Chapter Text
These are the seasons of emotion
And like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion
I see the torch we all must hold
This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient
Ah, upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall
Just a little rain, oh yeah
Led Zeppelin - The Rain Song -
The thunder is what most people are going to remember about this day when they think about Logan Roy's death. They won't remember that it's the day after Thanksgiving, because no one showed up to the apartment to play the "went to market" game or watch Logan carve the turkey that he had the cooks slaving over all day long. Nobody brought any spare cans of fake cranberry sauce they had lying around their own house. No one was forced to go around the table and give half-assed answers for what they were thankful for--not this year. And probably not next year, either.
Gerri's lived through many storms throughout her life, including some truly terrifying hurricanes, but she's never heard thunder like this before. The lightning is illuminating the sky like the brightest lantern, and the thunder is booming as though Logan brought forth a reckoning with his impending eternal silence. It's so loud that Gerri swears she can feel the hospital building shaking from the impact of the sound. The headache that has been threatening to turn into a migraine throbs in her temples.
She stands up, her back already sore from having to sit in a waiting room chair that she can't get comfortable in no matter how hard she tries. She finds a water fountain in the hallway and takes a bottle of Ibuprofen out of her purse. What she wouldn't give for something a little stronger right now.
Frank wanders over as she swallows the pills. "There's going to be a lot of calls to make."
Gerri scoffs. "Yeah. No shit."
She selfishly wishes that Logan could have waited to have a pulmonary embolism until the sale of the company became official and Lukas Matsson inevitably demoted Gerri back to General Counsel or possibly even thanked her for her 30 years of service to the company by unceremoniously firing her. At least then she wouldn't have to handle this as the CEO. She could have maybe just watched it all unfold on TV like everyone else.
She and Frank walk back to the waiting room and sit down, both stretching their legs out and sighing.
"Do you have any remarks prepared yet?" Frank asks.
"Karolina's on it. They had something ready to go after his stroke last year and she's adding a few tweaks. I wrote a few things down, too. But we're waiting for, you know..."
Frank makes a slashing motion across his throat and Gerri winces and nods.
"Shouldn't be long now. Marcia's on the way," Gerri murmurs. They both look at Kerry, who is hovering in front of Logan's room. Since she's not family, she wasn't allowed access to him. She's been angrily whispering into her phone for hours now but it doesn't seem to have had any effect on hospital rules and policy.
"You talk to the kids?" She asks Frank.
"Yeah. All on their way. Shiv is flying back from Los Angeles so she might be... delayed."
Gerri sighs and rubs her forehead. "She's going to miss it. And will always regret it."
Frank nods. "Yep. Poor Shivvy."
Gerri walks back to the vending machine, staring at the rows of colorful candy, wondering if she should give into her anxious cravings and get a Kit Kat for once in her life. She hasn't had one in years and can just picture breaking one in half, with all those chocolatey layers--
There's a commotion in the hallway--an angry, tearful plea to just let him into the private waiting room area, goddamnit. Oh, god. She knew this was going to happen. She just knew it, and she was dreading it. On his behalf just as much as hers.
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, Mr. Roy. We didn't realize you were his son," a nurse is rushing to explain. "Please come in."
Gerri watches as Roman storms inside the waiting room and almost launches himself straight into the door to Logan's room. Karl is the one who gets his lazy ass up and stops Roman from going inside.
Gerri turns to see an attractive young woman following behind Roman, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here. She assumes they, what, spent the night together? And their morning was interrupted by an unfortunate phone call.
"You can't go in there right now, Roman," Karl warns. "He's not well."
"Who the fuck are you to tell me I can't see my father on his death bed? Fuck you." Roman's voice is wavering, though. He's more devastated than he is angry. But of course Karl can't distinguish the two.
“Hey, Roman, come on, kid,” Frank says, trying to grab Roman’s arm. “Karl’s right, you don’t want to see him like this.”
Roman tries to open the sliding glass door anyway, a look of determination on his weary face, while both Frank and Karl try to stop him.
Gerri has a quick and sudden realization that she is the only one who can diffuse this situation. Roman is only going to listen to her. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in months, but it doesn’t matter. He needs her. She knows that he needs her.
She walks quickly over to the door that Roman is currently trying his hardest to pry open and puts her hand on his shoulder. He hesitates now, because of course he knows it’s her.
“Roman. Please.” There’s more to say. But she’s going to start with that.
He slowly turns around to look at her; possibly to confirm that it’s really her and he’s not just imagining it. She gives him a small, sad smile.
And then he flings himself into Gerri’s arms.
Karl and Frank give her a look of sympathy but she knows they’re both glad Roman is her problem now.
Roman is sobbing. He’s sobbing into her blouse and there’s nothing she can do but lead him over to a bench and sit down with him, where she lets him cry. She rubs his back softly, hoping that it will have some kind of soothing effect.
Gerri completely understands what he’s going through right now. When she waited for news about Baird on that ill-fated night in the hospital, she and her daughters huddled together and cried for hours, until the doctor came out and said that they’d lost him. Then they went home and continued crying until they fell asleep, all tangled together on Baird's side of the bed.
Roman has--well, had now, Gerri supposes--such a complicated relationship with Logan. She imagines that he’s going to be devastated for a long, long time. Her heart breaks for him.
“What happened?” Roman finally manages to ask. “What happened, is he really dead?”
Gerri takes his hand and holds it firmly in her own. She knows he needs to hear the facts of the situation and not a lot of extra emotion and sentiment.
“He’d been slurring at the office and Colin decided to take him home. He passed out in the car. Colin brought him here. The official diagnosis is a pulmonary embolism. He deteriorated very quickly and he’s in a coma now. There’s no chance of recovery. They’re just waiting for Marcia to come in and give authorization to, um, turn off the machines. A priest is in his room now giving last rites.”
“Jesus Christ,” Roman groans. “I can’t believe it. It happened so fast…”
“Yes, it did. I believe he felt no pain, at least.”
“But you don’t know that for sure.”
“No. No, I guess I don’t.”
Apparently having run out of things to say, Roman lays his head back on her shoulder. Without even thinking about it, she finds herself running her fingers through his tangled hair and kissing his wet cheek. He sighs at the warmth of her gestures.
Gerri checks her watch. It's only 9:15 AM. It's going to be a long fucking day.