Chapter Text
The conversation flowed surprisingly easily while Ted measured ingredients for biscuits. Rebecca didn’t know why she would be surprised—if there was one thing Ted knew how to do better than anyone she’d ever met, it was keeping a conversation going—yet the novelty of it remained.
Rebecca let Ted’s words wash over her, settling around her shoulders like a soothing blanket. He was telling the story of the first time his mother ever let him help in the kitchen, and he somehow managed to make such a small domestic snippet in time into a tale full of twists and turns, worthy of the cinema.
It was impressive. But more than that, it was just what Rebecca needed.
“…and then I mixed up the sugar and the salt, just like I did for you that one time—which, hey, that’s a full circle moment right there—and woo-wee those were some funny tastin’ cookies, but my mama was still so proud of me for helpin’ her, she made me feel like a million bucks…”
Rupert had never been chatty. Charming, yes, and a smooth talker who was capable of spinning tales to entertain a crowd, to be sure… but he had never been talkative at home. Rebecca hated the quiet, the distance. For a while, she’d play music to drown out the silence, but Rupert would tell her to shut it off after only a few songs—he said her music tastes were pedestrian, that it was just noise. He especially hated it when she sang along, and would sometimes shout at her to stop singing, even when she was doing it alone in the shower, with no audience besides the shower head, a bar of soap, and a row of expensive hair products.
In fact, Rupert once told her to get out of the house and go sing in her car—if she really must do it, she should go where he wouldn’t have to listen to it—and the words still stung, all these years later.
Rebecca felt safe in the knowledge that this man puttering around her kitchen, wearing her grandmother’s floral-patterned apron, and telling silly stories to keep her mind off the robbery, would never make her feel unwelcome in her own home.
By the time the biscuits were cooling on the counter, Rebecca could almost forget the throbbing pain around her left eye, the aching knuckles of her right hand, and the shoulder that had collided with the nightstand before she hit the ground—almost. She knew she ought to have put ice on her injuries—she knew how nasty bruising on one’s face could get when left untreated—but she still felt a bit like she was at the edges of herself, like her soul wasn’t sitting quite right within her body, and there was no room for logic within that overwhelming sense of unease.
“Boss?”
Rebecca was torn from her introspection by her title, which was a curiosity, because Ted rarely called her “boss” when they were alone. She must not have responded to him saying her name for quite some time.
“Sorry,” Rebecca murmured, trying to focus on the man in front of her, to give him her full attention, and was distracted when she saw the time displayed in bright yellow numbers on the oven behind him.
5:03 AM
“God, is that the time?” They needed to be getting ready. The team bus was set to leave at 6am, sharp. Against her better judgment, she’d agreed to take the team bus to Everton, rather than her jet, because Ted insisted he travel with the team for morale purposes, and she didn’t want to make the journey separate from him.
But the thought of returning to her bedroom to get dressed and bring her suitcase down made her suddenly nauseous.
“Time really flew, huh?” Ted tried for humor, and missed it by a hair. “Do you want another cup of tea? Or maybe some coffee, to fight the all-nighter? The biscuits should be cool enough to eat by now. You could have a little breakfast while I bring your bags down…?”
Rebecca would kiss him, if there weren’t an island between them. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed. But she also knew just how hard Ted would take the state of her bedroom, and she didn’t want him seeing that. The evidence of a violent struggle would probably send him into a panic attack, and it was with that knowledge that she decided she could be strong for a little while longer.
Sliding off her seat, Rebecca moved to give Ted a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, darling. I’d love another cup of tea. But I think I’ll go up and gather my things myself.”
Ted’s kind face became pinched with worry. “Are ya sure it won’t upset you? I’m happy to help—”
“I know you are, Ted,” Rebecca offered him a small smile, patting his cheek. “Why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee, and start cutting into those biscuits in the meantime, hmmm?”
Ted didn’t look convinced as he placed his own hand on Rebecca’s jaw, guiding her head gently to turn to the side, so he could better see the bruise around her eye that stretched over her cheekbone as well. It had darkened in the hours since he’d first arrived, and was now an ugly shade of reddish-purple, with swelling that was slightly limiting her vision in her left eye in a way that was quite disorienting.
She could feel the telltale shaking in his fingers, and so reached up to take Ted’s hand away from her jaw with a squeeze of reassurance.
“I’m alright, Ted. Truth be told, I feel lucky—it could’ve been so much worse.”
Ted didn’t need her to describe what “worse” would’ve looked like—she’s sure he’s already imagined how badly the break-in could’ve gone ever since he picked up her phone call.
“It’s bad enough,” Ted argued, a hard set to his jaw that Rebecca hadn’t seen in ages. “I hope the judge throws the book at them. They didn’t have to hurt you—that was a choice they made—and it was the wrong one.”
Tears pricked at Rebecca’s eyes as she offered Ted a sad smile. “You’re a good man, Ted Lasso. Not everyone has the same goodness in their hearts.”
