A/N- This chapter is dedicated to orbythesea because that lovely lady was my 100th reviewer, and she's also a pretty fantastic writer if I do say so myself. This is free advertisement. Go read her A/W stories. They're groovy, and deserve more reviews. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy! Thanks for reading!
"Watch it!" somebody yells at him, but he's too much in his own bubble to cast a wayward apology toward the unfortunate person he'd barreled into. He takes the stairs up to the apartment two at a time, and as he waits for the elevator, it feels like years are passing, his palms sweating.
Out of breath and red in the face by the time he stands in front of Mimi's door, knocks sharply. Eight times.
"Alright now," Mimi's voice comes as he can hear the locks clicking, a hint of frustration in her tone. "Just wait a hot minute."
Once he's finally in the door, he's waiting to see, this crushing weight of something pressed against his chest, he's waiting, creeping in on cat's feet, and-
"It was just after I lied her down for nap, you see. I'd sat down to rest my feet and watch some of The Five and she just-
But Mimi's words fade into the background soundtrack when he finds his daughter sitting on the carpet in the woman's living room, her toys strewn about. Julia notices him enter the room, a delighted smile stretching her cheeks, making a positive sound in the back of her throat. "Daddy," she articulates, pushing herself up onto her knees- and he holds his breath.
He stops there, at the edge of the carpet, mouth parting as he watches intently. "Hey, Jules," he coos, all mush.
Julia braces her little hand against the couch, and he wants to help her. Will wants to run to her, help her hoist herself up, but he knows he can't. He knows this is her moment, and it's watching her grow right before his eyes when Julia does what she does next. She stands on her own, on legs that are only partially wobbly.
The little girl splays her arms out in front of her to balance herself.
Walks towards her father in uneven steps.
Will is frozen, taking her in, but then finds himself sinking to his knees in his slacks that had been pressed yesterday, if only so that he's level with her. It feels like time has gone from slow to quick in his tenure, feels as if he could have this moment pressed into a book like rose petal.
He holds out his arms for her, and she stumbles into them.
Doesn't realize he's crying until Julia's demeanor shifts into a frown, pawing at his face to wipe at the tears. "Daddy, sad?"
"No," he gasps, choking on his guffaw. Mimi is laughing quietly, off to the side.
"Proud of you, Jules," Will manages, and then picks her up off the ground, rising to his feet to swing her around a bit. She shrieks, hysterical. "So proud of you."
/
"I wasn't here," he murmurs to Mimi, to himself. Julia has fallen asleep on his shoulder, tuckered from the excitement of the day. The older woman had insisted on cooking them dinner this evening to celebrate, and he'd stayed later than he'd planned, chat low and pointed.
He rubs Julia's back in steady circles, not conscious he's doing it.
He'd been in court when Mimi had called to inform his secretary that Julia had walked for the first time. His secretary hadn't called them until the ten minute recess, and by then, it had already been two hours. Guilt eats at him in ways he'd never expected. It was a big moment.
It was a huge moment.
And he'd been-
"Oh, William, she was going to do it on her own time, anyway. I hadn't told you, but I've been working with her for weeks on trying to be more independent, maybe getting her to stand all by herself, and she just wasn't budging." Mimi rolls her eyes as she's recounting, shoving her white hair behind her ear. "Then, lo and behold, today she just decides. Practically waltzed in on me watching television, and then wouldn't stop toddling around. She's a smart girl, but she's got a stubborn streak that you're going to have to watch. You mark my words-
The discomfort that was lapping at his heels fades, just like that.
"She just decides," Will repeats Mimi's words, and he goes back to a red dress, to red lips.
Their daughter walked for the first time, today.
The baby they made is walking, is growing. It scratches hard and unapologetic, these kinds of realizations, of observations. The feeling he gets when it hits him, it's not sadness.
He's candid with Mimi. He's always felt he could be.
