At home for the first time in almost a week, Kalinda refills the olive canvas duffel bag that she emptied months ago, when she thought that simply staying in Chicago, simply putting up with Nick, could keep Alicia safe.
Back then any damage to Alicia was imaginary, the outer limits of what Nick could do. Kalinda had even teased at the idea of it, masochistically, the way you probe a sore tooth with your tongue, rub your finger over a blister, taking an odd hidden pleasure in realizing it doesn't hurt so much, that things are not, in fact, as bad as they could be.
They still aren't, of course. Nick was never much of a shot; it's the carelessness that's dangerous in his case, not the precision. But spending several days with the Florrick children has only given Kalinda a clearer picture of what's at stake. He could come back, if he chose to. Best if he's distracted by looking for her.
Is he dangerous? You said he was dangerous.
She has a little more leisure this time around, so she packs a little more carefully, picking and choosing clothes, sliding orange notebooks into the duffel's inside pockets. The money situation is a problem—half her cash went to Nick's bus station locker in Detroit, and a massive withdrawal from Kalinda Sharma's bank accounts could result in unwanted attention, and certainly Lockhart/Gardner has nothing to offer at the moment—but she can make it work, she has before. Nick won't recover for a while. She doesn't have to disappear completely, not right away.
She had been ready to disappear. And she should have. Back then nothing would have happened to Alicia; Bill and Nick would have had no idea that she really mattered. They would have treated her like a lawyer, pumped her for some information at the office, let her go, let it go. Then Nick would have pursued Kalinda, or not, but Alicia would have had nothing to do with it.
She'll hate losing Lockhart/Gardner. That's been, in many ways, the best part of being Kalinda Sharma, the pleasure of her own ability, seeing it serve people she respected. But after the last week it seems like part of her past already, like she's looking back at it through a tunnel, exhaust fumes blurring her vision. She'll be someone else and find something else that makes her happy. Or she won't.
He said he'd kill you if I didn't come.
Kalinda is pretty sure she has everything she'll need. She zips the duffel, lays it on the floor beside her bed, which is still imprinted with Nick and still smells of him. If she had her way she would torch this place, but you can't burn down an apartment like you can an isolated house and it wouldn't do to set a pattern. And she liked it here until he showed up.
I am liking it here.
Her phone buzzes. The sender is Grace Florrick, and the text simply reads, "4got about soccer game."
When Grace found Kalinda still keeping watch on the second day, she insisted on exchanging phone numbers "just in case." Kalinda never expected to actually hear from her, and is ready to assume the message is meant for one of her school friends when another message follows. "Have 2 go, also mom and dad say we need a break. can u check on mom pls? thx."
Kalinda sighs.
/
She finds Alicia alone in her room, staring listlessly out the window onto the end of a flat gray day. She looks like she might have been crying, though Kalinda can't be sure. She hovers in the doorway, wishing she were Cary, wishing she came as a caretaker with something to offer. Now that she's left the hospital she's finding it very difficult to re-enter.
But Alicia senses her presence and looks up. There's more color on her face, including bluish shadows beneath her eyes. Even turning her head looks like it might hurt her.
Kalinda waves her phone. "I got a text from Grace."
Alicia smiles. "Smart girl," she says quietly. "I thought I needed to be alone, but when I'm alone …" Her good hand flips in the air, a tired, helpless gesture. "I don't think I should be. Not for a while."
Kalinda nods fervently.
"It hurts," says Alicia, her voice soft and ragged. "It really hurts."
"Yeah. I bet." Looking at Alicia, Kalinda can almost feel it herself. She slides into her seat and strokes Alicia's hand, not sure what else to do. "Do you want the morphine?"
"Yes, but no. I want to be awake. At least to try."
Kalinda nods.
"And the kids," Alicia goes on. "They should be at my apartment, I asked Peter to come and stay, but Grace says it's easier for them to be in Highland Park, it's closer to school. I'm going to be in here for weeks, Kalinda, and I haven't been away from them for this long. Not ever." She stops and closes her eyes for a second. Kalinda watches her closely. A twinge of pain passes over her face as she continues. "And the police, Kalinda—"
"Did you talk to Diane?" Kalinda asks.
"On the phone, yes. They're coming back to get my statement this evening, when she can be here." Alicia rolls her eyes. "Peter's furious."
