Title: Just one of these days
Author: Deelylah
Rating: K+ right now
Timeline: 2 weeks after 2x15
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.
Author's note: When I wrote the first chapter it was supposed to be a OneShot, now it's a MultiChap of 7 chapters. I dedicate this story to MarySunshine..Without her I wouldn't have even started writing this.
Chapter One - 9:55
You might be late for court and this thought tortures you. You're never late for court. Never. And you're not planning on starting today so you push yourself just a little harder...
You take a quick peek at your watch as you basically fly up the stairs to the second floor of the courthouse. Realizing that you've already made up the time you spent being caught up in a traffic jam you slow your steps because you don't want to enter the courtroom out of breath if you don't have to.
"What a day," A voice in your head sighs. "And the day has just begun." You tell yourself silently taking another look at your watch: 9:56.
Reaching the top of the stairs you decide that it's all Will's fault. He had this "urgent" matter to discuss and No, it couldn't be postponed till you got back from court. And then you got caught up in a traffic jam. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? You're already late and you get stuck in traffic.
All... Will's... fault...
You make a mental note to yourself that he owes you a drink for making you hurry to court, making you actually RUN to court. One drink is the least he owes you. Nobody makes Diane Lockhart run and just gets away with it. Considering that the urgent matter had been about his season tickets you decide that one is not enough. Two drinks it is. At least!
You don't pay any attention to your surrounding as you advance deeper into the building, your mind is to preoccupied with the trial ahead of you.
"9:23, 10:01, 11:36 and 12:57." You silently tell yourself again because you'll need those times for your cross and you will not, not, NOT use notes just to recall some silly numbers.
"9:23,10:01, 11:36... 11:36? Or was it 11:34? Damn it!" You curse yourself because you've been stumbling across that specific number for the last 24 hours now. 11:36 or 11:34? You just cannot recall. What's wrong with you? You can remember the whole code of law but not that one stupid number?
"Get it together, woman!" You mentally roll your eyes on yourself and it has the desired effect: It's 11:36, you're sure now. You can see the note in front of your inner eye: 11:36 finely written with blue ink on a yellow legal pad. 11:36. You were right all along!
You allow yourself a short smile and turn your head a little. The quick peek down the corridor to your right is a mistake but you have no chance to realize that before it's too late. It's your first mistake in quite some time – if you don't count believing Will that he had an urgent matter to discuss and the little confusion with the numbers - and it's a big one.
You're mind has yet to determine the gravity of that one single gaze but your feet have already decided that on a scale from 1 to 10, it's a straight 10 and they show you that by misstepping. You stumble and you need all your body control not to drop your briefcase as you try simply not to fall. You manage to get a hold of yourself and continue your way down YOUR corridor and away from THAT corridor.
You're grateful Alicia and your client went ahead, this would have been far beyond embarrassing.
But your gratefulness doesn't last for long as your mind processes the information it just received.
"What is he of all people doing here?"
The question starts spinning in your mind, banishing all legal arguments, all dates, all facts, everything else actually. This is not Costa Rica, this is not even "away". He isn't supposed to be here.
Nevertheless he was standing there, wasn't he? Leaning against the wall, his arms casually crossed in front of his chest, his gaze lowered to a spot on the floor in front of him. It was him, wasn't it? Suddenly you're no longer sure about that... Is it possible that your mind just messed with you? You start to feel insecure and you really hate that feeling.
"Get it together, Lockhart!" You tell yourself silently but nothing happens. You want to turn, want to go back, want to check if it's really him, but you know you'll never make it in time for your court date if you turn now so your feet keep on moving forwards.
"It was him." A voice in your head states matter-of-factly and even though you are relieved that your mind isn't playing tricks on you, you just can't help it and you start getting upset.
You feel the urge to turn back, to confront him, to demand an explanation. He didn't call you after his case in Florida, then he came back to make you choose between your firm and him and he has never even bothered to explain anything. Even though you would never - NEVER - openly admit it but he hurt you - for God's sake - and now he was just standing there! You want an explanation, dammit you DESERVE an explanation, he OWES you...
"GET IT TOGETHER!" You mentally yell at yourself and for a moment there is silence in your head as your steps lead you further and further away from a man who just isn't supposed to be there.
"Well done." You congratulate yourself in your mind because you are satisfied that you managed to ban him from your thoughts. You won't let such a minor inconvenience have any kind of influence on the subsequent development of your day. "You don't need to talk like that." His voice teases you from somewhere deep down memory lane. Yes, you do need to talk like that because obviously that's not only how you talk that's also how you think. He never..
"Wait!" You tell yourself silently and you frown. How exactly did your train of thoughts end up with him again?
You can't really recall, you just know that you shouldn't bother thinking of him.
It was over.
He was gone.
Even though actually he was standing just down the hall...
You turn a corner and spot the door to the courtroom you'll be arguing in. You NEED to focus now. You take a deep breath. "9:23, 10:01, 11... 11...11..."Ah for God's sake, that is what notes are for, isn't it?
You grab the door handle and when you enter the courtroom a small sigh of relief escapes your lips: You made it in time.
As you approach the defense table your mind decides that it won't let that little incident get away so easily. A memory fights it's way up into your consciousness and suddenly you see yourself standing next to the witness stand right there in that courtroom.
"And what happened to his fourth car?" "Mr. Knox claimed that it was stolen the day after the murder. It was never recovered." "Thank you, Mr. McVeigh."
The words echo through your head and you can see him sitting there, looking at you...
"Diane, is there a problem?"
You realize just now that Alicia is looking at you. You have no idea what she was talking about, no indication of how long she's actually been talking and – thinking about it now - you don't have a single clue if she had said anything at all prior to that last question, but you are not going to admit any of that.
"No problem." You say in perfect sync with the voice in your head. The voice of a man who is just not supposed to be there...
You take another deep breath and gather up all your mental strength to push the thoughts of him aside.
11.34, right?
