A/N: This story has been in the making since 2013. It has known many different version, endings and beginnings, but I can finally say this is the finished piece. I had a hard time writing this, the emotion somehow got to me and I hope you'll feel the same way reading this. I'd like to give a massive thank you to everyone who keeps sending me PMs asking me to publish new work and for the great amount of people who read all through The Darkest Hour. It means the world to me, truly.
Summary: Set mid season 5, straight after 'The Decision Tree'. Unexpectedly and partly unwillingly, Alicia and Will meet at Georgetown during a reunion: She's crying on the grounds of Georgetown, her tears falling on the earth of their story and it's gut-wrenching to watch. The past and present are crashing into each other. The confrontation is too much, even for Will.


There Are No Stars Tonight

A Georgetown Reunion

— Two weeks before the reunion —

"Oh wow, what's that," Cary asks and curiously picks up a shiny invitation card from Alicia's desk. "Georgetown calling?"

"Class reunion," Alicia answers without looking away from her screen. "I'm not going."

"You're not going?"

"Nope."

"Yeah, not much of a party animal huh," Cary quips and sits down on the chair in front of her desk, reading through the invitation.

Alicia breaks away from her laptop, eyebrows raised. "What makes you say that?"

"Geez, relax," Cary grins. "I was joking. God, you're tense lately."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just… tired."

"It's been a long week."

"More like a long six months."

"Yeah, it's brutal. We're getting the hang of this though."

Alicia sighs and rubs her tired eyes. "Tell me that another hundred times and I might start believing you."

Cary's right. Alicia isn't in the best of moods. Now that the initial thrill of starting their own firm is starting to subside, all that's left is pure exhaustion. The past months have been brutal. It's not about the hours she's making, she's used to that. The overpowering mental load, that has been crushing her. The continuous responsibility to keep this firm afloat with a young, unexperienced team that looks to her for guidance and reassurance. Something she desperately tries to radiate but, honestly, has a hard time selling to herself at times. She thought she'd do it better. Better than Diane and Will. Less politics, more ethics, something like that. But it's not easily copied, let alone done better. And the internal office politics can't be thrown aside as if they don't exist. Of course they do, they always will. In weak moments, she can already sense the distrust creeping up inside her, towards the associates and even towards Cary, as if the risk of them leaving her is continuously lurking around the corner. It might be. She doesn't know, not right now. She's too tired to think straight. It makes her weak and vulnerable and unwillingly wary of everything that goes on around her.

"Alicia," Cary sounds more serious now. "I get that you're tired, but you seem—"

"—Miserable?"

"Yeah," he frowns concerned. "A little."

"I'll be okay," she tries to reassure him, not planning to share all the worries that keep her up at night. About how her teenage children are about to turn into adults she might not even really like anymore. Or how the political chaos she calls a marriage is draining her and has become more about keeping Eli and Marilyn at bay than actually working on her relationship with Peter. And she's definitely not going to admit that she's mostly miserable after another horrible court confrontation with Will this morning.

"Let's go for a drink tomorrow," Cary suggests. "We've been taking ourselves too seriously lately."

She offers him a smile. "Let's do that." They do make a good team, she and Cary. She shouldn't be so paranoid.

Cary gets up and hands her the invitation card. "Go to that reunion."

"Why?"

"You, of all people here, should be out there expanding our network. Not going full crunch mode behind your desk. Let them do that," he gestures at the associates behind him. "We need the exposure. Book yourself a flight." Then he walks out.

Alicia leans back in her chair and studies the details on the card. There's law panels, speeches and even a cooking workshop - who would sign up for that - and a reception for the ten invited class years all together. The invitation came in months ago, when she was still with Lockhart/Gardner. She remembers hoping that Will would bring up the reunion, but he never did. She even thought - or perhaps fantasized would be more accurate, because she'd never have the guts - about asking him to go together, fully aware of what that would entail. Clearly, it never came to that.

And then, two weeks ago, the morning after Will questioned her at the Ashbaugh hearing, the card fell out of her planner and dropped on the floor, with the Georgetown logo innocently facing upwards. She picked it up and stared at the card with watery eyes, much to her frustration. It was as if the universe had to remind her, once again, about what she once had, who she once was and how it all had fallen into a thousand pieces. As if Will's relentless questioning hadn't already sent her that message, with those piercing eyes and the pure disgust he'd thrown at her. He even had the guts to include their private - wasn't that sacred to him, too? - conversation from that night, from when she sat on top of him, covered in blankets, naked. The same night she'd told him "this is the happiest I've ever been", because she couldn't bring herself to tell him she loved him.