This seemed to upset Ted, such that Rebecca immediately regretted her words. Before he could respond, however, she decided to slip away, because the last thing she needed was for her resolve to wane, such that she never managed to make it back up to her bedroom.
Ted hated the silence in the kitchen that followed Rebecca’s departure. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d already cleaned up after his biscuit-making, with the dishes all piled high on the drying rack. He supposed he could hand dry them with a towel, but his hands were still shaking, and he didn’t necessarily trust himself to handle things made of glass at the moment.
Scrambling for something else to occupy his time, Ted thought about doing something useful, like calling Beard to ask him to grab the duffel bag from his apartment and bring it to the team bus, but he didn’t have a clue as to how to explain why.
Ted was tempted to tell Rebecca they should reconsider going to Everton altogether—the team had two other coaches who were more than capable of leading them, and the boss wasn’t always able to make every game, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world—but he knew that their absence would only encourage the media to speculate even further about what had happened to Rebecca. Not only that, but it would be sure to worry the team, and Rebecca hated it when people worried about her.
Ted was drawn out of his thoughts by Rebecca’s soft footsteps on the stairs. He headed towards the foyer, his eyes trained on Rebecca’s slow descent. She was carrying a large rolling suitcase in one hand, and a large toiletry bag in the other. Ted was tempted to meet her halfway up the stairs, to take the burden of the bags from her, but thought better of it when Rebecca gave him an amused glance that said, “I can do it.”
It looked like she’d put on a great deal of makeup to cover the bruising around her eye and cheekbone, but the swelling made it impossible to hide. Ted’s stomach twisted, imagining Rebecca prodding around her injuries with a makeup brush, only to be ultimately unsuccessful in accomplishing her goal.
When she finally stood at the bottom of the stairs, Ted also noticed that she was slightly shorter than him, instead of slightly taller, like she usually was, and his eyes immediately shot down to her feet.
Sneakers. She was wearing… sneakers. They were pink and sparkly and probably cost more money than three of Ted’s monthly paychecks, but they were still sneakers.
“What?” Rebecca said, her eyes dancing, but also wary, like she wasn’t sure what he would say. “Don’t you like them?”
“Like ‘em?” Ted repeated, scandalized. “I don’t like ‘em—”
Rebecca’s face fell, and Ted immediately hastened to finish his sentence, regretting the joke. “I love ‘em, Rebecca.”
Rebecca let out a relieved breath that should’ve let Ted off the hook, but only served to make him feel more guilty. He should know better than to make jokes like that, when he was fully aware of how her ex-husband had controlled what she wore, and relentlessly criticized her for it.
“We ought to get going soon. I should call my driver,” Rebecca offered, changing the subject as she slid her sunglasses over her eyes despite the darkness of the foyer. “We need to pick up your suitcase before we head to Nelson Road, and the paparazzi are going to try and get in our way.”
Ted scowled at the thought of the paparazzi harassing them on their way out, but calmed himself before reaching for her hand and saying, “We have time. The team would want their boss to have her tea and biscuits before a long drive with the Richmond boys. I also have it on good authority that the bus won’t leave without the boss and the head coach.”
Rebecca nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “Well, who am I to argue with that?”
The early morning air was crisp, with a light wind blowing, and a few grey clouds above that promised rain. The boys were all gathered in the parking lot, wiping sleep from their eyes as they waited for the coach and boss to arrive—already ten minutes past the scheduled departure time.
Roy had woken up in a bad mood. The stormy weather meant a drop in barometric pressure, and with it came a deep ache in his bad knee that was as painful as it was distracting. Hours on a bus wasn’t going to help, and so he’d arrived at Nelson Road in a particularly sour mood, ready to chew out anyone who so much as looked at him.
Luckily, no one seemed to be looking for a fight this morning. Everyone was half-asleep and mumbling about the gaffer being late, when he was the one who had threatened them with wind sprints if they didn’t all arrive on time.
By the time Coach Lasso and the boss finally arrived in her Rolls Royce, it was nearing half-past, and Roy’s level of rage had reached a fever pitch. Ted got out of the car first, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in chagrin, as Rebecca’s driver went over to the trunk to take out their bags.
“Sorry about the wait, boys. The boss and I had a bit of a long night—”
Roy was already headed in Ted’s direction, ready to give him a piece of his mind, when Rebecca got out of the car, her movements slow, her head down, as she came to stand slightly behind Ted, and two realizations hit Roy at the exact same time:
One, Rebecca was wearing oversized sunglasses when there wasn’t any fucking sun, and two…
Two had Roy grabbing Ted by the scruff of the neck and slamming him against the car faster than he’d done anything else in his life.
“Woah there, big fella—”
“Roy!” Rebecca’s shocked, scared voice was directly to his right, her hands reaching out to try and loosen his hold on the gaffer’s neck, but Roy shook her off as gently as he could without losing his grip on Ted.
