10.
Peter's sentence is by no means the harshest Will's ever seen, but it's not lenient, either, especially considering the number of Cook County judges who owe him. Or perhaps that's the reason - no one on the bench wants to be suspected of ties to those alleged lighter sentences for favors. Not alleged, now. Proven before the law.
He wonders how Alicia's handling it all. He'd considered emailing her again but he's sure she has more than enough to deal with.
He finds himself thinking about her kids, too, which is weird because he never really has much before. Beyond, that is, being irrationally pissed at them for cutting short Alicia's law career. But it has to suck to find out your dad cheated on your mom, read about it constantly on the Internet and see it on TV every day, and then have your dad sent to prison. He wonders if it's better or worse that they're old enough to understand.
About a week after the cameras follow Peter Florrick on his walk of shame to Tamms Minimum, Will's sitting in his office trying to decipher Jonas Stern's chickenscratch. He's first-chairing an appeal of a case that Stern had worked on before gallivanting off to be obnoxious and superior in some Third World nation.
He's been plugging away doggedly at it for awhile, but now his eyes are starting to cross and the last three "sentences" have had a concerning lack of verbs, so...
"Excuse me, Mr. Gardner?" His assistant's on vacation, and there's an intern answering his phone this week. He's the most polite boy Will has ever met, and apologizes for existing, basically. Will's never been sirred so much in his life. He imagines that if this is what it's like to be knighted, he would forgo the honor.
"What's up, Jeremiah?"
"I'm so sorry to interrupt, sir - if it's a bad time - I can certainly take a message...I'll just do that, shall I?"
Will is pretty sure his expression is the very definition of nonplussed. "You didn't even tell me what..."
"Oh, of course. I'm so sorry sir." It's an effort, it really is, to keep his eyes from rolling. "You have a phone call, sir."
"Go ahead and put it through."
Jeremiah glances down at the papers strewn across Will's lap. "I can tell you're busy with something," he says, "I really didn't mean to interrupt. Shall I just take a message?"
Will desperately wants to bang his head against something. Anything. This kid has got to be one of the equity partners' grandsons because there's no way he got hired on merit. "Jeremiah. You answer the phone and, when I'm not here, you take messages. Right now I am here, not in a meeting with anyone. You are supposed to interrupt me. It's your job."
Now it's Jeremiah who looks nonplussed.
"Who is it?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"On the phone. Who is on the phone?"
"Sorry. Yes. She said her name was Alicia."
The pen that Will has been gripping to vent his frustration drops to his lap. "Alicia?"
"She didn't say her last name," Jeremiah says apologetically. "I should have asked for it, though, shouldn't I? Oh no. I'm sorry. I'll just go take a message and-"
"No." This comes out a bit more abruptly than he intends, judging by the size of the intern's widened eyes.
Will tries smiling at him to soften the blow but now Jeremiah is just totally freaked out. "Put the call through, please," he says.
"Yes, sir."
Fortunately Jeremiah's failings in the realm of human interaction do not extend to his mastery of the phone system, which rings before Will can finish organizing Stern's notes back into their files.
He picks it up on the first ring. He doesn't know anyone else named Alicia.
"Will Gardner."
"Hi, Will - this is Alicia Florrick."
"Alicia. Hi. It's good to hear from you."
"I hope I'm not interrupting..."
"Oh, no. Believe me when I say you're really not. I'm trying to read another lawyer's notes and I now have renewed sympathy for my second grade teacher. And pharmacists everywhere."
She laughs a bit. "My kids both have terrible handwriting. Of course they type everything now. It's like a lost art."
"Well, it's an art Jonas Stern never managed to find, either," he grumbles. Then: "I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't call to listen to me complain about the name partners."
"No, it's fine. Normal." His heart tugs a bit at this.
"Is there something-" "Listen, I'm going to-"
"Sorry, go ahead," Will says.
"I'm sorry I didn't respond to your last email," she says. God, if they keep this up it'll be like Jeremiah never left. "Everything's been just..."
"Oh, no, I - I get it."
"I'm running some errands in the city tomorrow," Alicia begins (quickly, as if afraid she'll lose her nerve), "and...will you be around?" She continues without letting him respond. "It'd be nice to catch up, and - and there's something I wanted to maybe ask your advice about. If you're not that's okay - I'm sure you're probably busy, you must have so many clients..."
Will finally gets a word in edgewise. "No, that sounds good." He's actually not sure what he's got going tomorrow but he knows he's not in court.
"Oh. Okay. Great."
They set a time and place - 10:30 the next morning at a Starbucks a couple blocks from his office - and exchange cell numbers. And then they both hang up and he's just said "See you tomorrow" to Alicia for the first time since Georgetown.
Right.
He's not at all sure what to think about this and so he doesn't. The appeal occupies his mind until he heads home, late. Then he plays NBA Jam (the classic, on an emulator) until he falls asleep, late. He thinks he's doing a bang-up job not thinking about it, actually - until he arrives at work (early) and meets Kalinda in the elevator.
"Nice tie," she says.
"What?" He looks down. "What do you mean by that?"
"That I like your tie. I'm not sure that there's another interpretation for those words."
"But..." he looks down again. "It's just - it's a normal tie. Part of my regular tie rotation."
"You have a tie rotation?" (He does. It's set up like a pitching rotation. Starters, middle relievers, closers, aces, rookies...he's pretty sure he should tell no one about this, ever.)
"I wear this tie all the time."
"Okay."
"I do."
"I'm starting to feel like I should apologize for complimenting your tie."
"No, I - I'm not sure why you should notice it today, of all the many days I've worn it."
She smirks, and he knows she thinks something's up with him. "It must just really be working for you today."
When Will gets to his office he switches the tie with a spare one he keeps in his desk drawer. During the morning staff meeting he pretends not to see Kalinda's raised eyebrow as she walks past the conference room window.