ONE
One shoe on, one shoe off.
Kalinda paces in front of Trauma 1, trying not to think about it. The blood trailed across the floor, the leather oxford upturned on its side, the faint clicking of the gun as Jeffery Grant pleaded with it, hoping to put a bullet in his own head after the ones he had already sent through-
She takes a shaking breath, willing her dark lips closed.
But she can't get rid of it. Will, on his back, his head in the lap of the ASA, eyes half closed and clouded, seeing right through her, through her shaking hands and voice, mouth open as it tried to move wordlessly. Blood pumped around the fingers holding the wound on his throat closed.
Diane is staring at her cellphone a few feet behind her, leaning against the corner of the wall, but looking desperately about to slide down it at any moment. Kalinda glances back in through the Trauma 1 window, trying to catch a glimpse of who is on the operating table. There are too many people. Too many doctors and nurses crowded in the small room, barely visible through the plastic blinds.
She looks back at where the ASA was sitting, his head lolling to the side in shock, barely bandaged and still smeared with blood. She had taken his word for it...
They took him in there a few minutes ago.
But doubt bothers the back of her neck, where cold sweat is gathering against her jacket collar.
Diane is shaking her head at her phone, tears in her eyes as she glances down in confusion, denial. "But I… I just saw him a few hours ago," she protests to no one in particular, but maybe to herself, her gaze still on the device in her hand, as if it would give her an answer. As if he would call her and it would all be some mistake.
Kalinda feels the need to reply, to assure this broken woman that her fears are misplaced. "He was happy," she says softly, giving Diane a small smile. She moves her hands, gesturing, as if that would make her more relatable, more humane. "The case was working." Diane walks over to the window she's circling, peering in for a second before looking back down the hall. Kalinda follows her gaze, chewing on her lower lip as she sees the line of curtained cells.
A man with a badge walks out of one, and dread clenches around her chest. He's speaking on a phone, distracted, as he passes her. His movement causes the curtain to billow open and she sees the toe of a leather shoe hanging off the gurney.
It could be him.
It probably is him.
She feels momentarily frozen in place, part of her morbidly curious, another part of her terribly afraid. She takes a step forward, slowly, like a hand is holding the back of her jacket to keep her from falling over. She wishes she could fall over and the ground could swallow her up.
Oh, fuck, it's him, isn't it.
She can't see the other foot, covered in a white sheet, but she knows. Diane has started to follow her, watching her as she pushes the curtain aside to step into the artificial room. Her hands grip her own phone as she stares at the covered body, unable to close her jaw, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.
Diane must recognize the shoe, because she hears her gasp from a few feet behind the curtain. Kalinda doesn't need to reach up to pull the sheet down, her ears pounding with her own pulse, knowing that Will is the one lying in front of her. But she has to.
"No…" Diane says, her voice caught in a sob.
Kalinda reaches forward, the smell of metallic blood and bodily fluids hitting her strong. She rips back the sheet anyway. Blood has pooled onto the gurney and her chest lurches with her stomach threatening to upheave. She breathes out a shaky breath as Diane sobs behind her.
"Oh, God," the older woman says, unable to contain the emotion. The man in front of her is definitely dead, but it isn't him. It's not Will. It doesn't even look like him. "Then where?" Diane asks, trailing off as her voice cracks.
A sudden rush of personnel behind the blue curtain answers her question. Diane spins on her heel as Kalinda follows her back into the corridor. They're wheeling some sort of medical machine directly into Trauma 1.
"Patient coding!" someone yells from inside the room as the door swings open momentarily. In the flurry of movement, Kalinda sees his face. Stone white and still. Thin lips open around a clear tube. There is a haunting sound of a long beep. Her sightline of Will is cut off as a doctor moves infront of the table. A nurse sees her peeping through the window and immediately reaches back, snapping the shades shut, blocking them out. Kalinda swallows the lump in her throat.
"Is this really happening?" Diane asks beside her, voice distraught. "I thought…" She glances back at the curtain, where the gurney with the covered body is being removed by two men in hospital scrubs.
The Trauma 1 door swings open again as a doctor leaves, pulling his surgical mask off. But Kalinda doesn't pay attention to him, her ears distracted by the monotonous tone still coming from a machine by Will's head. A nurse is writing something on a clipboard.
Beside her, Diane reaches a hand to her mouth to muffle any sound. Kalinda reaches for the wall, supporting herself so that when her buckling knees give out, she won't fall to her face. More people exit the room until finally Kalinda sees only two nurses left. And then she knows that he's dead. Her mind pushes images of him at her. Smiling, laughing, frowning, yelling. She can't. She just can't. Her chest hurts and her fingers grip tightly on the window ledge.
Diane is immediately next to her, her eyes still glassy, and her lips tight. "Can you call her?" she asks, voice shaking.
Kalinda peers up, seeing her own reflection in Diane's grim expression. Her carefully coifed hair is still perfect, but mascara has smudged on her lower lids. Diane's hand comes to her shoulder. It is a task, one of the many handed to her by the managing partners. And suddenly, her mind is clearer.
Her fingers hit buttons by reflex, and she holds the phone to her ear. It rings. Four times. Five times. Someone with their face swollen in an allergic reaction rushes by with a small child.
"Hello, you've reached Alicia Florrick. Please leave a message and I will return your call."