And then, this morning in court, she faced a bloodthirsty Will yet again. Remorseless in his competitiveness, using everything in his power to throw her off balance. And successfully, this time. She lost her line of questioning, lacked the clarity to claim a triumphant Ashbaugh-like victory and came back to the office defeated and exhausted. Exhausted of fighting him this way. Sure, at first she had enjoyed their little competition and the adrenaline rush it had given her, but she couldn't do it anymore. She didn't want to. It was too hard, too painful.

— One week before the reunion —

"Will?"

The voice of his assistant makes Will looks up from his desk.

"You asked me to remind you about that Georgetown reunion. It's still marked as tentative in your calendar."

"Yes, thank you," he mumbles, his eyes straying back to the paperwork in front of him.

He hears her clear his throat and looks up for the second time. She's still standing in his doorpost. "Will, it's this Saturday…"

Oh shit, he thinks, she's right. Tim sent him an e-mail about this a month ago and he never replied. "Right," he tells her. "I'll let you know later today."

His assistant nods and walk back to her desk, a little irritated by the lack of clear instructions. She enjoys working for Will, but this isn't the first time she's had to remind him of these kind of obligations. He used to be better at balancing his caseload with charity events and private plans, but ever since Alicia and Cary left, he's been impossible to work for.

That evening, Will searches his inbox for Tim's e-mail and only now notices that a whole conversation followed since then. Tim had reached out to their group of basketball friends, proposing to go to the reunion together and combining it with a weekend away for the five of them. He reads through the messages and sees that everyone is able to make it. That's exceptional, he thinks. Amazing how Will's leaving us with a cliffhanger, a message from Keith reads. Yeah Will, don't you dare ruin our first complete reunion in a decade, Brian replied to that. Maybe Will just doesn't do reunions anymore, too distinguished to face his slick sleeved friends from Georgetown? Tim had answered, one of New York most prominent lawyers himself, and the conversation went on for four more e-mails.

It makes him laugh. For the first time in months, he sincerely laughs out. How could he have missed all these messages? It would be pretty incredible to see that group all together again. And why wouldn't he go? It's not like he's looking forward to another weekend locked away in his apartment, prepping cases. It had become his new modus operandi but that didn't mean it was healthy. Spending a whole night prepping how to question Alicia for nothing more but one out of five wills that Ashbaugh apparently had drawn up and turned out to be of zero value in the end, that should have been enough of a warning sign. But he'd battled on and then - to his own satisfaction - won a much more important case against her just last week. Stop it, he tells himself. Stop thinking about her 24/7, let it go. He scrolls back to Tim's signature, finds his number and calls his old friend.

— Reunion —

How she envisaged this reunion, or how she feared it would be, is pretty much how it turns out. Halfway through the afternoon, Alicia has worked her way through one panel already and she has to admit it was an interesting discussion to follow. But the coffee break in between had been the dreadful part. Women, mostly her own age or older, had flocked around her, eager to congratulate her with Peter winning the governorship whilst preventing her from reaching the actual coffee table. The lack of caffeine has given her headache before the main reception has even started.

Alicia had been handing out cards like candy in those twenty minutes but none of the women responded to the fact she was leading her own firm or that the card read 'Florrick, Agos and associates'. They only talked about Peter's political success with her. She browses through the ones she received in return during the second, much less captivating, panel discussion. She can't help but notice that most of the women she met had average careers, especially for Georgetown Law alumni. She was one of them only five years ago. No, she was worse. She'd stopped working all together. These women she'd been talking to weren't the Diane Lockharts, they were the Caitlins. So much for the exposure, Cary. But isn't this reunion a combination of different year groups? Alicia looks around the room and sees there are younger women here too, in their early thirties. None of them have come up to her so far.

She'll have to think about what that means later, because the panel ends and the reception is about to start. Alicia follows the crowd towards the grand auditorium and manages to get hold of a glass of red wine whilst finding a seat. Alcohol is a great alternative for caffeine. Alicia eagerly takes a sip. She was in desperate need for a drink, because how is she going to survive this evening without it? She sits down in one of the middle rows, takes out her phone and starts scrolling through the never ending stream of e-mails. It gives her an excuse to ignore the social interactions going on around her. For now, that is, because she won't be able to keep this up for the rest of the night. She wishes she could, because with each time she looks up, she sees more familiar faces walk in. First, a guy she briefly dated but she then caught making out with someone else during a house party. He didn't age well and she knows it's childish but she takes pleasure in the fact that she doesn't spot a wedding ring. Next, she sees a couple classmates whose names she doesn't remember, a former roommate with whom she never really got along and then, suddenly, Will. She can only see his back, but she doesn't need to see more to know it's him. Will's here, just a few rows in front of her, to her right.

