A/N: Happy weekend, everyone! This is a collaboration between me and the ever-so-wonderful MayAnderson19, who has become a dear friend over the past (almost) month! I went to her with this totally crazy fic idea and asked her if I was nuts, and somehow, she didn't think so and was totally on board with it! So I asked if she'd start writing with me, and here we are. :)
This is an alternate end to Season 4/beginning to Season 5. It starts in what would be early S5 and there will be flashbacks to late S4. It will be a mixture of canon events you'll recognize and AU events you won't, so we hope you'll stick around to see where it goes!
The title, which was May's idea, is taken from the Sam Smith song "Like I Can." It's an awesome Willicia song and we highly recommend checking it out.
I think that's all for now. Onward with the story!
Alicia Florrick reaches for the stack of papers in front of her and studies her hands in a way she's never studied them before.
Her nails are polished, as usual; a dark cherry red this time, instead of the slightly-boring-but-definitely-professional neutrals for which she typically opts.
She notices the tiny scratch on the back of her right hand, probably from a cardboard moving box.
But what really strikes her is how naked her left hand looks, because there's no longer a shiny diamond ring on it.
The papers in front of her are crisp, fresh-off-the-copier packets with automatic staples placed perfectly in the left-hand corner. There are three copies there, so she unstacks them and lays them out side by side. She folds her hands neatly and looks up at the men sitting across from her.
Peter.
Eli.
And some lawyer's name she hasn't bothered to remember.
She looks to her right, where Cary sits, articulately stating that "his client" (it's her) is amenable to the terms of this agreement and is prepared to sign "them" (those packets in front of her) and asks if "your client" (Peter) is ready to do the same.
The other lawyer whose name she can't remember takes entirely too long to say "yes," but as soon as he does, Alicia picks up the pen resting in front of her. She can't decide if she should scribble her signature, as she's become accustomed to doing over the years, or if she wants this last time to be neat and perfect, as it used to be, years ago, right after they were married and all she wanted to do was scrawl her new last name at every chance she got.
She's never thought about her signature this much, and it's a little unnerving.
She settles on a legible signature somewhere in between a scribble and perfect cursive; this is the last time she will officially sign her name as Alicia Florrick.
Cary reaches over and takes the packets from her, passing them to Peter's lawyer. Peter doesn't give a second thought to how his signature looks; he signs them, he looks up at Alicia, and that's that.
The divorce is final.
Alicia takes a seat on a park bench and pauses to reflect on all the things that have led to this moment; no more ring, no more husband, and a last name she can no longer consider her own.
She wonders exactly when it all began; if it began before it even started. If it began at Georgetown, on that humid August night when she met William Paul Gardner. Had her life plan been decided that early on? And why did the universe allow her to deviate from that plan by marrying Peter?
Alicia doesn't have the answers to any of these questions; she just knows she's dug quite a hole in the dirt with the point of her shoe.
She reaches for the phone in the front pocket of her purse. She unlocks it, scrolling through a few e-mails and texts before lifting it to her ear. He answers on the first ring.
"Hey. You okay?" are the first words out of his mouth.
"It's...over," she says, the words spilling out. It's the first time she's said it out loud, and somehow, that makes it all the more real.
"Want me to meet you somewhere? The usual place?"
Alicia laughs, which feels good in her throat. "Will, it's ten in the morning. I can't drink tequila at ten in the morning, especially not in a public place."
Will chuckles. "Yeah, you're probably right. Okay. Breakfast, then? At that place you like on State, the one with the pancakes?"
"Are you sure you can get away? I don't..." she pauses.
"The benefit of being me is that I get to make my own schedule," he replies. "And I am scheduling myself out of the office for a little while. So are you."
"But, the..." she starts, thinking of the stack of files on her desk.
"It's fine," he reassures her. "You finalized your divorce today. I don't think you want to be buried in cases and witness prep this afternoon. You don't have court until Monday. You can take the day off."
"Okay. Pancakes," she affirms. "Pancakes sound good."
Alicia arrives first, so she asks to be seated in the corner. The hostess leads her to a squishy red booth, places the menus on the table, and smiles at Alicia as she shrugs off her suit jacket. "Coffee?"
"Yes, for both of us, thank you," Alicia responds, smiling in kind.
"Cream and sugar?"
"Just cream."
The waitress returns moments later with two giant, steaming mugs of coffee. Alicia wraps her hands around her mug, thankful for the warmth. Despite the summer heat outside, her hands feel cold and exposed. She pours three creamers in Will's mug and four in her own, and begins to stir, watching the cream swirl into the black coffee until it's that perfect lightness.