The team had gathered round, shouting at him to back off, to calm down. Isaac was at Roy’s other shoulder, trying to force him to let go, but none of the words were registering. Roy had spent years watching his sister use makeup and sunglasses to cover up what Phoebe’s asshole father did to her, so much so that he’d become an expert at spotting it a mile away.
Roy couldn’t see past the image of a man’s fist smashing into Rebecca’s face. The mere thought of that man being Ted had him ready to commit a fucking murder.
“If you don’t give me a better fucking explanation right the fuck now, I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands, and throw you in the fucking Thames.”
Ted didn’t say anything, his eyes flickering to Rebecca, like he wanted her to explain for him.
That made Roy’s vision go red. He pulled Ted forward, only to slam him, hard, back against the car. “Don’t look at her, look at me. What the fuck did you do to her face?”
A ripple of shock went through the players, their eyes all turning to Rebecca. The color drained out of her usually tan face, making the swelling and discoloration even more pronounced.
Just then, several members of the paparazzi swarmed the parking lot, their cameras flashing and mics waving in the air as the players attempted to keep them back. Coach Beard moved to take Rebecca by the arm and usher her towards the bus, his other hand held out to block the photographers from getting a picture of her.
Roy stayed where he was, his fists still curled in the fabric of Ted’s track suit. Ted wasn’t struggling, and neither was he offering an explanation. He was just looking at him with an understanding expression, like being thrown against a car and threatened by Roy was a perfectly reasonable thing to happen.
It made Roy want to punch him in the fucking face even more.
But then he heard snippets of what the paparazzi were shouting. Words like “break-in,” “robbery,” and “assault” broke through the rest of the noise, and a picture began to form in Roy’s head that was only marginally better than the first one he’d had.
He slowly loosened his grip on Ted, but didn’t move away.
“It wasn’t you,” Roy stated more than asked.
Ted offered a sharp nod in response, seemingly unbothered by what Roy had done, despite the hard set to his jaw, and the darkness in his expression. “Believe me, I’d throw myself in the Thames before I ever did somethin’ like that to Rebecca. But it’s good to know someone else is lookin’ out for her, too.”
With that, Ted clapped Roy on the back, before Ted turned and addressed the crowd. “As I told all y’all back at the boss’ place, we don’t have any comments right now, and would appreciate ya giving Rebecca some privacy at this time,” Ted made a ‘round it up’ motion with his pointer finger. “Boys, bring it in. Let’s get outta here without anymore excitement, yeah?”
Beard had seen Rebecca in a lot of different states over the years, from serious to silly, smiling brightly to desperately sad, but he’d never seen her quite like this. Her head was buried in her hands, her whole body shaking with the force of the emotion she was trying to contain.
All he could do was wrap his arm around her shoulders, and flip the bird at every photographer who tried to get a picture of her through the glass window.
When the boys started to file in, she straightened up a bit, pulling herself together, not wanting them to see how deeply Roy’s actions followed by the chaos of the paparazzi descending on them had affected her. Beard offered her a handkerchief—the one he always carried with him, in case of moments like this—and she accepted it with gratitude. But wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks also had the unfortunate effect of rubbing off her makeup, too.
Beard was sickened by the sight of the prominent purple bruise across her cheekbone, and had to bite his lip until it bled to keep from losing his cool. He considered Rebecca one of his closest friends, second only to Ted. She’d become like the sister he’d never had, and he felt privileged to be able to say so. The thought of the paparazzi using his pseudo-sister’s fresh trauma—that was barely hours in the past—to make money…
It felt like being lit on fire from the inside. It felt like being beaten bloody in an alley and left for dead. It felt like the worst high of his entire life ending in blue lips and Narcan and Ted beside his hospital bed.
“It’ll be alright,” Beard whispered, running a soothing hand over her back, but pulling his hand away when she flinched at the brush of his palm over her right shoulder. “You’ve got the whole team here, ready to fight for you. They’ll give the press a piece of their mind, and then some.”
Rebecca nodded her head, her green eyes still wet and shimmering. “I know they will.”
“And just think—if the police don’t get you justice, Roy sure as hell will,” Beard threw his thumb over his shoulder, indicating where Roy had settled into the seat directly behind them.
“I’ll kill ‘em,” Roy growled, but his eyes were soft as he looked at Rebecca. “And I’m sure the boys will help. Right lads?”
There was a chorus of agreement, Isaac adding, “And we’ll make it look like an accident, innit?”
Ted was the last to get on the bus, having had a few more words with the press, who were relentless in their pursuit of a good story. Beard stood from his spot beside Rebecca, allowing Ted to take his place, but only going so far as the seat next to them, across the aisle.
As the bus pulled out of Nelson Road, Rebecca took a deep breath. Ted squeezed her hand, offering her strength even in silence.
She knew there was a long road ahead, but with Ted beside her, and the boys all around, she had faith that she might just be able to get through it.