Alicia didn't expect him here. Her chest tightens at the sight of him, always him. She quickly gulps more of her wine, as if that could make him disappear. Her glass is almost empty and the formal program hasn't even started yet. The Dean walks on stage and people slowly begin to sit down, the turmoil in the auditorium slowly muting. Will sits down as well, still in the middle of en enthusiastic conversation with someone behind him who she believes might be Tim, one of his best friends at uni. And then, briefly, his eyes suddenly meet hers. She was staring at him, she realizes. She pushes a small smile over her lips, he returns the gesture with a raised eyebrow, telling her the surprise is mutual. Then, another friend smacks him amicably on his shoulder, making him turn back around. Distracted.

Alicia doesn't register one word of the Dean's long speech. Her eyes continuously glance off to her right, to Will's back. She's feeling hot, her heart rate is high. Being in one room with him, having him in sight, is suffocating almost. She feels ridiculous for continuing to stare at him, but she can't seem to control it. Why is she so weak around him lately? He wouldn't do the same if it was him sitting behind her. He would look straight ahead and listen to the speech, not at all thrown by the sight of her. It had taken a while, though. He was clearly lost during those first weeks after she and Cary left, and she'd gladly taken advantage of it, throwing him off balance by wearing the white suit in which, as she told him, he banged her the first time. But he quickly got over it and got sharper, nastier than ever. In court, she's able to pull of that same level of focus, but not here. Not in Georgetown. Here, he got to her. It had always been like that.

Apparently the coffee break had been a dry run for the main reception, because soon enough, Alicia's once again surrounded by middle aged women, overloading her with - mostly insincere, she senses - questions. Questions about how Peter's doing, that it was brave to stay with him (she never thought of it as brave herself) and the worst question: how she's able to run her own firm next to her honorable position (their words, not hers) of being the governor's wife. Can't they see it's the other way around?

But Alicia remains calm, nodding politely at everyone and grabbing another glass of wine from a waiter's tray as he passes by. She subtly glances at her watch to see if she's already allowed to leave. One more hour should be enough. She looks back up and then spots Will in the back of the room. Laughing hard and generously drinking beer with a couple of guys. Focus, she tells herself. She manages to shake off some of the women who keep interfering her own genuine network attempts, and slowly but surely gets to the people who Cary wanted her to reach at this event. She's good at this. Always was, always has been. She knows how to move through a crowd, giving each person the attention they need, asking sharp questions and saying the right things. She has a knack for it and it's been of great use in her own career but let's face it, in Peter's mostly.

A good hour later, when she's finally managed to wriggle herself out of another painstaking conversation, the crowd is starting to thin out and she realises Will has disappeared. Did he leave already? Did they actually both attend this reunion without speaking a word to each other? Is that really how bad they've gotten? She walks around the room again, trying to spot him, but he is nowhere to be seen. He actually left. Her heart drops in her stomach at the realisation. She's disappointed. Offended, too. Hurt. She didn't think she would be. It makes no sense. After all, did she make any attempt to talk to him? No. She wouldn't dare. She even actively avoided him at the bar half an hour ago. So why doesn't it feel like a relief that he's gone? Wasn't she fearing an awkward moment, bumping into each other in the hallway? It didn't happen. That should be a relief. But it isn't. It isn't.

And right then and there, it hits her. She wanted to see him. She counted on that awkward moment to happen. She had high hopes, buried under all that rationale, the decisions and agreements she'd made with herself. Or is the alcohol getting to her head? She's starting to feel hot again and suddenly has a hard time thinking straight. She must have had four, maybe five, glasses of wine by now and barely eaten anything. It's making her feel dizzy.

"Are you looking for someone in particular?" One of the women she was talking to before asks her.

"Oh, no, no one." Alicia answers and smiles politely. "Thank you," she adds quickly and turns around. She feels the urge to get out of here as quickly as possible. It's all getting to her. The sudden disappearance of Will, the smothering attention of those women, the roaring laughter of the older men in the back, it's claustrophobic almost. She pushes herself through the crowd as quickly as she can, ignoring several 'Ms. Florricks?', reaches the hall and then she's outside.

