proves he’s not the dad since that’s what he’s insisting. But he won’t do either. He thinks you’ll drop it if you don’t hear from him.”

“There’s no way he could be that stupid,” Becca said with her eyes still narrowed but her voice now a little unsure. A small breakthrough, perhaps?

“He’s that arrogant,” Alicia pressed, hoping to drive the knife in further. “He said this is all about you vying for his attention.”

Becca’s nostrils flared. “He did, huh?”

Oh, what the hell would a little embellishment hurt?

“Yeah. Said that you’re just desperate ever since he broke things off. That you’d do anything for him to notice you, threatening a lawsuit included.”

The younger woman was visibly fuming now. She let out an incredulous scoff. “He didn’t break anything off. I was the one to end it. I only got back in contact with him when I found out I was pregnant. Called him to let him know, and he was very excited to hear from me, obviously thinking I wanted to hook up again.”

Alicia wasn’t sure whether Becca was intentionally trying to rub salt in the wound or if she merely lacked the ability to read the room. Either way, she worked hard on not reacting and maintaining her poker face.

“It was honestly kinda pathetic,” Becca added. “But once I told him I was pregnant, it was the total opposite. Never heard from him again.”

Alicia plastered a solemn, sympathetic smile on her face. “I’m sorry that—”

“Cut the bullshit,” Becca interrupted, causing Alicia’s smile to falter. “I’m not an idiot, I know how this goes. The wife never plays nice with the other woman. So, be honest: what are you really doing here, Mrs. Florrick?”

“I’m not suggesting—”

“He probably fucking sent you here himself to get me on side before you sell me down the river.”

“Why would I— that doesn’t even make any sense,” Alicia said, bewildered.

“Sure it does. Look at your track record of doing whatever he wants, whatever it takes to keep your family together for the sake of your kids, no matter how humiliating—”

“Don’t you dare talk about my kids,” Alicia growled, but she was immediately annoyed at herself for taking the bait when Becca flashed a sardonic, taunting smile.

“How is Zach, by the way? It’s wild, right? How he has the same taste as his dad? Like father like son, I guess.”

Alicia balled her hands into fists and tried to distract herself from her rage by focusing on the feeling of her nails digging into her palms.

“Peter saw you as a doormat, y’know,” Becca went on. “It was almost like he found it funny, how he could practically do whatever he wanted and you’d never leave.”

Maybe it was true, maybe Becca was making it up – either way, it was clearly meant to further enrage her. But it instead gave Alicia a rude awakening, like someone had thrown a glass of ice-cold water in her face. Reminded of why she was here, she was strangely overcome with a sense of calm clarity. She relaxed her hands and straightened her posture.

“That makes sense,” she said matter-of-factly. “He thinks he’s untouchable.”

Becca was visibly caught off guard by that, so Alicia pushed on while she was still disarmed.

“I intend to show him that he’s not. He’s not above facing consequences for betraying his family. He’s not above supporting the child he refuses to take responsibility for. He’s not above the law.”

There was a pause as Becca studied her intently, suddenly looking her age again. Her smarminess had been replaced with what seemed to be a mix of curiosity and defiance, making her appear childlike and almost vulnerable to Alicia. There were many reasons why Becca didn’t deserve her sympathy, but looking at her now – her eyes as big as saucers, freckles flecked across her bare face, the little bunnies on her baby pink pyjamas – was a sobering reminder that she was young enough to be Alicia’s daughter. Her age didn’t completely absolve her, but she wasn’t the first impressionable young woman to succumb to a powerful older man, nor would she be the last. For all of her bravado and taunting, Alicia could see that the girl was in over her head as she watched her battle with herself.

“Look, you’re right; I’m not exactly thrilled to be speaking to the woman my husband’s been sleeping with,” she continued, forcing herself to look Becca in the eye. “Frankly, I never really liked you from the moment I met you, and I was relieved when you and Zach broke up.”

Becca quirked a brow. “Is this supposed to—”

“You wanted me to be honest,” Alicia reminded her. “What I’m saying is, I think we can both agree that braiding each other’s hair isn’t on the horizon. But what’s done is done. Peter left us both in a hole. Our focus should be on getting out, and it would be easier to do that, I think, if we were…”

“Allies?” Becca finished for her, her expression now unreadable.

“For lack of a better word, yes.”

“And what? You’re giving me the heads up about hiring the same law firm as some sort of peace offering?”

“No— well, that’s not all,” Alicia said, carefully choosing her words. “Lockhart-Gardner won’t take me on until you— until we sign in agreement to each other’s representation.”

A smirk reappeared on Becca’s lips. “So you’re here to get my permission?”

“Consent,” Alicia snippily corrected.

“Same thing.”

She clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin when Becca suddenly asked, “Why?”

“I just told you why.”

“No, why do they need me to give them the thumbs up to take you on?”

“Because it’s the ethically responsible thing for a law firm to do when clients like us would normally be… adversaries, I guess. Like you said, the wife usually has it out for the mistress—”

“I said the other woman, actually.”

“Okay, can we not?”

“You’re the one who needs my help.”

Alicia gritted her teeth, tired of pandering to  a girl she wasn’t even sure possessed a conscience. The audacity of this… this entitled brat who had caused chaos for her family and derailed her son’s life numerous times, to poke the woman whose husband she had had an affair with. She knew walking into this that Becca was difficult, that she’d have to swallow a lot of pride and anger to try and get what she wanted from her. But enough was enough, and if Becca thought she was going to kiss the ring, she had another thing coming.

“Is that what you think? That I need you, while you’re just fine all by yourself?” Alicia laughed hollowly. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Becca glared at her and opened her mouth to retort, but Alicia didn’t give her the chance.

