It was late when the phone rang.
She had already called three hours ago, telling him that she was probably going to be at the studio most of the night working.
"Why don't you call me when you are ready to leave and I'll come get you?"
"Will, that's stupid. Just sleep. I'll catch the subway."
"Right, the subway is so nice at three in the morning."
"I'll be fine, darling. Don't worry about me."
"All right, fine."
After telling her that he loved her and hanging up, he sank onto his bed and fell asleep.
The phone rang again and again until he finally pulled himself up and answered it.
"Hwello?" was his garbled greeting.
"Hello, is this Will Turner?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"This is Detective Grayson, calling about a Grace Adler."
"There's been an incident."
A burglar had broken into the studio, holding her at gunpoint and demanding all the money that she had. After she handed it over, he had beaten her up to the point of death and then shot her dead.
The police asked him to identify her body.
He didn't think he could do it.
The first person that he called was Jack.
"I'm on my way," was his reply before the line went dead.
"Right through here, Mr. Truman."
He could feel Jack's hand on his back and felt his knees tremble as he tried to pull himself out of his chair.
"I can't do this," he whispered, clamping a hand over his mouth.
"Will, I'll be right there with you," murmured Jack.
With his friend's love, he managed to find the strength to walk through that door into the freezing cold morgue.
When the coroner pulled the sheet off of the body, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.
"Is this her, Mr. Truman?" asked the detective.
He stared at her for a second, the broken and bruised shell of the beautiful woman that she used to be. Everything came rushing back and he let out a sob.
"Did you find the son of a bitch that did this to her?" he demanded. "Did you find him?"
The detective shook his head. "No, sir. We didn't."
"You don't even have a fucking witness," he grumbled. "You don't even have a fucking witness because the son of a bitch-"
"Will-" Jack tried to cut across him but he wouldn't let him.
"No! No, this isn't...Gracie isn't..."
"Will, it is her," murmured Jack.
"I know that!"
"Thank you, Mr. Truman. You can go home now," the detective tried to say.
"Go home? How the hell am I supposed to go home? Go home to that empty apartment. Where she's not going to be?" he realized he was babbling but he didn't care.
He couldn't even feel it as Jack's strong arms looped around him and gently guided him out of the morgue. He began to struggle for a second but let himself go limp.
"She's not-No! She's not-! Oh, God, no!"
Then the tears came, quickly followed by sobs. They were boiling hot and burned his throat.
"No! No, no, no, no! Oh, Gracie, no!"
He sat alone in the apartment. Alone on her favorite chair. Her favorite comforter wrapped around him.
He could still feel her around him. He could practically taste her sweet scent of vanilla and honey. Everything about this apartment where they had lived for the past five years just screamed Grace.
The kitchen was littered with sympathy casseroles and pies. People had been stopping by for the past three days, bringing every item of food in the world to try and express their condolences. He barely paid attention to them as they shuffled in and out of his house. No tuna casserole could bring her back.
The only people that seemed to actually understand were Karen and Jack. They hadn't brought food and had just brought themselves. After throwing the last sympathizer out of the house, they had sat with him. They had sat in a small circle, not looking at each other and not saying a word. Just sitting.
Finally, Karen had received a call from her daughter Olivia and had to leave. He had noticed how much more attentive she had become since learning about Grace's...he couldn't even let the words form in his mind, let alone on his tongue.
Jack never said anything to him. There were no words of sadness or of goofy cheery in an attempt to make him smile and he appreciated that. All Jack did was stay with him.
He was now alone, Jack having to leave about an hour ago. He had departed with a sad smile and a gentle kiss on the temple. He had almost flinched at his friend's touch, not feeling like he deserved such soothing gestures. He didn't deserve anything.
All he was going to do was sit and grieve. He was going to stay there and never move again. Maybe he could figure out how to turn back time and fix whatever had happened. Fix the mistake he had made by insisting on going to the studio and being with her while she finished up her work and taking her home.
But then a voice broke through his fog.
He almost fell of his chair in shock. "Gracie?"
She was there. And she was perfect. Her red curls wild all over her head, her big beaming smile that he so adored, her precious face...
"What's going on?" he mumbled, feeling incredibly stupid for talking to such an obvious hallucination.
"You're not hallucinating, Will. I just came to say goodbye."
"No..." he felt like such a child when his eyes filled up with tears again.
She smiled gently at him, brushing her thumb across his cheek and wiping away the tears.
"You'll be okay, Will. You'll be all right," she breathed quietly.
"Not without you here," he choked out, the tears coming faster and hotter. They spilled down his cheeks and soaked his collar.
She sank down onto the chair beside him, both of them barely fitting. She continued to wipe away his tears and gripped one of his hands in hers.
"You seem to forget that I'm always here," she smiled, placing her hand that was still entwined with hers on his heart. "I'm right here. And you'll never be able to get rid of me. I'm like a bad penny that always turns up."
"Or a magic penny."
She rolled her eyes. "Magic-shmagic."
"Will, it's okay to grieve. It's okay to be sad. I want you to remember me. But not like this. What happened to me, was not your fault. Do you hear me? It was not your fault. It was something that happened and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it."
He sighed, wiping his face with his free hand. He looked back into her dancing eyes. "Did you fight?" he asked.
She chuckled. "Honey, wait until you see the other guy."
"The other guy?"
"He didn't get far. I wouldn't worry too much about him," she said.
He blinked rather stupidly at her for a moment. She smiled, her arms slipping around him.
"Will, it's going to be all right. It is. You just need to let me go."
"How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do?" he stammered, his eyes shimmering with tears again.