Relieved, she looks around the grounds. Memories from decades ago start flooding her thoughts. God, she was happy here. She starts walking, not sure where to but definitely away from all the hypocrisy. She walks away from the chatter of the auditorium, from those smoking outside and from the taxi's parked in front, ready to pick up drunk lawyers who speak too loudly because of the alcohol. She takes a right, leaving the main road and onto the smaller gravel paths, leading her through the luscious green grounds of the campus. It's pitch black outside, but the light coming from the ground lamps along the path give away a sneak peek of the excellently maintained shrubs and flowers that cover the grounds as far as the eye can see.

Alicia keeps walking further away from the main building, the gravel grinding under her high heels, until she sees it, the gardeners shed. A small, grey-stone building with a gabled roof, wooden door and rickety lock. Exactly as she remembered it. The rustic look of the building is an odd contrast to the otherwise perfect surroundings around her. Only now, Alicia notices that she's still holding her glass of wine. Perfect. She leans against the cold stone wall, looks around and sees nothing but darkness and closes her eyes. Her mind goes back to all those times she'd meet him here. In summer, they'd sit down in the grass, lean against this very same wall and smoke together, quiz each other on law. They made out here, too. In winter, when it would be too cold to sit on the grass, they'd hang out on the back of the shed, where the smallest wooden awning would protect them from the rain and wind. More importantly, they were hidden away from everyone else in that corner.

The unexpected sound of loud, almost boyish laughter from far away makes her look up. A group of men is crossing the grounds and as they move closer she starts distinguishing the voices of five adult men. It doesn't take long before she sees Will amongst them. So he didn't leave after all. Watching him from so far away reminds her of back then, how she'd use to watch him, always covertly and from a safe distance, as he'd roam over the grounds, high-fiving with his teammates from basketball and girls swarming around him like bees. Will was annoyingly popular. He passes without seeing her, or so she thinks, and she watches them walk off, back to the auditorium. She closes her eyes again.

"It is you."

Startled, Alicia opens her eyes to the sound of a voice that has barely changed over the years, and sees Will, looking at her from afar. A beer bottle dangling in his right hand, tie loosened.

"God, Will. You scared me." She quickly straightens her posture, embarrassed that he finds her leaning against the shed with her eyes closed, holding a glass of wine in her hands. Not her best look.

"Sorry. Couldn't tell if it really was you from over there," he says and gestures at the group of men that's moving further away from them. He sounds friendly. "I see you got away," he continues. He remains where he is, not making clear if he's about to head back to his group or plans to hang around.

"I did. And you? Wandering around campus like you used to?"

Will nods. "Didn't think I'd see you out here," he replies and brings the beer bottle to his lips. "As you used to," he adds.

She briefly smiles at that.

He takes a few steps in her direction. "So you decided to continue the party outside?" He hints at the glass of wine in her hand.

"Yep. Without the company."

"Sorry to ruin that."

"That's okay. I didn't expect you here."

"Right back at you."

"What made you go?"

"Tim," he answers. "Tim Gallagher. Remember him? Arranged some sort of weekend away with the five of us." He gestures back at the group he just walked away from, now barely out of sight.

"The basketball five, who would have thought." They were, easily, the most popular group of boys at Georgetown during their years here.

"I know," he grins and drinks from his beer bottle. "What's your excuse coming all the way here?"

"Great question," Alicia sighs. "I guess it seemed like a good networking opportunity," she says, the words rolling over her lips with an aversion she can't hide. "Exposure," she adds cynically.

"Ah, I see," he nods. "Another one of your business decisions?" He pronounces those last two words in a way that make her understand immediately what he's hinting at. You were poison… He'd spit at her. To this firm... The aggression had radiated from every fiber in his body. She'd said that in a desperate attempt to make it better, but it only made things worse. She didn't know what to expect of this conversation, mostly because she was still wrapping her head around the fact that they were having this conversation in the first place, but she somehow thought that it there would be any exchange, it would be a light-hearted one. She couldn't deal with blood thirsty Will, if that's what this was, not now. She's too tired to fire back a snappy remark anyways. Best to keep this polite. They've both been drinking too.

Apparently Will decides to pull back the troops and instead of making another nasty comment, he asks "Were you hoping to see anyone in particular?"

Alicia isn't sure if that's a cryptic way of asking if she was hoping to see him, but she answers the question as plainly as it was asked. "Not really. Lost touch with most. You?"

