My dissertation has been handed in. MY DISSERTATION IS HANDED IN. That is why I haven't been writing fanfic as much. If any of you have ever written a dissertation you will know understand how consuming it is, and how HAPPY I am that it's finished. What better way to celebrate with a Good Wife fanfic?

Only a one-shot.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Good Wife or any of its characters

Strawberry Milk

When Alicia sneezes, it seems to shake the entire room. It also manages to zap her energy. She balls the tissue in her hand and aims it for the bin, missing by inches. With another groan she falls against the bed. The bed that is usually ironed neatly is now crumpled, covered with tissues and magazines that Alicia gave up on hours ago (who cares whether Madonna is adopting another kid? Why on earth would Selena stay with Justin?). The bedside table is filled to the brim with throat soothers, cough drops and sleeping tablets.

But she's feeling better. She is. That's why she told Peter to take the kids and go on the ski trip like they had planned. Peter's eyes had scrunched up and the kids were adamant that they weren't going without her. But the cabin was booked and Peter had managed to wangle time off work. Zach and Grace had been talking about it for weeks, and Alicia couldn't bear to disappoint them.

"Go," she told Peter.

"Are you sure?" He had his coat on and the bags were packed, but if Alicia asked he would drop everything to stay with her.

Alicia had smiled. "I'm fine," she insisted through a blocked nose. "Have a good time."

They had left a few hours ago and Alicia feels as if she's going out of her mind. Television is created for idiots now, and all her work files are at the office. Work. The thought causes her stomach to squeeze. Working at Florrick, Argos and Associates is different. It's harder. She and Cary have to make all the decisions, the good and the bad, and already arguments have sprung up. It's good though. She and Cary work surprisingly well together. No, not surprisingly. Even when they were competing with each other during the first year, back when it was Stern, Lockhart and Gardner, they still managed to work well together. Who knew then that they would go into business together?

Florrick, Argos and Associates is a good firm. She doesn't miss Lockhart and Gardner, not really. It's just occasionally she'll realise that she's driving towards the Lockhart and Gardner rather than the new offices down town. Every now and again she'll glance round her corner office – the one with one wall made of glass, cream leather sofas and plenty of space – and for a second she'll think about her noisy little office where she could see everyone coming and going, know exactly what was happening round the firm. She'll think about Diane's and Will's banter, David Lee's power plays and back talk, Julius' calm manner and the games that they played with each other – the games, no doubt, they were still playing. Each of them always managed to find a way to surprise her, and she finds herself rolling her eyes at the associates boring attempts at office politics.

She thinks about the way Will would stroll through the halls, constantly checking his phone. The way Will would roll heis eyes during a board meeting when David Lee was harping on about something stupid. How when he found a loophole in a case his face would light up, his grin large and wide and astonishing sweet.

You're sick, she tells herself. She throws a pillow over her head, feeling her headache return. She shouldn't be thinking of Will. She's probably only feeling guilty because of abandoning the firm. She could take Diane's proud look of anger with ease, but Will's effort at impassiveness broke her. It was easy to see through him: his calm gaze could not hide the hurt. When she spoke to him he looked away, fidgeted, avoided her eyes – he didn't want her to see his pain.

With Diane it felt like she had been betraying a mother. With Will she felt like she had been tearing herself in two, disappointing him and breaking him at the same time.

She throws the covers over her head. She can't be thinking about him now. She and Peter have booked the tickets for Hawaii, Grace has bought a dress, they have reserved two rooms at a hotel. They are going to renew their wedding vows. Nothing can happen with Will. Nothing is going to happen with Will. Thinking about him – it's stupid. There's no point.

But then, there's never been any point to their relationship. With Peter, she has his career to think of, her kids to consider. But with Will, there was never any point. It was just for them.

Will cracks a mint in his mouth and winces. He needs to visit the dentist. But when does he have the time? At this point he is in court, waiting for the judge to grant a recess. His eyes dart to Cary, standing behind the desk. He wants to hit him, wants to get up and punch Cary square in the face. Not for taking some of their clients. Not even for staying at their law firm and letting them teach him, letting them believe – stupidly – that he was loyal.

It's for taking Alicia with him.

The judge is talking and Will struggles to pay attention. "...and so until Ms. Armstrong can be reached this court case cannot continue. Court adjourned."

