Author's Notes: I guess this is a bit of a follow up to a previous story I wrote called "Come On Get Higher." At the very least, it assumes knowledge of that story, so you might want to read that first if you haven't already. This is meant to take place a couple of weeks after the season one finale. There may very well be a part three to this little series…teanc09 tells me there should be. Keep your fingers crossed for that one folks…I am running out of ideas these days. Read on…and as always, I don't own The Newsroom.
There won't be any hearts breaking again
This is the part where I stay where I stand
Oh, I want to be where you are
Tell me you're with me so far
~Where You Are, Gavin DeGraw
Will tries to pretend that the only reason he has been staying at the office later and later these past couple of weeks is because of the hate mail and protests they got after that American Taliban piece. He tries to pretend that the fact that he sits in his office for another hour or two after the show has everything to do with Lonny's concerns about the crowds out in front of the building and nothing to do with his hope that Mackenzie will stop by and talk to him.
He tries to feign indifference to her constant pleas for information about that voicemail…and then he tries not to seem disappointed that she stops asking and looks so broken that it hurts. He tries all of these things and fails miserably, because his resolve has always failed him where Mackenzie McHale is concerned.
Speak of the devil, he thinks, as her soft footsteps outside his door alert him to her presence.
"Hi" she whispers, entering his office without knocking. She always enters his office without knocking. The same way she entered his heart without asking.
"Hi" he replies. "What are you still doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing Will. Go home, get some sleep. You look like you need it." Her voice is quiet but strong.
Coming from anyone else that would have sounded like an insult, but from her it didn't. He didn't know if it was the way she spoke or if he just knew her that well…knew that she never meant anything by the little jabs and barbs that slipped out of her mouth. She was, in some ways, like a small child who spoke before thinking. It could be dangerous, but he had always found it endearing. That in a world where most people censored their thoughts, particularly around someone as well-known as he was, he could always count on Mackenzie to speak her mind.
"Thanks, I think" he told her.
"You know what I meant" she said. And he did.
"Are you heading out?" he asked her. She paused for a moment, as if considering her answer. He hated that she did that around him these days. Stop doing that, he wanted to yell. That isn't you Mackenzie. You never used to hold anything back from me. I miss it.
"I guess" she responded, looking down at her feet.
"Did you need something Mac?" He watched her make her way into his office and sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Yes, I need my friend back" she told him, looking straight into his eyes and maybe into his soul.
"I'm not sure I know what you…" but she cut him off before he could finish.
"You do know what I'm talking about so stop acting like you don't" she practically shouted as she stood and began pacing the room.
He'd been waiting for this moment for two weeks. Since he got out of the hospital he'd been waiting for the meltdown and here it was…finally. He really needed a drink for this, unfortunately that was still on his list of forbidden activities. He reached into his desk and found what he was looking for. The doctor had never said anything about marijuana.
"If you can't tell me what was on the fucking voicemail then at least be my friend again Will" she told him, standing near the windows and looking out at the city.
"I didn't realize we weren't friends Mackenzie" he told her, reaching for the cigarette lighter on the bookcase behind him.
She turned when she heard his familiar intake of breath…the noise that first drag off a cigarette or a joint makes.
"What the hell are you doing Will?" she asked, stunned into immobility.
"I thought it was pretty self-explanatory Mac. Lighter, joint, faintly aromatic scent in the air" he mumbled, enjoying the moment or two she spent sputtering and looking for a witty response.
"You aren't supposed to eat spicy foods or drink alcohol, but somehow you think illicit drugs are a good idea?" she asked, watching him lean back in his chair and blow smoke toward the ceiling.
"There's a reason they call it medical marijuana Mackenzie. Maybe it will cure what ails me."
She slid down the wall and came to rest on the floor, legs out in front of her and head in her hands. It was the pose of defeated, exasperated Mackenzie and he hated that he was the one who had done this to her. He stood and made his way over to her and lowered himself to the floor. God, he hoped he would be able to get up later.
He handed her the joint and watched as she debated her options.
"Are we really doing this again Will?" she asked, looking at the blunt between her fingers.
"Why the hell not Mac? We worked through a lot of shit the last time we did. Maybe every once in a while we need to dumb ourselves down a little and not allow our over-analytical minds to examine every fucking pro and con. Let's stop looking before we leap for a change."
He must have said something right because she brought the joint to her mouth and inhaled deeply.
"Think if you get high enough you might be able to repeat what was on that message?" she asked.
"You never know Mackenzie, you never know."
"Is this how we're going to be from now on Will? Only able to talk if we're high? Because I've got to tell you that is seriously fucked up" she told him, placing the joint back in his hand.
"We talk all the time Mackenzie."
