You can see the fear and the shame spreading across her face. Somehow, her past is coming after Alicia again. It was supposed to be okay again, they were going to be okay again. She pulled up a chair; she worried about her.
Alicia: "Is this man dangerous?"
Alicia: "Who the hell is he?"
Kalinda: "My husband, obviously."
Diane: "...So drop it. Because the man just told you on the record -- at considerable expense to his own political career -- that they're separated. So what do you have?"
Will: "And we're no longer offering to drop the class action, either. Losers."
Louis: "Okay, we lost. Gotta go!"
Patti: "Oh, except we just won. We were here to distract you from keeping Edelstein. Who just texted us, and is now our client."
They bounce, and just like that Lockhart/Lyman falls apart.
Diane: "And it's too late to call him, even."
Will: "Also by design."
Diane: "So. Tomorrow?"
Will: "Yep. Tomorrow."
Will runs to catch it, jumping in with Alicia. Good timing. Until tomorrow.
Will: "How are you doing?"
Alicia: "I'm... Okay."
Will: "Same. That was weird, before..."
Alicia: "Yeah. It was."
He looks at her, and she looks back. What's to say? The doors keep opening, and closing.
Will: "Do you think it was a mistake?"
The doors open, and close, on Will and Alicia. Of course not, of course it was never a mistake. He wishes her a goodnight, and steps off, leaving her alone.
There's the life that you make, the life you build yourself after the old one burns away. And you think maybe this is clean, maybe this is clear. Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world, to become somebody new. Maybe it's a bit more to your liking. Maybe you make a friend, somebody you can depend on, somebody you never would have known before, or loved. Maybe you explore the lovers you never could have had. Maybe you find out what you like, or want, or need, or love, for the very first time.
And there's the life that's left behind. And you can say no, all you want. You can say it doesn't count, that it's all burnt up. Maybe you use up your second life, on silly grudges or running so hard and fast you come to meet yourself again, coming back the other way. Maybe history just looks like this.