A/N: Enjoy and if you have time, review!
The shiny and slightly-festive tickets contrasted heavily with the densely written pale-yellow block on which they were resting.
Two LOE VIP passes for the World Series.
She had asked for them impulsively, 4 weeks before. Normally the date didn't mean much to her if it wasn't connected to her trials or some of Peter's events.
But that day, 28 days prior, she had given a distracted look and remembered what would happen a month later. She had mentioned to Peter that one of her clients was a huge baseball buff and was there any way to obtain the tickets for the World Series. He had nodded, said he would have one of his staffers do it and kissed her goodbye.
What a difference two years made.
That same day, back during the time of her separation, he had come, late at night into her office with that happy smirk she normally adored, except that she was not in the mood for jokes and the likes. She had endured a terrible day in court. She wasn't up for some of Will's antics.
"Do you know today's date?"
She nodded, she had begun discussing in front of a judge a case she had been preparing for a long time that morning. And she had lost a key pre-trial motion. Damn it!
"Do you know what happens a month from now?"
She ransacked her head for the right answer and found it easily enough. She was working on a grave murder trial and he was thinking about such trivial things?
"Not even a 10-year-old starts being excited for their birthday a month before."
Her tone had been bitter and meant to stop the conversation. He was undeterred.
"No 10-year-old has a very busy, extremely sexy woman that will need time to find the proper costumes for my gift."
What the hell was he talking about?
"I'm thinking after the American Revolution, we could go with..."
"Seriously? Whatever you have in mind I'm sure we would put Kalinda on looking for the proper get-up. It's not like we're trying to save a woman from going to jail for the rest of her life."
"Fine, we'll talk about it tomorrow."
"No, we won't. I'll get you a win on this extremely-important case as a gift, how about that?"
The enthusiasm in him completely murdered, he nodded and said:
"You're right, I'm sorry. Goodnight."
The day after she had caught a break in court and seeing him working in his office had thought about how to apologize.
She decided everything in their sort-of-relationship. He couldn't see the kids, they could not talk about feelings and moving forward. He deserved whatever he wanted for his birthday. After all, the American Revolution night had been an enormous success. He had been so grateful, she had lost count of how many times he had brought her over the edge that night.
"What did you have in mind? For your present?"
"Forget it, you were right. You should focus on the trial."
As open as he had been in her office he was then completely closed off.
"I'm sorry again for overstepping. I tend to have an habit of doing that... I have to go, I have court. Don't worry about it, it was just me being an idiot."
His smile had been strained, fake, the sort of one he used on clients, not on her.
She wanted to be able to blame Will for pushing her into sexual fantasies she was not comfortable with. But she couldn't. If she had listened and he had suggested something she would have not liked to try, he would have backed off immediately and wouldn't have hold the slightest of grudges.
No, he had been upset because she hadn't even heard him, because she had closed the conversation like many others before it. He probably thought that she was using him just as an human vibrator.
She had to make it right.
She had gone into the shop of his baseball team and found herself surprised to see that there was a section dedicated to female, non-field-related gear.
The predictability of men.
She had gotten into one of those skimpy outfits she had found, complete with the cap and the bat she had borrowed from Kalinda. Then she had masked everything inside a large winter coat, to pass the doorman undisturbed and waited for him on his door.
She knew he was still at the office even if it was Friday night and midnight had passed by a couple of minutes, turning into his birthday. As soon as she heard the ping of the elevator her heart accelerated and she started to be a little nervous. She should have talked about this first with him.
He emerged from the elevator, clearly tired and then he saw her, swinging the bat, trying to imitate the professional she had seen in the games.
The transformation was a masterpiece. He had gone from being exhausted and slightly nervous to agape and caught in utter wonderment.
He moved slowly and predatorily but instead of feeling like a prize, his look empowered her. He seemed completely at her mercy, radically reversing the roles suggested by their clothes.
He had discarded his bag and was probably uncertain about what part of her to touch first. She hit him softly with her bath to check that he still possessed the capacity of moving and breathing.
"I was under the impression that you were eager for your birthday surprise. Are you going to stand there all evening?"
He reacted then, using the bat as leverage to bring her to him. Then he pinned her to the wall and while sensually kissing her from the top to the base of her neck said:
"You made a big mistake, dressing up like this."
She didn't even have the time of being insecure before he continued.
"You see, now I'm going to have to work all weekend to thank you for this surprise and I won't let you go until I'm done."
"You know, Mr. Gardner, given how long it took for you to get from the elevator to here, I'm not sure the weekend will be enough to properly thank me."
His responding look, a Willesque mix of uninhibited lust, competitive spirit and utter care turned her on like nothing else. She prepared to have his athletic ability unleashed on her.
She was not disappointed. He had hit a home-run before they even got to the door.
"Alicia, are you ok?"
Her reverie was broken by Cary's voice.
"You look feverish."
Feverish was one word for being in need of a cold shower after the memory of that weekend had started replaying in her head.
"Just tired."
"Going for a drink. Do you want to come?"
"No thanks, I'm just gathering my stuff and getting home."
"Ok, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
She hoped that Cary hadn't heard her openly moaning. It had been years since she had slept with Will, why were the images still so vivid?
She focused on the rectangles of paper on her desk. The parcel had arrived late in the evening, with two days to spare before the fatidic date.
Now that she held them in her hands she recognized the mistake in getting the tickets. It was an offensive idea. At best he would see them as the male equivalent of expensive jewelry given by a cheating spouse, a bribe to forgive her betrayal. At worst, he would be reminded of the same night she had been replaying in her mind, and been offended at her crass remark of how much things had changed between them.