"I miss..," Will starts, and Mimi nods because she understands, just like that. It's one of only a handful of times they've spoken of Alicia. Mimi doesn't even know Alicia's name, actually. To Mimi, Alicia is just a dead person, just a dead mother, and it twists something inside Will that the woman who takes care of their daughter, who is so infused into their lives, knows so little of the other half that made Julia- of the reason Julia is here, thriving and being a beautiful being.
"It's not that I'm not happy," he goes on, that same discourse plaguing him, that same unrest that's been there for the past two years, even before, since- "But it's so hard to be completely happy when-
"No, I hear you, darlin'. I do. It'll get to the point where it's no joy, but lacks salt," Mimi says, very clearly. "That's the only peace there is, when it comes to remembering. Knowing you'll never be able to hold him or her ever again- it's a loss, and," Tiffany Hart lilts even deeper into her accent, forehead creased in her own sadness. "It makes physical pain look like chicken shit. Pardon my French," she chuckles, hollow.
Will looks down at Julia, how her rib cage expands with steady breaths.
"No joy, but lacks salt," he repeats, nodding in agreement. "That sounds about right."
/
The seventeenth of October, the firm opens a branch in LA for Cary to run.
It's been two years, to the day, since he last touched Alicia's face.
/
Fifteen minutes of sweat and tears and all he's left with is black, smudged fingers, and a fussy baby. "Daddy, no," Julia moans, tossing her head of curls and nearly shaking off her costumed headband. "Hot," she whines loudly, pulling at her tail.
Will scrambles for a mirror, sticking it in front of her face. "See, Jules? You're a kitty."
It's almost comical, how quickly her expression shifts to one of excitement, just at seeing her own reflection. It's not the worst he could have done, cute, right down to the crooked makeup smears across her cherubic cheeks.
"Meow," Julia tells him, sweetly. "Meow."
"That's what sound a cat makes, Jules, that's right," he grins, the stress receding. He checks his watch, and picks her up off his bathroom counter, hitching her on his hip.
"You ready to go get some candy, little one?" he asks her, moving toward the sound of knocking at his door, and-
"Uncle Will!" Lilly greets, fastening her arms around his waist in a constricting hug. "Trick or treat!"
Sarah's wearing a witch's hat to compliment her daughter's ensemble, but Lilly is the one with the full face of green make up, staining his jeans a nice bright emerald. "Hey stranger," she greets warmly, leaning in to give him a one armed hug and taking his daughter in her own arms in the same fell swoop. "And how are you, little miss?"
Julia sticks her thumb in her mouth, tucking her chin into her chest.
Meanwhile, his niece tugs on his arm, garnering his attention. "Are we going?"
"Lilly," Sarah reprimands sternly, but Will is quick to interject.
"We're going," he assures the nine year old, grabbing the orange jack-o-lantern bucket off the side table by the door, grabbing Julia's coat too, just in case it gets a little too chilly.
Sarah passes Julia back to Will, and he bounces her on his hip as Sarah takes her own daughter's hand.
And off they go.
/
Although Sarah was just going to drive up for the night, it ends up being too busy to find a hotel, and New York City transportation is not allowing her to leave on Halloween, of all nights. It's eleven before they get Julia and Lilly out and down for the night, and by then they're too tired to do anything more than have some beers while watching whatever's on television- a horror movie that came out last year, by the looks of it. Lots of gore and screams, so they have to turn the volume down. Aubrey doesn't have the temperament to watch this kind of stuff, never did.
"She's a sweet little girl," Sarah comments mildly, while it's on a commercial break.
"She is," Will murmurs, thinking. "You know I used to not understand what you meant, when you said you'd do anything for Lilly. I mean, I empathized as best I could, but when you're not a parent, you just don't comprehend the meaning, and-
Sarah reaches a hand out and pats his arm. "You didn't have to do it, you know? There are some men who would have heard the word 'baby' and ran the other direction, especially if the woman who mothered her wasn't around to-
"Alicia didn't choose not to be around," Will cuts her off, more defensive than he'd exactly meant for his response to be. "I mean, sorry. Why would you say it like that?"
