A/N 1 : It's been two years today. Some of us will never forget *sigh*

A/N 2 : It was meant to be just a long oneshot but I couldn't finish in time so here you have the first part, it's probably going to be three or four parts in total. It switches between Will's and Alicia's POV. Thanks to Chrissie for the quick betaing (and for the title, because seriously... me and titles don't get along well lol) 3

Stella, the fullness of my thoughts of thee Cannot be stay'd within my panting breast,

But they do swell and struggle forth of me, Till that in words thy figure be express'd.

And yet as soon as they so formed be, According to my lord Love's own behest,

With sad eyes I their weak proportion see, To portrait that which in this world is best.

So that I cannot choose but write my mind, And cannot choose but put out what I write,

While these poor babes their death in birth do find; And now my pen these lines had dashed quite,

But that they stopp'd his fury from the same, Because their forefront bare sweet Stella's name.

(Astrophil and Stella - Philip Sidney)

When the courtroom door opened and I turned my head to see nonetheless than Alicia walk in, the most skeptical and warring side of me triumphed over any possible logics, making me lose briefly touch with the reality surrounding me. My words tripped then failed, my gaze lingered on her serious lips and hard-shelled posture as she took a seat a few rows behind me. There was a concrete chance she was there to relish my failure, very likely at this point, or to try and get her client back. Possibly both. And honestly, who wouldn't have thought it? In defense of my mistrust, she had already done it - or at least attempted it - diverse times. Not to mention, we were currently standing in that funambol state where every word or gesture needed extreme balance. But when during the first break I confronted her about the reason behind her visit, I must admit I was taken off guard by the woman in front of me. Or maybe by the man I had apparently become? In that moment it was hard to tell. She was there to warn me and I don't even remember thanking her properly. But I remember distinctly the broad smile being still on her face as she turned away.

Things haven't quite been the same ever since we bumped into each other at that coffee shop in New York. We could never make it work. The resolution of that never has bled for a while, until it healed over, just like all the rest. Maybe she was right. You're linking two things together. I never did. Did I? In that moment, I'm sure I caught a flash of… something. A mix of sorrow, surrender, probably resignation, peace, that whatever broke wasn't fixable anymore. Maybe that's exactly what she wanted. Okay, I guess it's something. When she stretched her arm, offering her hand as a peace offering, I hesitated myself. An odd presentment. A gut feeling that this was the last time our hands were touching. We were marking the definite line we had never been able to set before. From whatever we had been to simple adversaries, etching another score on our "ex-anything" wall. Ex-lovers. Ex-associates. Ex-friends. Even ex-enemies. In that single handshake, there was a chalk duster erasing everything we had been. Maybe it was for the best, what we both needed to really move on.

Too many maybes for my mind to find some peace, I guess, yet too many maybes for my heart to come to the fore.

It was time. It is time.

I was thinking if I was in your shoes and I had a client calling behind my back I would want to know. But as my mind replays our brief exchange for the hundredth time, the thought I should at least thank her, maybe apologize, becomes impelling. Because, of the two of us, she's admittedly the one doing all the hard work to bring us back, if not friendly, at least civil.

That night I sleep on her gesture, pondering, probably overthinking it.

But it's the next day, during a break between sessions, that Polmar's words about his ex-wife hit me where it hurts the most. Sometimes unsaid words can end up weighing a lot more than spoken ones. So I do the most reasonable thing; I jettison off some of that burden and make a phone call while waiting for the judge to free himself. One ring becomes two. Two become three. Three become her recorded voice. I'm away from my phone. I should know better by now than to ignore such signs, our history of misconnections should have taught me better than to leave a voicemail. Nevertheless, that's exactly what I decide to do, "Alicia," just to catch the judge rushing past me. "I'll call you back." Nothing seems to go the way it should today.

It's more than one hour later when the session gets adjourned and I can finally check my phone to find two missed calls. One is from Alicia. Go figure... I call her back. Same unfortunate fate. I'm away from my phone. And under the curious gaze of a couple of women walking by, I snigger at myself. Chasing each other in life. Chasing each other over the phone. I'm at a point in life where I allow myself to find it almost funny.

/ / /

The floor plan starts to look more and more like a nonsensical combination of gray lines, my eyes are so weary by now that I can barely distinguish the dorms' numbers printed on the sheet, but I can't give up now. There are moments in which I feel like nobody besides me is convinced of Jeffrey's innocence, which makes it twice as hard for me to prove it. When my phone starts buzzing on the desk, I rub away the exhaustion from my face then focus the caller ID. And a faint smile quickly evicts my frustration as I hasten to answer that one call I thought would never come.

"So, better late than never?" Alicia jokes about our unfailingly bad timing.