“If you think all this boils down to is you having a strong case, you’re delusional. Like I said, Peter won’t settle anytime soon. Which means you face an expensive court battle. And sure, you’ll probably win, but you don’t know how long that’ll take, or how long it’ll be until you see a dime. In the meantime, how exactly do you plan to pay those fees? You’re being represented by two of the firm’s partners – you know partner hours are more expensive, right? I mean, things can’t be financially easy as it is, with you supporting your son all by yourself, and, by the looks of it—” she gestured around “—you don’t have much help from family.”

Becca was seething. “Shut the fuck —”

“And that’s only the beginning,” Alicia carried on, unfazed. “Do you have any idea how big this is going to be? You had a love child with the Governor. Think about the optics of that. Mistress, other woman; it doesn’t matter what you call yourself – you’ll be seen as a homewrecker, a whore. How do you move on from that, in a practical sense? You’ll feel it following you for years to come, when you apply for jobs and never get a call back, when you take your kid to school and the other moms look you up and down and whisper among themselves… Sure, Peter is known for having a string of mistresses, hookers, whatever. But you’ll forever be known as the one he knocked up.”

Becca continued to fix her with a searing glare, but she swallowed tightly. Maybe the girl was finally undergoing a reality check of her own. Alicia was being ruthless, if not downright offensive, but they both knew that that didn’t make her words any less true. The proof was in the pudding – the pudding being every political sex scandal that had unfolded over the course of American history.

“It doesn’t have to be like that, though,” Alicia said after a moment, her tone much gentler than the scathing one she had used to rip this girl a new one mere seconds ago. “I can help with that.”

Becca snorted, then said in a gravelly voice, “Yeah, sure.” She was still glowering at Alicia, but her eyes looked a little misty.

“I’m telling you; I helped with the public narrative on Peter, and I can do the same for you. His strategists couldn’t see a path to the governorship without me. And I’m not saying that to blow my own trumpet, but it makes sense, when you think about it. The public wanted a first family, not a first hooker-loving divorcee.”

“So? What are you saying?” Becca demanded.

“I’m saying, the public forgave Peter when they saw that I forgave Peter. And they’ll follow my lead when it comes to you, too. You can be the college dropout who slept with both my son and husband and ruined my family, or you can be the struggling young mother who was screwed over by Illinois’ most powerful man, who took advantage of your mutual connection to his own son. It’s all about perspective, and in situations like these, the wife’s perspective is usually the one that matters most in the court of public opinion.”

Becca looked away from her, taking a breather before answering. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it? That you’d push whatever way you feel about me – let alone how Zach feels about me – to the side and be all ‘girl power’ in public? How do I know you’re not just saying all this to get me to sign off on your lawyers and that you won’t throw me to the wolves when word gets out?”

“Because once it hits the press, Peter’s camp is going to come at us both – hard. A joint offence from the two of us against him looks better than all three of us taking shots at each other, or even than the two of us staying silent on each other while we separately fight him.”

Becca didn’t answer, still staring into space. She looked like she was considering Alicia’s words, but her expression didn’t give any hint as to how she might feel about them.

Alicia sighed. “Look, you have every reason to have your doubts. I’m not happy I’m here. Zach’s not happy I’m here. I don’t particularly see you as this naive, helpless victim I’m willing to tell the public you are, and I know it’ll probably sting to see you win your case whenever the time comes.”

At that, Becca’s eyes locked onto hers again.

“But none of that compares to what I feel about Peter, for years’ worth of reasons that go far beyond your little fling. To put it bluntly, I care a million times more about his downfall than I do about yours. And if helping you helps me ruin him, I’ll do what I have to do.”

There was another pause that seemed to stretch on until Becca finally mumbled, “Fine.”

“Really?” Alicia couldn’t help but blurt, shocked she actually managed to convince her.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Becca said, sounding tired and rubbing her forehead. “What do I have to do?”

“Well, we first need to have a meeting with—  um, with my lawyer at Lockhart-Gardner so that he can outline the firm’s ethical responsibilities in representing us both. And so that we can give our consent in writing.”

“Okay, when?”

“Technically, we could do it right now,” Alicia chanced.

“That’s too short notice for a person with a four-month-old,” Becca said pointedly.

“Right, of course,” Alicia nodded. “Do you think you could do it early tomorrow morning?”

“What’s early?”

“7.30am ish, maybe?” She hoped that would give them enough time to iron things out before Diane and David arrived to work.

Becca glanced back inside her apartment as if the answer might be in there. “Wait here,” she said, and then Alicia was staring at a closed door once more.

After a minute or two, Becca opened it again. “I can do 7.30.”

“Okay, gr— good. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Alicia said, trying to keep a lid on her relief. “Thanks for hearing me out. I’ll see you at Lockhart-Gardner in the morning.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Becca repeated in the same ‘over it’ tone as before, then shut the door without a goodbye.

When Alicia was back in the snail-like elevator, she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Will.

Good news: you can go home.

Uh oh, came the response just before the doors dinged open. He immediately followed up with: Is that good news actually bad news?

No, the bad news is that you’ll have to endure a meeting with the Governor’s wife AND mistress bright and early at 7.30 tomorrow morning.

She was in her car by the time her phone buzzed with his reply, and it made her bark out a laugh that cut through the silence.

Chicago’s very own Dr. Phil will see you then.

Chapter Text

«The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. »
– Henry VI, Part II

“What are you doing here?”

