Chapter Text
1
Two months, twelve days, five hours since the last time he saw or truly spoke to her. Ted knows he’s a coward, having brushed off her attempt to break the silence a few weeks ago.
The message offered a casual “how are you settling back into Kansas?” One that lacked the usual warmth and hint of teasing he’s come to associate with Rebecca. No matter it was over text, Ted knew something was wrong. Understood how badly he messed up when he left and how he went about it. She was holding back, he had to too.
“Fine and dandy. Hope things are good with ya’ll” is all he offered.
Three little dots popped up and disappeared, then again, next met by silence. Her thumb’s up emoji appeared a few seconds later.
Head between his palms, heart in his throat, Ted sat on the edge of his bed, pining for a scrape of something from her, pained at the idea of settling for anything less than seeing her every day. Before he left, he shut down, certain he was doing what was right and best for his son. The wary and grave expression on Henry’s face growing deeper each day when he looks at his father and the bleak new life he’s attempting in the place he once called home proving him wrong.
There’s nothing he can do about it now. Reaping what he sowed and all.
Henry at Michelle’s, he’s two drinks in and Ted is exhausted but too wired to sleep. Tonight was Rebecca’s gala. His invitation landing in his inbox weeks ago, Higgins responding to his decline with a sad face, one that he knew held true sorrow. Up until the night before, Ted was tempted to go anyway. Hop on however many planes it took him to get across the ocean to make a knight in shining armor entrance and sweep Rebecca off her feet. Hold her close and rock her across the dance floor, an audience wondering, gossiping, but neither caring or realizing anyone else existed. The idea of following up such a night with a goodbye again too painful to give the prospect any merit.
It’s late in Kansas, already the next morning in London, and Ted has held himself off for too long. Numb fingers and a whiskey-addled brain guide him through opening his laptop and typing her name into the search bar, the letters strange to his squinting eyes as the light of the computer sobers him.
Clicking into the images tab, Ted scowls at the glances of Rupert, his arm around Rebecca, holding her tight to him in a predatory way rather than possessive. Some photos unflattering in the immediate aftermath of her divorce snapped by the paparazzi. Smiles at the ones of her and Keeley out and about, arm in arm as they walk the streets of Richmond, new-ish looking. Ted zooms in close, trying to convince himself the smile meets Rebecca’s eyes.
One or two pop up of her with mystery men, settling something low and unwelcome in his gut, none of them recent, much to his unwitting relief.
He should want her to be happy, whoever that’s with. God knows he sat with his feelings too long, unable or unwilling to speak them, even as she stood before him at the airport, eyes begging him not to leave, words he’ll never know remaining unspoken.
What if. What if. What if?
Holding off as long as possible, curiosity gets the best of him as he clicks on “most recent.” Heart surging, the pace increases to an unsteady rhythm as he selects an article from earlier this evening listing the arrivals to the gala. In a different life, he’d be there beside her. As a friend, or more. It’s sometimes nice to think of a braver version of himself, the one who stayed getting everything he wanted. Another gulp of whiskey fuels him as he waits for the page to load and scrolls down until-
His heart stops, eyes widen, and mouth drops open when he gets his first glance of her. A vision in a pink so soft and familiar, reminiscent of the cardboard that boxed her biscuits each morning. Rebecca smiles slyly at the camera, confidence soaring under the brightness of the unusual late London afternoon sunshine. The dress hugs her curves in places Ted only dreams of touching, the strapless bodice cinching at the waist giving way to a narrow skirt stopping at her sculpted calves. An unexpected train and what he suspects are matching Louboutins rounding out her look.
Mouth watering, Ted can only gaze at her in awe. Many days of his tenure at Richmond were spent averting his eyes at her tight dresses and skirts, the collar of her blouses leaving little room for imagination, afraid he’d give his interest away, not known for being exactly subtle. Had he been in front of her tonight, he suspects he’d have fallen to his knees and begged her for absolution.
Sitting very still, he continues to stare until the computer blinks itself to sleep from the lack of movement. Desperation takes hold as he taps his finger on the enter key to bring it back to life and find more photos. He knows from experience she won’t have allowed the press into the gala itself, pictures from a vetted and self-hired photographer dropping a few days from now, but Ted is a parched man stranded in the desert. The one arrival photo not nearly enough as he scrounges around and, hating himself for clicking into one of the more nefarious tabloids, finds a collection featuring a gallery of Rebecca. The last one revealing a video that brings his eyes inches from the screen.
If only technology allowed him to crawl inside the screen and get to her- he shakes his head, repulsed by his own longing-laced creepiness. Yes, she’s beautiful, more so than he thinks he’s ever seen her, which is saying something. And she looks happy enough, surrounded by many who love her: Keeley and Roy not quite holding hands but standing close, her mother looking proud, Higgins with his arm in Julie’s, the players hobbled around; the photographers yelling out their compliments, begging for more as Rebecca guffaws and gives them a look of skepticism Ted knows so well; a man who Ted doesn’t recognize, standing off to the side, his tux sharp and tailored, staring at her appreciatively.
Ignoring the impulse to spiral into despair, Ted knows he can no longer maintain the distance. No matter the circumstance, no matter the pain, seeing her again has made it physically impossible to stay away from her going forward.
Trembling fingers reach for his phone, furiously shoving his face in front of the camera to unlock it, frustration rising when it refuses to recognize his features in the faint light of the computer, forcing him to type out the numbers. Pulling up her contact, the breath is knocked out of him again at the picture he sees smiling back at him, eyes full of mischief, lips pulled into a fish face in a selfie she once sent to him when stuck on a particularly long and arduous phone call with stakeholders.
Ted almost clicks the call button, but hesitates, remembering the current time in London. No need to break the no to low contact by giving her a heart attack in the middle of the night. Instead, he opens up their text thread and holds down the voice message button.
