Work Text:
They haven’t spoken since he told her.
It’s not easy, when he’s the manager and she’s the boss and there’s the whole “I bring her biscuits every day cause that’s what really good friends do” thing. When they work in the same building. And have the same friends. And live in the same place.
Make no mistake, he’s tried. He’s mosyed up to her office like normal, biscuits in hand, but she’s never there. Higgins or Keeley will mumble something about a meeting or seance with Deborah, but Ted can see the writing on the wall. She’s avoiding him.
Ted’s not giving up though. He promised himself when he started at Richmond that he would never let her down if he could help it. Fighting for Rebecca came naturally, even when she was trying to push against any attempts at kindness he offered.
So when Ted wakes up a week after telling her, he resolves to really talk to her today. He starts his day slowly, enjoying the normality of the morning. A normal Ted morning of weird, huge cereal and putting on his favorite Richmond sweater over a white button up. He grabs his backpack and her biscuits, eases down the steps, and locks the doors.
He grabs two coffees (one for Beard, who texted him nonsense last night, which means things with Jane are on the rocks again).
He greets his neighbors (Ms. Shipley is in a surprisingly good mood, and he figures she must have heard the news. It’s hard to know if she’s being nice because he’s leaving, or because she’ll have peace and quiet again).
He walks past the red bench and does his automatic glance over. Ever since he got jump scared by his mom it feels odd to not take a peek. He notices a woman in a light blue top and cool gold shoes sitting quietly, nothing to write home abou-
Wait.
“Boss?”
—
When Ted was a kid, he used to do this thing. He figures everyone does it sometimes, to gain perspective or feel important. Maybe just to have fun.
He’d roll down the window, wind rushing in as his hands moved up and down along the power lines. His dad put his favorite Merle Haggard tape in, and the opening twang of ‘Okie from Muskogee’ swam into the backseat. His head would bob as the car drove past the fields so fast it looked like they melded into one big green lump, and Ted pretended he was in a movie. He pretended he was watching his little family driving down the road on a sunny Sunday afternoon, relaxed and happy and surrounded by corn and the bluest sky this side of the Mississippi.
The morning he tells her feels the same, but different. He sees himself cut a slice of the sunflower seed bread his mom left him. Ted watches himself put on a soft blue sweatshirt and grab his pack. It feels like an opening monologue, going through his routine knowing that his whole life is about to change. He looks at everything with new eyes, sees his neighbors and friends moving through the world with a glow about them. Everything about Richmond is so precious to him, encapsulated in a gritty softness. Some of the grit rubbed off him, for sure, but he rubbed a little soft right back.
It isn’t until he steps inside of his office and sees Rebecca peering at the poster on the wall that the movie sputters to a stop. She turns at the sound of his voice, remarking on the pyramid, and Ted lets his brain take a minute to absorb all of the glory that is Rebecca Welton. She’s been leaving her hair down more often, the ends curling right above her collarbone. He loves it. Her green eyes smile at him as she lets him know with ease that she has no truth bomb this year. Nothing to report, no big revelation.
Ted knows he has to tell her. He’s usually good at gauging Rebecca’s reactions, but this one might be a curveball for him. She’s changed a lot in the time he’s known her, but he knows that her initial inclination is to hide her feelings and protect herself. He’ll need to give her time, and probably space, to process this.
“That’s okay, I got one.”
She smiles softly at him, puzzled and curious and trusting, and it feels like a warm light radiating from her to him. She’s full of pluck and spitfire and the deepest wells of love. He hates to think that he might be the reason any lightness escapes her, but he owes it to this woman who changed his life. The one who brought him here, tried to screw him over, and in the process saved him in more ways than one.
Yeah, he’s gotta tell her.
He takes in a deep breath, willing himself to be as brave as Rebecca was the two years prior, and looks her right in the eyes.
“I gotta go back.”
—
They haven’t spoken since he told her, and she is fucking bursting at the seams.
Rebecca didn’t intend on being here, on this bench, near his flat. She meant to ask him at work, but chickened out. It would be a waste of time, and he had better things to do with other people he surely wanted to spend his remaining days with.
God, that makes it sound like he’s dying, I’m turning into my mother. The thought made her shudder. She tried to focus on her work, and ended up staring at the computer for fifteen minutes. Apparently working wasn’t in the cards for her today. She couldn’t stay still, pacing and helplessly watching the clock tick. Even Leslie remarked on her unusual restlessness.
So she figured that wasn’t the right answer either.
Eventually, she left. She traded her skirt and heels for the pair of jeans and gold Adidas trainers she kept stowed in her office, deciding to hoof it for once. She walked around the pitch once, twice, a third time. She saw Roy and Trent staring at her from the side, where they were previously engaged in a heated (and loud) argument about the future of journalism. Needing to escape curious eyes, she walked away from the stadium and across the Green, hoping that inspiration and clarity would strike.
