A/N- *backs away slowly* Nobody shoot, please. I know I haven't updated in forever and a day, and this time the only excuse I have is life, and plot bunnies for other things. I will really, REALLY try to get the next chapter out within the next two weeks. Thank you to all the people who have read this story, sincerely. I love you all so much, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
The third week of June, Owen shows up at the apartment in leather riding boots and a cowboy hat, and Will is vaccinated enough to only give it a dull stare. "It is tradition," Owen explains, waltzing in like he owns the place. "I am professor by day, black sheep Cavanaugh by night. I have to wear my disguise, or else people might recognize me. At least," he shakes his head, rolling his suitcase along. "That's the reason Alicia always believed."
Will half smirks, all too aware how much it must take out of Owen to joke like that, now. Humor is a rare luxury, this past year. "Jules is playing in the living room in her pen," he says, stopping by the kitchen counter. "How was your flight?"
Owen's eyebrows waggle. "Jewels? Wow, that's cute. I guess she did come from the crown jewels, but-
Face wrinkling, Will makes a disgusted noise. "Oh, come on."
"My flight was great, thanks. No, but aren't you the one who shortened it to Leesh, too? Do you just give people nicknames to suit your psychological categories?"
"You caught me," he rolls his eyes. "You want some water, Ow?"
"Yes, please. Ow?"
Will takes a dramatic pause so that Owen knows he's joking. "If you're too much of a pain in my ass, Ow, I'll put you out on the street tonight."
"It's New York," Owen boasts, taking the full glass when it's offered to him. "City that never sleeps. I'll be fine." After a moment, he sobers, glancing around at the chic cabinets, sleek appliances. "She always liked this city. She'd have loved it here," he murmurs, and at that moment Will admires Alicia's brother if only because of his resilience. A familial trait.
Will sighs, looking down at the tile, wetting his lips. "We were here a few years ago, for a business trip. Before-
Shakes his head like he's shaking away the memory. He can't afford to go there, right now. But Owen just nods, because Owen remembers taking care of Zack and Grace when Alicia had been needed elsewhere. Needed might have been a stretch, but still. It was a good while before the firm jump, before it all came crumbling. Long before Julia was even a twinkle in his sister's eye.
"She talked about how much she admired it, then," Will goes on roughly, pushing away the remembrance of a balcony. Of Alicia's shoulder in his mouth.
They sit in silence, for a moment, until a shrill babble comes from the baby monitor that's unnecessary, because it echoes throughout the living space, regardless. Owen chuckles. "She's definitely learned how to make demands. Wonder who she got that from."
/
Julia is standing in her pen unsteadily, gripping the edges of it for dear life as she sways her lower half from side to side. Owen finds this to be the cutest thing he's ever seen, coos like there's no tomorrow. Will takes a step back, sits down on the couch and watches Owen pick up the infant, throw her in the air despite the fact it makes him cringe. A round of squealing rings in his ears when Owen blows raspberries, but hey, Will can cut Owen a break. Julia is pretty cute.
Owen looks at Julia seriously, frowning as his gazes into her green eyes. "I want to eat you."
Julia babbles in response, spit bubbling between her lips. "Is she saying people words yet?" Owen throws in Will's direction, not even giving him a second glance.
"No," Will shakes his head, shrugging. "From what I've read, it'll be soon. She's got it all figured out, though, so I'm not worried."
"On her own time, huh?" Owen quips, pinching her cheek and leaning in so that Julia startles back and makes noises. "Zack and Grace were such serious babies. She's happy," he observes carefully, as gentle as Owen Cavanaugh can be.
"That smile," he goes on, and then stops, abrupt.
Owen looks at Julia, looks like he's about to cry.
"You want me to take her?" Will asks cautiously, and Owen nods, passing her off efficiently, as if his skin is burning. Julia bounces on her father's knee once she's settled again, completely unfazed.
Owen wipes at his eyes, breath staggering. "I'm fine," he sniffles. "It's okay. Sorry. It's just, you should see how much she looks like-
"I know, Owen," Will cuts him off, desperate. It's swift because he has to say it, has to get it out there. "I look at her every day. Trust me. I know."