Sarah looks down at her lap, frowning uncomfortably. "I don't know, Will. Sorry. Have you spoken to Mom recently?"
"No. Been busy. Why?"
"Because," Sarah pauses, clearing her throat. "Mom thinks you're doing all this out of a sense of obligation, and-
"Of course I feel obligated," Will growls, and this time it's every bit as harsh as he intends it to be. "She's my daughter."
There's a long moment where it seems like the conversation will be dropped, until Sarah says, quietly, almost as if it's the worst kind of truth, "Will, are you positiveshe's your kid?"
Will's mouth goes slack, face contorting as the sugar from the candy he'd consumed is sharp on his tongue, makes him nauseated.
"I'm sorry," his sister whispers, pained. "I'm sorry I'm even asking you this. But Mom had wondered-
"I haven't had a fucking paternity test done," Will speaks, and this time it's so desperately terse the blood in Sarah's veins runs cold, goose bumps breaking out across her pale skin. Her hair sticks flat against her forehead, in her eyes. She's never seen her brother this shaken, crazed looking. "But you know the funny thing?"
Sarah shakes her head, even if it's rhetorical. There's nothing funny here.
"It wouldn't make a difference," he realizes, wry, startled at his own self. "It wouldn't make a difference, because I love Julia so much. I would lay down my life for her."
On the screen, somebody's murdered with an axe, guts strewn about. Sarah watches the scene, and then looks back at her brother, tears in her eyes. "Will, you're a good person."
He scoffs, dark humor in his eyes. "Far cry from Chicago's Sixteenth Most Eligible Bachelor, eh?"
"You used to the bachelor," Sarah amends for him, softening. She squeezes his shoulder, waiting until his muscles lost some of the tension. "Now, you're…the father."
The side of Will's mouth tugs upwards. "The father, huh? That's a title I could work with."
/
He feels the curve of her soft fingers on his upper lip, tracing out its shape.
"Alicia," he whispers, snuggling deeper into the unbelievable warmth of wherever he is. It's light, bright, and Alicia's smile is so close, so real. It stretches her lips, the whiteness of her teeth nearly as blinding as the ambiance. He reaches out to thread his fingers through her dark tresses that contrast so sharply against her pale, milky skin, to smell of her honey and lavender shampoo.
Tangible, in the way she laughs in his ear, the way he can feel her mouth pressed against his carotid. "Will," she catches his attention, angling her body so that there's distance between them, enough for him to take note of her swollen stomach, of the way she seems huge beneath her nightgown. "Will," Alicia says again, clearer. "I'm proud of you."
He reaches down to feel of Julia kicking in her mother's stomach.
It's like a thousand candles filling his chest, all lit up against the sky of night. They laugh together, breathless and infectious, leaning in their hands until he can feel Alicia's hair brushing his face, his mouth. When he moves his hand, though, he runs his it across something wet, and-
Will pulls away to find that his fingers are coated in fresh, warm blood.
"Where's it coming from?" she blurts, going pale.
It's all going too quick, all of a sudden, the blink of an eye, and Will struggles to put pressure, to find the place where the blood is coming from, pouring from, but before he knows it Alicia is writhing and the sheets are doused and he can barely breathe. "It's okay," he tries to say, tries to do anything, even as the red keeps coming. "You're gonna be fine, Alicia. I can get you a doctor, or-
But Alicia doesn't even spare him a glance, has remained calm throughout the entire ordeal, barely even flinches when she's liberally soaked in her own blood. Dying, she's-
"Will," Alicia murmurs, suddenly, tears streaking her cheeks. It's the only confirmation of pain, of any shock, and- "Will, I'm alone," Alicia cries raggedly. "I'm alone."