He shakes his head. "Hadn't even seen this group for over a decade."

"Why not?"

Will shrugs and positions himself against the same wall Alicia's leaning against. The door in the middle separates them. "Life, I guess...," he contemplates. "Firms... Families… —"

"—Scandals," Alicia adds and drinks from her wine.

He tilts his head in her direction. "That's still a thing?"

"It never wasn't a thing."

"Wait, are you saying you lost friends here because of what Peter did?"

Alicia scoffs at that. "How does that not surprise you?'

"I don't know" he ponders. "I guess I'd think they'd be on your side." It's one of the kindest things he's said to her in months.

"Nope," she sighs and brings her glass to her lips again. No one's on my side anymore, she thinks to herself.

"And now that he's the governor of Illinois?"

"Changed them right back."

"Is that's why you're hiding out here?"

"That's part of it," she says. "I needed to think clearly."

"About what?"

He sounds genuinely interested. Alicia glances at him sideways. He's encouraging her to talk, right? About them? About herself? She considers her options. How honest does she want to be with him exactly? She looks up to the sky above her. Dark, threatening clouds slowly move over the premises where she spent her formative years, or so she thought. There are no stars tonight.

"Oh, I don't know. Everything," she answers him. "Being back here, all those women only able to talk about Peter, my career, seeing old friends..." She leans her head against the wall and turns towards him. "Seeing you," she adds, a little too honest.

"We see each other all the time."

"That's different. That's work, Will. This is Georgetown," her voice turns more vulnerable. "This is—"

"—Passed," Will cuts her off and pushes himself away from the wall, breaking off the moment they were having, if you could even call it a moment to begin with.

"All of it?"

"Alicia, don't ask me that."

Such an unfair question, Will thinks. Isn't she the one who ended them? Isn't she the one who told him that they needed to move on, that it couldn't exist? She set the boundaries and he had objected to them, repeatedly. He's the one who tried to draw them differently. And she refused.

"I don't want it to be," she then says with a thick, emotion-choked voice.

Will shakes his head at those words. Because none of it matters anymore, none of it still exists. Unless, unless… No. He's not ready to give her another chance, to open himself up once more and be thrown aside. He can't do it. Perhaps he should go back inside, perhaps this was a mistake.

He watches her for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. During the reception, the high heels and dark blue dress she's wearing made her look strong and confident, and rightfully so. But somehow here, despite the outfit, she looks small and fragile, leaning against that wall. He can still easily picture her standing in the same spot all those years ago. Her hair longer, her clothing more casual but that same, angelic, soft face with those intelligent, piercing green eyes he could never get enough of. He tries to shake off the memory but realises that he can't. How could he not think about that here? Of course Alicia's right. This is Georgetown, this is different. It's anything but neutral territory, or perhaps that's exactly what it is. Here, they share a history. They grew up together for at least a part of their young adult life. It's worth looking back on and it's worth cherishing, even though it's passed. And so he stays. After all, he came up to her. He'd seen her immediately, even from afar. There was no need to come up closer in order to make sure. He wanted to take the opportunity and talk to her. So rather than walking away, he turns back towards the shed and walks around the back. The wooden awning is still there. He's overwhelmed by the memories this very place brings back. He certainly wasn't planning to, but now he's reminiscing as well.

"We kissed behind there, didn't we?" He calls out. "The first time, I mean?"

"Don't think so," he hears her say from the other side. She doesn't sound so sad anymore. Good.

"Really?" He asks once he's walked back to the front of the building.

Alicia gives him a look, clearly unsure where he's going with this. "Our very first kiss was in my doorway. You don't remember that?"

"That doesn't count. I meant to kiss your cheek that time."

"Well, you did not," she snickers.

"Because you turned your face," he argues.

"I did not!" Alicia laughs and it makes him grin. She has a good laugh. There's a sudden, much needed, light heartedness to the conversation. It instantly makes him feel better.

"Yes, you did. I remember it so clearly because it caught me off guard."

God, he's gone back to that moment one too many times. They'd been studying together for a couple months at that time, it was during their second year. He was attracted to everything about her and desperately tried to hide it because they were friends. He didn't want to complicate things. Plus, he was dating another girl, Irene. That evening, Alicia had given him a certain look that made him think that maybe, she felt the same. They'd been together almost every day that week, cramming for the exams to come. So when he was about to leave, he did nothing more than testing the waters. Truthfully, that's all he meant to do. He leaned in, about to kiss her cheek and she turned her head, so he'd touched her lips. Accidentally.

