A/N- Warning: if you have a problem with theorizing about the afterlife, this fic isn't for you. If you want a happy ending with a post 5x15 fic, this IS for you. If you want to be a glass case of emotion, this fic is allllll for you. Thank you very much. I am going to go scream into a pillow now.
It hurts, at first.
It hurts more than anything he's ever experienced. He can't breathe. He can't breathe and it's not like that time he accidentally inhaled too much powdered sugar on a bet in fifth grade, it's drowning and gurgling but there's no water, and he's trying to talk but it's too soft, just rasping. "Please," he's trying to say. He doesn't know what he's begging for, exactly.
He's not prepared for it. He's not prepared to go.
Because he still hasn't been back to Paris, and there's the new branch in New York, and he's got Lily's seventh birthday gift waiting to be wrapped on his kitchen counter. His niece's seventh birthday is next week.
This is going to ruin it. God, it stings, burns, and he doesn't know how he's forming coherent thought, but he is.
And Sarah, Sarah's going to tell him how stupid he is, how dangerous she's always known being a defense attorney is, and Aubrey- his little sister. She's a woman, but she's still soft and breakable and this-
They'll be okay, though. They have each other. They still have Mom. Mom still has them. Aubrey is going to marry that guy, Dan? Dave? Dave. And he'll be a good husband. She'll be okay. She'll be fine.
And Diane- Diane will be fine. Diane is so strong; she is the bedrock of the firm. How will she take down his name, though? How will she do that, and- but no. No. Diane will be fantastic. Diane has Kurt and Diane will push through. Diane will have K, won't she? Diane and K.
K won't leave, if he dies. K won't leave.
They'll be fine, and he's got nothing, really.
He's a bachelor.
He doesn't have kids to leave behind. He doesn't have a wife. God, he's pathetic. There's not even a dog. He's lying in his own blood and he's dying and he's pathetic because he's never had happiness. No, that's a lie.
But he did.
But he did.
And that's how he remembers, stark. Once he remembers, it's all he thinks about. The focal point. His world. And this- this he regrets, and the words come, and he know what he needs to say before it ends. It's ending, and he has to, he has to tell her, he has to make Finn tell her-
"Tell Alicia Florrick," he hisses. The blood on his tongue makes him want to vomit, but he doesn't have the strength to retch. He doesn't have the strength, and he grabs at Finn's hand, because Finn needs to pay attention to the way his lips move, he has to, "Tell Alicia I forgive her. Forgive it, and we were good. Tell Leesh, tell her it's okay. And I loved her. I love her. I love-"
But then he stops, because the pain is too much. So much pain. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them Finn is blurry.
And this is it. He knows he's dying, and he doesn't have time.
And he starts crying when he realizes all she's going to get is that stupid voicemail he left her. She'll get the voicemail and he'll already be dead and-
That stupid fucking kid-
And-
He's sobbing, but Finn can't hear him, and the tears just aren't there, but he's crying.
This is it, and he knows it, and they aren't going to get there in time. The paramedics won't make it in time. Alicia. Alicia Cavanaugh, not Florrick. He always hated Florrick. And he never got to tell her. He never got to make her listen and just stop her and kiss her because he needed to man up, he needed to explain to her that she was the most beautiful, attractive, stubborn, infuriating woman he'd ever met- that he'll ever know- and that he loved her. That he loves her, and he wants her, and-
Her eyes. That night. That night in New York. Her eyes had been so gorgeous and green, striking, and her hair. Her hair all around his face. The smell of her, and her laughter. Alicia laughing, and Alicia's lips. Her taste.
And at Georgetown.
That first night, that first night at the pool party. He'd seen her and she'd been wearing some kind of red sundress and he'd thought she was-
He'd thought she was perfect, and he hadn't even known her.
Alicia.
Alicia.
A-li-cia.
"Tell her I'm sorry," he tries, but he knows Finn can't hear him. "Tell Alicia she's beautiful. She needs to be told. People like being told."
The throbbing, the tearing- it intensifies. He wants to scream for how bad it hurts, and how he cringes, but then- but then he feels her. He sees her. She's here. She's here, and he can't see her face, but he can feel her hands on his face. They're so soft, so gentle.
Her voice. It's Alicia, and he hopes Jeffrey won't hurt her. He hopes she's safe, he hopes Finn will tell her what he said a few moments ago. A part of Will is grinding at the idea of Alicia having to see all this blood, but what is she saying? What is she-
He focuses on the sound of her voice. Husky, low. He remembers her using this tone among white sheets. Cradling.
"Will," she whispers, her lips the same shade as all the blood. "Will, it's okay. You can let go. You can rest now. It's okay. I know. I know."
