Will's gaze shifts with sneaking impatience between the traffic of people outside the window wall and the unoccupied seat in front of him. He came in a few minutes late, and unless she's a no-show, it's clear that Alicia is late, too.

His conversation with Diane is still very vivid in his mind. Merging the firms. The twenty minutes' drive from LG to the restaurant gave him enough time to reflect and to start assimilating the news.

On one hand, he can understand Diane's motives. Yes, he saw the nose-diving figures. And yes, the two hours meeting gave him a very accurate idea of David Lee's grown belligerency. But then… his mind can't help going back to the day he was the one who offered Alicia the chance to take Diane's place. And it doesn't matter that the situation was different, that he had just been betrayed by his best friend and partner, that he was so naïve to misread Alicia's hesitation. It feels like a betrayal inside the betrayal. Fitful flashes of Alicia sitting in his chair blind him with an unmotivated trace of jealousy. He should be happy for her. Or so he assumes. Maybe even congratulate her on the opportunity? In the end, he was the one who left. He lost any right to claim back the seat long ago. Or didn't he?

Still, he can't get rid of the unpleasant, nagging thought that he talked to Alicia only the day before and she didn't consider it necessary to mention even a single word about it.

Someone opens the door and the background noise of rush hour's traffic invades the restaurant for a few seconds. He looks up at the new guest, instinctively, while his mind is still trying to elaborate some reason behind Alicia's silence. And it takes him a moment to grasp that it's Alicia indeed who's standing in the middle of the hall, peeping around in search for him. Black coat on, her briefcase in one hand, she's probably arriving from court. With a faint wave, he catches her attention. Her answer is a tense half-smile, as she quickly approaches him with long, elegant steps.

"Hi," she greets him as she places the briefcase next to her chair, then takes her coat off. Underneath, she's dressed in the same dark color.

"Hi," he greets her back with a hinted nod.

The tight-fitting cut of her dress accentuates her slim figure and her tiny curves and he finds himself looking away as she sits in front of him. This is not why we are here, he has to remind himself. This is not why we are here. Lunch. Talk. Where do we stand? The merger. He brushes up on the list of topics they need to talk out to divert his mind from a beauty that seems to have always the same effect on him.

The merger.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit late, got stuck in court," she apologizes. She always does, he observes. She always feels the need to apologize for something except when she really should. That's when she usually gets defensive the most.

"I've just gotten here too." He shrugs the unnecessary sorry away. And suddenly they are sitting in front of each other, dealing with the always embarrassing, awkward silence that inevitably comes between the greetings and the icebreaker. And if it's always hard to find a good way to start a conversation, this time there is a clear tension in the way their looks meander restlessly and it's obvious to both that this lunch will be a piece of bitter cake.

When the waiter approaches them with the menu, Will is almost grateful for the momentary interruption. His eyes linger discreetly on Alicia. It took him a whole year and an absurd amount of commitment to get over her. And he thought he did, he really thought he did. Until one dinner belied him. Until that single night together blew the dust off a passion that had clearly never burned out.

"So," he says, but doesn't really say anything. His gaze is fixed with excessive concentration somewhere between the starters and the wide choice of first courses.

"So," Alicia repeats with a shred of discomfort in her voice.

He blinks at her with discretion. The uneasiness is seeping through her eyes, too, and through her shyly peeping smile. And all he can think is that this looks nothing like how he had pictured it when he set foot on Chicago's soil only a few hours ago. In his mind, they would have a quick lunch, consumed among burning looks of lust and sheepish laughter, then do what they always do best; try to work out their feelings with actions in lieu of words and end up complicating them even more. Though he can't imagine how they could honestly get more complicated than this.

They parted ways one year before on the worst terms, never heard from each other deliberately, until two weeks ago, when their dinner culminated in highly-charged, incandescent sex in a hotel room. He came with the highest hopes just to get them crushed by Diane's words. And now, graphic bits from that night alternate with the voiced proposal and merger, giving to the whole an unsettling feeling. Nope. It can't get any more complicated than this.

