February 18th, 1997

Seven years. In this time he fell in love, fell into routine, and felt like he could spend the rest of his life in it. In this time, he grabbed onto a promise and held on, believing that this one would be kept. In this time, he thought that he would never be able to love another person the way he loved Michael. In seven years, Will's vision of life had changed, and he never had a plan for what would happen if everything he had come to know fell through. He wasn't worried about it; Michael had promised him his love, and Will had no reason to think of him as a liar.

And even now, three months after the fact, a part of him still wanted to believe the promise Michael gave him, even though it had been broken.

He wanted to believe that their relationship, everything they had built together, wasn't so easy to walk out on. He liked to think that they had a happy life together, and although there were a few rough patches, he knew that there were bound to be, and they would get through it. But Will realized now that there was no use in kidding himself. He wondered when Michael finally decided enough was enough, while he was wrapped up in the things that would cause his exit to completely blindside him.

He wondered how long of a mourning period a seven-year relationship needed.

Will walked the streets, not wanting to go home. Home reminded him of Michael; home reminded him of the things that once were, the things he could no longer have. He would return to his apartment only when he needed sleep; he was in search of some sort of distraction from everything, and frankly, he had yet to find it. But he wasn't about to give up. There was a distinct chill in the air, but he had been walking so long that he could no longer feel it. He wasn't able to feel anything, it seemed. Will turned his gaze from the strangers passing him by on the sidewalk to his own feet; he really could do without seeing couples hand in hand, absorbed in each other when he can only picture his own failed relationship.

If he had looked up just a second later, he would have missed her completely.

She was so close to him that he realized he would have run into her, had he continued in his self-absorbed trance. He looked behind her to find the entrance to a restaurant; he figured she was waiting for someone to join her. Will took a moment to study her while she concerned herself with looking down the street for just the right car to come their way. She was dressed in a high-end wardrobe that he knew Grace would kill to afford. But something was off. The clothes fit her physically, but they seemed to be the worst pick in every other aspect. She wasn't meant for the part that required such dress. Whether or not she knew that, he had yet to determine.

The woman glanced over at him, did a double take when she realized he was staring at her. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, scoffing as she asked, "Can I help you?"

Will didn't know how to answer, and simply said, "Are you waiting for someone?"

"As a matter of fact, I am." She locked her eyes on him, giving Will the chance to study them. God, they were beautiful in their shade of hazel, shining against the streetlights. But he could tell that they were hiding something—sadness, pain maybe—and wondered exactly what her story was.

"I could keep you company," he suggested.

She laughed. "I don't know you."

He smiled at her. He had to admit, he was intrigued, and incredibly attracted to her. Will took in the way she brushed her hair away from her eyes, the sigh she let escape as she turned her gaze back to the streets and waited for a response, the way her lower lip quivered with the cold. "Okay," he finally spoke, making her look back at him. "I'm Will. And you?"

She let a slight smirk creep onto her face. "Karen."

"Who are you waiting for?"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Walker?" They both turned around to face the man peeking his head out the door of the restaurant. Will hoped that he was looking for someone else, anyone except for her. She couldn't be married. But then she responded. Damn, he thought. "I'm sorry, but your husband just called and wanted us to let you know that he is unable to make the reservation tonight." Will watched as the man quickly retreated to his place inside the building, apologetic, but obviously not enough to stick around.

"Well," Karen said with another sigh, "I guess that's your answer." The light in her eyes that was once so vivid had now gone out completely. He got the feeling that she had been let down like this before despite promises that it would never happen again. She began walking to the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for someone to take her home. Will quickened his step in order to catch up to her, touched her arm to get her attention back.

"Come on, you don't need to leave. I'll take you to dinner." A little bold, perhaps, but he figured they were merely fishing for small talk up to this point, before arriving here.

She laughed again. Somehow, he figured it was coming. "I'm married," she replied as she hailed a cab. It wasn't exactly a "no" but it definitely served the purpose. But he couldn't help but wonder why she didn't just say "no." Maybe she was just as intrigued as he was. Maybe "I'm married" wasn't so much a rejection as it was a reminder to herself.

"But I won't disappoint you, like he obviously has. And I bet that this isn't the first time."

Karen turned away from the cab that was slowing down to a stop to face him. "And how the hell do you know so much about my marriage?"

"I can just see it in your eyes. You want a change."

She didn't say anything, just stood there, stunned. He had gotten to her, he knew it. He made her realize what had been there all along, despite her attempts to ignore it. He watched as she opened the back door of the cab, got in and directed the driver where to go. While they drove off, Will so desperately wanted to be the change that she needed. He wanted to be the one that brought the light back to Karen Walker's eyes.

As the cab drove off, Karen turned in her seat to look back at the man she just met, and cursed herself for not getting his last name. Will. She had only talked to him for no longer than a couple minutes, but she actually believed everything he said. Sure, her marriage wasn't picture perfect, but every relationship had its flaws, or so she thought. But this man, this Will, seemed to know everything that was bothering her about it. And he seemed like he could be the one to change it.

She shifted in her seat, leaning her head against the window, feeling the cold glass against her skin. He had her full name. She wondered if she had captivated him enough to want to find her, smiling at the thought of someone doing everything in their power just to see her again. Stanley would never do that, at least not now. Not when they've seemingly become so comfortable in their routine that anything out of the ordinary would seem like a disruption. But Will. He could be capable.

But no, she thought. She was crazy for thinking that. That sort of thing only happens in the movies. Ordinary people don't do that.

But Will didn't seem ordinary.