It was way too early for Katie’s voice to be so loud – almost abrasive – in the otherwise empty office. In his tired state, Will couldn’t help but wince when the harsh sound of it shattered the silence like a rock to a window, interrupting his review of the paperwork in his hands.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said sarcastically, looking up to see her standing there in his doorway.

“Yeah, morning, why are you here?”

He returned the pages he was holding to their correct folder on the desk. “I work here.”

She tutted impatiently, walking in a few steps. “You know what I mean. You’re never in this early. Why were you here before me?”

Will had driven himself to the office through bleary eyes a half hour or so ago. He wasn’t entirely sure how much – well, how little – sleep he had gotten, but if he was to guess, it likely wasn’t more than three hours. Though he had gone home after Alicia’s text came through the previous night, he continued working from his couch, staying up until all hours. He had, of course, started drafting the necessary paperwork the moment he returned to his office after leaving Alicia’s car the day she told him everything; following their emotional talk, they briefly discussed the financial dynamics of her marriage and how she was less concerned with taking anything from Peter and more concerned with ensuring he couldn’t take anything from her. But it was only when she confirmed Becca was willing to play ball that he could prepare the consent agreement.

“I have an early morning meeting with a client,” he answered his assistant.

“Oh? I don’t remember scheduling…”

“No, it was last minute. She arranged it directly with me last night.”

Katie arched a brow. “She wouldn’t happen to be the Governor’s wife, would she? Kalinda gave me a grilling after your last meeting with h—”

“What did you tell her?” he immediately asked.

“Woah, damn. It’s not like I had anything to tell. I just said she had scheduled an appointment. Why?”

“Did you say ‘appointment’ or ‘consultation’, specifically?”

“Appointment,” she said, giving him a questioning look. “Does it matter?”

He glanced out the glass walls, though Lockhart-Gardner had remained the ghost town it was when he arrived. Still, Katie must have picked up on his caution, as she closed over the door despite the firm’s emptiness.

“You’ve seen the young blonde girl Diane and David are representing, right?” he began. “Rebecca Smith? She’s been in a few times. There might’ve been some talk…”

“By ‘talk’ do you mean the fact that everyone thinks she’s a total nightmare?” When he answered her with nothing but a blank expression, she elaborated, “Anyone who’s had the misfortune of dealing with her can’t stand her. One of the secretaries was trying to get dirt from David and Diane’s assistants on why she needs legal help, but they’ve been tight-lipped. There’s a few theories going around that she like, crashed daddy’s Maserati or bullied a girl to suicide or something. Usually no one cares about who’s here for what; I think it’s just because she managed to piss so many people off in such a short space of time.”

He stifled a snort, maintaining his composure until Katie piped up again.

“What does that have to do with your meeting with Mrs. Florrick?”

He hesitated, carefully selecting his next words. “I’m meeting them both this morning, and I need you to keep a lid on it for now. Al— Mrs. Florrick wants to hire me as her lawyer, but the thing I’d be representing her for kinda… overlaps, let’s say, with that girl’s case. Because of that, David and Diane probably wouldn’t want me to take the Florrick case…”

Katie looked a little puzzled. “I take it you’re going to, anyway?”

“I’m trying to eliminate their inevitable concerns before they even find out about the second case.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. “Just— let me know when they get here, alright?”

Katie took that as her cue to leave him be, but not before giving him a look and a reluctant nod.

Barely fifteen minutes had passed before a knock on glass made him look up to see her opening his door again, this time giving herself just enough of a gap to talk through. “Mrs. Florrick is here a little early. Should I send her in, or have her wait?”

“You can send her in.”

A moment later, she reappeared outside his office, chatting as she held the door for Alicia. He met the latter’s eyes, and they exchanged a smile as a means of greeting so as not to interrupt the conversation.

“Can I get you a coffee?” Katie was saying.

“Thanks, but I probably shouldn’t,” Alicia answered in that polite, seemingly media-trained tone she often used with strangers. “I’ve already bypassed my quota for the morning.”

“Will?”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” he replied as Alicia took her seat in front of him.

“Okay, I’ll let you know when Miss Smith gets here.”

“Just send her right in, please, Katie,” he said, and she closed the door with a nod, leaving him alone with Alicia once more.

They both watched his assistant disappear down the hall, and then Alicia turned to face him again, another smile playing on her lips. “Hi.”

She looked significantly better than the last time she was here, or at least he thought so. Fresher, maybe, was the word; in their last meeting, she had worn the stress of her predicament on her face, but as they stared at each other now, he thought she seemed lighter. Her eyes were brighter and less tired, and she was looking at him in that somewhat amused way she often did both when they were working together and when they were in law school – as though the two of them were part of some unspoken inside joke that nobody else could ever understand.

“Hi,” he returned, matching her wry smile.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “Sorry for interrupting you last night…”

Wouldn’t be the first time , her sultry, phone static-filled voice from the night before rang out in his brain. He shook his head, both in an attempt to shake away the effect the memory had on him and to dismiss her apology.

“How are you doing?” he asked instead.

“I’ve been better,” she teased, and then more sincerely added, “but I’ve also been a lot worse.”

At that, his gaze dropped to her throat, her high-collared teal blouse fashionably concealing what he had seen last week. He hadn’t meant to – his eyes landed there before he could stop them – and he was back to making eye contact with her less than a second later. But the way her face fell told him she noticed it anyway.

There was a moment of silence as she shifted awkwardly and he struggled for something to say. He wanted to ask her about it, but she had been so cagey the last time they discussed it that he didn’t want to scare her into closing up and pushing him away again. He was wrestling with himself over whether or not to address it when she softly said, “That’s… getting there. It’s not half as bad as it was.”

