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He hears it as he walks through the terminal towards his gate, the arrival call for Flight 815 from Kansas City. It hurts. It’s another pinprick in a series of pain, a blooming tattoo, the thought of all those people arriving here from Kansas, while knowing that he’s leaving to go back.
Rebecca’s words in the stands that day, her options all laid out so neatly, hurt. Because he wants them. He wants to reach out and grab onto them and make them his reality. Wants so much to believe in the fantasy that he really can have it all - and have it all here in Richmond, where he’s happier than he’s ever been. His team, his family, his - everything. All right here for the taking if he’d just have given her any indication at all that he wanted it. If he’d just picked up the phone and spoken to Michelle.
But Ted has never been able to have it all. For as long as he can remember, the beautiful things in his life have turned ugly, and while he is used to carrying pain, while he is able to look back and mostly see the good through all the bad, he cannot forget his father’s blood or his mother’s screams or Michelle’s quiet sobs. He cannot forget the hurt that the people he loves have had to endure when he’s tried to hold on to things longer than he should.
And he will not put these people that he loves - he will not put Rebecca - through that pain. He knows that she’s hurt now, but he also knows that she has a support system. She will hurt, but only for a little while. He will carry the rest of the pain for her, as he has for everyone else. For her and for Henry. That’s why he has to do this.
So he takes in another breath and pushes his own feelings away, shoving them down deep inside, bottling them up. It’s what he’s good at. It’s how he’s learned to cope.
The pain pricks again when he hears the boarding call for his own flight – 822 – to Kansas City, when he catches sight of Rebecca’s picture at the newsstand. He buys the paper, knows he will pore over the article and stare at the picture for far, far longer than he should, clutching it on long nights when he’s back in Kansas and missing her so much he can’t breathe. He’s used to that feeling now, after all, that feeling of missing someone, even if not to it being in relation to her.
He’s stopped for an ‘ussie’ and the kid’s words cut into the armor he’s tried so hard to keep up. Just a bit unlucky at the end. Ain’t that the truth?
Still, he soldiers on - absolutely not thinking about green army men and first lines of defense - to his gate, the image of Henry in the forefront of his mind. His son misses him. His son needs him. He cannot leave him behind. He cannot make any other choice. He is resolved, even as he is crumbling to ash inside.
And then he sees her. Because of course he does. He always sees her, is always able to pick her out of a crowd, his eyes just naturally drawn to her. His heart plummets, because the thought of having to say goodbye to her now, of having to turn and leave her standing alone - her words, her I don’t want to be alone, Ted ringing in his ears - well, it damn near brings him to his knees.
He wants to shake his head, to beg her to leave, to not do this. To let him keep his careful facade together. But he also knows that he’d hopped over her fences without her permission, and now it’s her turn.
So he offers her what he hopes is a semi-convincing smile. “Now what the heck you doing here?”
“I just bought a ticket,” she says and he thinks for a second that maybe she’s really doing it - maybe she really is leaving and coming with him - and his heart flies up into his throat, until she continues, “to get through security so I could come and…” She trails off but waves her hand in a way he can easily read, because he can read all of her. Say goodbye lingers in his brain even as his heart crashes to the ground.
“Ah. Classic rom-com leave-cute tactic.” He babbles, even as the words cut into him. Leave-cute tactic? No. There aren’t leave-cutes in rom-coms. There are love declarations and promises of forever and making it all work.
But Ted doesn’t get that. He’s stuck in the dark forest, and he’s just going to have to accept that. For Henry, he can accept that.
“Love it. Okay.” His eyes catch sight of the ticket in her hand. He can’t see the flight number or the destination, but he can see the border that indicates the ticket is a first-class one. “Well, hold on. You bought yourself a first-class ticket for a flight you ain’t ever gonna take?”
“Right. Yes. Well, it was just force of habit.” She waves him away again and he wants nothing more than to take her into his arms. But he can’t. He won’t be the one who hurts her worse than he already has by choosing to leave.
“Oh yeah. Sure.” He flounders for something to say and then lifts the papers in his hand, because he’s clutching them like a lifeline. “I see you’re sticking around though, huh?”
He doesn’t want to make it an accusation, doesn’t want to say, "What happened to 'you go, I go’". He wants her to know that it’s okay. That he understands. That as much as he’d love to eat, sleep, fuck - and so much more than that - with her, that Kansas isn’t really the place for her. She belongs here, in Richmond, at Nelson Road.