Will begins to gather his papers. His studiously avoids Cary's gaze. Cary has been making friendly gestures, but it's Will that is being openly hostile. He doesn't want to make friends with Cary. He wants to slaughter him.

As Will begins to leave he practically bumps into Cary.

"Sorry," says Cary, moving away. Will gives him a dark look before strolling down the hall, Cary just behind him.

"You have a good case," Cary says.

"Thanks," Will says brusquely.

"You're doing well," he says awkwardly. "It's a lot harder when you don't have a second chair."

Don't, thinks Will. He widens his strides, trying to get further away from Cary. Don't talk about Alicia. Don't bring her up. I don't want to know about her.

"Alicia's on holiday," Cary continues. He manages to keep up with him like a dog. "Skiing. Or she was meant to be. She's sick. She's in bed-"

The words grate against him. He turns on his heel to Cary, who stumbles after being caught off-guard. "Is there a point to this?" asks Will.

Cary blinks before straightening up. "Alicia's ill, at home. Alone," he says. Each word is picked over carefully, like a bird searching for worms. "She'll be at home by herself for the weekend."

"So?" Will says, but he begins to realise what Cary's actually saying.

He shrugs. "I think it's a shame, that's all." He strolls down the hall whistling, leaving Will to stare after him.

Alicia feels almost human after her shower. She's cleaned up the bed and changed the sheets. She's taken some pills and, aside from a blocked nose, she feels normal again. In fact she feels more relaxed than she has in a while. It's nice to have the flat to herself. Peter wants to sell the flat, but Alicia will miss it. She likes the closeness of it, likes knowing where the kids are. Peter is talking about getting a bigger place though, maybe even having a dog. The kids are excited about the idea. Alicia smiles through it but doesn't mention that they don't have time to walk a dog, not if they're both working.

Sometimes she wonders whether Peter doesn't want her to work. Yes she's at a different firm, but she still sees Will during cases. She knows that Peter would prefer if she never needed to see Will again.

Sometimes she thinks it might be better that way.

But as Alicia tosses and turns, attempting to sleep, she can't stop thinking about him. For the first time in weeks she is alone in the bed, and the emptiness seems to echo. She didn't expect to feel this way, but she does. It's not Peter she images rolling over to; it's Will she pictures kissing, Will's ear she sees herself nibbling on, Will's arms that she wants to crawl into.

Just when she is about to have a massive crying jag she hears a noise – like a clattering. She freezes. For a few seconds she thinks she might have imagined it, but then she hears footsteps. Muted but she can still hear them. Slowly Alicia gets up, careful not to make a noise. She reaches under the bed for the baseball bat that she's kept there ever since Peter moved out.

She creeps to the door, listening, still hoping that she's imagined it. But she can hear more noise and she knows she's wrong. She has to tell herself to move three or four times, but she finally she takes a bated breath and lunges from the bedroom. She is taken by surprise when she collides with the person. The baseball bat is made useless when she falls to the floor, admittedly taking the person with her. Their cries jangle together but Alicia recognises the person.

"Will?"

"Alicia?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I-" Now he's here he feels stupid. It doesn't help that he's lying on the floor with Alicia on top of him. "Do you think you could turn on the light?"

"Of course." Alicia shuffles off him and Will childishly thinks, I didn't mean you had to get off me. He doesn't even mean sexually. He misses her touch, and now that she's moved even more so.

The light comes on and Will feels even more foolish, still sprawled on the floor. He stands quickly. Alicia turns and he thinks he can see a faint blush on her face. She's wearing her baggy pyjamas, ones that used to be old gym clothes, and she's not looking her best. At least he's not alone in his embarrassment.

"How did you get in here?" she asks. She wraps her arms round her body.

He gestures to the door. "The spare key underneath the fire extinguisher."

Ah. Of course. Alicia doesn't know why she didn't think of that sooner. When she and Will were sleeping together she often left the key under there so he could let himself in. She had never thought of moving it.

"I'm sorry," Will apologises. He backs away. "I'll leave."

"Wait!" It's the first time they've been together, alone, since she left the firm and she wants to talk to him. She wishes she had a case to talk about with him, so that he had an excuse to stay. So they could talk and not be awkward. She hadn't realised how important Will was for her, even if it was just to see him, until she didn't work for him; until she had to sneak glances at him in court. "What are you doing here?"

