Chapter Text
“You’re not married?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Well,” Will starts, thinks of Nina, who he is, technically, dating; but that doesn’t feel right, and then immediately thinks of Mac, who… “No.”
“What was the ‘well’?” Shelly asks, eyebrows raised.
“Hmm,” Will shrugs again. He doesn’t even know how to begin to answer that in under the prescribed minute.
**********
Will leaves Ms Wexler’s class as she’s handing out the readings for the week and she gives him a slight smile and a nod as he goes. Yeah, he sat in on her economics class, but really, he spent most of the time thinking about Mackenzie. His ‘well’… He spends far too much time thinking about Mackenzie these days when he’s actually dating Nina; it’s just that everything seems to come back to her and he’s still at a loss as to what he’s supposed to do. With her. Or himself. Or them. He thinks he’s made a decision and then something happens to make him question it. He decides to date Nina, so he can move on, and then he has a conversation with Shelly Wexler about ‘well…’ and he’s thinking of Mackenzie, not Nina.
Maybe that’s because things with Mackenzie have been a little rough recently. Which may or may not be entirely his fault. He loses track. He’s done a few things that… and Mackenzie is so… Maybe he also owes her an apology tonight though. He’s not sure. He just knows things have been strained in the last month or so. It’s an odd dance. He picks at her until she gets mad at him and then he gets mad at her for being mad at him and then he thinks about what he’s actually done, and feels bad. And he can’t get her out of his head.
He tugs his phone from his pocket, as he strolls through the building, dials her number from the recently called contacts.
“Yeah?” Her voice is breathless and it strikes him hard for a second. So hard, he doesn’t say anything. “Will?”
“Yeah,” he finds his voice. He can hear a lot of background noise on her end. “Where are you?”
“I’m walking.”
“Why are you walking –?”
“It’s generally how I get around. That’s what God gave me legs for.”
They’re great legs too. Will remembers easily how they feel beneath his palms. But that’s not helping. “Where are you walking?” He clarifies.
“On the street.”
He sighs. He’s not in the mood for verbal sparring or her frustrating…
“I’m walking home,” Mackenzie goes on. She must have heard the sigh.
“Why – you should get a cab. It’s not safe.”
“I’m perfectly safe,” Mackenzie replies haughtily. “There are people around. And I couldn’t find a cab when I left the office, so I decided to walk.”
“Try now.”
“To walk? I’m managing just –”
“For a cab,” Will says, stepping out of the building and heading onto the street himself.
“Will –”
“You live miles from – Where are you exactly? I’ll come and get you.”
She huffs. “Will, I’m fine.”
He waits. Nothing. He stops at the edge of the sidewalk. “Mackenzie?”
“I’m standing in the street, hailing a cab Will. Why did you call?”
“Uh, I wanted to talk to you. About something.”
“Yeah,” she says matter-of-factly. “I figured, seeing as you don’t call to just check in anymore – hang on a sec,” she says, sounding breathless again. The timbre of her voice completely stalls him for a second, all husky, and he’s thrown completely back in time by about six years to a darkened bedroom. Then he hears the loud blare of a horn and a thump, a screech, something shattering and then a second of silence before the call cuts out.
He stands still, phone pressed painfully into his ear, heart pounding, holding his breath; what the hell just happened? “Mackenzie?”
There’s no answer.
“Mackenzie?” He repeats, a little more desperately. He checks his phone but it indicates the call has ended. He tries calling her back but her phone just rings until voicemail. He doesn’t leave a message. He tries again, raising an arm as he sees a yellow cab come around the corner; he starts walking towards it. When he gets in, the cabbie asks him for the address. He stops, mouth dry; Mackenzie still hasn’t picked up her phone. He sets it to dial again, hoping she’s going to answer and be fine, while his gut sinks with each concurrent ring. He doesn’t actually know where Mackenzie was when they were talking. She said she was walking. Home, he assumes. She said she just left work. He gives the AWM address. He’ll start there and work is way back.