He was a little surprised at her volunteering an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. It wasn’t like Alicia to be forthcoming when it came to areas of vulnerability, so he couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to sweep his concern under the rug with false assurances.

“It’s finally yellowing,” she said a little louder, as though she had read his mind. “Not as sensitive, either. And just in general, I’m doing much better, I think since we— I’m doing a lot better. Seriously.”

She was looking him in the eye with such intensity that he decided to believe her. “I’m glad to hear,” he answered, then hesitantly added, “How ‘bout the kids? How are they doing with… everything?”

Her cheeks ballooned as she puffed out a long exhale. “They’re hanging in there. Well, actually, they’re probably doing better than you’d expect – maybe too well. Zach in particular, given the circumstances. But I don’t know, I…” She broke eye contact as she trailed off, looking out the window as though she might find the words she was searching for out by the city skyline.

“What?” Will pressed after a beat.

“I can’t help but feel like… it won’t last,” she said, turning her attention back to him.

“What, as in the kids keeping it together?”

“Yeah. Especially once it all gets out. I mean, the media will be relentless, and this time will be even worse for them than the first because of the connection with Zach and... I’m scared of what they’ll face, at like, school and just— Really, how could they be okay when—?”

She stopped herself and took a deep breath, then shook her head. “I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself. I told myself I’d take it one day at a time.” With a sheepish smile, she added, “Easier said than done, obviously.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “But you’re right, one step at a time. They’re good right now, and that’s something.”

“I guess…”

“And your little chat with Becca didn’t end in murder, so that’s another positive, right?”

“Contrary to your expectations, yes, we’re both very much alive.”

“In all seriousness— I don’t mean to pry, but… you were okay afterwards? What about today? I can’t imagine having to… y’know, talk to her – be around her – is easy for you…”

She paused again. “At times, she can be… testing. Well, most of the time. But it’ll be easier to swallow once she signs on the dotted line.”

They continued talking for a while, Will carefully prodding and Alicia even more carefully answering. He wasn’t surprised to learn Owen was her only other confidant, but he was surprised she hadn’t told her brother about Peter getting physical. She also told Will of her plans to inform Cary of her divorce the following day, if all went according to plan, as well as her hopes to get out of dodge with the kids this weekend while the dissolution of her marriage inevitably became the most talked-about topic in the state.

As much as he was enjoying Alicia’s company, he was getting a little antsy as time ticked by with no sign of Becca. His eyes were constantly flitting to the clock or his watch as he anxiously hoped she’d still show up – and before Diane or David arrived. Alicia seemed a little restless too, her nervous leg bounce back in full swing as she kept glancing out the glass walls. After what seemed like a lifetime (though, according to his watch, it was only 7.46am), the girl finally arrived, Katie ushering her into his office.

He was immediately struck by how young she was. Hearing that Peter had had an affair with his son’s ex was gross enough, but seeing just how young she looked in the flesh made it all the more creepy. And that was saying something, given that Will was no stranger to dating women significantly younger than him.

The door was barely closed behind her – Will had just about gotten to say hello – when Alicia rather pointedly said, “You’re late.”

Becca glared at her as she went to pull out the other seat in front of Will’s desk. “By fifteen minutes. I have a 4-month-old.”

“I’m aware,” Alicia retorted, her voice hard.

Will awkwardly cleared his throat as he stood and held out his hand before Becca could sit. “Thanks for coming. I’m Will Gardner, I’ll be representing Alicia.”

Becca shook it, but then her eyes narrowed in thought.

“Wi– no fucking way,” she said slowly, then turned to give Alicia a shit-eating grin while Will sat back down. “When you told me you wanted Lockhart-Gardner representing you, you left out the part about hiring your boyfriend.”

“I— he’s n— that’s not what that was. Or what this is,” Alicia got out, and despite the annoyance dominating her tone, he could tell she was flustered.

“Oh, relax,” Becca said as she over-casually plopped down on her chair. “I mean, who could blame you? He’s cute.” She gave Will a flirtatious smirk, clearly trying to push Alicia’s buttons – as though sleeping with her husband hadn’t been enough.

He had expected Becca to be a menace, but this was really something. He raised his brows at Alicia in shock, and the look on his face must’ve amused her, because her pissed expression neutralised and the corners of her mouth upturned as if to say, “See?”

After a few seconds of being at a loss for words and unsurely glancing between the two women, he eventually pulled out the documents he had prepared and said, “Uhh, getting to why we’re here… it’s important we all understand what the firm representing the two of you in your respective cases would look like. And that both of you leave here assured you’ll each have the best representation possible. I’m going to run through the terms of the consent agreement so that you’re both clear on what you’re agreeing to – any questions along the way, feel free to stop me. Sound good?”

They both nodded, and after a quick glance to his watch and a silent prayer that none of his partners had an 8am start, he placed a copy of the agreement in front of each of them, then began reading from his own.

“Alright. ‘Informed Consent and Conflict Waiver Agreement between Alicia Florrick and Rebecca Smith. Regarding: Lockhart-Gardner representation. The undersigned acknowledge the following: One; Dual Representation. Lockhart-Gardner represents Rebecca Smith in a Petition to Establish Paternity against Peter Florrick, and Alicia Florrick in a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage from Peter Florrick.’”

He briefly looked up at the two women, but they were both too preoccupied with the pages in their hands to notice.

“‘Two; Potential Conflict. The firm’s concurrent representation of both parties may present a potential or actual conflict of interest. Specifically, information relevant to one matter may materially impact the other. In add—’”

“What does that mean? Info from one case could be used in the other?” Becca asked, both women switching their attention to him.