She leaned in close, her lips a breath's away from his ear. "Keep living. Keep living for the ones that love you."
"Keep living for me. Because I'm always here," she added with a soft kiss on his cheek.
When he blinked, she was gone.
And then he let the sobs come, shaking and chest wracking.
He saw it in the paper before he heard it personally.
MURDERER OF SLAIN DESIGNER CAUGHT
They had caught the son of a bitch that had killed her.
"Why the hell didn't you call me?" he raged at the detective.
"No! No, I was the one that was closest to her. I was her family. You should have told me before the damn papers got a hold of it!"
"Mr. Truman, he's going up against a grand jury. You can be there if you wish," the police detective interrupted.
"You're damn right I will be there. I want to testify against the son of a bitch. I want that animal in a prison where he belongs."
The first time, he had seen that slime, he had wanted to jump across the table and tear his throat out. It was all he could do not to do just that.
When he looked at the man for the first time, he remembered her words. She had fought back so hard against him. His face was covered in healing bruises and cuts, a large shiner and a few broken teeth. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for his Gracie. She hadn't gone down without fighting so hard for her life.
Jack and Karen were there. They couldn't testify but were there to offer support. He was appreciative of their love and of their prescense. It was just what he needed to stay calm through the proceedings.
He had to listen to the killer's account of what had happened that horrific night.
"I broke into the studio. The door's lock was loose so it was quite easy actually."
"Then what did you do?" asked the prosecutor.
"She heard me, Grace Adler. She tried to escape and I grabbed her, demanding that she hand over everything that she had that was valuable. She gave me her wallet, which had about thirty bucks in it, all of her jewelry, and her cell phone."
"What did you do after that?"
"I was going to leave but then I realized that she was going to call the police as soon as I left. So I..."
"So you what?"
"I hit her across the face, hoping to knock her out. But she got back up and came up swinging. She began to punch and scratch and kick every inch of me that she could. I tried to restrain her. But she just made me so damn mad that I continued to hit her back until she was finally down."
"And then you shot her in the head."
"And then I took out the gun I was hiding and I shot her in the head, killing her."
He gulped back the tears that were forming but couldn't restrain them much longer. Swallowing, he brushed the tears off of his face and continued to listen to the proceedings.
Her last moments had been complete hell.
But she had fought to survive.
"Do you know what you took away from all of us?" asked Bobbie Adler. "You took everything away from me. From Will. From Jack and Karen. From everyone in this whole entire world. You took away this brilliant ray of light. You snuffed her out like a candle. Like it didn't even matter anymore. She was just a fly that had to be swatted."
"You deserve to die. You deserve to go through the same thing that she went through," he muttered, gesturing to the beautiful portrait of her that was up next to her morgue photograph. "You deserve to have the life pressed out of you like hers was. Her beautiful life. You took all of that away. Even though the death penalty isn't legal in New York, I could still demand a public lynching."
The judge and the congregation stared at him. He could feel the dirt's eyes right on him.
"But I won't. The real thing you deserve is to go to prison and rot in a cage for the rest of your miserable life like the animal that you are. You are filth. You stamped out a beautiful light that graced this world and didn't think twice about it. You should decay away in a cell and think about what you did. And you will know that you are nothing more than a murderer that will never see the light of day again."
Three sentences of one hundred years in prison without the possibility of parole.
It was over.
"You did good, baby. You did real good."
"Gracie, I miss you so much."
"I'm always here, darling. Always here."
Jack met a man named Noah that he fell madly in love with. The two of them married on December 2nd, a loving Christmas wedding. It also would have been her 36th birthday.
Both had expressed desires for children and Jack actually asked him what he thought.
"I think you will be a fantastic father," were the exact words that came out of his mouth.
And it was the honest truth.
Karen gave birth to a healthy beautiful baby girl on October 21st that following year. She was immediately placed in Jack's arms and he and Noah spent the next several hours with their brand new daughter.
Looking up, he saw Jack with the baby in his arms.
"Hey there, Pops," he chuckled, loving the look of happiness on his dear friend's face.
Jack smiled. "Would the godfather like to hold his new goddaughter?"
He eyed the tiny baby for a moment before giving in. "More than anything in this world."
Jack carefully shifted her into his arms. "Her name is Anastasia," he whispered.
"Anastasia?" he repeated. "It's beautiful."
Will Truman finally brought his eyes to meet Jack's.
"Seriously," Jack repeated. "I hope you don't mind."
Will let out a small sob and tried to cover it up with a cough. "And why would I mind?"
Jack smiled. "I'll leave you two alone."
The new father disappeared but Will didn't even notice. He smiled down at the tiny baby.
"Wow. You are absolutely amazing," he whispered. "And you know what? You are going to be so loved. You have two amazing dads, a great mama, and so many other people who love you."
"She's going to be an amazing young woman."
Will looked up to see Grace's smiling face. He nodded and glanced back at the peacefully sleeping baby.
"Yeah, she is."
Well, if anyone is reading, I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are immensely loved and I do hope if there is anyone out there, you will grace me with them.
I fell in love with Will and Grace when my mom bought the first season. I just thought that the show had an air of innocence to it and it also reminded me of I Love Lucy to a great extreme.
This idea was born out of boredom. I know it's incredibly sad but I just thought, what if Grace died? Then this came. Sorry about the sadness. But I do hope you liked it. I can actually see this happening and Will would later accept her death.
I wrote this in a kind of 'fourth person' point of view, only referencing to Will and Grace as 'he' and 'she' until the very end. I hope you understood that. I'm not trying to sound condescending. I mean….oh, god, I'll shut up now.