“When I told you everythin’ was fine and dandy, I didn’t mean it. The truth is, comin’ back here was hard. Leavin’ ya’ll was hard. I ain’t very good at hard, Rebecca. Boss. I’m sorry for not reachin’ out earlier, for not giving ya much of a response when you were bein’ so brave. I’m sorry for lea- well, everything.”
A pause and then-
“Saw some photos from the gala. Looked like a real fun night. And that dress, hoo boy, Boss stunnin’ per usual, but beyond the usual too, if that makes any sense? I’m ramblin’, I’m sorry. I just, somethin’ inside a me knows it’s not right or natural not to talk to ya. Went forty odd years without before and now that I met ya it feels like I can’t breathe. Well anyway, it’s fine and it’s not. If you ever wanna chat, I’ll try to be brave too.”
It’s too long and incoherent, too much of a confession, but Ted hits send before he can delete it. Wonders if he’ll be able to sleep waiting for her to wake up and answer. If she will at all.
For distraction, he takes one last look at her for the night and slams the laptop shut, stumbling around his house to dump the rest of the whiskey down the drain and start his nighttime ablutions. Mindless and refusing to look at his phone, Ted picks it up from the table and tosses it next to him on the bed, trying not to listen for a vibration. There’s no way-
Even turned upside down, he can see the screen light up. Frenzied and itchy from inside out, he grabs for the offending device, knowing very well the message could be from Michelle confirming the pick-up time for tomorrow.
The world seems to stop when he spies Rebecca’s name on the screen. Why she’s awake at this time of night, he’s not certain he wants to know, but for some reason she is and she’s sent him a voice message in return. The fourteen second response much shorter than his own.
“Ted fucking Lasso-“ Rebecca’s voice, though exasperated, is a balm to his soul. “I don’t hear from you for months and you go and drop this absolute- you know what. Fuck it-“
Ted blinks once, twice, then drops the phone on his face when it starts to ring, her picture taking up the entire screen.
Scrambling to answer, he’s too afraid to speak. His name falls as a breath from her lips.
“Ted.”
“Hi, Bo- Rebecca.”
“The nerve of you,” she says, but sounds more defeated than angry.
“It’s a lot, I’m so-“
“Stop apologizing. I know it’s bloody hard, Ted, fuck. You don’t have to explain that to me of all people. It’s fucking miserable without you here, do you understand that? Tonight was the first time in ages I felt almost normal, content, and I was enjoying myself too, up until this little voice popped up in my head halfway through my dinner salad to remind me that you should be there beside me explaining the difference between American and European butter. I understand why you left, I do. You felt it was right and I hope at least, the Henry of it all is making you happy. But there’s no use pretending this doesn’t suck. I still want you in my life you- you- you arsehole.”
Sucking in a breath, he says, “I will be. From now on, I promise. I just-“ he sighs, unable to explain to her just why the loss of her in his life is so significant. “I needed a slap in the face.”
“What exactly did it? I hope it stung properly.”
Unable to help himself, Ted chuckles. If only she knew.
“You looked beautiful tonight.”
“Don’t evade the question, Ted. I-oh-“
He swallows. “Yeah.”
“I thought of you when I picked it out. There were so many options and nothing felt quite right, but then I saw this dress, and, I don’t know, it just felt right.”
Pausing, he waits. Trying not to fill in the gaps of what she won’t say out loud.
“I shoulda flown out there for the gala.”
“It’s never too late for a donation.”
Kinder, more compassionate than he deserves, Ted knows Rebecca is giving him an out. He shouldn’t take it, but he’s still afraid of saying the wrong thing and revealing too much.
“First thing in the mornin’, you got it. Speakin’ of, is there a reason you were awake? I hope my message didn’t startle you out of sleep.”
“It’s been a long two months-“
“Twelve days and uh-“ Ted squints at the screen. “Six hours.”
“Right,” she pauses and Ted holds his breath, hoping he wasn’t being too much. “Sleep hasn’t been coming easy. This helps though,” she says, softly, after a short silence.
“If I promise to call you again in the mornin’, do you think you can try to sleep now? Gosh, you must be exhausted, Rebecca.”
“Rebecca-“
“What’s that?” He asks, confused.
“My name. Sounds funny coming from you. But I suppose ‘Boss’ isn’t accurate anymore, is it?”
“I can find another-“
“No, I- I like it.”
“Well good night, then, Rebecca. I’m sorry for bein’ so stupid.”
“We all have to fight against our natural instincts,” she says, but without any malice. Ted imagines her smiling at her phone in the dark.
For the first time in two months, twelve days, six hours, and nine minutes, Ted falls asleep without any self-loathing lingering.
4,000 some miles away, Rebecca stares at her now blank screen. The sun’s nearly up, her sheets a touch too warm, the empty bed beside her too big, but there’s a physical relief seeping through her body. He’s not great, but good enough to reach out. If she manages to maintain contact, she thinks she’ll be able to break through to him eventually.
Find a new normal that keeps each other in their lives to whatever extent. Never enough, but something.
She wasn’t lying when she told him the dress reminded her of him, but Rebecca knew exactly why. The shade of pink perfectly aligned to the color she most associated with him. Never in a million years did she think the dress would be the catalyst to get him to make contact, but she’s glad for it. Starting therapy had been challenging, but she’s learning there’s a lot to unpack within her life, and her relationship with Ted is one of the most prevalent. Though she’s nary to name her feelings for him, Rebecca knows it’s not strictly platonic. She suspects he might be on the same wavelength.
Thankful for an empty schedule later on, save now for an important phone call, Rebecca succumbs to her heavy eyes. For once looking forward to a restful night and the day ahead.