I chuckle, then look back down at the documents papering my desk, a visual reminder of what I wanted to tell her. Except that the good eight hours that passed since my lame voicemail happened now diminished its importance. "I only wanted to thank you," I toss, as if it didn't mean anything.

"For what?" Alicia wonders, at least in words, though I'm sure she hasn't forgotten our little banter.

"For being a better person than me." I admit what's been eating me ever since. Because no matter what she said, we both know that if I were in her shoes I wouldn't have had the same consideration. Not until this morning at least. Because her gesture was small only on the surface.

Her mild chuckle comes after a brief, silent contemplation. "Wow. So you really are humble!"

And her laughter is always contagious. "You enjoy this, don't you?" I mock her.

"You not backstabbing me anymore? Absolutely."

"I meant it more like you not poaching clients anymore, but yeah, that too. "

On the other end, Alicia's incredulous chuckle and a heavy exhale overlap. "You do know that technically Jeffrey Grant was my client? But yeah, that too," she parrots me.

The innocent digging fizzles out into one of our restive silences, like always between us. Until a quiet knock on my door pulls me out of my brooding to see Diane standing impatiently.

"Will, the meeting's about to start," she reminds me.

I nod at her, holding back effortlessly the mild disappointment. "I gotta go."

Alicia, the meeting's starting.

Cary's distant voice reaches me through the phone.

"Me, too." And Alicia's dramatic exhale uncovers her own disappointment.

I can't help but smiling. It's our second conversation in one day where we don't try to wound each other and it feels an old kind of good.

/ / /

My court obligations ended earlier than predicted. When Ms. Pine's key witness didn't show up, the judge grudgingly adjourned the session in twenty-four hours, giving me an unexpected advantage I have no intentions to waste. My left thumb is already scrolling fast down the list of recent contacts, in search for Cary's name. Lost in my strategic planning, all the bustle around me is barely a murmur. I storm outside the courtroom to fill my partner in, but as I turn the corner of the hallway my whole body literally bumps into Will, and we both need an instant to restore our startled heartbeats.

"Hey. Sorry, I was…" … too absorbed in my thoughts to mind where I was going?

"Hey," he greets me, then looks away briefly, his attention drawn by the next round of people crowding the room I've just left.

Upon realizing we might be trading places, I point at the open doors. "Are you…" But when his calm gaze falls back on me instead, it's clear that's not the case.

"No, actually I was here for you," he hints.

"For me?"

"Returning a favor."

I stare at him, all my confusion and a mild concern held in a raised brow. I remember our conversations from yesterday, my warning about the Grants' issues and his implicit, honest admission that if he were in my shoes he wouldn't have done the same. My eyes demand for him to cut it short.

"Do you know Dominique Young?" he listens to my unvoiced plea.

"It's familiar." It's more than familiar actually, I still remember questioning him at the stand in a trial ended badly, but I let for Will to tip his hand.

"One of Bishop's right-hand men. He called this morning and set a meeting for tomorrow. I can't share the details of course but I'm sure neither of us wants him to become an LG client. For many reasons." As he confides the indiscretion, his gaze shifts restlessly on the faces of people walking past us.

The possible implications are uncountable, and none pleasant. We could lose one of our biggest clients and a quiver of panic runs down my spine at the thought. Maybe Bishop is paving his way out of our firm and we don't know yet? "Does Bishop know?" But the moment my concerns are verbalized, I realize it can't be the case. Of all his possible flaws, deceit is the last one that I can say.

"You don't really think I asked…"

Will's unbelieving, slightly amused look makes clear that there's another side of the coin, one he's neither willing nor compelled to deal with. "So… you warn me, but I have to warn Bishop?"

"We know Bishop has an adoration for you." His boyish, vaguely sly smile turns into a docile draw up and drop of shoulders. "Plus he's your client, not mine."

A raised brow and a mild chuckle perfectly express all my disbelief. "That's not a favor, it's handing off a hot potato."

"Let's say it was a half favor, then?"

A half favor. I guess it's better than nothing, especially after losing big the trial of one of Bishop's men a few weeks ago made the escape scenario a possibility; Bishop wasn't definitely pleased with that outcome.

What I can't fully grasp though is why LG is not jumping vulturous on him and if Diane is on board to begin with, because I have my doubts she'd waste such a chance on her own accord. But it's far from me to ask, so I simply accept his complicity with an appreciative smile that he returns before starting to walk past me. "You know, it would be your occasion to get Bishop back." I throw out there, just to see if my pebble lands somewhere...

At my words, he halts but only turns his head and smiles, "I know," then leaves.

To say I'm surprised by the man who was standing in front of me only seconds ago would be reductive. It's a man I don't know. Actually, it's a man I used to know well, it's just been a long while since I saw the upright, soft side of him last and it makes my heart glow more than it should to know it's still there.