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It's nothing more or less than the usual. Some aliens causing a disturbance on the Brooklyn Bridge. Kay and Jay get sent to go mop up the mess. They manage to talk the aliens out of taking the Brooklyn Bridge back to their planet for use in their mating rituals (Jay isn't sure which part of that disturbs him the most), neuralyze the cab driver, and even have one lane of traffic open by the time the containment crew gets there. Piece of cake.
Kay sneaks away while Jay was giving instructions to the containment crew. Jay finds him standing on the edge of a maintenance walkway, looking out over the river, lighting a cigarette. Jay is about to start busting his chops over leaving Jay with the dirty work, again, but something gives him pause. He hops over the fence to join Kay in looking out over the river. Kay's got that little frown that means that he's really working hard, thinking about something.
"Enjoying the view?" Jay says, seeing the lights twinkle in the iconic skyline, black on black. Jay's always loved New York at night. He's not expecting Kay to respond, or if he is, he's expecting the man to give some dry answer.
"What I can't figure out," Kay says hoarsely, "is where I went wrong."
Jay is a lotta things, but he's not stupid. That's most of the reason he got hired into this circus in the first place, and the context clues are starting to fall into place. The way Kay won't look at him. His hand holding the cigarette giving the most minute twitch. The fact that he's smoking at all. Jay shuts his mouth and lets him speak.
"You know, I really thought I'd get to retire. I mean, hell. I did what I was supposed to do. I saved Earth. Got eaten by a bug. Found someone who can keep things going when I'm gone. That's you, by the way."
Kay, totally unprompted, is expressing a genuine human emotion in front of Jay. Jay's kind of blindsided.
"I did everything right." And he's rambling now, like a cork popped and Kay is cheap champagne on New Years. "I gave everything to Men in Black. I did what I was supposed to. I gave up everybody. I protected the Earth, I protected the aliens. I did the right thing. Gave up my sweetheart. Gave up sleeping peacefully at night. Didn't complain. Did my job." Something minute changes in Kay's expression.
"I just watched her die. I just let Serleena go. Because it was the right thing to do. And I just made myself forget. Because it was the right thing to do." He's snarling now, and suddenly pushes his fingers into his eyes too hard, digging them in and it has to hurt but he takes a deep, unsteady breath.
"I never got to see my daughter grow up."
And Jay knows , because he's not stupid , but it's still a punch to the gut to hear Kay say it. And he's starting to understand why all this is coming out now. Kay took being deneuralyzed like a champ, barely blinking at 35 years of horror being beamed back into his brain. But remembering 1978 had nearly broken him. Remembering 1978 and seeing Laurana's – his – daughter leave Earth in the same night? Jay had been so caught up in his own despair over Laura leaving and the giddy rush of having Kay back again, he hadn't spared much time thinking about how Kay felt about everything. And maybe he should have. But here they are now, looking over the Hudson as Kay has his moment of quiet despair.
"I almost got out. I thought I really would. Retire, leave New York, get my wife back, live in peace, right?"
Kay snorts and drops his cigarette, grinding it out on the metal. He does it slowly, agonizingly slowly. Jay waits.
"I couldn't even have that." Kay says softly. "Couldn't even have that. My wife divorced me, of course she does. I'm a stranger to her. I end up in a post office, the only place with more aliens than SoHo. And you, you son of a bitch, you walked right in and you brought me back." He looks at Jay finally and there's not anger but grief etched into the lines in his face. "I'm never going to get to retire, am I?"
Jay figures he has to say something. He's starting to worry about the way Kay leans over the railing, face going thoughtful. It's going to be okay was untrue, though, and I'm sorry was cheap. Jay thinks about it. He wonders what Laura would say if she was here. He wonders if 1978 was the last time Kay had sex, and then tries to stop thinking about that.
He looks at Kay carefully, the way he works his jaw, the heavy set of his eyebrows.
"Maybe we don't get to live in peace. Maybe we don't get to quit. Maybe we just keep going until something finally kills us." Jay says, meditative. Kay sags next to him.
"But you know what? I don't regret it. I don't regret saying yes. And I sure as hell don't regret bringing you back." He shrugs. "I didn't join the NYPD to have a good life. I did it because it meant something. What we do, here? That means something. Means a lot. Maybe sometimes everything's all messed up. I've made some bad decisions, I'm sure. But I don't regret anything. And you wanna know why?"
Despite himself Kay turns to look at Jay with a quirked eyebrow.
"Why?" He asks finally when Jay won't elaborate. Jay punches him lightly.
"Because we're here. And Earth is here. That counts for a lot."
Kay turns back to the water and Jay waits as he rides out the rest of his quiet breakdown, looking away as Kay wipes tears from his face.
"You're right." He says finally, voice thick. He swallows and tries again. "That counts for something."
"Alright, man, let's get out of here." Jay says, gentler than usual. "Wanna go get some pie?"
Kay sighs, and Jay knows they're back to normal, or something like it. Something a little different, maybe, not bad though.
"Sure, slick. Why not."