Yet the conversation has to start at some point and this time he was the one to call, to take the first step. So he closes the menu decidedly, straightens up and gives her full attention. For a moment he's tempted to jump right to the point, to question her bluntly about her intentions. But deep down in his heart, he's not ready for that. He wants to just enjoy lunch and the company of a woman for whom he evidently still feels more than he wants to admit.

"So, how were the last two weeks?" It has to be the lamest of all the lame icebreakers and he might as well have asked about the weather and get the same zero impact.

But thankfully Alicia seems to think otherwise, as she gazes at him pensively, then sighs. "Intense," she summarizes it.

Intense. Yes. He approves with a nod her choice of wording.

"Will…"

He knows that tone. He still recognizes it from all the letdowns and the heartbreaks. And even if it's been a lifetime since the last time she pronounced his name like that, with such a low-pitched gravity, the feeling is still the same.

"Yes, I know," he agrees to the unvoiced notion that they have screwed it again. At least that's what his words do. Because every cell of his brain is instead silently screaming at him to at least try to put together a decent defense. The waiter approaches them to take their orders, interrupting his conflicted reasoning. Will opts for lasagna and hints a smile, not surprised by Alicia's choice of beef tenderloin and salad. He can't even remember the last time they had lunch here together, yet her predilection for that dish is a memory that didn't get lost with time. When the waiter leaves, they can resume their conversation. The brief pause hasn't taken away any of the previous awkwardness.

"It was a mistake," she declares, resolute in the appearance.

This excuse never gets old.

"A giant one," he pretends to agree.

And he hopes that his eyes don't go snitch. He hopes that Alicia's ultra-slow nod is her way to internalize his words and not his lie.

"Then, why are we here?" she shrugs and looks away. Her gaze hustles with clear uneasiness, back and forth between the traffic outside and the crowed tables.

"To acknowledge that we made a mistake?" Will offers. To make a new one, he would have said before the cold shower. "I don't know."

"There is the distance," she begins, and her tone leaves no room for doubt that the list of bricks building the barrier might be long.

But there is some flaw in her justification that makes him hint a smile. "There was the distance also in your marriage," he points out.

The look of amusement and weird disbelief she gives him makes him reconsider his objection. "Okay, well, maybe this wasn't the best example I could pick."

Alicia's burst of laughter catches him off guard at first. This is unquestionably the most embarrassing lunch he's ever been to, and the conviction that neither of them really knows how to handle their situation is sort of comical. He can't say if she's trying to find a way out or a way in, if she expects him to persist or simply agree that they are not worth another round of mess. "Should we just pretend it never happened?" he asks, handing the issue off and back at her.

"I don't know what we should do," she grumbles. Her hands shake restlessly, leaking all the nerve for a situation with seemingly no way out. "It wasn't planned… what happened…"

"I think we can agree on that," Will concurs, nodding with decision, and he fails to suppress a soft laugh. That was definitely unplanned, nevertheless he wouldn't change a thing of that night. He revives with a half-smile the moment she walked into the restaurant, dressed in red, and the unmistakable skipped heartbeat when their eyes met for the first time in months. He swallows the tingle of excitement as he looks back on the feeling of his hands caressing her soft skin. It's all playing in front of him, bright colors and all. "Though it was… good," he offers for lack of better words. Any other adjective would sound inappropriate right now.

"Yes. One more good thing to regret." An imperceptible exhale escapes Alicia's mouth.

Regret. He loathes the sound of it. "Is it?"

She stares at him, wide-eyed, confusion seeping from that magnetic look. "What?"

"Is it something to regret?" he dares to question, already fearing the answer.

"It's…" Alicia hesitates, maybe pondering a perfect choice of word? "It's… a complication."

A complication. It hits him that they are probably getting to the point. "A complication in what?"

Alicia opens her mouth, ready to speak, or so it seems. When she suddenly stops and looks up, Will instinctively follows her gaze. The waiter is there with their orders. Everything smells good exactly like he remembers it. They thank the guy as he leaves. And Will is grateful and nervous at the same time that they can finally talk undisturbed. For a while they sit in silence, simply enjoying their lunch. It would feel perfect if it weren't for the merger discussion swinging over their heads like a Damocles's sword.