"That's too bad. I'm glad, about Diane."
"Yes, so am I." Alicia waits and studies Kalinda. "Where'd you go?"
"Home," Kalinda answers.
"Did you pack?"
Alicia's voice has suddenly gotten colder, as if it were a year ago and they were sitting in the conference room and not the hospital.
Icy.
It's hard, very hard, to speak. "Yeah."
"When are you going?"
Kalinda opens her mouth to answer, but then she doesn't say anything.
"You know," says Alicia, "a lot of information will probably come out after you leave."
"I know," Kalinda says. She's thought about that, and it's unfortunate—for Cary and Will to know she's married to Nick for instance—but there doesn't seem to be much she can do.
"You know who—did this."
Kalinda swallows. "Yes. You saw him?"
"Yes. He wasn't doing much to hide himself."
Kalinda nods. That's not surprising. Stupid, of course, but not surprising.
"When they find out you're married to him," Alicia says. "If you've run. They might think you were … involved."
Kalinda stares.
Alicia stares back.
What's going on, Kalinda?
Kalinda says, nearly choking on the words, "Do—do you think that?"
Alicia looks at her coolly. It's more focus than Kalinda has seen from her in four days. Silence coats her features.
"No."
Her reply comes just a second too late. Kalinda's already burst into tears.
She hides her face in her hand, trying to bite the sobs back. She shouldn't be the one crying now, but she's barely slept in a week and for Alicia to think, to even consider—
"Kalinda?" Alicia's voice is completely different now. She sounds, among other things, surprised.
Kalinda can't say anything at all, and there's nothing to do but wait until the wave subsides. The tears rip out of her. She shakes with them. She is exhausted, and humiliated, and everything is echoing in her head, and staying in this room seems as impossible as running from it.
She hears the hum of Alicia's bed rising up. She feels a hand on her shoulder, tentative, then sliding off.
"I shouldn't have said that," Alicia says. "I know you—I know it's ridiculous."
"No. You're right. I was—You told me what he said to you, and I could have—I should have—I know what he does, but when I—" There's no real use to trying to explain this, to trying to explain Nick, or herself. She lifts her face, tries to meet Alicia's eyes even though she can barely see them. Alicia's sitting up, looking at her with an expression Kalinda finds it impossible to read.
"I almost killed you," Kalinda finishes, her voice a whisper.
"No," Alicia says. "Nick Savarese almost killed me."
"He's my husband."
"And my client."
"He was only here because of me."
"Actually," Alicia says dryly, "he was here because of me. If you want to get technical."
"He was looking for me. And he only went after you because I—"
"Kalinda." Alicia looks at her. "What do you get if you win?"
Kalinda stops, looks at Alicia, breathing hard. She would like to leave this hospital room. She would like to have left it already.
"This isn't your fault. It isn't anybody's but the person who did it." Alicia sits back, leading Kalinda to notice that she was barely an inch off the mattress in the first place. Somehow she seemed taller.
They're silent, although Alicia's myriad machines continue to beep and hum. Outside the window the day is slipping inexorably into sunset. It's so cloudy that there are only a few streaks of color, burning at the edges of the gray. Kalinda feels unsteady, like pieces of the floor have disappeared. The lack of sleep, she supposes, was bound to catch up sooner or later. She looks at Alicia, who is looking a little bit past her, as if she's unable to focus.
"I thought you'd died," Alicia says softly. "When he was there and you weren't. I thought he'd killed you already. I thought I was just—next."
"I thought—"
And Kalinda stops. What did she think? Nick wouldn't kill Kalinda, she had never worried about that. He had hurt her, certainly, made her miserable, damaged her professional life, asked her to transform back into a woman who had long since vaporized into ashes. But none of that was the danger. She stares at the mounds that are Alicia's feet beneath the covers and says, so softly she hopes Alicia won't hear her, "I thought I was going to lose you."
That was what had kept her bound beside Will in icy silence for endless hours: the simple impossibility of a world without Alicia in it.
Alicia looks at her sharply. The sharpness is a relief. She reaches out again to stroke Kalinda's shoulder. With her eyes open this time, Kalinda can see that even that small movement must be agonizing for Alicia, pulling at the muscles that have bunched up to protect her gaping wounds, at her newly forming skin.
"You didn't," Alicia says.