A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been a lifetime. Better late than never :P
The clink of two stem glasses meeting in a toast rings amidst subdued conversations, capturing Will's attention. He turns his gaze to stare at the two young women sitting at the near table, deep into a celebration. Absent-mindedly, he raises his own glass and slowly sips the white that lost all its cool during the course of the dinner. The restaurant is half empty, making the talk with Diane more relaxed and very enjoyable. He'll never admit it to anyone – he already has a hard time admitting it to himself - but he misses the peaceful ritualism of their nighttime drinks. He remembers enjoying them back then. He clearly still needs them today.
He felt a tad temperamental, definitely pensive, after his lunch with Alicia ended like it ended; in the usual senseless, devious nothing. He didn't mention anything about his contract to her, not that he had the chance, anyway. And on second thought he's glad he didn't.
Two years. A two years obligation with the new LG branch and then absolute freedom to decide what to do with his life and his career. In all truth his choice was already made the moment he left Chicago one year before. Two years were meant to be the beginning of the rest of his life. Any other option had never been called into question.
Alicia, specifically, wasn't contemplated.
She's the glitch in his plans. She's the work in progress that makes you leave the highway for gravel roads. And what disturbs him most is that he still has no idea where the new road is going to lead him.
"I'm sure I lost you but I don't know when and where," Diane's serene voice pulls him out of his reflections. There's a hint of amusement in the way she eyes him up and down.
"Sorry," he admits, defeated, shooing away the unsought - and undeniably ill-timed - parenthesis. The last thing he wants tonight is another history lesson about his irrationality and emotional involvement winning over common sense.
"Is it about the merger?" Diane asks straightforward, certainly remembering his not really enthusiastic reaction from their earlier meeting.
He smiles, confident that he can still elude the discussion. "It's about a lot of things." His gaze evades Diane's one, because he knows best than to let her read him. But when out of the corner of his eye he catches her leaning forward on the table and folding her arms, somehow he feels his attempt has already failed.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" she questions him with that trace of reproach he knows all too well.
"No." He shakes his head with a bit more resolution than needed.
And for a moment, Diane eyes him inquisitively, up and down, definitely weighing the honesty of his denial. "But..." She invites him to spill what's eating him.
"I don't know. It's just… I guess I get homesick sometimes." He shrugs off, over-nonchalant, trying to leaven his own words and poke some fun at himself at the same time.
"The idea you might miss a snowy Chicago worries me," Diane jokes, her noise turned up in a terribly concealed amusement, as she raises her glass and hides behind the last drop of her wine.
Not that a snowy New York City is any better. In both cases it's a gelid inconvenience though, for some reason he can't define, Chicago doesn't smell so cold. "I'm playing the sentimental card, you should play along and admit you miss me."
"So you can gloat and sneak back in?" The hearty laughter as she speaks these words is contagious. "Men. Always thinking the universe should turn around you."
"When did male psychology become your wheelhouse?" he kicks back, glad that his diversion seems to have worked.
And when Diane knits her brows in confusion, he knows he succeeded. "Is that supposed to be some metaphor I'm not getting?"
"Yes, in memory of the good old times," he confesses with a mild laugh.
"This won't give you back your office," she chastises him for pulling her leg. "Speaking of…"
Speaking of… This can only lead to one topic. "No." He smiles, but his tone is resolute and the way he drags the denial refuses any further talk.
"No what?" Diane shrugs, but probably already knows the answer.
"We won't be talking about that." That being Alicia, but it's needless to pronounce a name they both know.
Diane's features soften in that overly-protective expression he won several times in the past. "I just want you to remember why you left."
"I didn't leave for her," he rebuts the implied inference.
For a moment, a tense silence falls between them, as they both measure his words. But set before Diane's questioning look, he yields, rolls his eyes and partially admits the truth. "She was only a part of the package."
"I don't want the merger to become an issue," she murmurs what's probably her first worry.
"It won't," he reassures her with a faint nod. "On a lighter note, when do you plan to visit the Big Apple again? Now I'd be a perfect Cicero," he boasts and winces in a facetious grimace.
"Guided tour of every night club in Manhattan? My heart could not survive the excitement."
"You have no idea," he agrees.
"I'm fine with not having one," she declines the invitation with a warm laugh.
What remains of their dinner goes by in quietness. Will is relieved that she doesn't press him any further on a topic that's still so opaque for him. When they part ways, Will checks the wristwatch. It's almost eleven. In less than twelve hours he has a flight to catch. He promised Alicia they would talk but his afternoon took a different turn and before they had any chance to do it, it was already dinner time. Bad timing never misses a chance to get in their way. He hails a cab, recites the destination. His hotel. It's late and his lightly clouded mind tells him that he clearly drank more than he realized. But somewhere down Michigan Avenue something awakens him and he reroutes the taxi driver. He can't let things untold for the millionth time.