Instead, she finds herself standing in front of his door, hand raised to knock but courage already seeping out of her. She swallows thickly, but can’t get the saliva down because the words are fighting their way out. She wavers, fortitude weaving in and out as the ringing in her ears picks up. Her fist hits the door and immediately breaks into an open hand, her fingers lingering on the ‘9 ½’.
God, what the fuck is she going to do?
She can’t go back to work. She can’t knock on his door and ask the question sitting so heavy on her heart it makes her slightly dizzy. What she can do is sit on this bench. She settles at this metaphorical halfway point. A kind of middle ground, pulling in two directions. She sits on the red bench and imagines Ted sitting there, rehearsing the words he had spoken to her not a week before.
She sits and thinks and wonders if the trembling in her heart and hands that started when he spoke the words “I gotta go back” would ever stop.
—
“Back to…back to your flat? Did you forget something?” Rebecca knows what he means the moment the words leave his mouth, but she plays dumb. Because she can’t even entertain the notion of it being anything else.
Ted looks at her with slight pity, and she feels a tingle of anger build in her. She doesn’t want his pity.
“Nah, Boss. I gotta go back to Kansas.”
She should stop. She should stop playing dumb and be a big girl and accept that he couldn’t stay in Richmond forever. Not when his son was thousands of miles away and he couldn’t have his favorite barbecue sauce here and when this wasn’t his home.
But she can’t. Because if she stops, she’s giving up. She’s given up so much in this life of hers. She can’t give him up too.
“For…the summer?”
He just stares at her, and she notices the wet starting to appear in his eyes.
“Boss-”
“Just for the summer, Ted. Right? Just a few months. Then you’ll come back to Richmond. Back to me. Right?”
Tears flow freely from Ted, and Rebecca realizes that she can’t stay and watch him say goodbye now and tomorrow and the tomorrow after that. She shakes her head, feeling her own tears starting to fall, and knows that she can’t do this. It’s the coward’s way, running. He sat there and listened to the horrid things she had done and stayed. He held her and told her what she needed to hear. And she can’t do that.
She won’t expect him to comfort her over something he needs to do for himself. Of course she’s overjoyed at him returning to his boy, to his family, but it’s breaking something in her so deep it’s threatening to drag her under. He can’t be the balm to her pain right now.
She’s stuck. So she puts one hand to his cheek, feeling the wetness beneath, nods, and walks out of the room.
—
“Boss?”
She glances up, lost in thought, and starts at the sight of him.
“Ted! Hello.”
He looks past her, searching left and right to see if anyone else has accompanied her. Nope, nothing. She stands up, dusting off her pants and clasping her hands together nervously.
“Everything okay, Boss?” He swears her eyes reveal a little panic, but it is swiftly replaced with a calm, almost stoic look.
“Yes, yes, I just…I had an idea but it’s silly and I should just be getting on.”
“Nah, hit me with it. You came all this way, after all.”
She bites her lip, considering her options, and quickly mumbles, “Wouldyoulikegotokewwithme?”
He’s never seen her like this, fidgety and anxious and vulnerable. He reaches out and rubs one of her arms reassuringly, but she jumps from his touch like it’s a hot stove.
“Sorry, would you like to go to the Kew Gardens with me? I meant to ask ages ago, when I thought…well, I should have asked before. No time like the present, I suppose?”
He knows they have a big match to prepare for. Training and meetings and such. So many things they need to do. But his gut whispers that there’s something more important that needs to happen first.
“The present is a gift, Boss, and I say we see what’s what. Let’s go.”
She smiles at him, seemingly relieved. It's a short, quiet walk to the Gardens. Every so often he tries to say something, anything. He tries to broach the elephant sitting between them, but each time he notices how her hands turn into fists as she folds her arms into herself, and his words catch in his throat.
The Gardens are quiet, with only a few people milling about. Rebecca surprises him by pulling out a membership card. The staff seem familiar with her, glancing curiously at the two of them. Ted’s seen this place before, ogled at it on late night walks, but has never stepped inside. He wonders how often she comes here.
She leads him to the Woodland Gardens first. The place is bursting with bluebells. The low hanging violet petals transport him back to his mother’s garden. He picked them as a kid, bluebells. Smashed them together until his fingers turned purple.
“It’s kinda wild how something can exist and thrive in two different places, huh Boss?” He glances over at her, smiling sheepishly, but she just stares at the flower as a tear rolls down her face. Her arms have wrapped themselves around her body again, like she’s hurt and trying to protect what has been wounded. It makes him wanna cry.
