A/N: I haven't written any real "decent" A/W story in a long while. I started this project long ago (hint: it's set during Will's suspension) but never finished for lack of concrete ideas and I cherished this story too much to content myself with some crap. So I hope I didn't lose my magical touch along the way.


Disclaimer:
The sonnet used in this story is "Second Song" and belongs to Philip Sydney
Characters belong to CBS and its writers
Original idea by Ladybug_Josie (I'll never stop thanking you!)
Everything else comes from my fervid imagination and from my love for Alicia and Will.

The story consists of three chapters (prologue included).


PROLOGUE

The steady patter of raindrops on the bedroom window promises a dreary start to the day. With an apathetic manner, Will slowly sits up, rubbing his face with one hand. The unset alarm clock says it's past 9 in the morning. When did he start waking up so late? He is in his second week of suspension and already feels so miserable. Used to waking up at 6, his body clock is apparently starting to adjust to the sweet delightful idleness. He wonders who invented this stupid idiom, because for him it's all but sweet and delightful. He misses his office, his firm, his job, his lawyers… well, one in particular. Alicia. Two months after their breakup he's still wondering if he'll ever get over it and over her.

He stands up and gazes through the window. Under a grey and very wet sky, Chicago is teeming with worker bees all deep into their business, making him feel like a convict. Kalinda is supposed to be there in the afternoon to brief him about a couple of cases and make him feel like he's part of the bureaucracy. Until then, he has to find something to do.

Discarded, for today, the chance of a walk in the park, dead and buried - probably forever - the chance of a nice basketball match with his former 'friends'; he doesn't know what to do with himself. Watching some old movie? Not in the mood. Cooking something? For who? His mind goes to that night he prepared a romantic dinner for Alicia. Damn. He shakes his head in a desperate and useless attempt to get rid of that image. He misses her so much that it's sometimes unbearable. If the first weeks have been somewhat decent with his mind busy at work, being at home with nothing to do or to think about is making it more painful day after day.

Wandering aimless in the living room, he finds himself staring at his huge bookshelf. He never really realized how many books he'd gathered over the years. Some of them, he doesn't even remember reading at all.

Grazing the covers, one by one, his forefinger stops on an ancient-looking book. It looks strangely familiar and captivating although, for the life of him, he can't remember the reason. He gently takes it and, slowly, he lets himself sink down onto the couch, before reading on the cover. Philip Sidney. "Astrophil and Stella". He calmly starts to flip through the pages.