/
They decide, against all odds, it's a worthy idea to go out for dinner. Since Julia, Will has rarely gone out unless for client meetings, but this is different, with Julia in her stroller. Necessary acclimation to human interaction, the books would say. The best thing about Owen's company is that it feels natural, feels easy, and since Owen had cried in the living room, there hadn't been any emotional breakdowns to be dealt. Alicia had always talked about being the adult, in all situations, from the time they were thirteen until thirties.
Maybe, Will thinks somberly, her dying had been the final push towards total adulthood, for Owen. The erasing of those last few immaturities. But then he thinks of the cowboy hat, and shakes his head. This is still Owen. Just Owen grief stricken.
At first, when suggesting a restaurant, Will had shied away from making this kind of a decision, holding his hands to the fire and letting them burn up, letting the notion of pushing himself into the crosshairs of a mental haywire run amuck, but no. He needed to do this. He picks that place. The place they'd had something together, years ago, during that meeting with Ashbaugh. The place they'd met again, hours before Alicia had stood on stage at the Bar Association conference. Never had she been more beautiful, even as the edges of anger still smoldered at all her meaningless questions.
Never had he been more proud.
But they get settled into the café and Will is glad for the atmosphere. Isn't afraid of Julia crying, because he knows she's not that kind of baby, but is still grateful that the lack of looks that get is because of the casual atmosphere. Owen is chattering in his ear about Veronica's latest shenanigan when the host, "So, will it just be you and your husband this evening, or is there anyone else joining you? Do you want a kid's menu, or-
"He's my brother," Owen explains, pursing his lips and giving the guy a full body scan that makes Will feel like he's intruding. "And besides, he's not really my type. I prefer dark hair and-
"No kids menu, thanks," Will chokes, giving Julia his keys to play with and trying to distract everyone in the situation. Owen sniggers when the host leaves, but not before passing Owen his number on a paper napkin. "What?" Will hears tossed his way, and Owen sounds mock offended. "Your Alicia impression is perfecto, by the way. You have uncomfortable sibling down to a tee."
Will smiles warmly, even as his heart gives that familiar twinge, handing Julia a child adapted cup of cheerios. "I'm not really trying," he admits, slightly off handed, eyes fixated on a table off to their left, in the center section. They were there, what feels like yesterday. They were sitting right there. "Thank you for coming down this weekend, Owen. It's-
"Of course I would," Owen cuts him off, impatient, a note of confusion coloring his tone. "Why wouldn't I want to see my niece?"
"I was never technically your brother," Will reminds, remembering how all he'd wanted was to reach out and kiss Alicia, that day. All he'd wanted was to kiss her and shut her up and never, ever let her leave again. Make her apologize. Make her love him like he'd always, always loved her.
"You should've been."
Owen says it in such a way, that's raised an octave. That has Will shifting to look at the younger man. Owen looks angry. No. Owen looks pissed. "Don't diminish your role in our family just because you never put a rock on Alicia's finger. You would've, because you seem like the old fashioned type, but you didn't get the chance. You would've been ten times the husband Peter Florrick was, in any case."
Will stares at him, taken aback. Mouth dry, as they breach so many things left unsaid for so long, so many wants, so many dreams. Will exhales through his nose shakily, biting the inside of his cheek.
They get their drinks, and Owen takes a sip before stating, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, "You were my sister's soul mate. And you're my niece's father. So, William Gardner, you are hereby my honorary brother. If I ever-
Even as Owen rambles on, Will can only focus on the table, even as it's left unoccupied.
He can remember how he'd wanted to reach out and touch her face, even then, how it felt as if each cell in his body was drawn to her, despite all the hate and discourse, the betrayal still lurking in his veins. Thinks Owen hit the nail right on the head.
/
He puts Julia down at eight and three beers in, Owen suddenly gets up from the kitchen island and abandons the conversation. "Owen?" Will questions, and his eyebrows shoot up when Owen presents him with a DVD. "What is-
"Zack gave it to me," Owen tells him, cryptic. "He didn't want to be weird and give it to you, so he gave it to me to give to you. I get why he'd think it's a little weird, but it's not like you're a total stranger, and-
"Owen," Will barks, head cocked. "What is it?" He turns the case over in his hand, opening it to find the same cover as the outside: blank.