"About the show, or some vaguely interesting article in The New York Times, or what the hell Don was thinking when he aired a story on the McRib sandwich. We never talk about anything that really matters anymore Will."
"You don't think the McRib matters Mackenzie?" he teased, inhaling once more.
"Fuck you Will" she told him, and started to pull herself up off the floor.
"Sit Mackenzie" he instructed and grabbed her arm to pull her back down. She tumbled against his side.
"I'm not a dog. Please do not shout orders at me."
"I'm sorry. Please don't go Mac" he pleaded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Her head came to rest against his.
"Are you sure you're not sorry I came back?" she asked quietly.
"Absolutely."
"Sometimes I am" she whispered.
"What?" he asked, more than a little shocked. After all, she was the one who made the decision to come back. He had been totally blindsided.
She took the joint from his hand and inhaled deeply before speaking again.
"I knew it wouldn't be all roses and sunshine but I thought, by now, it would be different Will."
"Different how?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"I didn't think we'd still be pussy-footing around all our issues nearly a year and a half later."
He loved how blunt she was. Always had…and she only got more candid when she was high.
"What do you want Mackenzie?" he asked, pulling her hand up to his face so he could take another hit off the joint that was pinched between her fingers.
"The truth."
"About?"
"What the hell we're doing Will. Like I said, I want my friend back. If we're never going to be anything more than that again I'd at least like to have my friend back. And if we can't have that, then I should leave."
Leave. She said it so plainly and yet with such conviction and finality that his heart leapt in his chest. Damn it, that is exactly what he didn't want.
"Don't" he said pleadingly.
"Why not? Aren't we just torturing ourselves here? We're within inches of each other every day and we've barely touched. I think I am more intimate with my doorman than I am with you these days Will."
"What exactly are you doing with your doorman Mac?" he teased, trying desperately to inject some humor into this conversation.
"Nothing. Can't say I'm doing any better with you though can I?"
"Twist the knife a little more, why don't you Mac?" he said wearily.
"You act like you have no choice in that Will! Who the hell is holding all the cards here? It sure the fuck isn't me."
Damn it Mac that's it, he thought. He turned toward her and grabbed her face between both his hands and kissed her until he could barely breathe.
"Wow" she said, staring ahead dumbly. She took another deep drag off the joint still perched precariously in her fingers.
"Please tell me you haven't done that with the doorman?" he asked snidely.
"Nope. I think I'd remember that. I also think he'd be a lot more enthusiastic about holding the door open for me if I did."
"Probably. Let's not test the theory."
"What the hell was that Will?"
"Has it been that long Mac? That was a kiss."
"It's been about five years actually."
"Don't try to play innocent Mac. I was here for the whole Wade Campbell debacle, remember? I hardly think you've been celibate for five years."
"Didn't say I had been. But I haven't felt a kiss down to my toes since the last time I kissed you. I missed that" she said longingly.
"Me too." And it was true. Nobody compared to Mackenzie…in every way. He had never kissed anyone the way he kissed her. He had never fucked anyone the way he fucked her. He had never loved anyone the way he loved her. God, how he missed that…missed all of it.
She handed the joint back to him and pulled his free hand into her lap. She rubbed her smooth fingertips along his calloused ones. He shivered in response.
"Playing the guitar a lot these days?" she asked.
"Keeps my mind off things."
"What things?"
"Mostly you" he told her, grabbing her hand and looking at her fingers.
"Biting your nails a lot these days?" he asked.
"Keeps my mind off things" she mimicked.
"No it doesn't. You only do it when you're nervous or upset. You have sex when you want to take your mind off things" he told her knowingly.
"That only worked with you Billy. And it sure as hell wouldn't work now."
"Why not?"
"You are what is on my mind these days. And you and I aren't having sex so…" she trailed off.
"So, you're fucked. Is that what you're trying to say?" he replied laughingly.
"Yeah, I guess I am. I am totally screwed" she giggled.
"At least we can laugh at it Mackenzie."
"I don't know how much longer I can laugh at this situation Billy."
She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed deeply.
"Me neither."
"So, what should we do?"
"Finish this joint and hope it delivers unto us some wisdom" he intoned seriously.
"Was that in the Bible?" she asked mockingly.
"Yeah, the Book of Blunt."
Mackenzie laughed until she was crying…literally.
"Mac?" he asked concerned as he watched the tears stream down her face.
"What the fuck are we doing to ourselves Billy? I don't laugh like this with anyone else. I don't talk like this with anyone else. I'm not me with anyone else Will. I just want to be me again. I want to be us again. When will I have done my penance? Tell me what to do and I'll do it, please Billy?" she practically begged.