She looks terrified.
"No," Will chokes, shaking his head sternly. "No, no, no. You're not alone," he tries to tell her. "I'm right here, and you are not going to die. You are not going to die."
Will tries to stroke her cheek, but she twists it away.
"No," Alicia moans, rubbing her macabre bump, beautiful face contorted in pain. It is miles away from how she'd spoken with such pride, such adoration only moments ago, and the conviction in which she looks at him nearly kills him, cripples him. "No, I was all alone. You know you let me be alone, and-
"I'm here," Will whispers brokenly, maroon everywhere.
And Alicia looked so good in red. And-
"I don't want to go," Alicia pants. Begs. "I don't want to go."
And then she closes her eyes and Will opens his mouth to scream and-
/
"Will!" Sarah shakes him awake, hissing his name. "Will, wake up!"
He comes to in a panic, eyes darting wildly. Body soaked in cold sweat.
"It was just a dream," she soothes, and tries to pat his hair, but he moves away, doesn't want to be touched, and his chest aches, and-
Will's breathing is so uneven he thinks he might be hyperventilating. Having a panic attack.
Sarah's dark hair smells a little like Alicia's did, and he wonders, fleetingly, if they use similar hair products. "It's seven," she tells him. "I already got Julia up, but I was going to make pancakes for all of us before we head out and-
"Daddy," he hears Julia call out, from just inside the door. She sways along, her blankie in her hand, and he moves to put his feet on the floor, despite the cooling perspiration on his body, besides the nightmare still playing over and over again in his head. Opens his arms to her, and Sarah takes a step back to watch.
"Are you good?" Sarah asks him nervously, once Julia has situated herself in his lap, wrinkling her nose against the smell. He nearly chuckles at that, all weak and pent up.
"Getting there," he admits, and rubs his eyes with his free hand. "It was probably the scary movie last night. And the candy before bed," he passes off. "Yeah. That was probably it."
But Sarah doesn't laugh like he thinks she will, doesn't accept it.
"Were you there when she was born?" Sarah wonders, confusion and apprehension in her gaze. Will looks at Julia and questions why he has the urge to cover her ears, but knows she's not getting any of it, and doesn't quite know why Sarah would be asking because Sarah already knows the answer, and-
"No," Will says, bleak. "Why?"
Sarah purses her lips solemnly. "No reason."
/
He passed on last year's Thanksgiving dinner at the Governor's mansion, so it's only polite that he agree this year. Will Gardner prepares himself for the ordeal for the three weeks leading up to it in every way he possibly can, envisioning any and all catastrophe scenarios, but in the end, even he can't plan for Julia developing a bit of a cold three days before, can't plan for spending a flight in tears of her little head aching-
Can't imagine pulling into the elegant, stone paved driveway, to find Veronica and Owen dressed as an Indian and a turkey. Nope.
Some things in life, one just can't think through.
/
Julia sees her sister and clings. Will understands, anyway, that she's the most familiar person in a huge abyss of new, but it leaves a lump in his throat, how Julia buries her snotty nose in her older sister's shoulder and allows her legs to go limp, falling like a ragdoll. "Gracie, sick. 'm sick."
"Allergies, huh?" Grace frowns at her brother, at Will. "You know she's going to have to get shots when she gets older, right? If her allergies are anything like-
But then she stops her own self, shakes her head. "Let's get inside. Dinner's ready."
Zack fills him in on his latest college shenanigan on their way further inside the mansion, complete with quips from Owen and Veronica, right up until-
"Will," Peter acknowledges, and Will immediately tenses up, because, well, he can't help it.
But then he loosens his sternum, rolls his shoulders back, and meets Peter's eyes as he shake his hand. "Hi, Peter."
Peter looks old.
Far greyer than he was in the hospital, white in places, deeper lines offset around his eyes, and to put it simply, he looks worn. Tired.