She hangs up, chewing on her lip as she searches for another number. She had a feeling he would be close. It rings five times before going to voicemail. She swears inwardly, stubbornly hitting his contact slot again. This time he picks up on the second ring. "Kalinda?" Eli says briskly, clearly annoyed at her call. Kalinda raises her gaze to Diane's, nodding to indicate that she's reached him. Diane squeezes her shoulder and turns to leave, her heels clicking solemnly on the hospital linoleum.
"Uh, Eli…" She suddenly is dreading this, unsure of what to say. She feels her nose tingle as her eyes water again. "I… I need to talk to… Alicia." Her words feel like sludge on her tongue, struggling to say them.
Eli scoffs back at her, impatient and abrupt. "She's on the dais, she can't come now!" he says quickly, trying to shorten the call. "What's wrong?"
"I… I need to talk to her, Eli."
He pauses, then, "Kalinda! She's in the middle of the correspondents' luncheon-"
Kalinda stares at the end of the hallway, where two more ER doctors are walking. She barely notices them, her gaze unfocused. "Eli. Will's dead." Her voice sounds strange to her own ears. There's a long pause on the line, and Eli doesn't speak, so she continues. She just has to get it out. "There was a shooting in the courthouse… and he got caught up in the crossfire. I need to speak to Alicia."
"Yes," Eli whispers, uncharacteristically subdued. "Just a second."
Kalinda waits for him to transfer the phone, using the insides of her fingers to rid any excess water from her eyes. Liquid and black eyeliner comes off on her skin and she hurriedly wipes it off on her skirt. After what feels like 10 minutes, but is probably only 10 seconds, Alicia's soft voice comes on the line.
"Hello?"
Kalinda feels a new wave of tears threaten her eyes and she exhales shakily, trying to slow her racing pulse. She just has to speak. Just say something. Get her mouth and her vocal chords to work simultaneously. It shouldn't be this difficult. Not this… "Alicia. It's me."
"Yes. Kalinda. What's wrong?"
Her bottom lip quivers again and she can't even care. Her vision blurs as she watches two nurses converse at the station. She gives a short exhale. "Will's been shot." There. Three words out. But not the most important.
"What?" Alicia sounds confused, as if unsure as to which direction this was headed. "What-what do you mean?"
Kalinda blinks hard. "It was uh, gunfire… at the courthouse. And… he was shot."
"Will…" Alicia still doesn't seem sure. "I-I don't understand. By who?"
Anger and frustration pounds through Kalinda's teeth at the question. "His client… I'm in the hospital." She pauses, and Alicia must know what's coming next. She has to know. Kalinda glances back in the direction of Trauma 1, where Will's unmoving body rests. She can't control the shaking of her lips and hand as she clutches the phone tighter. "Will is dead," she finally whispers. There is a long pause. "I'm sorry… he was killed."
She can hear voices in the background. Laughter. Alicia's shuddered breath through the phone. "I… I… but I just saw him yesterday," Alicia whispers.
Kalinda glances over her shoulder, where Diane is talking with a police officer. Static crackles through his radio. "Alicia, I… I'll call you back. I need to speak to the police, and I will call you back… I'm sorry." There is no response, and Kalinda lowers the phone.
Just as she presses the call to end, Trauma 1 opens again and the woman she assumed was a nurse steps out. Her eyes catch the little gold embroidery on her blue scrubs. Dr. Vickerson. But it is what she hears from inside the room that sends both dread and joy to her chest, her stomach flip flopping against her ribs. It is a steady beep from the heart monitor.
Kalinda doesn't stop, but takes steps forward, practically pushing the doctor out of her way as she heads for the threshold. "Miss!" the doctor protests behind her. "Miss, you can't go in there!" She feels fingers close on her elbow, but she swings her arm back, her hand making contact with soft flesh. The doctor cries out in pain. Kalinda throws open the door to Trauma 1, and the nurse looks up from Will's vitals with alarm.
"You aren't allowed in here," she says sharply as Kalinda walks to Will's side. She stares down at his exposed chest, heavy stitches visible along his ribcage, stomach, and collarbone. There's a light bandage on the side of his throat. "Excuse me, you have to leave!" The nurse adds in frustration, grabbing Kalinda by the arms and trying to drag her back. There is blood staining the sheets and blue surgical cloth. The sink by the wall is still wet from the soap and water the doctors used to clean their arms and hands.
"But he was dead!" Kalinda whispers harshly, red eyes turning to the nurse. "I saw him… he was dead!" Her voice cracks with emotion and the nurse stares back at her. There is a moment's pause.
"For 12 minutes, 36 seconds, yes," the nurse replies finally, her voice soft. "Dr. Green declared him dead, he had no heartbeat, no blood pressure, but… we tried again."
"You did?" Kalinda asks, her voice harsh, her dark eyes staring down the young blonde nurse. Her blue eyes blink rapidly.
"Yes," the nurse replies. "I assisted Dr. Vickerson. Now, please, you need to leave. We need to stabilize him."
Kalinda allows the nurse to shove her back out in the hall, and she stumbles briefly in her tall boots. He is alive. How is this even possible. A rush of people head back into the room to replace her absence. Her head spins as she tries to come to terms with the change in events. And as she looks down the hall, she sees the flash of blonde hair and pristine violet dress coming toward her.
"Diane!" she yells. "Diane!"
