Work Text:
The first thing she did when she got home was cry.
(She'd already taken off the shoes that pinched her toes and rubbed raw spots at both heels, stopping by Kith to buy a pair of slides, caring little at that point how ridiculous they looked with the rest of her meticulously put-together outfit.
She dressed far better for the funeral of a man who she admired in some far-off respects, was terrified of in all of their encounters and whom she honestly despised than she did for any of her own relatives.
But, of course, she hadn't done it for Logan. He really couldn't have cared less about how she looked, if she was there or whether she skipped the occasion entirely.
If she possessed the talent to see into the future, skipping out would have been the best option. It was just never a viable one.)
It had been a long, hard day. It would have been so regardless, without the implosion that she hadn't planned for.
(Again, with the foresight that she'd developed in so many other areas, she really should have seen it coming.
She always wanted to think the best of him. Up to then it had been her fatal flaw.)
She had shaken with anger, bristled with hurt. Somehow she pushed it all down; it had become second nature to put herself close to the bottom of the pile. Focused on the distinct way that the backs of her feet were stinging. Thought about how the ice cream would taste on her tongue when she plowed her way through the fresh tub later that evening.
Stop thinking of it like a break-up. Inwardly, she laughed a little. Partly because it had been so long since she'd broken up with anyone. Maybe six months into her employment with Waystar? It's not you. I just really need to focus on my career right now.
If it had been, it would have been horrific. Messy beyond anything she'd ever known.
She pretended not to long for the worst-case scenario, but she'd never been very good at playing pretend.
She did so well to hold everything together, swallowed back her own tears when Roman had gone to pieces. Then Kendall took over, and it was as though the ground beneath her feet shifted; some kind of aftershock. Everything was still, the entire cathedral focused on him, speaking with such command and eloquence. It was incredibly jarring to hear, after he'd called her juvenile and dumb not that long before. Her heart hammered in her chest, she felt light-headed and enthralled. She wanted to stand up and applaud, before an icy shiver cut through her and made it difficult to breathe for long seconds.
For all that he said, amazing and terrifying in equal measure, she could read the devastation on his face. She liked to believe that she had the unique ability to see through the bluster and bullshit, that she was the only one who could go past the dark to move towards his heart, which wasn't such a complicated place as he liked to make out.
She thought about how adrift he would be, and how aimless she would be without her mission, and a lone tear slipped from her eye down her cheek as he departed the pulpit.
She left the wake silently, without notice and without any further words from Kendall, other than thanks, Jess. He was busy with other things, and with the sour taste in her throat remaining she was glad of it, not wanting to think how she might renege if he had the chance to catch up with her. She got out onto the street, hailed a cab, and that was the day done.
She sobbed for a long time, sitting on the floor. She was thankful that Kate wasn't there, had gone to Minnesota to visit family the weekend before. Their text conversation was open but Jess hadn't told her roommate that she was finally going to do what Kate had not so subtly advocated for for years.
Stockholm syndrome, Kate had said, laughing as she did so (Jess had not found it funny, or even accurate, in the strictest of terms). That's the only possible explanation.
As soon as she did find out, Kate would throw the biggest party that Brooklyn had ever seen.
The second thing she did, once she got up off the floor and cleaned the make-up from her face, was to take her work phone from her purse and turn it off.
She placed it onto the coffee table after she'd done so, letting out a shaky breath, then recentering by doing a couple of deep yoga breaths.
It was the first time in just short of five years that it had been switched off. If there had been other occasions, they'd been inconsequential or brief enough that she hadn't remembered them with any clarity.
She looked briefly at her personal cell, imagining that an illusory message would pop up on the screen. Kendall didn't have her personal number. He didn't have any need for it, because he knew he could always get her on her work phone. Even when it was her birthday and she was drinking with her friends at one in the morning.
Kate's voice came back as an echo in her head, when she answered and said that it was fine. He is the fucking worst.
She should have agreed. Any sane person would. Working at Waystar altered the DNA, and the longer you were there, the more fucked up and irreparable things got.
But it wasn't true. Not for as long as Logan Roy was alive, but even now…she couldn't believe it.