He remembers this because they tasted like black cherry chapstick she was always wearing. He remembers this because he fell in love with her in that moment.

"You knew exactly what you were doing," Alicia continues with a smile. "Don't pretend. You had a reputation."

Will laughs, very much aware of the reputation he had at that time. The guys were making fun of that minutes before they passed by her. "I did?" He asks semi seriously. "I had no idea," but the glimmer in his eyes tells her differently.

They fall silent, both reminiscing in their own way. Will's enjoying this more than he should. It was a wonderful, careless time in his life, when he had the world at his fingertips and every dream or fantasy was still a legitimate possibility.

"No, that was all an act," he says half-jokingly, even though he means it. That fast-paced, flirtatious, party animal Alicia's hinting at was nothing more but one version of him. A version he instantly was ready to let go off, the moment he saw her in that elevator five years ago. And a version he'd recently embraced again, because, to his regret, is all he has left.

"With you, back then…," he continues. "I was clueless. I —" He stops his sentence and swallows hard, unsure how the conversation suddenly came to this sensitive point. She was his first love, and he had no idea how to handle that. "I didn't know how you felt. For weeks, I wondered if you wanted that to happen or not," he admits, more honestly than he was intending to be this evening. " I didn't want to scare you off."

"You didn't," Alicia tells him, lovingly now. "You know that."

Alicia was a lot shyer back then. She'd attend all the parties but would always leave at a decent hour. She'd drink beer but would never be fully drunk. She'd flirt with men but rarely follow through. She was classy, posed, put together. The opposite of him. She was a mystery to him. The only thing they had in common was how seriously they took the law, how it fascinated them both. He scored high grades and everyone knew it, but he pretended that he didn't have to work hard for it. That wasn't true at all. It didn't come naturally to him. It did to Alicia. And she didn't think anything of the fact that he could be a party animal by night and then make long study hours the next day. She accepted it. She understood him.

Their moments here consisted of them studying in front of the shed and then secretly kissing behind it, underneath the awning. At the time, Will didn't want to commit himself. Yet, Alicia was longing for something more than a friend with benefits, if that's what it was. Will was having too much fun, figuring out who he was, who he could be. He had no interest in a relationship. They'd push and pull in the years ahead, but it never came to anything. In his dorm, one evening, they were half drunk (or at least, he was) and somehow, she ended up on his lap, kissing him. Her hands crept up underneath his shirt and he did the same with her, stroking her breasts through her bra. But it had stopped. She'd stopped. She told him she didn't want to go any further if she didn't know what it was they had. Of course, he fully respected that but was deeply disappointed: she didn't want to sleep with him. It took him years to realize that she wanted more than he did. Alicia never said: I don't want to go forward. Instead, she only asked him to follow a certain order. He was too self-consumed to see that at that time. And so it never happened.

Peter happened.

He heard through a friend about her and Peter and he'd written her a letter then, apologising for his behaviour, apologising for not being willing to take the next step back then. She had responded that she fully understood, that there were no hard feelings and that she wished him nothing but the best. And in the middle of that letter she revealed that she was expecting her first child. She must have thought he'd be happy with that response, that his letter was nothing but an apology she properly answered to, taking away any guilt he might have been feeling. But his intention wasn't simply to apologize, it was to reconnect. Again, that never happened. He concluded that he'd lost her and so he moved on. He'd never had the guts to try again. Not until that elevator. What happened in the years following that might be one of the best or worst things that have ever happened to him. Will hasn't decided on that yet.

"We were so young," Alicia muses and studies Will's face, thinking back about how he was at that time and how he still can be. Quick, fast and confident. She was head over heels with him, felt special near him, but soon found out they didn't want the same things. She had peace with that, she genuinely had. She'd loved the life she chose and not once looked back. The letter she received from Will never made her doubt her choices, not at that point in time. She was thrilled being pregnant with Zach, being with Peter. Later, once the troubles in her marriage came to the surface and once a leap of faith made her meet Will again, she'd reread his letter and she'd finally understood his intentions. By then, the both of them had changed.

"We changed, didn't we?" She puts her thoughts in words.

"We did," Will answers.

"For the better?"

He thinks about how to answer that one. "I used to think so."

"This is a lot like back then," Alicia then says and it makes him look up to her.