“No. Well, you’re right, that part is acknowledging information from your case being used in hers or vice versa as a potential conflict of interest,” he said. “But if you look at section three, you’ll see the mention of a firewall assurance. There’ll be an internal confidentiality wall here at Lockhart-Gardner – basically, the firm will keep your cases entirely separate. Separate teams for each case, each keeping the other in the dark about their respective strategies, findings, and proceedings. There’ll be no overlap or sharing of information, unless one of you decides you want to share information with the other’s legal team.”

Alicia met his eyes before feigning not knowing any better: “So we have the advantage of fighting Peter with the same firm in the eye of the public, while having the confidentiality and fair representation we would have if we went to separate firms?”

“Yes,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face despite the pantomime. He then looked at Becca, who was reading through what he had just summarised in the third section. “Make sense? Can I continue?”

She glanced up but didn’t say anything, only giving a single nod in response.

“Where was I… informationrelevantto…materiallyimpacttheother,” he quickly mumbled as he found where to pick up from. “Okay. ‘In addition, there may be competing interests. Thr—’”

“What kind of competing interests?” Becca interrupted again with a frown.

“Remember what I said last night,” Alicia said before he could answer. “This is like a disclaimer for the firm because people like us would usually be adv—”

“I asked him,” Becca snapped at her, then fixed her scrutinising gaze on Will. “What kinda things do you mean by ‘competing interests’?”

When Will saw Alicia open her mouth again, he gently nudged her shin with his foot to stop her from ruining her own plan before it even began. She gave him a look in response, but then folded her arms and sat back.

“Many people in the position you two find yourselves in would usually be at odds,” he cautiously began.

Becca rolled her eyes. “I know that, but what does that actually mean when it comes to me? To my case?”

“A large part of your suit is about establishing financial responsibility towards your child, right?”

“Obviously.”

“And what’s the main thing couples battle over during a divorce, custody aside?”

“Like… money? And… houses and stuff…”

“Right,” Will said with a nod. “Financial assets. So, let’s say, Goldilocks had a baby with Daddy Bear—”

“Oh my god.”

“—And now Mommy Bear wants to divorce him. If Mommy Bear takes Daddy Bear for everything he’s worth, well then there’s a lot less in Daddy Bear’s bank for him to pay out to Goldilocks for the kid they share.”

Alarm crossed her features and she turned to Alicia with a dangerous look in her eyes, but he rambled on before she could go into attack mode.

“That’s how that scenario might go down in a lot of cases, and that’s what’s meant by ‘competing interests’. But that’s not the situation here, because Alicia and Peter’s financial assets have been pretty much separated for… well, a while, right?” he asked, glancing at Alicia.

She nodded. “A lot of it had to be after he went to prison. And then there was our first separation… I wanted to protect myself. So now, what’s mine is mine, and what’s his is his. Your suit won’t affect my assets, and I certainly won’t be fighting to take food from your kid’s table. I can promise you, Peter doesn’t have anything I want.”

Becca’s shoulders seemed to relax ever-so-slightly, but she still looked cagey. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”

Alicia raised her brows, her tone incredulous as she asked, “What do you want me to do? Whip out my bank statements?”

“Illinois is an equitable distribution state,” Will interjected, calling Becca’s attention back to him. “Assets are divided fairly – not necessarily evenly. There’s consideration given to marital versus non-marital assets. As Alicia’s lawyer, my position is that there are no marital assets. She and Peter share their children, that’s about it.”

That last line was borrowed from something Alicia herself had said during their long conversation in her car, after he had agreed to represent her and began interrogating her so that he could get some idea of where things were and where she wanted them to go.

“No shared properties, no joint bank accounts…?” he had asked at one point. She merely shook her head.

“Does he have any stake in Florrick-Agos?” he followed up, and she looked almost offended.

“ No,” came her forceful reply, a deep crease between her brows. “Unless you count the Florrick name. That’s about the only thing we share these days. That and the kids, obviously.”

Becca inhaled, glancing back at the document in her hands.

“Does that give you any reassurance?” Will pressed. “Or do you have any other questions I can answer?”

She dropped the papers on his desk, leaned back in her chair, and eyed him and Alicia thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

“I do have another question, actually,” she said, and he nodded encouragingly. “If this is all so above board and equally beneficial for us–” she pointed at herself, then Alicia “–why isn’t Diane here? Or David?”

There was a pause. Alicia’s eyes darted to meet his for a nanosecond before she averted them to the wall, apparently too anxious to look at either of them.

He knew he had taken too long to come up with an answer when Becca pursed her lips, her expression growing smug. “They don’t know, do they? Not about this meeting, not about the little plan you two have schemed up.”

He hesitated again, then tried to casually play it off. “Not yet. This is me taking initiative.”

Becca snorted. “Sure. Just doing your job, right? Totally not bending the rules for your…” She dramatically eyed Alicia up and down, “… client .”

“It’s not like that. If you sign, I’ll have to tell them today anyway. I just didn’t see the point in dragging them in for this when I didn’t even know if you were on board. From the moment Alicia approached me, I made it clear our firm wouldn’t be representing her if you weren’t okay with it. Why would I bring it up to Diane or David when I didn’t even know you were giving us the green light? I heard it from Alicia, but I wanted to hear it from you.”

She stared him down. “So then I guess you’ll be okay with me holding off on signing that until this meeting is rescheduled with one of my lawyers here?”

They were out of cards to play, so he decided to take the risk and call her bluff.

“Sure. I mean, I didn’t want to waste anymore time, but by all means, be my guest,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, nudging Alicia with his foot again but keeping his eyes trained on Becca. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. The firm will always prioritise what’s best for our clients.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see the realisation hit Alicia.