"She's getting big," Peter nods to Julia, still half asleep in Grace's arms. "Time really does fly, when they're little."
"Yeah," Will swallows, knows how weird it is that they can make small talk, can remember a time when all he wanted was to softly hit Peter over the head with a metal pipe.
A small smile tugs at his lips.
/
He doesn't technically meet Jackie Florrick until they're sat down for dinner, and that, he thinks, is where it all starts to go wrong. The woman looks at him like he's the bottom of her shoe, a curl to her lip that makes him think ugly, makes him think of a dragon flaring its nostrils.
He quells the urge to say something, because it's not his place.
The food is delicious, as expected. A far cry from his mother's Turkey Day, but still settling enough that the grand dining table is filled with soft laughter and good banter, an east, familial peace. The conversation topics are far more eccentric than that at a normal table, but still- with Owen on his left, Grace on his right with Julia still clinging, it's happy.
But Julia hinders Grace being able to eat properly, won't go to save her life.
Mewls when Will tries to take her, and-
"It's okay," Grace bursts out after the second attempt. "I've missed her a lot, Will. Trust me, it is totally okay. Here, Jules, look. Cranberries?"
Julia turns her head to take a bite off of Grace's spoon, and the content sound she makes in the back of her throat has everybody at the table, save Jackie, making sounds of amusement. Wrapped around her little finger, and-
"I wish," Will notes wistfully, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes and chewing. "That she wouldn't get by with so much. I spoil her, I think. Maybe a little."
Owen raises one eyebrow, snorting, and Veronica laughs whole heartedly.
"Hey," Peter juts in, and Will's head snaps up, curious. "You're a father. What are you going to do?"
Will cracks another smile, nodding, thoughtful. "She likes routine, which is nice. I, uhm, I'm supposed to be a big, mean, tough lawyer, so this doesn't leave this table, but I know every line to Yo Gabba Gabba, and that's real sad. Real sad."
"Grace had an Elmo phase," Zack remembers, bumping his shoulder into his sister's empty one. "Remember that?"
"Oh, but Jules is stubborn about it. Not that she kicks and screams when I don't turn it on, because she's more subtle than that, but I swear she knows how to pout."
Owen's face falls a little, nodding like he's about to remember how Alicia would, sometimes, how-
"It's to be expected," Jackie speaks up, but she says it off the side, mumbled into her forkful of food, and Will glances at her wine glass and glances at Veronica's expression, and then-
"I didn't quite catch that?" he murmurs, arching an eyebrow.
Everybody is silent, and Jackie grimaces, something that might be meant to be a vindictive smile, shrugging her shoulders haughtily. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just saying that, well, had the child-
"Julia," he cuts her off, inclining his head.
He shouldn't engage, but the way she takes note of his daughter, it's disdainful, and he's not just going to sit around and-
"I beg your pardon?" Jackie says, eyes flashing.
"My daughter's name is Julia."
Jackie looks, for a moment, like she's trying to get her baring, but then goes on, as if he'd never interrupted her in the first place. Entitled, arrogant. A bitch. "I was just saying that your daughter would be better behaved if she-
"If she what?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. "If she had- If she had Alicia in her life?"
He's grasping at strings, wants to know exactly what this confounded woman is trying to insult him with, how she thinks her words can wound, and-
"At the very least," Jackie scoffs hatefully, looking down at her plate, and Will hears Grace gasp, watches Owen and Veronica's expressions turn to horror, watches Zack's fist clench, and-
"How dare you," he whispers, low. He's infinitely glad that he's not holding Julia, that she's not anywhere near his quaking fingers. "How dare you."
Jackie looks up, brows furrowing in mock innocence. "Excuse me?"
Peter is watching the scene with guarded eyes, a politician who knows when to step in. Knows when to let nature run its course, and now is the time of the latter.
