Author's note: Well clearly, 5x15 was devastating. I wrote about it on my tumblr (hannahwrites89). However, this chapter was already at my beta and I figured, I'm just going to continue this story. This has always been AU, it can continue and I truly think that this is a great time to realize what fanfiction can do and how we can keep characters alive. So here, A&W are alive and kicking. I'd love to see reviews, especially since I'm so unsure whether or not people still want to read this.
Summary: force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia & Will, seven months after she left L/G: Because that's the thing with Will. If he opens up, if he decides to let me in, there's so much love and warmth in his eyes, his words, and his hands. He'll give you all of it.
Thanks: First of all to my beta Jen (Romanticsouthener) for beta-ing this chapter right after Sundays episode. Second of all to all my dear A/W shippers on Fanforum and Twitter. It's the best support system. And, tore-my-yellow-dress for convincing me to keep going with fanfiction.
Force Majeure
Chapter 14 – Voices
"By the time I recognize this moment, the moment will be gone."
- John Mayer (Clarity)
Monday, 5:55 PM
Gently, I'm woken up by the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. I glance at my watch. 6 PM. This concussion messed up my rhythm.
I lift my head up from the pillow. The pounding hits in immediately. This morning, I thought it had somewhat subsided, but now it's back. Worse, even.
I prop myself up against the pillows and listen to the voices coming from my in the kitchen while I check my work phone. 44 unread e-mails. 3 missed calls.
I dim the screen again and close my eyes. Tomorrow.
A soft knock on the door makes me open my eyes again. Grace pops her head around the door. "Hi, Mom?"
"Grace," I smile at her.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, actually. I did."
"You slept through dinner. You should eat something."
I smile at the concerned look in her eyes. "I will."
"You know, Will's here?"
My mouth drops open in surprise. "Will?"
She nods.
What?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Will Gardner," she replies, somewhat annoyed. "I know who he is."
"I know," I stutter. "But…when did he…?"
"Five minutes ago. Grandma's talking to him in the kitchen. Thought you might wanna know."
I roll my eyes in frustration. "Well, yes, thank you." I hastily look for something to cover up my pyjamas. "Why is he here?"
"To see you, I guess?" She shrugs. "I'm off to the movies. I'll text you when we go home, ok?"
"Ok, honey," I give her a forced smile, but all I can think about is the fact that Will is in my kitchen. Once more.
Monday, 6:05 PM
I take a deep breath and step into the kitchen. I spot my mom, leaning against the kitchen counters. Will is sitting on a bar stool. Both turn around at the sound of my footsteps.
I stare straight into Will's eyes. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak.
"Hi," is all I say. My voice sounds tired.
I notice that Mom's holding a glass of wine in her hand. So is Will. This is odd.
Why is he here? Our encounter Friday morning was awkward, to say the least.
"Hi," Will says back. He sounds and looks as if he just got the shock of a lifetime seeing me.
I know, it's bad. If anything, it got worse compared to the night it happened.
I don't like it that he sees me like this. I don't want to show him that I'm not doing okay, that my appearance got worse. That I don't eat much, that I don't sleep because I dream about the attack every night. I don't want him to know that. But now he's here and God knows what my mother told him already.
"I'll be in the other room," she simply states.
I watch her leave.
"Right," I just respond and wait until she leaves. Well, at least she isn't trying to work her way in a conversation with the both of us.
Once we're alone, I walk over to where she was standing, next to the counter top.
I watch Will sit there. I'm still processing that he's in my apartment. Again. I suddenly, more like vividly remember Thursday night. How I stood here, back from the hospital, losing my balance due to the dizziness and pain. How he wrapped his arm around me, how he put me to bed. How he checked up on me in the middle of the night. I barely responded, but I felt safe, knowing he was still with me. He made me feel safe.
But the next morning, his soft voice and caring looks had been traded in for the usual cold stares, and he had made it very clear he didn't stay because he wanted to. He made his way out of here without giving me to opportunity to thank him. So, if anything, I didn't expect him to turn up in my apartment.
I take a deep breath, thinking of what to say next. But doing so causes a sharp pain to shoot through my chest. That's the broken rib.
"You want to sit down?" He looks worried after seeing me cringe.
"No, I'm fine," I respond quickly.
I'm not. I'm in pain.
"What are you doing here?" I decide to ask.
He sighs. "I came by to give you the bag from the hospital." He points at the plastic bag on the counter. "I forgot to bring it upstairs with us when we…"
"Right." I cut him off. When you brought me home. "Thank you."
I look at the bag, but somehow I feel a certain constraint to actually look at what it's carrying.
Instead, I look back up to Will. "I didn't expect you to come here."
"I understand." He takes the last sip from his wine and puts the glass back down on the counter. He seems relieved it's empty. "I just wanted to drop off the bag. Your mom, she asked me in… –"
"You don't have to explain."
He looks at me for a while. "How is the pain?"
"Better," I lie. I don't want to tell him how I feel. Not now. Because it makes me want to collapse in his arms. And I can't have that. I need to do this myself. Besides, his arms aren't mine to collapse in. They haven't been for years.