He hated to see her like this. Once, he would have delighted in it. Reveled in the fact that she was totally fucking miserable without him. Oh who the hell was he kidding? Even at his lowest moments, in the first few days after she left, he wouldn't have wanted her to beg. He never wanted to reduce her to this.
"Don't Mackenzie. Don't beg me for an answer I don't have. I wish I knew what it would take. That's like asking someone who has a pathological phobia of something to tell you what it is that will make them unafraid. I don't know what it will take for me to forget him" he told her, refusing to say the name Brian Brenner out loud even one more time. He hated that he had brought the man back into their lives. That his own cruelty had set the stage for that ridiculous magazine article.
"Maybe that's the answer Will" she whispered.
"What?" he asked, totally clueless as to what solution he may have stumbled upon.
"We deal with it like you deal with a phobia" she said.
Mackenzie got up and started pacing the room. Her eyes alight with newfound passion and discovery…and maybe a little bit stoned too.
"We deal with what like you deal with a phobia?" he asked, totally confused by her current line of thinking.
"Your fear of my betrayal. We deal with it like a phobia. I had a schoolmate once who was deathly afraid of the dentist. Wouldn't go for years. Her parents were terrified her fucking teeth were going to fall out, but then they found this amazingly patient old dentist who worked with the girl for months. Every week she would go into his office. One week he would just let her sit in the chair, the next he would look in her mouth and so on. This went on for months until she was finally able to have an actual exam."
"So what, you want to therapeutically expose me to you?" he asked skeptically.
"Exactly!" she exclaimed.
"Mac, we've been working together for months. I think I already have been therapeutically exposed to you" he reminded her.
"No you haven't, not really" she said. "You've been exposed to Executive Producer Mackenzie and maybe even dear, old friend Mackenzie. But you haven't tried to reacquaint yourself with girlfriend Mackenzie….lover Mackenzie" she whispered this last part, bending at the knees and kneeling in front of him.
She looked at him so intently that he felt it through his entire body. She was begging him to give her a chance. She really believed she had come up with a solution. How could he break her heart all over again?
"Oh Mac, sweetheart. I can't do you and I halfway. There's no way to tread carefully where you're concerned. If I'm in…I'm in all the way. Don't you know that's what I'm afraid of? I won't survive losing you again" he whispered, running his finger along her jaw.
"Then don't. Don't lose me again Will. Can I try something?" she asked hesitantly.
"What?"
"This" she told him, and settled herself in his lap. She curled up and rested her head against his chest. "I missed this so much Will. I have never felt as safe anywhere as I've felt curled up against you. Please don't make me leave" she pleaded.
"I'm not making you go anywhere Mac" he told her wrapping his arms around her. She took the joint from his hand and dropped it in a day-old cup of coffee sitting nearby.
"You are Will. If we can't figure this out, I can't stay" she said.
"Why?"
"I'll never move on if I still see you every day."
"Me neither" he said quietly.
"So, what do we do now?"
"Therapeutic exposure, huh?" he asked her.
"Actually, it's called desensitization" she explained.
"I will never be able to be desensitized to you Mackenzie" he whispered. He heard her take a deep breath and then let it out.
"The goal isn't for you to be desensitized to me Billy. It's for you to be desensitized to associating me with betrayal."
"Oh."
"I need you to associate me with something positive again" she whispered.
"I never stopped. I associate you with everything positive and just one thing that isn't."
"I know Will, but that one thing is standing in the way of everything else."
"I know" he said sadly.
"Look at me" she said, tilting his head down to hers. "I'm sorry" she whispered, and reached up to grasp his face in her hands. She kissed his forehead.
"I'm sorry" she whispered again, and kissed each of his eyelids.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, and kissed his right cheek.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, and kissed his left cheek.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, and kissed his mouth.
"Mac" he said brokenly.
"No, listen to me Billy. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry" she whispered again and kissed the tears that had begun to leak from his eyes.
"I know you are" he told her, but still not looking her in the eyes.
"Tell me again" she said, tilting his head up to look at her.
"I know you're sorry Mackenzie."
"But do you believe me?" she asked, unsure of his answer.
"I do."
"Can you forgive me?" she asked haltingly.
"I can."
"Can we start over?" she begged.
"No" he told her, and watched her face fall. "We can't start over Mackenzie. The past will always be there. Not just the bad though. Would you want to forget everything else? I wouldn't. But we can start again Mac. I would really like to start again with you."
"Me too Will. Me too."
"Can we go home now Mac?" he asked tiredly, leaning his forehead against hers. She smiled tentatively at him and he remembered the million different ways that smile had lit up his life before. Maybe it was time to let it heal him.
"Where is home Billy?"
"Wherever you are."
More Notes: Condolences go out to KatyCat and a big get well to L.M. Also, thanks for the input teanc09. Part Three (hopefully) coming soon?