“Except for when it gets in the way of what’s best for the firm,” she piped up, and he had to stop himself from smiling. Over twenty years later and they could still communicate just as wordlessly as they could when someone was being an asshat back in law school.

He frowned at her. “N-no…”

“What?” Becca asked, cautiously glancing between the two.

“Diane wouldn’t want the firm to take us both on as clients because of the headache it would cause them,” Alicia answered. “Even though a united front is the strongest chance we have at getting through the public shitstorm in front of us… she won’t care because it makes their lives harder.”

She jerked her head towards Will but kept her focus on Becca.

“But– like, if it’s that beneficial for her client…?”

“Doesn’t matter. She’ll be more concerned about the firm; how they’ll need to spend extra time and resources to make sure our concurrent representation is as legally and ethically by-the-book as it should be.”

“It’s not that she won’t care, it’s that you’re talking about a different benefit,” Will countered. “You two teaming up provides no legal advantage—”

“No legal disadvantage, either,” Alicia cut across.

“Sure, but the benefit you two stand to gain is one of optics. Our firm doesn’t fight PR battles, we fight legal ones.”

“Well, we’re fighting both,” Becca said with annoyance, and he knew she had taken the bait. “So, sorry if that’s oh-so-inconvenient, but Diane and everyone else will just have to deal.”

“Unless of course, the firm would prefer if we both took our business elsewhere?” Alicia asked Will, and he could see that she was fighting a smile. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“No, no… I’ll talk with Diane as planned,” he answered with faux urgency.

“Well, I’d rather lock this in before you do,” Alicia said, lowering her copy of the consent agreement on the desk and then turning to Becca. “How ‘bout you?”

She nodded, and Will handed them both pens, as well as the firm’s copy for them to sign.

Alicia signed and dated it and passed it to Becca before moving on to her own copy. When she went to pass hers to Becca, she saw the younger woman still hesitating over the first document.

“Signing this… means you can’t fuck me over,” Becca said, somewhere between a question and a warning.

“Nor you I,” Alicia said in the same tone, holding out her copy in one hand and holding her empty hand out expectantly to take Becca’s.

The young woman exhaled and then scribbled on her own copy, swapped with Alicia, and signed and dated the rest.

Once all three of them had signed all three copies, Becca made a swift exit with hers, talking about needing to get back to the baby. Will was grateful, anxiously watching as she disappeared through the busying firm.

“Nice acting skills,” he heard Alicia say, gathering her things as he glanced at his watch again. Diane would be in any second – it was a miracle she hadn’t arrived already.

“Hollywood is calling us,” he mumbled in half-hearted agreement. “Listen, I don’t think I’ll have time to run through your retainer agreem—”

“Just let me sign it,” Alicia said hurriedly, understanding. “ I don’t care about the cost. We’ll talk more later. I trust you.”

“But should you?” he asked mock-ominously, passing her more paperwork.

She gave a low chuckle as she signed. “Too late. I’m in too deep now.”

“Not too late to get som—”

She swatted him with the bundle of papers. “I warned you not to start that crap again. I told you, I want you.”

There was only the slightest pause, but it was just enough to remind him of the same line of conversation from the night before. How hearing her say those words had seemed like a cruel joke, made all the worse by the fact that she genuinely wasn’t trying to be cruel.

“Strictly professionally, of course,” she followed up with an awkward smile. At least this time she was laughing off her clumsy wording, not letting it hang uncomfortably between them like it did over the phone.

“Of course, what other way would I have taken it?” he joked back.

He quickly walked her out to the elevators, both agreeing to regroup and strategise the following evening. As they said their goodbyes, she thanked him again and wished him luck with informing Diane and David.

“Let me know how it goes,” she got out before the doors slid closed between them.

On the way back to his office, he met Kalinda walking slowly down the hallway, trying not to spill an over-filled coffee mug. When she caught him watching her with amusement, she jibed, “Hey, not all of us have assistants who are willing and ready to serve our every need bright and early each morning.”

“How awful. You busy?”

“Once I set this down, not particularly.”

“Has Diane or David had you on the paternity case? Smith?”

“‘Smith’ is the title you’re running with? Talk about burying the lead.”

“Well, we can’t exactly go shouting the defendant’s name from the rooftops before the news has broken.”

“They haven’t sent me digging…” She hesitated. “Yet. Why?”

“Good,” he mumbled, more to himself. And then louder, to her: “Walk with me.”

By 4.30pm that evening, he was accosted on his return from relieving himself.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

There Diane stood, apparently ready to attack from the moment he opened the door of his private restroom. Will had no idea exactly how or when she found out, but she was glowering at him from the other side of his desk with her arms folded.

“Probably,” Will muttered, wanting to step back into the bathroom behind him and pull the door in with him, then lock and nail it shut. Instead, he stepped out into his office to face the music. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you before the end of the d—”

“Oh, how considerate!” She barked out a humourless laugh. “Unbelievable. After everything that woman has done – to this firm, to you – you’d still set us all ablaze to keep her warm.”

He didn’t say anything, holding her gaze with a practiced calm as he strode to his desk.

“Do you even see it? Or do you just not care?”

“See what?”

“That every time you decide to martyr yourself on Alicia Florrick’s behalf, this firm is also left bleeding out on the sacrificial alter.”

“Okay, now you’re being a little dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” Diane’s voice was as sharp as her gaze, her blue eyes piercing through him. “You onboarded the wife of a man our existing client is already suing!”