She was under no false impressions that she could have had it so much worse. Working for Kendall was certainly a challenge, but it was one that she embraced, when she wasn't so exhausted that she could barely stand straight.
He might not have known that much about her aside from the essentials, but that wasn't what he was meant to do. They got on well; in different circumstances, in some slightly bizarre parallel world, they could have been friends. Maybe even have gone on a few dates, before he did the inevitable burning out before things could get off the ground.
She knew him, and she was there whenever he needed her, as well as in the times when he didn't know that he did. At the end of the phone, for thousands (or hundreds of thousands?) of calls about all kinds of situations. Many of which did not fall under her job description. (Come to think of it, she didn't know if there had been one, not on paper.)
There were the orders and demands, the times he'd tag something nice on the end as a sweetener.
Times when he didn't really say anything, but she'd listen regardless, knowing that there was something behind it; that it wasn't just habit.
About a year or so in, a call that woke her from sleep at half three in the morning. Blaring music in the background and Kendall laughing before excusing himself to go somewhere quieter. Yeah, I've got someone…fucking, look, a phone in my hand, I'm not making shit up. She hadn't heard him laugh like that before, and despite the hour and being woken up she found herself smiling. The effect of his voice unaccompanied by any other sound was compelling, but somehow she resisted his pleas for her to come out and party with him. It would be a slippery slope if she said yes, though nobody said no to Kendall Roy.
Maybe he respected her for standing her ground? Respect was a word that had so many meanings.
He gave up on trying to persuade her eventually, though he kept the offer open. One day, he said with the same laugh rounding the edges. I'll get to you, Jess.
She remembered laying awake for a while thinking specifically about that choice of words (not about the low register of his voice), and also thinking that perhaps she'd eaten something bad, given the way her stomach was swirling.
In the light of day she looked in the mirror and sighed, knowing that she couldn't fool herself.
She was already sliding.
Calls on mornings after, hangovers and come-downs. Could she make arrangements, just to give him time to get straightened out. Calls about meetings and deals and making connections. Calls about missing the kids' birthdays, resulting in her dropping her weekend plans to go on a wild goose chase across the city for presents to make it up belatedly. He called a few times when things were getting difficult with Rava. She spent a half hour in a restaurant bathroom, thinking about her mother sitting at the table by herself, putting off the waitress. She won't be long. She's always so busy with work.
She was pretty sure that he didn't have anyone else to talk to, aside from the therapist that he didn't go to. Because she was there, and it was easier to speak in the language of work and business. It was all he really knew.
She had to be on alert for anything. That was very much part of her job description, unwritten as it was. She anticipated everything. A call that didn't come from him, that she dreaded and that kept her up countless nights sick with worry, just waiting for it.
She missed the call because she was asleep, worn out grieving her grandmother. It was the longest she'd slept for years. She woke to the voicemail alerts on the screen, already panicking when there were several of them. There was no need for her to calculate the time difference between Atlanta and Italy, as she'd adjusted the dual clock on her work phone before he'd left.
She went through every emotion possible in the space of a couple hours, at a time when she was already feeling depleted. She still had obligations at home and there wasn't really anything she could have done, judging by Comfrey's scant updates. He's awake and he seems fine, I think? Just, kind of…yeah, you know, it's fine. Yet she felt guilty for not being there. She should have been there. It would have been okay to leave after the funeral. Something had been up for weeks, things escalating, and she should have been alert to it.
Don't be stupid. You couldn't have saved him.
You never will.
The possibility didn't disappear, not when she replayed Kendall's messages. The first couple didn't make a lot of sense. One he just sighed for the most part, punctuating with a series of fucks. Then something inside of him must have cracked open. She sat on the floor, holding the phone tight to her ear. Not really believing what she was hearing, thinking that he'd been replaced somehow.
I just want to say…well, you've always been there, Jess. Through every fucking shit show and fuck-up. And you didn't need to be. I know that I'm…I, uh…well, it doesn't really matter now. I just want you to know that I tried. I really fucking tried. And I wanted you with me. I want…yeah, it doesn't fucking…I'm fucking this up too.