**********
He finally finds her two hours later by calling all the hospitals on Manhattan, then starting over on the list again when his initial inquiry comes up short. He makes the cabbie drive a route from the AWM building to her place, the one he thinks she’d take on foot, but they don’t find any ambulances or cop cars, or crowds gathered around a prone body. He tries three different routes before getting an emergency department who confirms Ms McHale was brought in to them. Will gives the cab driver the new address and frets at the frustration of not being told anything; he’s not family (obviously not her emergency contact either) and no ED nurse in their right professionalism would give out that kind of information, no matter how he tries. He does try.
All he knows is that she was brought in, and they’re treating her. Which means she is, at least, not dead. By the time he gets to New York Presbyterian (which is just around the corner from the AWM building) Mackenzie has already been taken up to the ward, and he is allowed to see her now, even though it’s outside visiting hours, because she asked for him. She asked for him. It makes his heart pound, even though he tries to rationalise it. They were just on the phone when she was hit by a car, so she probably just wants him to know that she’s all right, they’re friends, and she doesn’t have family in the city. But of all the people she knows, of all the people she could call (Jim, Sloan), she asked for him.
She’s in the bed furthest from the door, on the right, the only occupied bed in her row. There are two other women on the opposite side, but their lights are out and the curtains are drawn and Will doesn’t care to notice if they’re awake or not. He walks down the row in long strides; Mackenzie still has her light on. He comes around the bed, heart rate high, but she’s asleep. She looks ok. She has a cracked rib and a concussion, apparently, but aside from a graze on her chin that he can see, there doesn’t appear to be a mark on her.
He stands, looks down at her sleeping, his heart pounding, and his head telling him that she’s there and she’s fine. She actually looks peaceful. She’s nice like this. Quiet. He used to like watching her sleep; it seems such a juxtaposition compared to the sometimes manic whirlwind Mackenzie. He’s reaching out a hand for her (doesn’t know why) when she opens her eyes and looks at him.
“Billy,” she murmurs and takes his hand before he can withdraw it, before he can step back and close off and put up his walls. “Hey.” She tugs on his hand, drags him down into a hug that startles him so much he doesn’t resist out of it.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she murmurs against his ear, her breath a warm tingle. Will swallows hard. “God,” she sounds choked, and she shudders against him but he can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying. He pulls back a little to see, and she lets him go, but only so far. And then she kisses him.
Full on plants a kiss on his slightly open mouth.
She curls her fingers around his ear and draws back but he just stares at her dumbfounded.
What the hell is she doing?
“Can you believe I got hit by a cab? In New York?” She continues softly; talkative but at a low volume. She lets him go and he straightens up, staring, but she keeps his hand, and he’s too surprised to think to take it back. “That seems such a tourist thing to happen. And what are we doing in New York anyway, Billy? Are we here for a story?” She squints at him. “Or a romantic weekend. Which I’ve just ruined. Did you talk to the doctor? I’ve got a cracked rib and a concussion but I’m going to be fine. They want to keep me overnight for observation but otherwise – are you ok?”
Will blinks at her. Now that she’s animated, he can see a gauze patch on the right of her forehead, by her hairline. “Uh, yeah,” he says into the silence. “You were hit by a cab?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, yes, I’m not sure what I was doing but I think I was hailing a cab? I got hit by a guy on a bicycle and he knocked me into the street and then the cab – that’s what a witness said. I’m a bit confused…” she frowns. “I’m not sure what – are we in New York for a story?”
“Uh,” Will stalls. She’s confused. She has to be more than confused if she thinks… She’s talking to him like they’re together. Like its six years ago and they’re still together. Like Brian never happened. Or more, that she never told him about Brian. Because no matter what point in their timeline she currently thinks it is, Brian has still happened. She kissed him and hugged him and she’s holding his hand. She asked for him.
“Do I look awful?” she asks softly.
“No. You look fine. I’m just going to – I didn’t speak to your doctor before. I’m just going to go do that,” he slips his hand from hers and walks quickly back down the row.