In the Bleak Midwinter Ch. 7 Pt III

Mackenzie had hardly slept at all after she had gotten home from Will's. She had pulled the chilled bottle of wine from her refrigerator and left it on the table as she poured a glass and stuck her feet up on the coffee table as she turned on the News and pretended to watch. Ignoring the now fairly constant stream of texts and missed calls from Wade (she had switched her phone onto silent this morning so that Will wouldn't know that she was getting them), she simply sat staring at the TV screen, but not really seeing it; instead watching the reel of memories from the last two days which was on repeat behind her eyelids.

If she was honest with herself, she had known something was going to happen if she went home with Will – that was why she had agreed to it. She chose to ignore Wade's apologetic plea, and Jim's kind offer of a sofa bed, pizza, and drinking some of the remaining Afghanistan tea which they had brought home with them (they only drank when it was the two of them), and instead knowingly accompanied Will back to his apartment in a blizzard where she was bound to be there for at least a day.

On the other hand, if she was honest with herself, when she thought something would happen, she thought it would be merely an argument – well, that technically happened – but in that they would just have it out – not make out and get half way towards ripping each other's clothes off, before going their separate ways and then somehow miraculously ending up in the same bed by morning.

That part had been an emotional upper cut to the stomach. She certainly hadn't expected to be quite so open with him about what she wanted, and to her great surprise he had actually been a lot more open with her than she had been expecting…but in order for that to happen (what she had really been wanting to happen) they had had to go through the whole drama of the night before.

She closed her eyes wearily and let her head roll back against the sofa. Oh Will, why couldn't you have just not brought up Wade? We could have had such a great night…

A frown flickered across her face without her permission. Wade…

She supposed that if only she had just broken things off with Wade they could indeed have had a very pleasant evening, because that kiss…oh, that kiss…

But would they have survived that? Would they have survived just having sex? Where would they have gone afterwards? Will said it himself…he couldn't forgive her…yet. Or maybe ever. And then there was her fucking guilt! She couldn't believe that Will had asked her that: "How can you cheat on me, but not with me?"

Could he not understand that there was nothing she wanted more in that moment than to let herself go, let him run his hands over every inch of her, wrap herself so tightly around him that neither of them would know where they ended and the other person started? Could he not tell from the way she was looking at him that there was nowhere in the world she would rather be than in his arms?

She could feel the wetness on her cheeks now, and when she finally opened her eyes she looked in shock at the bottle as she realised it was half-empty already. For a second she looked at it suspiciously, like it might be deliberately mocking her; then had to come to the inevitable conclusion that the bottle had not mysteriously hidden half its contents, and that they must therefore be somewhere in her oesophagus. Well…she was half way through…what the fuck? She reached to refill her glass.

What would happen tomorrow? As she placed the bottle back on the table, the flickering light coming off the TV illuminated something on her arm which she hadn't noticed. Frowning, she put her wrist more fully into the light of the TV and gasped slightly when she realised what it must be.

There were four marks: two fairly clear, and the other two more faint on her left wrist. She quickly put down her wine and shoved her jumper up so she could examine her other wrist. The marks on this one were much fainter…Will was right handed after all. She hadn't even realised; hadn't even felt it.

She felt more tears falling from her eyes, but she quickly realised that they weren't because Will had hurt her; but because she knew that if he ever found out what he had done, he would never, ever forgive himself.

They hadn't mentioned his father and the influence his behaviour had had on Will's psyche and aims in life, but they had both referred to him indirectly.

It had been a heat of the moment thing that neither of them had planned or wanted, and perhaps they had always been headed for a confrontation of some kind since the moment that she had first seen him in the Newsroom on the day of the BP oil spill.

It had been passionate, angry, heated, loving, and regretful all at the same time. Yes, Will had kissed her when she'd asked him not to – but not because she hadn't wanted him to. But because she didn't want him to think that she would cheat on someone again after what happened with him, and then for him to believe that she had not changed her ways and then never speak to her again. She had thought that stopping their tryst would help matters, but all it had done was make things worse, more complicated. Was there no way for her to win?

As she picked up her wine glass again and sunk back into the depths of the couch, she decided to indulge herself for a few moments and just remember the feel of Will's lips on hers for the first time in four years, his hands pulling her on top of him, him kissing her neck, and pulling her close; waking up next to him, snuggling into him on his sofa – Will holding her.

He loved her. That much she knew. And the potential for them to have more mornings waking up together like that morning was enough to make her drop everything and run to him, explain that she would be standing there until he felt he was ready to take her back. But then, she also knew Will. Knew that he held grudges like no one else; that forgiveness was not something he could readily give to anyone. Not to his father, and she seriously doubted to her.

Will had told her that he wanted to forgive her; but the honest, realistic part of her consciousness uttered what she knew to be the realistic outlook: however much he might want to, in all likeliness he couldn't. If they were any other couple, this might be fixable. But they weren't any other couple – they were Will McAvoy and Mackenzie McHale, and what they had shared was one in a million. One in a hundred million! And she had fucked it all to hell. Literally. God she made herself sick sometimes…

When she drearily woke the next morning, stiff and in an awkward sitting position on the sofa, empty wine glass resting on her stomach, she figured that that might have been the last line of thought she had before she had dozed off. And a cheerful one too, right?

She groped around the sofa for the small device which had woken her (it used to be that Will had to spend ten minutes coaxing her back to consciousness, but Afghanistan had soon knocked that habit out of her). Her phone was vibrating every few seconds as it buzzed angrily to let her know she had a text.

She rubbed her eyes blearily so that she could see clearly enough to read the message. It was from Charlie.

Back on today kiddo. See you in a little bit.

She groaned. Obviously she had known that their permission to bunk off probably wouldn't last more than a day – people needed the news – but the prospect of spending ten hours in a confined space with Will and thirty odd people who knew them (and knew their day-to-day behaviour) was not a welcome one. Charlie in particular seemed to have a built-in radar when it came to her and Will. He could always tell when something was off, or something new seemed to have developed. He would spot their change in demeanour within seconds – because she knew without doubt that it would be different now. She knew that she certainly wouldn't be able to just pretend as if nothing had happened; and if she knew Will, as hard as he might try to act normal, he wouldn't be able to either.

After a steaming hot shower, a starbucks, and deciding to walk to work instead of hailing a cab, Mac felt a little more alert and ready to face the day. Though when it came to facing Will she still had reservations.

As she pushed open the tall glass door, she took a deep breath and tried to walk a little taller. Here we go...