“I’m…I’m sorry Rebecca. I promise I’m not trying to hurt-”
“Let’s keep going.”
—
“Are you sure you’re okay, Rebecca?”
No, Ted. Everything is shit and I’m so fucking confused and I don’t know what to do.
“I’m perfectly fine, Ted.”
They’ve walked through most of the garden at this point, and Rebecca’s been damn near mute the entire time. She can tell it’s making Ted uncomfortable, and she feels guilty for that, but she isn’t ready. She isn’t ready to say goodbye when he taught her what hello and good and kind and… love mean.
Rebecca knows how to say goodbye. She’s done it a million times over. She said goodbye to any notion of her happy family at 17. A goodbye was wrenched from her the moment Rupert’s various infidelities hit the papers. Ted needs her to say goodbye. The entire club needs her to say goodbye. It’s a necessary step to them all moving on. It solidifies that they will survive and grow and be okay without him. That she will be okay without him.
She needs to say goodbye.
She just isn’t ready.
Rebecca realizes she’s been wordlessly leading them to her favorite place in the Gardens. There’s a reverent peace that exists here. Sometimes she makes use of her privilege and pays to come after closing. In the lowlight, listening to the water trickle and birds sing low, sad songs, she can let herself fall apart. She’ll come back in the morning, though, as the sun rises and the world awakens, and put herself back together.
Today, the laburnum pergola is in full bloom. The air is sweet with the scent of the golden flowers. Rebecca and Ted stand at the entrance and briefly study each other before Rebecca breaks contact, looking upwards towards the sky. Ted looks around and lets out a low whistle, marveling at the fountain and statue.
“I haven’t seen hedges trimmed that neatly since we lived next to Mr. Hunt. That old son of a gun would glare at us as he worked, daring us to throw the football into his yard. One time I did, by accident of course,” he winks at her, “and he used his trimmer to cut it right in half. I stuck to my backyard after that. You live, you learn, I figure-”
“Stop, Ted! Just…stop.”
He stares at her, exacerbated, and walks closer, shaking his head slowly. “Boss, I am trying here. I’m trying to be patient and give you space, but we gotta talk about this.”
“I can’t.” She’s full-on crying now, and she hates herself for it. She hates that he makes her feel so alive and beautiful and raw and vulnerable and everything she never thought she could have with someone else.
She begins to turn away from him, ashamed and confused and regretting ever bringing him here, to this sacred place, but he catches her arm. His touch is firm, yet gentle, and he pulls her back to him.
“Rebecca, this isn’t what we do. We talk to each other.”
She wrenches her arm back from him, the fury stored in her belly now rearing its ugly head.
“Bullshit, Ted. You’ve hardly talked to me in months. Why? What did I do, Ted? Tell me what I did that makes you want to say goodbye?”
She knows her face is red and blotchy, hair frazzled as the day’s humidity builds, but she doesn’t care. She’s confounding him, that’s a given. She’s avoiding the heart of the matter, yes, but this is the only way she can show him that she’s putting her heart on the line.
“Darlin’, I…I have to go back. You understand, I know you do. You understand more than most anyone.” He looks at her with a pained expression, his fists clenched at his sides. That stupid mustache that she’s grown to adore frowns. He’s frustrated.
Fuck.
He doesn’t get it.
“Ted,” she takes a careful step towards him, but avoids his eyes in favor of the green and gold bulbs hanging above them, “of course you have to go back. What I’m asking is, why do you have to say goodbye? Goodbye to this place, to me. Goodbye to…us.”
And as sure the day turns to night, and night to day again, realization dawns on him. Rebecca watches as Ted’s fists unclench and his shoulders sink. His lips part in a silent understanding as he takes all of her in, brown eyes adoring and fond and finally on the same page.
Ted pulls her to him wordlessly, wrapping his arms around her frame as they release years of maybes and too long glances and missed connections through shared tears.
Then he cups her cheek and kisses her lips so softly Rebecca briefly questions if it’s real. But then she presses hard, hungry for him, and he matches her in his need. His touch feels like an invitation, tastes like an answer. They’ve had one too many assumptions, though. She has to know.
When they break apart, Rebecca’s eyes stay closed. She focuses on the feeling of his hand in her hair and his breath on her forehead as he places little kisses on it. She smells the sweet flowers and Ted’s cologne. In the quiet of the garden she whispers into his chest, “What did that mean, Ted?”
He holds her even closer, like he can’t grab enough of her. She feels him take in a breath as she releases one, and her mind floats as he takes hold of a part of her heart she willingly relinquishes. A goodbye, or hello, or whatever the fuck they need it to be. Ted answers her, an artist with words, and Rebecca kisses him again. It’s perfect. He’s perfectly imperfect.
She loves what they are already.
“It means see ya soon.”