"It's a lot different, too." He says, his voice now harsh and hollow, calling both himself and her back to reality, away from reminiscing about a time that's long gone, away from the wishful thinking. He shouldn't have started about all that.

Alicia's heart sinks in her chest. Maybe, deep down, she somehow expected something good to come out of this, the moment she saw Will sit down in that auditorium. She didn't come to the shed on purpose, it wasn't her intention, at least she thinks. It could be her subconscious, leading her here, latently hoping that Will would do the same. But now they're here, and it doesn't feel like anything is getting better. If anything would be able to fix them, it would be Georgetown. It was supposed to be Georgetown.

"I should probably go back inside," Will announces, but Alicia can't have him leave. Not now. She'll break down if he does.

"I always thought—" she starts, desperate almost, and he stops in his steps.

"What?"

"That if we'd ever be back here…" she needs to control her breathing to not burst into tears. "That somehow, it would make everything right again."

Her words hurt him because he always hoped that, too. But seeing her here, it's doing more bad than good. It only goes to show what she was willing to throw away by leaving him.

"We were different people," he says, still trying to cut this short.

"You really think so?"

I have to, he thinks, but he only nods in response. It's the only way he'll ever get over it. To believe that, mostly, she changed. Into something he can't love, barely respect. The polar opposite of the young woman who he admired, day in day out at Georgetown. Sometimes, he wishes he could do it all over again. That first kiss, getting to know her, trying to find an equilibrium together, erasing all the miscommunication and mixed signals. Experience the first time they had sex once more, that night in the hotel room, when all the puzzle pieces had finally come together, how good they were, how much he loved her, oh the love for her. He would have done everything for her. But it's as if his brain blocked off the access to those memories, those feelings.

"Life was so simple here," Alicia says.

"No, it still is. We just tend to… overcomplicate it as we go. As adults, we want too much."

"I didn't want any of this."

He shrugs. "You thought you did."

"You make it sound so easy."

"No, I know it's not." He steps away from the shed and looks around the grounds. "All I'm saying is you've been hard on yourself. And that's your right. But you've made things difficult. Leaving the firm the way you did, starting your own with all that chaos—"

"—I had no choice."

"That's not true."

She looks up to him. Are there tears in her eyes? "What is true then?"

He clenches his jaw. "You tell me."

She sighs but doesn't say anything. Instead, she leans back against the wall.

"To me…" he decides to speak. "…the truth is we've always had options. You didn't want, or couldn't, see them. And the least you could have done was having that conversation with me."

"I could have done a lot of things."

"Sure. And you chose this."

"Will, it wouldn't have made a difference."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I would have disappointed you either way."

"That's such bullshit, Alicia," he snaps, angrier now.

"No. You had such high hopes for us. I knew I couldn't live up to that."

If she only knew that she's always exceeded his hopes. She was everything he hoped for and much more.

"Stop that," he tells her harshly. "Stop thinking for me. Deciding for me. I had my own considerations, made my own choices. So did you. Own them. You've made yourself clear. You didn't want this. And I've respected that. It broke my heart, but I've always respected it."

He's thrown off guard by how his own words roll over his lips, his heart on his sleeve. He regrets it already.

Alicia isn't responding to him.

"I have to go," he says, as if to protect himself for this going further down hill. He heads back towards the gravel path. He waits for her to tell him goodnight, but Alicia turned awfully quiet. The shadow of the trees prevent him from seeing the expression on her face.

"I think I broke my own" he hears her say, almost in a whisper. He purses his lips together.

"We're supposed to move on," he answers flatly. She's being unnecessarily dramatic.

He hears Alicia swallow hard, followed by the softest "I know."

Will nods and looks over his shoulder, back to the auditorium. He needs to leave. This has to end.

"Will…" he hears, her voice vulnerable. He turns back around. "I was so in love with you." He's stunned by those words. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. "I was," she adds.

He doesn't know if he's happy to hear her say that, or that he's hurt by the past tense she's using. Either way, he's unable to process this. Not after all those years, not after all that endless patience coming from an endless, tireless love for her. It's too late now.

"Things change," he regains himself. "That's okay. It's over now." Lies, Will. Blatant lies. It's not okay.

"No," Alicia says. "Not that part."

Will's completely lost for words in that moment. What is she trying to tell him exactly? And are those tears streaming down her cheeks?

"Are you crying now?" He says it with an unfriendly impatience that he regrets immediately as soon as he hears her sob. She is crying. He doesn't know what to do. He's never seen her cry like this, not this loud. He's seen her tear up, get emotional, but she always gets it under control. So he walks away, unaffected and heart broken at the same time. He can only handle so much.