She doesn't kiss him, but he can feel her kiss on his lips. Branding. He can feel her all around him, and he almost smiles.
But he just doesn't have the strength, and then-
The pain he's in leaves him in a gust. Like the swooping of air as it leaves a balloon. It feels like floating, but his limbs are still heavy- no, his mind. His mind is floating.
It hurts, and then it doesn't.
Dying isn't so bad, actually. It's the before part that's agonizing.
In reality, death is quicker than falling asleep.
The next time Will closes his eyes, he's gone.
/
The truth is, it takes him a while to calm down. A while to adjust. He expects angels and pearly gates as much as he expects nothing. He expects fire and dragons because of all the people he's wronged, all the lies he's told. He expects Hell because he's been a coward. He expects Heaven because a part of him still believes in the joy of Alicia's smile. He still believes in good, but then-
Well, he can't really describe what the other place is like.
It just is.
There's no pain, no sorrow. But he can still think and he knows. At first, he recognized all he left behind, he knew it existed. But he didn't grieve, because he didn't spend too much time dwelling. There were so many new things to take in.
Granny was the first person he saw, and his Dad. Dad apologized for the terrible things left behind, for the suicide, but didn't need to, because it was so good to just hug his father again. His father said he was proud of him, and Will just felt- he just felt fulfilled. To hear that from his dad. His Dad. And they were there and it was good. Aunt Jo and Uncle Lenny.
And Marcus- Marcus was his best friend in high school- who overdosed at twenty seven.
There are so many people here, but then Will realized.
He realized, and then it was like a plague, his only focus.
Alicia.
And she's still stuck. She's still over there.
What's happening? How did she find out? What about the firm? How did-
He started asking these questions, began to yell. He waved his arms and nobody was answering him and he watched his Granny lean over to his father and eye him like he was the one who was crazy. Crazy for being dead.
"Most don't come to that quick," she murmured, over Will saying, "Can't we just get a glimpse of what's happening? I have to know what's happening to her. Please. I'll do anything. Please. Alicia. Alicia. Take me to her."
"No, Mother," Dad responded, and Will kept babbling, went to just a drone of her name. "It's understandable."
His father had frowned. His father had looked sad.
"That's his love."
/
There's no sorrow, no sickness.
But for a while there, there's actually nothing. There's nothing, and he feels empty, and he doesn't want to respond to anyone, to anything. And he knows she's like this, too. Despite the months of discourse, despite all the stupid arguments that are beginning to fade and lose their potent bite in his mind, he knows she's hurting at the exact same moment he is.
He can feel her, sometimes.
He can't even remember what he was mad at her about.
Why didn't they talk for months and months? Why did he yell at her? Why did he push his things off his desk and get so angry? Nothing that she did- there was no wrong in the world that could have deserved that kind of punishment. He gave up on her. He gave up on her, and he can feel her hurting. He can feel it.
There's nothing, then.
There's emptiness, apathy. He hears others worry over him, hears others try and goad him out of his stoic wall. But it's not darkness, not wallowing- just- just-
Waiting. He's waiting. He's quiet, and waiting, and knowing.
He's thinking about Alicia. He's thinking about her every moment he can.
He's waiting for her, and then-
Then, a man approaches him.
A man he's never met wakes him up.
/
"Are you Will Gardner?"
He glances to his right. He's at the Mall in DC, today. It's similar to a quiet Sunday afternoon, but there's no people. There's no one but him and this guy- this-
Well.
This other dead person.
Will sees him as older, but knows there's no such thing as age in this other place. Like Dad. Like a dad. "Yes," he responds, inclining his head. He props himself up on a wall and looks on, wonders if he settles for uninterested, this person will leave him alone. It doesn't work that way.
"I've been meaning to speak to you," he goes on, no nonsense. "Oh, for maybe…twenty years. You knew my daughter."
"Georgetown?" Will grits, tries to play it off because even though it can't hurt, it isn't something he wants to share to everyone. "I mean no disrespect, but I met a lot of young women at Georgetown, sir."
But then something catches his eye. It's the man's smile.
It's that smile. And even if the man has brown eyes and light, sandy hair, he knows that grin, he knows-
"You're her father," Will mouths. "You're Alicia's dad."
"I am," the man says, proud and loving, and Will feels something akin to hope, to pure joy. "I was hoping you could give me some details. You know, of course, that we get vague outlines of our loved one's lives, but-
"No, no," Will interrupts, "I know. Sure. Absolutely. She's- Alicia is great. Your daughter has turned into a very independent, successful, beautiful woman."
"Tell me all about her," Alicia's dad half pleads, and Will does.
Will does.