"Something you need to have," is all Owen says, and skips to the next topic of conversation. Two more beers, and Will manages to forget the DVD completely.
/
Time passes in a dizzy array of Julia, work, runs, eating, and little to no sleep. Summer in New York City isn't as miserable as people like to paint it out to be, and even as the heat wafts off the building, it builds him, makes him relish taking his daughter to the park as much as he can. He loves watching her learn new things, loves watching her discover all the world has to offer through her little eyes. He slathers her up with sunscreen because he knows how Alicia had the tendency to burn, and takes her to Central Park on a day perfect for a picnic. Her first. The blanket is blue and checkered, and he cuts her off a piece of apple because it's her favorite, these days. She teethes it intently.
Julia crawls around and pulls up grass until he pulls her onto his lap and snuggles her up, points up at the clouds. Julia's still physically small for her age, still more a baby, but all the same, it doesn't make him feel insane, explaining the simple workings of the sky to her. As a child, one of his favorite things was finding shapes.
One of his fondest Georgetown memories was a day after finals, when all Alicia wanted to do was eat comfort food and act like the child she never was. They'd watched the clouds up against a tree, together. They hadn't kissed, because he'd had Helena and Alicia had already found Peter, but it had been a close call. That was always their almost first kiss. Julia is watching her father with a smile on her face like she comprehends it all. All Daddy's girl.
Then, she opens her mouth like she's about to start on a rant. He jokes when people ask, that when she's babbling unintelligible syllables, she's having a law debate- just in baby speak.
She opens her mouth, and she goes, "Da."
His mouth goes slack in point three seconds flat.
Julia rocks forward and slaps her hand against his cheek in a common gesture, faint sticky residue from the fruit fresh on her skin. To hell with the clouds, Will thinks.
"Da-a."
/
Will practically collapses onto the couch, ear drums about to explode, migraine consuming him, and Jesus, he still has to prepare for a particularly tedious cross examination tomorrow. It's two in the morning, and on top of the usual wear and tear of the week, Julia will not go to sleep. When he puts her in her crib, she cries. Not for lack of trying, it's nearly impossible to get much work done with her in his lap- and really, he can't fathom what's gotten into her. Generally, she's good about going to sleep on time, saves the stubborn for Mimi. He's taken her temperature, sang to her, left her alone to cry herself to sleep, but it's just not- working.
And she keeps calling for him. He knows Julia's a smart girl (because of course she'd be smart, with her parentage and all), he knows she's an intellectual kid, because even at eleven months old, she already knows that if she calls him by his name in a certain way, there is not a chance, for all that's holy, that he is going to ignore it.
"Da-a," she whines, squirming. "Da-a, da-a, da-ee."
Patience is not something William Paul Gardner was born with.
At the end of his rope- almost two thirty, and still so much to do, and she keeps calling his name, and the thing is, he's an independent person, by nature. He can do this. He's been doing this for the past year, knows how to change a diaper backwards and forwards, knows how to soothe her, but this isn't I need to be soothed. This is I want attention.
He understands, in little moments like this, how easier it would be if Julia did have two parents. It leaves some raw ache in him, like it always does. This big gaping hole, and it can be inflamed at the faintest touch. Keeps getting reopened, even now, as he's sitting on the couch and turning on the DVD player, and it feels like this is the most important thing he'll ever do. Situating Julia so that she can see the television, falling back against the pillows. The screen is resonating blue, and then black.
And then, then it begins.
He hears Alicia's voice and sees her face, and it's the same as it was the first night he watched it, had watched it over and over again until he fell asleep.
What takes him by surprise, is how Julia stops.
Her little eyes look content to watch the screen, and that-
That's what he was going for, wasn't it?
That's what he was going for, and it still kills him over, and over, and over again.
Although the original plan was to relax on the sofa for a moment, he shifts down to the floor in an instant, even as the hard floor is bad on his knees. He gets behind Julia, pulls her so that he can talk into her ear. Alicia is still talking, and even if it's digital, even if she's not really here, it still feels like she's giving him some kind of elusive confidence he hasn't had. "That's your mommy," he whispers, pointing up at the screen.