Will knows he can't avoid the topic. With a sigh he rests his hand against the counter. It's then she spots the plastic bag on the counter. "I heard you were sick," he says. "I thought you might need some supplies." With care he pulls out some cough syrup, tissues and –

Forgetting the tension she moves forward. She grabs the yellow box and stares at it. "Oh my God," she says. Will can't fight the smile when he sees her expression. It reminds him of when she was eighteen, when she found the half-full bottle of vodka behind the sofa, when laughter came easily to her. She always saw the world as half-full then.

"I can't believe..." She is about to say you did this but at the least minute she says, "...found this."

"I wasn't sure if they would ever have it." He goes to the fridge as if it's his own house and gets out the milk. Alicia is already putting some of the powder into two glasses. He pours the milk and they watch as it turns pink. "You're the only one person I know that likes strawberry milk. Even kids don't have it anymore."

"It's an acquired taste," she says. She lifts the glass up to her nose and inhales deeply. She smells the drink and she remembers the long summers of childhood, messing with Owen; she remembers her mother bringing it to her when she was ill, when it was the only thing that would make her throat feel better; and she remembers buying it in college, practically finishing a whole carton of powder when she was studying for her final exams.

She remembers feeling sick at college and getting Will to bring her some. He teased her about her taste in drinks, saying he would prefer wine any day, but he always brought her some when she was ill. It became a tradition. All of a sudden it's perfectly clear why he came here.

She finishes the glass in one gulp. When she opens her eyes she finds Will have drunk his glass too, and he's staring at her.

Their eyes meet. The silence hovers around them like fireflies but neither of them feel awkward now. It...this...feels inevitable.

"Why did you leave?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

She plays with her glass. "It was a good opportunity," she says. "A named partner in a new company with plenty of clients. A corner office. Why shouldn't I go with them?"

Gently he takes the glass from her hands. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Alicia can't avoid his eyes any longer and she looks up at him. His eyes are wide and his face is so questioning, so sad, that it causes tears to well in her eyes. "I couldn't stay," she says. "If I stayed there would always be this thing between us and... I'm with Peter."

"Why?" The word is biting but he can't help it. "Why are you with him?"

"I love him," she answers simply. "I know he slept with hookers, I know he's cheated on me, but..." The words die on her lips.

Will gets it. No matter how much she fell for him, she never un-fell for Peter. Even after everything he had done to her. He puts down his glass and silently moves to the door. He's almost there – his hand is resting on the door handle when she sees it. A drop of strawberry milk on his hand.

He realises it then: he loves her. Of course he does. He always knew it, he's even said it a few times. But this is when he realises what it would mean. He loves her, so much so that he would put up with having her kids over, he would allow her to work at another firm. Hell he even brought her strawberry milk because she was sick. He loved her. He loves her.

"No," he says. He turns back round. She's drying her eyes against the back of her arm, staring at him.

"No?" she repeats. Her mouth is trembling.

"No," he says. He strides towards her determinedly. "You can't love him."

She raises her eyebrows. "You can't tell me who to love Will."

"I love you," he says to her. He sees her open her mouth to say something – argue probably – when he cuts her off. "And I can't leave you with Peter. I love you too much to watch you waste your life with him. He'll never treat you right Alicia, don't you see that? He loves you now but in a year? In five years? Some blonde will make eyes at him and he'll go running. And even if he is faithful to you, you'll never stop wondering whether he's cheated again."

Alicia balls her hands into fists. "You can't say that," she says. "You don't know Peter-"

"But I know you. I love you." That three word phrase gets easier to say every time. "I love the way you smile when you find a loophole in a contract. I love watching you cross-examine a witness. I love the squeaking noise you make when you sleep." He makes a gesture with his arms. "I can't turn it into a list."

"You can't?"

He stares resolutely at her. "If you need me to say why I love you, I'll go on all night." Without waiting for a pause he continues. "I love the way your hair flicks across your forehead. I love how you tear up at Celine Dion songs. I love watching you sleep, because that's the only time I think I've seen you relax. I-"

"I could say the same thing about you," she argues. "The only time I've seen you calm is when you're sleeping. It's one of the reasons-"

She freezes at the words, the ones that she said and the ones she was about to speak. Will pauses too, his arms falling restlessly at his side. He squeezes out the word, "What?"