"There is something we should talk about," Alicia finally admits, as she lays her cutlery on the plate and looks up. Her eyes on him, there is no indecision in her stance. Actually, she looks the opposite. Probably ready to attack so he doesn't get the opportunity to hit back.

"Like when are you moving to your new office? Oh wait, to my office." Words leaves his mouth unfiltered, with an unkindness that's not intentional. It's definitely his subconscious having the upper hand.

Alicia gapes. For a fraction of second she's taken aback by his bluntness. "Should I read in your sarcasm that Diane already told you?"

"I think that the real question should be why I learned it from her instead of you." This is the point, this is why he's angry. Not angry, rather disappointed. For some reason he believed he deserved to hear it from her.

"Will…" She leans closer as she speaks his name, unfaltering, definitely bold.

"There is no Will. There is a question." And quite an easy one, he considers, as he peeps around to summon a much needed composure. Suddenly all his appetite is gone.

"Because I wanted to talk to you face to face and know what you think about it before I decide," she retorts, looking not one bit intimidated by his reaction.

"What do I think?" he raises his voice in disbelief.

Does it matter what he thinks? Since when? It never did. Why should it be any different this time? She didn't ask him what he thought when she broke up with him or when she decided to leave LG. He never had a voice in any of the questions that really mattered to him.

"Don't worry. You don't have to say anything. You've already given me the answer I needed."

Her impassive glare and cold tone pop into his self-esteem for an instant, - if he's lucky, not long enough for Alicia to notice. "I don't even know what you were expecting from me. Congratulations? A red carpet? What?"

When Alicia goggles, he knows he succeeded in breaking through her self-assurance. His eyes are locked on her as she looks away, breathes in, then shakes her head in evident letdown. Or maybe exasperation.

"I don't know what I was expecting from you. I was just hoping that one year would be enough to get over it."

One year.

Enough to get over it.

Has she really just said that? His memory jumps back to two weeks before, to the piece of paper Cheryl handed him; on it there were a phone number and Alicia's name with a note. Call back. He wasn't the one to start it again. He wasn't the one to reopen something that, now more than ever, looks like was better left closed. "Get over what exactly? You are the one who searched for me only two weeks ago."

An ironic exhale. And she looks like she's back in warrior mode. "I don't recall you protesting too much," she counterattacks.

"I can't believe we are still ending up in the same place," he laughs with a bitter irony.

"I just… I…" she stumbles over her words, then halts and looks away. When she gazes back at him, she appears back in control again, calmer. "Things have changed, Will," she almost whispers.

Her quiet tone seems to pacify the spirits.

"Yes, I've already gotten that speech, thanks," he retorts, but this time his voice is controlled.

Alicia shrugs, almost imperceptibly, probably in resignation. "Then why would that bother you so much? Will, answer honestly; do you really think we could have worked as partners? Professionally I mean. With our history and all the complications of our feelings?"

Yes. "Why not?"

"We would have ended up mixing the two," she declares, firmly.

This sounds so familiar. It's history repeating its course, cyclically. "I wouldn't have. You would have. You always did." Some wounds never heal. They disappear from sight, hide under the skin, ready to burn again, more painful each time.

"Great. Then put all the blame on me. If that makes you feel better. This doesn't change the fact that Diane offered a merger and I have to make a choice," she wraps the issue up.

Sadly, it's true. It was Diane's offer. And if he still knows Alicia, he can count on the fact that she would never intentionally lead Diane towards such a choice. Not to mention, he can't see how it can make sense for Alicia to leave her own firm in the first place. But there is this thing with Alicia, she has the ability to intensify his irrationality. And the idea of her sitting at his desk obfuscates his dispassion. "Would it change something if I said no?"

"I don't know. Probably. I just… I'm not sure of what's the best thing. For me, for the firm. For both firms."

The best thing…

"It's not about me and you, Will. It's about me, you, Diane, the firms, about clients who are doing more harm than good. We are all tired. You left Diane alone. And I don't mean it in a bad way, I'm not trying to play with some sense of guilt. You left for your own reasons. And it's fine. But… it got complicated for everyone." She doesn't seem to catch a single breath until she's done explaining. Only then, she inhales deeply, sits back with an expectant look.