She put them back in the package and put the package in a drawer. She would at least make a client happy.
She had fought the temptation to call him all day long. The birthday was the perfect excuse to hear his voice, to maybe try a conversation that wasn't only about a case.
At night, she couldn't contain the urge anymore. She used her office line so he wouldn't immediately recognize the number and refuse the call.
"If you're calling to offer the birthday boy a very-personalized present, you can either join the orgy or butt out."
Kalinda. She could hear Will's slightly inebriated voice in the background, scolding her for how she had answered her phone.
"Hello?"
She should have hung up. He was having fun, he didn't need her wishes. But then, almost without her control...
"Kalinda?"
The tone on the phone alerted that the call had ended. Kalinda either hadn't heard her or, worse, had willingly pushed that red button.
A few seconds later, her cell-phone came to life, the name "Kalinda" flashing on the screen.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I just wanted to wish him happy birthday. Nothing more than that."
"You must know that an happy birthday from you is never just an happy birthday. Leave him alone."
Kalinda was gone. If she had just let her talk to him, and say those two words, she could have let it go. She could not stand being completely frozen out. She grabbed her bag and prepared herself for a tour of his favorite bars and pubs.
Her second choice had been the correct one. She recognized Will and Kalinda in a booth, together with some of Will's friends and some women she did not recognize. The ones that said "yes" to the orgy, probably.
Someone had pointed at her and drunkly shouted to the friend: "Isn't that the first lady?"
Will turned and immediately signaled something to Kalinda. It was the investigator that once again confronted her. They both moved outside, since there were way too people waiting to "accidentally" overhear something.
"Wasn't I clear on the phone?"
"I wouldn't have come here if you had just let me talk to him."
"And say what? Happy birthday Will, thoughtful present the dagger in your back, don't you think?"
What was her answer supposed to be to that fury?
"Or do you have a newest gift, maybe another client stolen?"
She thought about how naive she had been, procuring those tickets. She could have given him the entire team and it wouldn't have mattered.
"Kalinda, that's enough."
His voice boomed in the quiet night.
"I need your help inside to keep the intruders at bay. Some of the judges have been propositioned too much. I wouldn't want to be accused of ruining their career."
He had sounded slightly inebriated on the phone but he was stone-cold sober now. Kalinda went back into the bar and he approached her.
Now that she had him in front of her, happy birthday seemed such a childish thing to say. But she didn't have a more palatable alternative.
"Happy birthday! I'm sorry about the commotion. We could have talked on the phone but then Kalinda..."
He did not move, he did not even minimally change his expression.
With a circumstantial "Thanks", he was on his way to the party.
"Will, wait, do you have five minutes?"
"What for?"
"To talk."
"No, I don't. I have to get back to my friends."
She was sure that the choice of words had been deliberate. His friends were back in the bar while she was outside, she didn't belong to that circle anymore.
"I'm never going to be your friend again, am I?"
"If Mrs. Florrick wants to have a pity-party about how the choices she made left her an alone and friendless First Lady, there are plenty of bars in Chicago that surely can accommodate that."
That Mrs. Florrick again. She hated him calling her that with a scorching passion. He never slipped. Not once had he called her Alicia since she had left L/G.
"Would you do me a favor and call me Alicia, just for tonight?"
"I am not a fan of séances."
"What?"
He was clearly waiting for that question.
"Alicia as I knew her is dead or maybe only existed in my imagination."
Torturers were not allowed to cry, were they? Why then were her eyes brimming with tears?
She didn't expect his reaction to the tears. Will had always been a comforting presence and maybe, deep inside, she had hoped that her crying would awake in him that instinct.
No such luck. He remained impassive.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You should be. Where is Peter tonight?"
She was sure that answering the question would not bring to any positive outcome. She still did what she needed to do to prolong the conversation.
"At an event, in Springfield."
"What aren't you there with him?"
"It was a donors' dinner, I begged him to skip it."
"Right, so look at you crying on the sidewalk instead that at event with your family or in your corner office, with alcohol and a view. You sacrificed us for this?"
His eyes were getting humid now but he seemed to have found a second wind.
"It could have been like two years ago, us on a door and then on the counter, on the couch and on the bed, being so delightfully sated that we had to help each other even to get up and we had to remind ourselves to stop grinning at work the week after. It could have been like a year ago, working on a case together, me calling you into my office to wine and dine you. I would easily have ditched everyone in that bar to spend a night even just talking to you. You have to be sorry for this."
He was completely right. What had she done? How had she been so short-sighted not to foresee just how insufferable her life as a traitor would be?
" I, on the other hand, have to be sorry for giving myself false hope, for setting me up so carefully for a devastating failure. I have to be sorry for how much power over my happiness I have given you. I have to be sorry for how much strength it takes, even after what happened, for me to tell you these things. I have to be sorry for how hard I have to fight the urge to just take you in my arms and tell you to stop crying because everything will be ok."
"Don't fight it, Will" she would have wanted to shout. "Hug me, kiss me, tell me that there will be a future between us."
Instead she took his hand, relished the contact with his dry skin and the charge it could still give her.
"I'm sorry you're paying for my idiotic mistakes. But you shouldn't be sorry for loving me. I have never shown it but I love you too."
"What good does that make me?"
"It's the true answer to the many "whys" that people will ask me in the next months."
He seemed confused but she didn't clarify further the decisions she had taken that very night.
"You'll understand. Happy birthday, Will!"