It's not long before Will slides into the booth across from her. The moment she sees his smiling face, every tense muscle in her body relaxes; every aching bone in her body stops hurting.
"Hey," he says simply, squeezing her hand quickly.
"Hey," she replies, offering him a weak smile. "I ordered you coffee."
"With three creamers," he observes, and shakes his head. "You always remember."
The waitress comes back and asks if they're ready to order. Alicia looks at Will uncertainly, not sure if he's ready, but he indicates to the waitress that he'll be ready by the time Alicia finishes ordering.
"I'll have the blueberry pancakes," she says, pointing to them on the menu. "With bacon. And could I get a side of strawberries, please?"
"Sure thing," the waitress says, scribbling down her order. "And for you?"
Will scrutinizes the menu. "I'll have the french toast. With bacon. And strawberries sound good." He smiles at Alicia.
"I'll put that right in," she says as she picks up their menus. "Need more coffee, dear?"
Alicia hadn't realized how quickly she'd downed the mug in front of her. "Oh. Yes, please."
After the waitress returns with a full mug, Will studies Alicia as she methodically opens four tiny creamers and stirs them into the coffee. He doesn't want to think it's surprising that she looks well, because to him, she always looks perfect; but she doesn't look tired, or worn down, or exhausted. She doesn't look unhappy. She looks a little uncertain, but not unhappy.
Will knows the road before them is going to be full of bumps and probably of bruises, but he's ready. He's ready to face it all head-on, because he knows that at the end of it, he'll get to be with Alicia. For real. For good.
"Everything go okay?" he asks quietly, not wanting to reveal their topic of discussion.
Alicia nods. "Everything is signed, no problems. Cary is making sure everything is filed."
"Grace and Zach?"
"They seem to be okay," she says, with a shrug. "Zach is taking it a little easier than Grace, but that's to be expected."
"And everything is being kept quiet?"
She nods again, now speaking in hushed tones. "There were a couple rumors floating around after the paperwork was initially filed, but I don't think anyone honestly believed them. It would be stupid, right, just after he got elected?"
Will chuckles. "Yeah. Pretty stupid."
Alicia stares into her coffee for several moments before looking back at Will. "I'm gonna need some time," she says, biting her lip as she tries to hold back the tears.
Will's voice is so compassionate, so sympathetic when he says he knows, he understands.
"I'll give you as much time as you need, Leesh. I'm not going anywhere."
Their plates of food arrive, so they change the subject to things much more lighthearted. Will tries to interest her in some baseball talk, which she attempts to soak in because she knows it's important to him. She talks about her plans to take Zach and Grace to the beach next month, a mini-vacation for the three of them. And of course they talk a little about work, about Alicia's upcoming week in court, how to prepare for voir dire on Monday, what to do for witness prep. She offers him suggestions on his current case, and suddenly it's like they're back at Georgetown, two bright-eyed kids excited about the law and about the world of opportunities before them.
After she finishes her pancakes, Will offers to stay with her, to walk with her, but Alicia declines.
"I think I need some time alone?" she says, more like a question than a statement. He nods; it's for the best.
"Get some rest," he adds, as he stands up from the booth. He reaches for her jacket and hands it to her; she folds it over her arm and throws her purse over the opposite shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," she repeats, and they head out of the restaurant, turning opposite ways-Will, back to the office, Alicia, back home.
It's midday when Alicia arrives back to an empty apartment. Zach and Grace are both out doing the typical things teenagers do during their summer reprieve from school-hanging out somewhere with friends. She drops her keys in the bowl by the door, and they make a loud clattering sound in the quiet entryway.
She heads to her bedroom, placing her jacket neatly over the back of the chair. The bed she made just a few hours ago has her name written all over it, so she sits on the edge of it and kicks off her shoes before lying down and crumpling the smooth comforter.
As Alicia's head touches the cool surface of the pillow, she finds herself staring at the ceiling, thinking how odd this whole thing feels.
She's no longer Alicia Florrick, but she can't tell anyone that. She can count on two hands the number of people who know about her divorce, not including Peter and his lawyer: Owen, Grace, Zach, Veronica, Cary, Eli, and Will.
No one else knows; no one else is supposed to know.
It's about to be Chicago's most well-guarded secret, the fact that the Governor and First Lady are divorced.
Alicia's head is spinning, just a little, because she can barely comprehend how it is she got to be here, in a place that's so quiet and so alone, in a world that's about to be full of whispers and lies.
She closes her eyes, allowing herself to drift back to the night that brought her here in the first place.