He imitates her gesture and sits back, too. The increased distance seems to ease the tension. A lot of what she says makes sense. A lot of it still leaves him confused. "Why would you want to give up what you worked so hard for?"

"I'm not giving up anything. Diane has been an incomparable mentor and a fair, determined boss. If anything, becoming her partner could only be a further improvement," she says with gravity.

He knows it's the truth. Diane might have had countless biases against Alicia, against her name and its influence – not always positive -, against the use she sometimes made of it and, last but not least, against her personal involvement with him. But she always did her best to hide it. "I don't recall you speaking of her in such terms when you left," he observes, trying not to sound petty. He only wants to understand her reasons.

"It was a different situation and you know it, too. The last months at Lockhart & Gardner had been wearing, the first at Florrick & Agos even worse. We made mistakes, we fixed them, that's how it works," she shrugs.

Will takes in her words in silence. They all made mistakes. Mistakes which piled with more mistakes until the situation fell inevitably apart. "Do you really want it?"

Her intentions are clear. And on second thought, she was right in not wanting to discuss this by phone. Now he gets it.

"Yes," she says very simply, no hesitancy, no signs of uncertainty.

And all he can do is to nod. "This still doesn't resolve us," he points out, reminding her that they still don't know how to deal with what happened, how to define what happened in the first place.

"Can we be resolved?" Alicia attempts a half smile. She looks at him, unhopeful in appearance.

There is a shadow of sadness in her eyes, he knows that gaze too well. It hurts every single time.

He refuses to think that they can't be resolved. They are more than evidently less over than they both believed. And he doesn't care if he has to take a flight or drive six hours to meet her. He has every intention to give it a try. "Yes."

Alicia opens her mouth to speak, probably to protest that no, she can't see how they could ever fix this mess.

But Will stops her before she has the chance to cut his arguments in two. "Look, do you really want to pretend that nothing happened? To go back trying to forget? We tried and obviously failed or we wouldn't be here talking about it now," he makes a point.

"It can't work," she shakes her head, faintly.

"What are you afraid of? What do we have to lose?" Nothing, he wants to answer to his own questions, but he knows that eventually Alicia will find that single reason he's overlooking.

He locks his gaze on her, determined not to let this go until they come out with any solution that is not a goodbye for good. And that's when his phone starts to ring. He checks the id and growls in frustration. Cheryl. He presses the red button with no second thoughts, then gives his full attention back to Alicia. "My secretary… I'll call her later. So, you haven't answered yet. One good reason to keep pretending we are over for the rest of our lives." The last time he told her they would talk it didn't end the way he was expecting. He won't let this happen again.

"Because… it would lead nowhere," she explains.

He shakes his head. Confused. It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense right now. "I just don't understand why you keep doing it."

It takes a moment for Alicia to grasp his words. "Doing what?"

"Reopening doors just to close them again," he confronts her, already half expecting her to deny.

But when she simply stares at him, wordless, he knows he hit the nail on the head. In the glacial silence, the sound of Alicia's phone ringing is almost deafening. Will struggles to hold back more cursing as she checks the id and shrugs apologetically.

"I have to take this," she murmurs.

He looks around, trying to divert his attention from her conversation. The two words he fails to ignore, your honor, are not promising for this lunch. When she hangs up, he looks at her waiting for the unavoidable.

"I have to go back to court, jury already returned the verdict," she apologizes. "I'm sorry, we didn't expect this to move so fast."

"It's okay." It's not okay.

He watches carefully as she stands up and takes her things. But she doesn't leave. This abrupt goodbye only makes their situation worse.

"When… when are you leaving?" Alicia puts an end to this embarrassment.

"Tomorrow morning," he answers, not really sure where this is leading.

"Can we talk later?" she asks.

Will is hesitant. If this has to end, there is no point in twisting the knife with more talking. Unless his words have made her reconsider her position. He doesn't dare to ask. "Of course."

For a few interminable seconds she stares at him but doesn't say anything, probably taking in his promise, maybe pondering how far they're both willing to go. "Okay."

And when she leans towards him and places a soft, yet decided kiss on his lips, he unconsciously holds his breath. That mouth will never stop tasting perfect on his.