But half way down the path, Will stops in his tracks. He's physically incapable of walking further away from her, hearing her cry like that. Conflicted, almost angry that she's doing this to him, he turns back around, the gravel cracking under his shoes as he does. There she is, still in the exact same spot. Head bowed down, her hand covering her eyes, breaking down in front of him. Crying on the grounds of Georgetown, her tears falling on the earth of their story and it's gut-wrenching to watch. The past and present are crashing into each other. The confrontation is too much, even for Will.

He quickly walks over to her and pulls her into a hug. Reluctantly, she lets him wrap his arms around her. It's not solely out of pity for her that he holds her. The tears are stinging behind his own eyes just as much. This isn't simply about making her feel better or consoling her, it's just as much about understanding the pain she's feeling. Yes, he hates the decisions she made, but right now, he's the only one who can console her, even though she's the one who hurt him, because in the end, they're hurting together. It's a collective grief only the two of them know exists. He stares up to the sky, not knowing what else to do, blinking away his own tears and desperately trying to distance himself from the situation.

"Follow me," he tells her, and gently ushers her to walk with him to the back of the shed, protecting her from anyone else wandering by here, seeing her in this condition.

"I'm so sorry," she says through her tears.

"I know, come here," he whispers once they've moved underneath the awning and takes her back in his arms. This time, she holds on to him much more willingly. She pushes her face in the nape of his neck and just cries. His arm finds his way to her lower back, pulling her even closer, feeling the warmth of her body against him, his nose buried in her hair. And he feels her again, smells her again and it makes him close his eyes, surrendering to the moment, to Georgetown, to her, and mostly, to himself.

He searches for her hand, finds it and folds his fingers around her. One hand still holding her against him, the other holding onto her. "We let it go too far." He takes a deep breath, trying to find the courage to look in her eyes.

As he does, he stares into hollow eyes, full of sorrow and was might be regret and endless remorse and so many more emotions that Will might never fully comprehend.

Intuitively, he brushes her dark hair behind her ear. "Alicia, don't cry," he soothes her. "Hm? Don't cry," he repeats. She closes her eyes and he cups her face in his hands and as if it's the most natural thing he's ever done, he kisses her. The way she sucks in her breath tells him she didn't expect him to - neither did he - and he pulls back a second. "Don't cry," he pleads again and she nods, kisses him back, and he tastes the salt tears on her lips.

She leans back against his chest again. "It's all right," he tells her. "We need to put an end to this. It's too much."

She pulls back and wipes away her tears. "I don't know what came over me"

"I know, it's a lot."

"God, I'm so sorry," she says again and sighs deeply.

He looks around the darkness. "Remind me why we ever thought this was a good spot to meet? It's awfully dark here."

She shrugs in response, licking the tears from her lips. "I guess it was a good, quiet spot for when I needed to think."

"I don't remember doing much thinking here." That makes her laugh out loud through her tears. "In fact, I think this is the longest talk we ever had here," he adds. "Don't you?"

Alicia laughs again. "You really forgot about all those deep, philosophical law talks we had here?"

"You did most of the talking," he reminisces. "Believe me. I was too distracted. I'd listen to you, but let's say I had different things on my mind."

"I never realised that," she says with an innocence that makes him laugh this time.

"I know," he chuckles.

She smiles in response and takes a long, shivering breath.

"You okay?" Will asks.

"Yeah," she mutters, semi-convincing him that she is. "God, I need another drink."

"So do I," he smirks. "Come on, let's head back there."

They walk back together, his hand lightly brushing her lower back as they cross the grounds, both quiet, wandering off in their own worlds, their own memories. The main hall coming closer with each step. Once they approach the taxi's outside, he lets go of her and he gestures her to walk in with him. Within seconds, she's surrounded by women again, pulling her back into the bustling reception. Just before she's lost on him, he places his hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out someday," he quietly tells her with a smile, briefly squeezes her shoulder and then lets go.

It doesn't take long before his friends find him. Keith smacks him on the back and hands him another beer. He gratefully takes a sip and catches Alicia's eyes one last time before she disappears back into the crowd. He knows perfectly well that they might never figure it out. But it's good enough for now. It will have to be.


Thank you for reading. Please leave me a message to tell me how you feel about this. Also, I'm still taking requests and expecting to publish more, possibly multi-chapter, in the near future. Love, Hannah