/
/
/
/
The first time he sees Veronica Loy again, she hugs him. At peace, a sly narrow to eyes that are identical to Alicia's. It pangs something within him, but that might just be the way she smack him upside. "I thought I told you to stop being polite about it. For a lawyer, you sure were and probably are an idiot."
/
/
/
He comforts Kurt, when Kurt goes before Diane. The man's tough as nails façade crumbles when he realizes Diane is all alone in the big house they bought for retiring, by the lake. Will explains to Kurt that if he concentrates hard enough, he can feel Diane through some unspeakable bond, can comfort her. Kurt says it's all witchcraft.
But secretly, it helps more than words could convey.
/
/
/
It is years before he sees her again, and Will wouldn't want it any other way. In fact, in Will's mind, it's still too early. It's a Tuesday in March, days before the twentieth anniversary of his death. It doesn't feel like twenty years, because he still remembers the taste of her skin, the last words she spoke to him. She's thrived, those twenty years.
She's lived, and been State's Attorney, and ran for congress, and became a grandmother. She's loved a few more times, too. She's been happy, and he wishes she had longer. He wishes the world could feel her light for a longer amount of time, but-
Well, he won't lie.
He's been waiting patiently for this moment, and now that it's here, he can't stand still. "Hey, hey," his mother whispers to him, fussing with his bowtie. "Let me straighten it just right."
Will clears his throat nervously, tries to keep his excitement at bay. "Veronica, are you sure you don't want to be the first person she sees when-
"No siree," Veronica shakes her head, snorting. "Are you kidding me? This is too good."
Will turns to look at Alicia's father, the man gazing at him with a fond smile. Alicia is his daughter, and it's been years. Maybe he would be the more comforting presence, maybe-
"No, son," the older man answers the question before it's even asked. "Nothing on God's green Earth would make me happier than for you to show up Peter Florrick like man I know you are. Go get her. Bring her in."
He knows it's time. He can feel it in his soul.
He can feel it, and he turns to leave, shooting once last glance at the people waiting for Alicia. "I'll…," Will takes a deep, sure breath.
"I'll bring her home."
/
She's a dream in white, opens a door covered in moss, almost like something out of The Secret Garden. Her expression is one of curiosity, eyes bright and open. It shocks her, how the pain is all gone. Her dark hair hangs in spring curls, and she feels of it. She can't believe she has hair again. Alicia looks down at what she's wearing, how soft the material is on her skin. Red, shimmering flowers embroidered into the fabric, and they almost look real. It's so beautiful, and she reaches out to touch it, to wonder at it, until-
Something moves, out of her peripheral vision. There's roses, pinks and yellows and oranges, and green, so much green, and-
Alicia's face slackens in astonishment.
She recognizes him immediately, as if twenty years have not passed. She spent her last moments thinking of his face. It's no wonder she'd know it now. And she's missed him. God, she's missed him, and she thought there was nothing, after death, but look at him. Alicia cries, but not tears of sadness, as that's not allowed. She cries because she's happy.
And he smiles at her, dashing and dapper in his tuxedo. She's dreamt of that smile on nights when she awoke lonely, and he's here, with her. Alicia picks up her dress, and thinks to herself, Jesu- Jeez, Jeez Louise, this is something out of a fairytale, this is-
She runs as fast as she can, and it's strange, because she's barefoot.
Before she fell asleep that last time, she would have never dreamed of running again. It would have hurt too much. But now it's like she's flying, and she cries out in exhilaration at the feeling before-
He lifts her into his arms, lifts her up when she throws her arms around his neck-
And they kiss, and it's perfect.
It's perfect.
"Will," she gasps into his mouth, some talisman of faith and trust.
"Oh, Alicia. Alicia," he goes, letting her down and leaning his forehead against hers, as if his world has righted itself too.
"You waited," she whispers when she comprehends, eyes wide and in love. God, she loves him. She will tell him every day.
"I spent half my life waiting to see you again," he acknowledges, but is only half joking. "I figured, might as well wait in death, too. Figured you're pretty much worth it."
He's trying to pass it off, but there's recognition in Alicia's eyes, blossoming and emerald in the lively garden. Their garden. He doesn't like the look on her face, doesn't like the way she goes, "Will, I'm so sorry for everything I ever-
"No," he cuts her off, and then to prove his point, captures her lips in a deep, soothing kiss. When she breaks away breathless, he tells her, very quietly, "It was all worth it. This, here, right now, it's worth all of it."
Alicia purses her quivering mouth, taking in every nuance of his face, his being. "All I know is," she whispers, even fainter. Only for his ears. "I never want to be apart from you again."
It's something; the way those words mean everything to him. Everything.
"Here, we can have that. Here, we can be together-," Will leans in to kiss her lips again, stroke his thumb over the curve of her delicate jaw, everything, everything, everything.
"-forever."