“It’s not like Alicia is the subject of Becca’s lawsuit. And she’s divorcing herself from said subject. So we’re not representing two opponents, we’re representing two clients with the same opponent. Which we’ve done plenty of ti—”

“Don’t. Don’t try to make it sound like it’s even remotely the same thing when we both know that it isn’t. You’ve already insulted my trust, don’t you dare insult my intelligence.”

“Diane…”

“I never should have told you. I went against my better judgement and stuck my neck out so that you could spare Alicia some humiliation. And what thanks do I get? My firm once again at the centre of another Florr—”

“I appreciate—”

“I should have let her find out with the rest of the world,” she ranted on, gesturing wildly. “I should’ve known a warning wouldn’t be enough for her, that she’d have to take more, and that you’d so willingly give despite the fact that even you acknowledged she’s a poison to this firm. For heaven’s sake, Will, have you no dignity, no pride? If not in yourself, in this place? At least enough to not open us up to an array of conflicts, ethical issues, a PR dis—”

“That’s all been taken care of,” he interrupted, irked by her digs but choosing not to acknowledge them.

She stilled. “What do you mean? You’ve dropped her already?”

“Dropped? Dropped who?”

“Alicia, of course!” she hissed.

“What? No,” he frowned. “I’m not dropping Alicia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Therein lies the problem. You never could. And apparently you never will, no matter how many clients she steals, how many threats she poses to our firm, or how many times she turns her back on you. But this isn’t a choice.”

It wasn’t like that. Not this time. He wasn’t just rolling over for Alicia. He wasn’t casting aside her betrayal for the hell of it. He wasn’t laying down and being a willing doormat, welcoming her to walk all over him with open arms even after she had given him so many reasons not to.

He wasn’t some lovesick fool signing himself up to get hurt again; he was a decent guy letting bygones be bygones for an old friend in need. An old friend who’d be paying handsomely for his services. An old friend who trusted nobody else to do what he could do for her. An old friend who had been hurt by Peter in more ways than Diane or any other lawyer would ever know.

“I know it doesn’t mean much to you, and I really am sorry for going behind your back, but I had my reasons,” he said, his throat feeling a little dry. Ignoring the scoff she gave in response, he continued, “And I meant what I said. The conflicts, the ethical stuff – I’ve put a plan in place, and Becca has already approved it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I heard about your little firewall, but what do you mean Becca approved it?”

“I explained all the potential conflicts and risks to Becca and Alicia in person this morning, as well as the measures the firm will take to combat them. They both signed a conflict waiver and informed consent agreement, acknowledging the risks and agreeing to each other’s representation.”

Diane’s eyes widened again and she stared at him for a long moment, apparently too stunned to speak. She opened and closed her mouth, closed her eyes during a confused head shake, then finally said: “So not only did you secretly arrange Alicia’s retainer, you also met with my client behind my back, where you and Alicia tag-teamed getting her to sign a legal document before she could consult her own legal team.”

“It wasn’t—”

“That’s not consent, Will. That’s coercion.”

His jaw tightened. “Be careful with that word.”

“Oh, now you care about optics?” she mocked.

“She wasn’t coerced. I made everything explicitly clear to her, including the doubts I knew you’d have. She still signed it willingly. Go ahead, call her and see for yourself.”

Diane shook her head, the angry expression she had been wearing now one of disgust. “I don’t care what you tell me or yourself. You got that signature by manipulating a young girl who doesn’t know any better.”

Now it was his turn to roll eyes. “That ‘young girl’ is hardly stupid. She’s sharp. She knew all the right questions to ask. I think you’re underestimating her.”

“It’s not about how bright she is! A vulnerable new mother barely out of her teenage years, with no legal training or advocates, in a situation where two experienced lawyers more than twice her age are telling her what’s best, and you want me to believe it was an even playing field?” Something out in the hall caught her eye, and she marched to the door. “You might have convinced that girl she made her own choice, but that wasn’t informed consent, no matter how you dress it up.”

Before he could protest again, she swung open the door and called, “David, a moment?”

Well, shit , was Will’s only thought.

David appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, looking impishly intrigued. “Ooh, is someone in trouble?”

“Shut the door, please,” Diane commanded, tiredly rubbing at one of her temples.

Eyes gleaming, David stepped fully into Will’s office and shut the door behind him. “Oh, someone really is in trouble. I was joking.”

“Will has taken on Alicia Florrick as a client and plans to represent her as she divorces the Governor,” she said, coldly matter-of-fact. “The same man we’ve already started proceedings against for a paternity lawsuit on behalf of an existing client. He did so behind our backs, even meeting with our client to get her to sign off on Alicia’s representation. He put Miss Smith’s case at risk, and in doing so, has compromised the firm’s reputation and credibility. Again.”

There was a long pause, David glancing between the two with an unreadable expression before deadpanning in the most monotone voice, “Tut tut, William. How terribly reckless.”

“We’re covered,” Will said defensively. “Becca was informed of all the risks and willingly signed a conflict waiver and consent agreement. We’ll just have to take some extra precautions to ensure both clients have fair representation. My representation of Alicia won’t affect your paternity case.”

“It already has!” Diane yelled, pulling Will’s focus back to her. “You took Kalinda!”

“I didn—”

“You had her start looking into a case that isn’t even off the ground just to get in ahead of us. Because you knew it was only a matter of time before I called on her to get digging into Peter for us, and that the moment I did, you couldn’t have her dig into Peter for you thanks to the firewall that now exists because of your client. So you roped the best investigator we have into something you don’t even need her for yet, knowing you’d be leaving us in the lurch.”

“I didn’t intend—”

“Your intention doesn’t matter! You screwed over your partners for an ex employee who stole from us – a woman who’s still using you now because she knows you’d burn this place to the ground if it helped her!”