"Mrs. Florrick," Will addresses her promptly, but there's an edge in his voice that is all business, all steel. Deadly. It makes her look up, at the very least, eyes widening. "Let me make one thing quite clear. If you ever speak of my daughter's mother or my daughter in such a condescending, disrespectful way again-
"Mr. Gardner-
"If you do, you hag, you better hope I never hear it."
"Peter," Jackie gasps, looking to her son to defend her, but-
"Mother," Peter mutters, face scrunching. "Mother, that's enough."
Jackie stands from the table dramatically, leaving the room with a venomous glare set in Will's direction, but Will only has eyes for Julia, how he'd kept his voice level as so as not to startle her. How she's still got cranberries all over her mouth, even as she's half asleep.
After a stagnant silence, Veronica goes, "So, who's ready for pie?"
At the same time Owen barks, "Will Gardner, my hero."
/
Peter catches his attention as they're getting ready to leave, and Will frowns. Cooled down from earlier, he murmurs quietly, "Peter, I'm sorry about-
"No," he hears, sharp. Peter's gaze is stern, because the truth is: Will isn't sorry, and Peter doesn't like liars. "Don't apologize for that. It needed to be said." Peter scratches his temple, and Will realizes the older man looks regretful. "Should have been said a long time ago. Are you sure you guys don't want any more left overs?"
And that, apparently, is that.
/
Mimi comes over to make Christmas cookies with Julia when New York is hit by one of the season's many snow storms, and he's home for this, makes sure to be home for the first time Julia sees snow, is able to play in the snow. Her green eyes are lit up at the sight, and after a half hour, her nose and cheeks are tinged red, despite the layers and layers, despite his hovering.
The batter gets everywhere, but Jules licks it off her fingers and it's worth it, the mess. The snow that came in with her, that's melting on the carpet, it all leaves him with one distinct prerogative:
Julia is worth any mess she's ever made.
/
This, however, is the bane of his existence.
Lines wrapping around and around a Christmas tree, noise loud and berating, and Julia sniffling into his shoulder, her little arms wrapped in a choke hold around his neck. They've been waiting here for two hours, all to appease Veronica and Will's mother, to give Aubrey and Sarah the 'only Christmas gift they want this year'. And now, it's here.
It's time to take the picture with Santa, and Julia is terrified.
It's not that she's crying, no. It's funny, how even when she was unable to walk or talk, Julia rarely, if ever, cried in public. As it is, all she'll do is whimper, grabbing ahold of whatever she can on her father's clothing to tether, to hold onto, and Will is half embarrassed that they're holding up the line further, half panicked because of Julia's panic.
"Here, Jules. Jules," he tries to catch her attention, and people are staring at him like he's crazy that he's trying to talk sense into a baby.
"Scared," Julia hiccups, the r coming out half enunciated. Her cheeks are rosy, and the guy dressed in a white beard looks like he has the patience of catholic nun, and-
"Here, hey," he tries to shush her.
"She just doesn't want to be alone with Santa," a blonde woman interrupts him from a few feet away, cocking her head. "Why don't you hop in the picture with her? You really don't look that bad."
Another mother, with twin girls at her side, makes a noise in the back of her throat like she agrees. It's something about the alone that niggles at him, takes his breath away, but then he cedes, hops in the picture and Julia relaxes, as he's tickling her belly to make her smile.
When he stands, turns in the card he'd filled out so that they can send the prints to his email, the woman who had suggested the arrangement to him is standing there, her son already on Santa's lap.
"Your wife is going to be really proud you did this all by yourself," the woman grins at him, touches his shoulder with warmth that turns frigid, grinding despite Julia still clinging to him, all the noise and chaos of the mall too much to bare.
"Yeah," he throws over his shoulder as he leaves. He doesn't mean to sound so bitter, but he can't help it. He's heartbroken and angry at nobody and trying to act like a normal person, a normal father, all at the same time.
"I bet she would be," Will whispers to no one but himself, holding Julia tighter to shield her from the falling snow.