Alicia cannot answer that. She turns away from him, unable to look him in the face. Will places his hand on the counter, leaning against it. He can't let this go, he already did that once. Never again. "Do you wish you'd married me? When you came to me and told me that you were going to marry Peter, and I begged you not to? When I said I would marry you instead, and look after the baby?" She turns and he's just a step behind her. Her heart leaps at the closeness, and a little voice in her head pleads her to inch forward. "Do you sometimes wish you'd married me instead?"

"I don't regret my children."

"I never said that." Will cups her chin in his hands and she peers up at him. Oh, this sight... She remembers it all too well. "Do you wish you had married me?" His voice is a squeak.

The words leave her mouth unbidden. "Sometimes," she whispers. Their lips meet and she closes her eyes, losing herself in him. He wraps a hand round her neck and she responds by putting her arms round his waist and pulling him closer. She let's herself go, allows herself to bury herself in his scent, in his body, in his mouth. Oh I've missed this.

Abruptly Alicia breaks away. She could almost cry. Kissing Will is simultaneously like stepping into the fire and curling under the covers of the ocean – new and familiar. So different from Peter in so many ways. Whether it's better or worse she doesn't know.

When Will looks at her his eyes are hazy. "Don't leave me Alicia," he says. "You left me emotionally and then you physically left me. Don't leave me again."

His begging disturbs Alicia. She moves away from him and in habit he reaches for her. "Alicia-"

"I don't know what I want in the future Will," she says. "I don't know what I wanted in the past, and I don't know what I want in the future." She reaches for his hand. "But right now, I want you to come to bed with me."

He blinks. "Here?" He glances slightly uneasily round the apartment. Yes they've had sex here before, but that was different: they were an item then. Besides, it was bad enough being in the apartment with all her children's things, but there's Peter's briefcase tucked in the corner, his tie thrown over the back of the chair, his shoes littered by the door. Peter has marked his territory well.

She squeezes his hand. Dry and calloused, but they still send sparks through her body. "Please," she begs. "I want you to be with me." Her eyes are lowered mournfully and he gives in.

They don't sleep together. Will isn't sure whether he's relieved about that or not. But in truth all they want is to be with each other – with or without the sex. And throughout the night, when Alicia rolls over Will's arms are there to catch her. She leans against his chest, smooth and clear unlike Peter's hairy one, and presses her nose in his neck. He kisses her forehead softly and they lie there, linked together.

The light of the morning makes everything seem harsher. Will blinks against it and for a second he is terrified because he doesn't know where he is. Alicia's arm brings him back and when he turns she is staring at him. All of a sudden the light isn't harsh anymore. She's beautiful in it.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Hey," he answers back. They match each other's position, like bookends. "How are you feeling?"

In everything that happened with Will she actually forgot she was ill. "I feel fine," she says. She smiles widely at him. "I feel good."

"Because of me?"

Yes. Her mind answers before her mouth can and she realises that he has indeed made her feel better. Love, after all, is a different kind of drug than ibuprofen or aspirin. It heals you in a way that a doctor can't measure, in a way that only you can feel. "Will," she says, her voice as sharp and clear as a bell. "I love you."

It feels like years before he responds – before he even moves. When he does he rolls over, so close that his nose is touching hers. His eyes are wide and peering at her almost desperately. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Are you sure Alicia? Don't say it unless you mean it, and don't say it just because I did. Only say it if you mean it."

Alicia laughed. It comes from deep in her chest, reminding her of times when she laughed so much she put her head on the table. Will is the only one who can make her laugh like that. "I mean it. I love you Will. I think I kinda have ever since Georgetown."

The words almost exactly mirror what he said over the voicemail, when he first said he loved her. He kisses her, pressing his lips hard against hers almost hungrily. She responds and they lie in bed together, kissing. So many people forget how good just sitting, standing, lying and kissing can feel. Like flying. Like dancing. Like hope.

Alicia breaks away first. Smiling shyly under Will's gaze she asks, "So what happens now?"

Peter's voice comes from the door, his voice like the growl of a dog. "That's what I'd like to know."