He doesn't feel like an idiot. He doesn't. "Can you say that, Julia? 'Mommy?'"
Soft, beautiful laughter emits from his surround sound speakers, and very, very slowly, he watches Julia curl up on her side, thumb in her mouth. Watching the screen until her little lavender eyelids flutter, until she falls asleep like that. He leaves the DVD playing, doesn't dare disturb her.
Brings his work into the living room because he can.
/
That's how that ritual begins. The only person who will ever really know about it is Will himself, but for the next two weeks, every night, just before bed, he'll play the home movie, watch right up until he doesn't have to do anything else, or when Julia falls asleep. It puts her to sleep, a lullaby that outweighs any stupid Bob Marley song. It hurts him, he won't lie.
It hurts him to have to listen, over and over. It hurts him that he has to keep repeating it. "'Mommy'," he reminds Julia. "That's 'Mommy'."
Owen had mentioned that weekend he came up to New York, that there was a stark chance that Julia would never recognize Alicia, if she saw her in a crowd. Will hadn't seen the video yet, so he hadn't realized the two went hand in hand. Zack probably made copies for himself and Grace. Will hopes there are copies, somewhere. All the more, he's incredibly grateful the young man had the foresight to offer up the footage. He's so, so grateful the movie even exists.
"Mommy," Will points at the screen, what must be two weeks in.
Julia's making screeching sounds. "Ma-"
But then she stops, giggling right along with Alicia, on the screen.
Will makes a disgruntled sound, but grins. It's a start.
/
The last week in July, they drive to DC to help Grace move. Will knows the area, and even if it's reigniting dull burns, it means more to him to see Grace squeal when she sees her sister, hoist the baby up around her waist and hug Julia so tightly it's as if she'll never see her again. "You've gotten big," Grace talks directly to Julia. "How are you doing, sweet girl?"
"'ace," Julia slurs, her chocolate curls falling down her forehead. "'ace."
"She's talking?" Grace inquires to Will, mouth parting in shock, such light in her eyes.
"A few words," he answers, even as Owen and Veronica walk up together, Zack still getting a few boxes.
"My first word was dog," Grace comments, tilting her head.
"Dog," Julia murmurs, although the diction of the word is the clearest of anything.
Veronica narrows her eyes at Will. "Are you getting her a puppy? You know all the studies say it's not good to spoil them young-
"Dog," Julia says again, sharper. It's almost in Veronica's direction, almost spiteful, and it's funny.
"I don't think Jules agrees with you," Grace tells her grandmother teasingly, bouncing the baby on her hip and tilting her back until she giggles from the sensation. Will notes that Grace does look like she's lost weight, but still looks infinitely healthier than she had at her graduation. Less depressed, at the very least. She's cut her hair off to just below her shoulders, can recall Owen telling Will that Jackie, Peter's mother, had a fit about it a few months ago.
"'ace," Julia whispers, touching a lock of her sister's hair, and something in Will tells him Grace's smile was worth the drive, worth the fact it's twice as hot in DC as it was in New York. It's worth it.
It really is.
/
Tuesday morning he wakes to the sound of Fleetwood Mac blaring throughout the hotel room. Will sits up and his eyes are stuck on Julia's foldable sleeping pen. Mostly, the lack of her in it.
"Veronica," he splutters, trying to pull the covers around himself, even though it's not like he's indecent. Just taken off guard.
"Owen gave me the spare room key." But Veronica barely spares him a second glance, sitting at the table near the window, Julia swinging her legs off of it. The portable CD player is a garish shade of pink. "My granddaughter is officially one year old," she tells him, like she's informing him.
"It's time to start her Stevie Nicks education."
/
"I wasn't able to educate the other two in appropriate music," the woman explains bleakly, adjusting her sunglasses and frowning. "I'm trying to save her before she's exposed to Miley Cyrus, or Justin Beiber. Have you not seen what-
It's a little later, and Will is dressed, shaking his head as he puts Julia's sock on her little foot.
"Her favorite song is 'Bohemian Rhapsody'," he reassures Veronica in mock seriousness, knowing that if Alicia were here she'd probably be four hundred percent pissed that her mother woke them up this earlier to preach about music taste. She'd always talked about how her family could be, but now Will has had a taste of it, and Will finds- Will finds he doesn't mind at all.