Their argument was interrupted as David loudly shrieked, causing both of them to jump. And when the shrieking continued, they realised he was… laughing. A gleeful, giddy cackle that seemed to get louder and louder the longer it went on, his face growing red. Even in the aftermath of such a heated exchange, Diane and Will couldn’t help but exchange a sideways glance.

“I’m sorry,” David said with a sigh when he calmed down, wiping away tears from the corners of his watery eyes. “But this is just too funny.”

Diane blinked, stunned to silence for another moment. When she recovered, she asked David, “I, uhh… I assume I can count on your support in challenging the retention and taking this to the board?”

Will huffed. He had known this was going to be a battle, but this was worse than he expected. Now all he could do was hope that the board respected the waiver more than Diane did.

David was quiet again, studying the two of them with a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. After a beat, he asked Will, “You have their signed consent?”

“Yes,” Will said, immediately fetching it from the top drawer of his filing cabinet, flipping to the right page to throw it down on the desk, and then pointing at the signatures. “Right here.”

David took the file in his hands, flicking through the pages and skimming through their contents with an almost childlike wonder. “And I trust these signatures were lawfully obtained?” he mumbled, not looking up from the paperwork.

“Yes,” Will answered, only for Diane to immediately add, “But whether they were ethically obtained is dubious.”

David didn’t acknowledge either of them. Instead, he spent another moment examining the pages in his hands like they were the most fascinating thing he had ever come across. Finally, he threw the file back on the desk, then grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“I say have at it.”

“What?” Diane and Will said in unison, though their tones drastically differed.

“Simultaneously representing both the wife and the mistress in two separate cases…” he clapped his hands together once as if in awe. “It’s like a modern day David and Goliath. If David was a law firm and Goliath was the Governor of David’s state.”

“David,” Diane pleaded. “Tell me you’re not serious. This… this is a car crash waiting to happen.”

David shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Either way, it’ll be one hell of a show.”

“This is a reputable legal practice, not a damn theatre company!” Diane was aghast, looking as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Will wasn’t sure he trusted his own ears, either.

“We have ethics to uphold,” Diane desperately went on. “A code of conduct to adhere to! A legal and moral duty to our—”

“What can you do? He explained the risks to the clients and they both opted to stay on. It was all above board. Underhanded to do it behind our backs, sure, but that’s not uncommon in our line of work. Let’s see how it plays out.”

Will couldn’t say anything, too skeptical to feel like he was winning.

Diane cleared her throat. “Am I in the Twilight Zone? Need I remind you both what Alicia Florrick did? Have you forgotten that less than a month ago she was considered public enemy number one around here, with you two being her biggest detractors?”

“Money is money, Diane,” David said. “And divorce is expensive. Maybe our revenge is in the retainer. But all in all, I say if Will wants to dance in the middle of the circus, let him. I’m still confident in our case, aren’t you?”

There was another long pause as she took a deep breath, walking over to the glass pane that overlooked the city. She then gave an exasperated sigh, finally worn down.

When she spoke, her voice was strained. “We need to establish each legal team and formally inform all staff about the firewall so that confidentiality is airtight.”

David clasped his hands together again. “That’s the spirit. I’ll go take a look at who else we want to recruit. After Will’s sneaky little move with Kalinda, it’s only fair we get first choice on the rest of our team.”

He winked at Will and turned on his heel, humming as he exited the office.

“Thank you,” Will said quietly, even though he knew Diane’s hand had been forced. “And again, I am sorry.”

Another painful silence followed, the tension thick and suffocating as she kept her back to him. When she eventually turned away from the city to face him, her expression was so chillingly blank that it felt more like she was looking through him than at him.

“You’re skating on thin ice, and it’s already starting to crack,” she said, voice low and unemotional. “One of these days, you’re going to fall beneath the surface. And when you do, I won’t be able to save you from drowning.”

She left without another word, not bothering to close the door behind her. Will sighed and sat down heavily, then scrubbed a hand over his face.

He barely had a moment’s peace before there was another knock on glass. He looked up to see Kalinda hovering in the doorway, offering him a sympathetic smile.

“I hate it when mom and dad fight.”

He wasn’t sure whether it was what she said or the sincerity she said it with that made him laugh. “I take it you told her?”

“Not voluntarily,” she said, looking remorseful as she went and sat on his couch. “I got away with barely interacting with her the entire day, and then of course she comes in asking me to look into something from the one case you banned me from just this morning. So I had to tell her I couldn’t touch it. And she obviously asked why.”

He nodded solemnly in understanding.

“I did try to give you the slightest bit of warning,” she continued. “When she stormed off, I ran here to let you know she was on the war path, but you were nowhere to be found.”

“I was taking a leak,” he said with another sigh. “But hey, you tried your best.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, Will taking some time to digest the day’s events. Feeling eyes on him, he eventually caught Kalinda watching him from her place on the couch. She was always observant, so this wasn’t unusual, but there was something behind the way she looked at him now. Caution… unease… concern.

“What?” he snapped, harsher than intended or called for. Maybe he was still in defence mode, but he immediately felt bad for taking it out on Kalinda.

“David seems… too cheery to really be behind you,” she apprehensively began. “I have a sneaking suspicion he only gave you his blessing because he’s already planning your funeral.”

Well, that made two of them.

“Go on,” Will said.

“I suspect he’s betting on this blowing up in your face, your head being on the chopping block, and the board voting to replace ‘Gardner’ in the company name.”

He looked out at the hallway, where David was already barking orders at one of the other investigators.

“Lockhart-Lee does have a certain ring to it,” Will muttered as he watched, before turning to address Kalinda again. “I suspect you might be right.”