“Well, Ted, you want to be with your family and…” she swallows, tears building in her eyes, “I do too.”
She doesn’t say it. Doesn’t say that they aren’t a part of each other’s families, and he’s grateful for it. Because he wishes more than anything that they were. He clears his throat and looks back at the paper.
“It’s a great picture, you know. Can’t wait to read the article.”
“It’s not bad, actually. I would’ve preferred if they hadn’t described me as the club matriarch.”
Her disdain lifts his spirits even as he feels more pieces of himself fall off at her feet. She’ll never know just how much of himself he’s left here with her. No one will. He’ll make sure of it.
“Mm, yeah. I mean, it does have more gravitas than soccer mom,” he tells her. “Although…” he cuts the thought off, shakes his head, shoves the words back into his throat, the picture back into his heart. Her, on the bleachers at one of Henry’s football - no, soccer now - matches, cheering and shouting at the referee just as raucously as she had for the Greyhounds.
She would make an incredible soccer mom. Or stepmom. But he can’t go there. He can’t hurt either of them like that anymore.
He tries to think of what else he can say to her, tries to think of ways to turn and board his flight, to leave her behind, and the only thing that will come out of his mouth, the only thing he will allow out of his mouth, is –
“Thank you.”
Of course she says it too, at the same time as he does. And of course she apologizes, even though her apology rips at his already shredded heart.
Don’t apologize for this connection, he wants to cry, but he doesn’t.
“Sorry.”
“Nope, I’m sorry. Please, you go first.” He needs to hear what she has to say.
She fidgets with her watch, looking from the face of it up to the boards behind him, almost frantic, but still somehow calm even in the midst of panic. Time is slipping away from them so quickly now. She looks like there are so many things, so many thoughts, on the tip of her tongue, but what finally comes out is, once again, “Thank you.”
He hears the waver in her voice and it breaks his heart all over again. He swallows and repeats the words, shoving back anything else he wishes he could say. He can’t say them. He can’t hurt her. He can’t hurt Henry. He has to do this. “Thank you.”
They do hug then, and she clings to him, clutching him to her in a way he wishes he could return. But he knows if he allows his hold to tighten on her even a centimeter, he will never let her go. She is crying, he knows it, and he hates himself even more for it, but he does nothing except hold her, trying to burn the feel of her into his brain.
He finally pulls back, and all he can see are her tears, even as she tries to smile for him. Tries to let him go. He has to look away. Has to turn away.
He starts toward the gate, feeling like he’s got nothing left in him, not even any tears he can afford to shed at this moment. Everything is just gone. He is empty.
And then, just as he reaches the ticketing counter, just as he’s about to hand over his ticket, he hears it.
“No, Ted, wait!”
He freezes at her words, turning his head to see that she’s striding closer to him, her eyes wide and pleading, and his resolve is so close to snapping.
“Rebecca,” the word feels like it is being ripped out of this throat, “I can’t -”
The rest of his sentence is cut off by another voice, one he never thought he would hear again on this side of the Atlantic.
“Dad!”
He sees a flash of something that looks like relief cross over Rebecca’s face before he turns, his eyes catching sight of a small body running toward him. It can’t be.
“Dad! Dad!”
The body collides with him and it’s then, when he falls to his knees and his arms close around the boy, clutching the small form to him, that Ted finally realizes that Henry is here. Henry is in his arms outside his departure gate.
“Henry?” he chokes, the tears he thought he didn’t have suddenly rushing to his eyes and flowing over.
“Dad!” Henry laughs, hugging him back. “We caught you!”
“Oh thank god.” Another voice arrives, sounding winded. “I was afraid we weren’t going to make it on time.”
“Michelle?” Ted’s eyes widen even more, taking in the sight of his ex-wife standing there, holding Henry’s backpack and her small carry-on, breathing heavily but smiling widely. “What the heck are you doing here?”
“Well, I was hoping you’d be able to watch Henry for me for a while, while I go to an interview,” she says, as simple as anything. Like this is just standard fare for them.
“An - an interview? Here? What? I don’t -”
His confusion is interrupted by the sound of an announcement. “This is the final boarding call for Flight 822 to Kansas City. Would passenger Theodore Lasso please report to the gate for boarding.”