"I guess that's alright then," Veronica tries to pass off, but the smirk playing at her lips tells Will she's half kidding.
/
They already have Grace all settled in, so they decide to spend the day sight seeing, even if Will already knows the sights. Even if Zack was here for his senior trip a few years ago. Even if Veronica was here in the 60s for a party or two, even if Owen and Grace have been, too.
It's different, as some sort of patchwork extended family.
By his request, gifts will be exchanged later, will be opened in Will's apartment when he gets Julia home so that the combined wrapping paper from his sisters, his mother, and Alicia's family will put Julia in ripping heaven. That will be her ultimate birthday gift, far more valued than the pretty red dress Veronica had presented this morning, insisted upon. "She'll have rubies, when she's older," Veronica had said, a little more somber, a little more serious. "Red is definitely her color."
Will had just bit his lip and nodded.
It's not like he could say exactly what he thought. Veronica is still the most fragile of them all.
/
Still, there comes a time, that evening, when they get to the least high class restaurant they can find, eat their fill after walking all day, and get some kind of lava cake for dessert. Julia loves chocolate.
The way Will sees it, this is probably the only birthday she won't remember, so hey, if she decides to bury her face in that cake, ruin her dress with the fudge icing, it's absolutely dandy. Grace snaps as many pictures as she can, and Zack can't stop laughing at the grunting sounds Jules makes, and Owen keeps taking it all in with this sparkle in his eye. It's not balloons and decorations. It's not candles.
But after they leave the establishment, intent to go back to their rest places as the sun begins to droop over the Mall, Grace sheds her shrug and shoes so that she's left in a tank and capris. Grace takes Julia from his arms, all her messy, baby self-
Grace runs with her sister through the sprinklers to wash away the sugary concoction.
Will watches it all with a half smile on his face, but he's also looking over at a cement wall, a barrier between the watering hole and the trees, just a few feet from where Grace and Julia are, a few feet away from Veronica and Owen, he and Zach. He remembers sitting with Alicia on that very wall, watching the sun go down. They rarely ever ventured into the city from Georgetown, there was barely any time, but there was one odd day when they could, and-
The sprinklers coat everybody in a light sheen of water, so no one sees it if his eyes glaze over just slightly. As soon as it's there, it's gone again, too. Because today is a happy day.
This morning, he woke up, and realized that every birthday of Julia's will be the anniversary of Alicia's death. Will realized, watching Veronica sing Dreams to his daughter, that he had to make the decision. It's not forgetting. It's choosing what to remember.
Empty hospital beds, or the way Julia had kicked her feet the first time he'd laid eyes on her.
A eulogy, or a home video.
It's all about decisions. It has been, he thinks, since the moment the test said positive.
It has been, since the moment he made the decision to leave for New York.
Since he made the decision to fall in love with a beautiful, witty twenty three year old.
Since he made the decision to let her go.
/
They stand outside Grace's door and chat idly. Owen and Veronica are interrogating him about what he'll do when-
"Will? Grandma? Uncle Owen?" Grace calls out, and Will freezes.
She sounds like she's crying, and Julia-
But Veronica has already pushed the door open where it had been slightly cracked, venturing in to find Grace with tears pooling in her eyes, sitting criss cross, Julia in her lap. Will furrows his eyebrows, opens his mouth to- "What's-
"Look," Grace's breath hitches, and she picks up something Will hadn't noticed before, off to the right of the girls. "Just look," she whispers.
Julia's mouth is pursed in concentration, rocking back and forth even as Grace points to the picture. "Who's that, Jules? Who's that?"
"Ma," Jules breaks out, her two or three pearly white teeth bared. Veronica puts a hand over her heart.
"I wouldn't have thought she would have recognized it," Grace sniffles, rubbing her eyes, mascara smearing.
"I showed her the video," Will tells them all calmly, and even if Veronica looks confused, she doesn't comment. "I wanted her to-
"Mommy," Julia garbles, grabbing ahold of the picture in her clumsy grip.
Pulling it towards her to hold.