She doesn't know what's still keeping her up. Hope? Resignation? Letdown? Huddled up on the couch, Alicia sips her red with ceremonious slowness, then looks up at the ceiling, glass in hand. Eyes closed, she enjoys the quiet of the late night. Things didn't go as she expected them to, and it strikes her now that it's a paradox, since she wasn't supposed to have any expectation at all. Will is going back to his life in a handful of hours, so what's there to say that wouldn't make it worse? Maybe it was better this way. They'll go back to stacking unsolicited memories in the same old creaking drawer, like nothing ever happened. Once more. She's become pretty good at it, perfected by years of practice.
She starts as a faint knock on her front door surprises her, but only in a measure. The image of a closing drawer is still in her mind when she has to reconsider her thoughts. Unhurriedly, she puts the half empty glass on the coffee table, stands up and wraps herself in her nightgown, chilling when her bare feet meet the cold tiles.
As she walks to the door, it all feels like a déjà vu. With the variant that this time it's definitely not about work and the scenery is completely different, except for the veiled apology in the eyes of the man standing on her doormat.
"Hi." Will's greeting is a whisper, as if he's afraid to disturb, or interrupt something.
She thinks that if she's still up, there has to be a reason, and this visit is all but a bother, whatever its outcome. "Hi. It's…" She hesitates, refraining from saying late because it would sound wrong.
"…late. I know. I'm sorry." Will finishes the sentence for her.
She smiles faintly, accepts his apologies with a shrug as she opens the door wider to let him in. "No, it's okay."
She looks down insecure, a tad defensively, as he steps in and walks past her, then halts a few feet further on. For a moment he appears lost. It seems a lifetime since he's been there last. She shows him a way he certainly still knows into her living room and as she sits back on the couch she points at the bottle of wine in offer. An offer which Will declines politely with a wave of his hand. Judging by his face she can't say if he's already half drunk or simply exhausted and in full need of what remains of his lucidity. So she just sits silent and follows him with her gaze as he sits on the sofa and looks down. His fingers intertwining in front of him are not promising anything good, neither is his smile; slightly forced, with a restrained bitterness in the curve of his lips.
"I think, you and Diane together would make a great team," he states, his quiet voice in contrast with his clear inner tension.
Alicia simply stares at him and silently takes in his words and their meaning. She nods weakly, then gazes down. She feels a bit let down by a choice of topic that's not exactly what she was expecting. But then again, when did she start having expectations to begin with? Somehow she manages to crack an appreciative smile. "It was never my intention to…" replace him, take his place, whatever, she stops when he shakes his head and she knows any further word is redundant.
"So now what?" she ventures to see how the land really lies. Is that the only reason for him to be here now, this late? To tell her he's not bearing any grudge against her? Against Diane? In her heart of hearts, she's still weakly hoping for more.
His smile gone, he appears calm, almost detached. His shrug reveals that he's most likely defeated from the start. "You were right. It would lead nowhere."
Her breathing halts midway, choked by words she heard before. She keeps up the serene appearance but inside his utterance has the biting impact of an iceberg. It would lead nowhere. In the end they are her own words. But somehow now, coming from him, they taste wrong. And it doesn't help that Will's eyes are brimming with a familiar pain. She knows it's another end but this time she has no idea who's closing the door to the other. She only knows it hurts and regrets the moment she reopened it. Will was right. He'd been right all along in warning her that she was going to regret it.
"Whenever you say I'm right, I always get the awkward feeling that I'm not," she attempts a joke that Will takes in with a faltering smile.
He stands up and as she glances at him, she can't help but think that he's holding back something, but she doesn't have the heart to dig further in. In a few hours he'll be back to his life, a life she clearly doesn't belong to anymore. It would only be pointless to pour more salt into the wound.
She follows him to the front door and stops right behind him. Her hand reaches the handle and rests there. She realizes their lips are only inches away from each other and the proximity is tingling and uncomfortable at once. She could stop him. She could prevent him from letting her go. She could but she doesn't. She opens the door, freeing his way to the outside.
Still, she's not sure she wants that door to close for good again between them, and takes her last chance. "I'll probably be in New York City again soon, firming up the last details with a new client."
Her offer doesn't seem to get completely lost on Will, who nods and smiles. "Maybe give a call when you are in the area."
"I will."
When he's out of sight, disappeared into the elevator, she leans against the doorjamb, pensively. She feels somewhat relieved from a weight but at the same time hauled down by a new one she can't define. In her imagination, things were meant to go in a completely different way, and this leaves her... empty.