Out of Perdition
by: raile
Summary: She wasn't going to let them take him, not without a fight.
Disclaimer: the ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.
Rating: T, just in case
Note: written and posted on February 20, 2012
"It never ends, does it? Once they have you in their grasp…they never let go."
She was never the kind of child to be much afraid of anything.
This is a fact she knows, has always known about herself as far as she can remember, because it was one of the things that her father never failed to be proud of. She was born fearless, born daring, born to fight and was raised that way. Her parents nurtured that part of her carefully and made sure she knew just how important a part of her that trait was, why she had to hold on to it. It was in her blood, running through her veins. It is who she is.
But that does not mean she doesn't feel fear now and again.
She felt it when she thought an old ghost from her past was coming back for her, felt it every time she walked into the parole hearings for Jeffrey Spellman. She knows fear and every time it even dares to linger, she fights it—with everything she has.
Fear isn't something she feels often, but it is something she taught herself to recognize. Know your enemy, as they say, and fear was that: an enemy. She knows what it feels, where it lingers, when it comes. It comes in all shapes and sizes and she has taught herself how to know it.
It's what she saw when she looked into the eyes of Will Gardner.
He's on the verge of losing everything, yet again, and it's not any different for her—she's there for him, she will shadow him if need be—be anything he might need because that's what partners do.
It's what she does best, for him.
Like the Grand Jury, she's going to be by his side for whatever else might be thrown at him. She would be ready for anything, expect whatever may come.
She's angry—even angrier now because it never seems to end. Like a bad joke that won't quit. She's angry because she knows deep down, no matter how much he would like to portray to the world that he's just like any other guy who happens to be good at his job, she knows there's more there, so much more.
He's not just good—he loves his job. There's a passion there, that kind of inimitable gift for the law that not any other John Doe with a degree can just create out of thin air.
And damn it, she cares about him. A lot more than she would like to admit because, yes, they're grownups and the world is cynical and Eli Gold has that irritating notion that she sees her firm as more than it should be. But she doesn't give a damn, at least, not at the moment. She cares about Will Gardner, where's the crime in that? Is it so impossible?
That was why she started off angry—because it's hypocrisy, disgusting, shameful and because it pisses her off to see him being threatened for some stupid decision he made fifteen years ago. Was it stupid? Yes, it was, but she didn't see that as any reason to have his life be left in shambles because of it. He doesn't deserve to have what he loved the most taken away for a single, stupid mistake.
Off the top of her head, she can name ten people without breaking a sweat who deserves more to be thrown out of the bar because god knows just how they could pervert the law even just by breathing, by existing.
Will is afraid, she understands that, but what makes her even angrier as she sits with him is the obvious dimming of the light in his eyes. No, he was never bright eyed and dreamy, that wasn't Will, but there was always that light there, that fire and not even the circus that had been the Grand Jury had been able to extinguish.
This has though, the latest threat he was facing only this time, it is an even bigger threat and he is scared enough that she doesn't have to look hard to see it. It's there, laid bare for her to see.
She doesn't like it.
He's always been a darker kind of creature, she saw it when she met him. It was the kind of darkness that had intrigued her. Sure, she saw mischief—he was young, but there was that kind of darkness there. The kind that told her that there was so much more hidden there, underneath.
Then she saw his eyes.
Dark yet at the same time bright, not with the usual naiveté or idealistic flair she was used to seeing on first year associates because heaven knew he was well beyond that by the time they met. But there was something there, the kind of fire that was being obscured from her vision as she watched him, sitting in front of her, staring at something she couldn't see, something only he could see.
She's never seen him broken, but taking him in, taking his darkness without that fire? He might as well be. He hadn't even begun to fight, but she can see he felt beaten already. A part of him already believed there was no way out.
No statute of limitation.
Son of a bitch.
And she's angry all over again.
Because if there was anything she never expected to see in Will Gardner, it was hopelessness.
And it was so wrong, on so many different infuriating levels.
He was the young blood, he was the new thing Jonas Stern had brought into the firm all those years ago. He liked to laugh, liked to share a drink and share funny stories. He had different kind of laughs—the booming laugh, the one where he's practically giggling with glee, the one he used when he's trying to screw with someone and trying to get under their skin. She knew them well because she has laughed with him and was truly rather fond of doing so.
They know how to make each other laugh just about as well as they can make each other bleed when times got dark and there is never anybody else but each other to take all the frustration and anger out on. He was her sparring partner as much as her business partner. He knew her in ways very few people did and they put each other at ease, even in the darkest of days.
She isn't ready to say goodbye to that.
The man sitting in front of her…is not Will Gardner, at least, not the man she's come to know and care very deeply about.
He was being clawed at, being set for the slaughter and he was afraid, rapidly losing hope. It was no unlike watching someone bleed to death, slowly, painfully, excruciatingly—and it makes her so incredibly angry.
He was giving in before he'd even tried anything, unwilling to fight.
It takes a hell of a lot to beat Will.
And yet, here he was. Beaten. Like he was just ready to lie down and wait for them to drag his corpse away and parade him down the town square, Come one, come all! Here lies Will Gardner, the fallen. How she wished she could slap him back, get him back to his senses, back to who he was.
Then again, he might as well be, sitting in his office with her.
Hopeless. Resigned. Beaten.
It's not a look on him she ever wants to see.
So losing is not an option, losing him is not an option.
The names flowed easily through her mind, people she's known for years, people she's shared secrets with, people who owe her a favor or two. Names from the rolodex in her head, significant names she can reach suddenly become nothing more than points—markers. Her mind is going far down the list even before she's out of the room.
She doesn't offer him words of empty promises that it was going to be okay because she's never been one to make promises she can't keep, but she pushed him to fight and she always will. She won't make promises, but she sure as hell will try everything within her power, throw anything and everything that might just stick. She'd throw in the goddamned kitchen sink if she has to.
Because she wasn't about to watch him go down without doing anything about it and that sure as hell meant she was going to allow him to do that to himself. He was a fighter, just like her. It takes a lot more than 'boo' to make them scurry. They've stuck together this long for a reason.
So instead of empty promises, she gave him what she could—a firm squeeze on the shoulder as if that was enough to transfer her own silent strength to him because no words were needed, not for this. They've known each other long enough and she respected him too much to bullshit him in the midst of it all.
Gathering her things without even thinking, she was out the door and doesn't even look back, doesn't even look at his office as she exited hers. She doesn't care to waste any more time doing so and her exit was hasty enough to make her assistant bolt upright from her seat. It's never a good sign when she's rushing.
But she doesn't care because the rolodex in her brain was whirring and the names were flowing. It stops at three so she narrows it down to one and what conversations might take place are already running in her mind by the time she gets to the elevator. She knows what was there for them to offer in exchange for saving him, if it ever came to that.
There's no limit to how far she was willing to go to do so.
She knows fear for what it is, sees hopelessness when it begins to take hold.
They are already more than lingering on Will Gardner's face, they are already beginning to lace themselves into his words, into the dull tones that had taken over and viciously replaced his voice. He was beginning to feel empty, to be empty.
And all of that made Diane Lockhart angrier than she's ever been in so long.
No way in hell.
She wasn't going to let them take him, not without a fight.
Because that's what partners do.
And because she was allowed to give a damn.