In his peripheral vision, he sees Rebecca move toward the counter, but he can’t take his eyes off Henry and Michelle, terrified that if he so much as blinks, they will disappear and this will all be just a hallucination or a dream.
“Rebecca called after the match. She told me your plans… and then she told me hers. It was easy to see whose were better for all of us.”
Ted blinks, still unable to comprehend what Michelle is saying, what this all means. “Wh-”
“Ted, you love it here in Richmond.”
He nods. He can’t deny that.
“But Henry -”
“I love it here too, Dad!” Henry tells him. “And this is it. This is how I can take the sad song and make it better.”
“How we can take the sad song and make it better,” Michelle says. “You once told me that if there was something you could do to make me be happy with you, you’d do it. But you knew that I wasn’t. And you told me I didn’t have to keep trying. You let me go, because I asked you to. It’s my turn now, Ted. I don’t want you to have to try to be happy back in Kansas. I just want you to be happy. And anyone who knows you can see that you’re happy here, with this family you’ve built.”
“Michelle, I ain’t tryin’ to, to replace or take away -”
“Oh, Ted, I know that. Of course I know that. You never would. But like I said… it’s my turn now.” She reaches her hand down, taking his to pull him back up to his feet, so they can be face to face. “I love our family, Ted. No matter what it looks like. No matter where it’s located.”
More tears slide down his cheeks at her words, at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he really can stay here after all. “Yeah?”
She smiles at him. “Yeah. Now… we’ll talk about all this later. We’ll figure it all out. I promise. But right now, I think you’ve got something else you need to go do.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
Michelle laughs and shakes her head. “Go kiss that woman and tell her you love her, you idiot!”
“Yeah!” Henry cheers. “Go get her, Dad!”
It hits him then, like a bolt of lightning, everything he’s been trying to hold back. All the words and the feelings he’s pushed down and bottled up suddenly exploding out and rushing over him. Love. He loves Rebecca. Of course he does. How could he not?
“Rebecca,” he gasps, turning to find her standing a little ways away, tears streaming steadily down her own cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Ted,” she whispers as he comes closer, his hands coming up to frame her face, to wipe her tears away.
“Sorry? Darlin’, what on earth -”
“I shouldn’t have called her. I shouldn’t have set this all up. Not without telling you.” She reaches up to clutch onto his wrists. “But I - I’m selfish, Ted. I always have been. And I can’t - I won’t let you leave my life. Not without exhausting all the options first.”
Ted lets out a laugh then, joy flooding him again. “And thank fuck for that, sweetheart.” He breaks her hold and pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly as he finally presses his lips to hers.
She sobs against his mouth before her hands clutch at his shoulders, keeping him pressed against her, even when he breaks the kiss, moving to pepper little kisses all over her face. “I love you,” he murmurs against her skin, over and over until he finally pulls back enough to truly catch her eye, to say the words directly to her.
“I love you, Rebecca Welton.”
She sobs again, burying her head in his neck and holding onto him even tighter. “I love you too, Ted Lasso.”
He holds her while she cries until she finally pulls back, meeting his eyes. “I meant what I said, Ted. I want to be with your family too.”
“Oh, darlin’,” He grins as he kisses her again, his heart expanding at the knowledge that his wish has come true. He’s gotten his rom-com love declaration and he knows they’re going to make it work. Forever. “You are my family.”
Henry takes that opportunity to fling his arms around both of them and Rebecca cries again as she releases Ted to hug Henry to her as well. Through her watery vision, she catches sight of Michelle, watching with a soft smile on her face. They lock eyes and Michelle gives her a small nod. “Welcome to the family.”
A few months later, pictures of Rebecca shouting at a referee from the sidelines of one of Henry’s football matches, Michelle right beside her doing the same, are splashed across the front page of one of the papers, along with a caption calling them soccer mums. Ted chuckles when he reads it and happily hands over a few pounds to the newsseller on his way to work. And when he spots a copy already sitting on Rebecca’s desk as he hands over her biscuits, he grins.
She scoffs as she kisses him, before a slow smile spreads across her own face. “I find that I much prefer this moniker over club matriarch. But don’t you dare tell anyone.”
Ted just smiles as he kisses her again, gratitude for this life they’re living - this life she gave him, when he was too afraid to take it for himself - filling him up. “Your secret is safe with me, sweetheart.”