I keep telling myself he's still my competition. And I know, I know that his eyes have softened a couple times that night, but that doesn't mean anything. Him asking me how I'm doing is just him being polite. I like to think it's just that.
"Thanks for the flowers," I say, in an attempt to start some sort of conversation. I gesture at the big white bouquet in the hallway.
"Firm send them," he responds,, as he props his elbows on the counter, clasping his fingers together.
"I sent them a thank you card. But tell them in person. It means a lot."
"I will," He nods.
I give the bag another stare, wondering what's in there, but still not eager to open it up.
"I didn't know what to do with it," Will starts again. "It felt wrong not to give it back. I thought about sending it over. I just, didn't want to traumatize you or… I don't know." He shakes his head.
"What's in it?"
"The blouse you were wearing. Earrings."
I nod. Reluctantly, I open up the bag. My hand touches the silk material of the blouse. I take it out. I freeze up instantly as I see how it got torn up.
"God," I whisper shocked. "He really ripped it apart."
"Yeah," he mumbles.
It's making me feel sick. I don't want to see this again. I don't need to see the rest, and I don't care about the earrings.
Decisively, I put the blouse back in the bag and open the trashcan. It's upsetting me more than I thought. I realize I'm trembling as the trashcan shuts.
Trembling with exhaustion, anger, and fear. Seeing that piece of clothing makes me feel so humiliated. I stay put, my back towards Will.
I don't want him to see me like this. Not again. Thursday was enough.
"I'm sorry for bringing it over." The softness in his voice is back. I hear him get up and walk over to me. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't know if it was the right thing…" He sounds worried. I don't want him to be worried.
"Will…" I turn around. I notice he stops in his steps, awfully close to me. Why did he walk over to me? "It's fine," I quickly add. "You didn't need to come here."
"I know." He purses his lips and frowns.
Him standing this close to me confuses me. Him being here in the first place is confusing me. Finding him asleep on my dining table confused me. And even more so the way he woke up and treated me with the distance I hadn't seen the night before. So, why is he here now?
"I should get going," he murmurs.
I think, I see a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Did I stop something from happening by telling him off? And what would that be, exactly?
I look at him. He seems less tense, his shoulders dropped. I'm slowly starting to relax as well, accepting that he's in my kitchen. Now, I just want to know why, because that bag seems just an excuse.
"Why did you come here?" I ask, softer this time.
"Because of the bag," he replies as if it's the obvious answer.
"You could have sent it over." I find his eyes as I say that. There's more. Tell me. Tell me why you're here now.
"Like I said, it didn't feel right doing so."
"That's it?"
He sighs. Clearly, he doesn't like the way this conversation is going. Maybe he doesn't know the answer himself.
"You're right." He takes a step back from me and turns back to the stool. "I shouldn't be here."
I don't understand. I don't understand any of it. He doesn't have to be here. No one asked him to. I'm not sure if I even wanted him to.
I open my mouth to let out my frustration, but I know I'm not going to get any answers so I take a deep breath and decide not to say anything else. Not tonight.
"I heard the police arrested Dilaney," he starts as he gets his coat.
"Yeah."
He nods and heads to the door. He already has the door handle in his hand when I realize something.
"The police might ask you for a statement," I tell him.
"I know," he turns around. "I already talked to them."
"When?" I ask confused.
"At the hospital."
"Right…" I look away, thinking back to that night. How he sat down next to my bed. I had somehow forgot that. Or blocked that. I'm not so sure now.
I look back up to him.
"They have my number," he says. "If they need to know anything else."
"Right. Ok." I pause for a moment. "Great."
He nods. "Good night."
"Thanks…for bringing over the bag."
"No problem." He doesn't look at me. Just like Friday morning, he's not going to let me thank me. "Take care."
He turns around to leave, but just before he does, I say softly, "Maybe we should talk some time?"
He turns back around. "I don't think we should." His voice is flat, unemotional.
I swallow hard. I didn't think he'd say that. I know he's hurt, but then he did visit tonight.
"Are you sure?" I try.
"Alicia," he licks his lips and shakes his head. "I don't think we should," he repeats.
I'm sure he can see the disappointment in my eyes. I thought that perhaps with everything that happened in the past days somehow brought us closer together, whether I liked it or not.
"Ok," I just say, suddenly eager to close the door behind him. "Good night then."
"Good night."
I close the door.
Apparently, him visiting me is something I shouldn't interpret as an attempt of any kind. Maybe this isn't that.
But even though I didn't want him with me in the ambulance, the hospital, and later at home, he comforted me. Because that's the thing with Will, if he opens up, if he decides to let me in, there's so much love and warmth in his eyes, his words, and his hands. He'll give you all of it.
Then again, hurt him and he'll shut you off completely. I hadn't seen it before. Not in these proportions.
But I'm too exhausted. I'm too emotional right now to fight him as my competitor. I couldn't fight his care Thursday and looking back, I'm happy I didn't.
Thank you for reading!
I know it's hard to get back into a story after 5x15, but if you did read it I really appreciate that. Reviews would mean a lot this time around, because I definitely need some support to continue.
(Preview for next chapter: David has bad news regarding Dilaney, who still officially is L/G's client. Will struggles between business and his personal involvement to what happened to Alicia)