I appreciate you, Jess. I do. That's one thing…and I should have been better. I know, and I'm sorry. You deserved better. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky. You're the only thing that really…everything else is like some fucking ancient curse. And I wanted to say that, because I didn't…I should have, and I always appreciated it. Everything you did. I, uh, I wish you were…so I could say it properly and not over the phone. But it's, uh, it's for the best. You'll do great. I know you will. You can do fucking anything. You could fucking run everything, if you wanted to.
I just…thank you, for everything. And I'm sorry. But you did…this is nothing about you. Okay? It's not.
She didn't need to replay those messages for them to be embedded into her brain, the pangs of hurt fresh in her heart when she thought about how much pain he'd been in. She always had an idea, but there was so much that he didn't say. Couldn't say.
Sometimes, on bad days, she played them back. Focusing on certain words. I'm sorry…thank you. They came in useful to remind herself of what he really thought of her during the craziest times. The times when it seemed like he didn't care at all.
There was something about the way he sounded, too. The vulnerability she knew that he didn't like to show. Had been taught not to. It felt weird to say that she reveled in it, a little.
She would have to erase them, of course. She wasn't completely sure of what would happen to her company belongings, whether someone would stop by in the middle of the night and go through everything while she stood watching, hardly believing that her life had got to be like this.
At least she had gotten out before it could spiral any further.
Somehow she got some sleep, going to bed early that night; making the most of it. The dreamless sleep steeled her for what she needed to do the next day. Get it over with, no matter how mortifying and painful it would be.
She was more than a little relieved when she buzzed in to find that Kendall wasn't at the office. He wasn't even in the country, apparently. She packed up her things and left, only needing to return to hand back her laptop and phone at some point within the next week. It wasn't exactly the highest priority right then, not the way procedure would usually be. Maybe it was all falling apart already, without Logan at the helm. Karolina was the one to give her a hug, saying that things wouldn't be the same without her.
Her eyes said more than that, but Jess couldn't go into it. She didn't feel like she could be smug, not even with everything that had happened.
She planned to keep busy, take her mind off things. Have some downtime while she scoped out her next move. It was impossible to tune out completely, knowing that the vote was imminent. It felt like she'd left a part of herself behind at Waystar, and maybe that was right. She didn't feel lighter for having shed it.
She could only imagine what was going through Kendall's mind.
She felt a tension headache coming on.
It was half by chance that she stumbled upon the news, ATN not being her channel of choice. It didn't need to be, as the story was headline across all rivals. Her stomach dropped as she took it in, the GoJo takeover. Later in the afternoon she picked up a paper at a newsstand, the picture of Roman signing over to Matsson.
Kendall nowhere to be seen.
Her heart wedged in her throat, she felt restless. Unable to concentrate on anything other than Ken. Where he was, what he was doing. How he was feeling.
She knew: distraught.
She had gone a total of two days before she switched her work phone back on.
It wasn't that she expected him to call her. She made herself wait before she reached out. Went out, kept herself busy. The sick feeling in her stomach followed her everywhere, as did thoughts of Kendall. Neither was going to go away, not the longer he was absent from screens or the front of newspapers, silence on his social media accounts other than a generic statement which hadn't been composed by him.
She went back and forth on the best thing to do. A call felt like too much, especially when she didn't know for sure how he would react.
A text was better, but even then she spent too long agonizing over what to say. She decided to keep it simple, not go into detail. It was enough to check in with something to the point.
- Hey, Ken. Saw the news, and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I hope you're doing okay. J
Days went by, and she wasn't surprised by his lack of reply. She couldn't have exactly expected him to bombard her, and part of her was relieved he didn't, but it didn't stop her from being a little hurt. She kept on being quietly frantic with worry as she went about her life. It was stupid, really. She'd been the one to cut the ties but he had the hold on her.
She was foolish to think that she could ever have control.
She'd begun to contemplate going further, getting in touch with Roman or Shiv. It was going on nearly two weeks later, she was just about to head to the gym when the familiar tone sounded.
"Hey," she answered, composing herself and trying not to sound too out-of-breath.
"Hey," he echoed back. Silence for a while, then, "I got your message."
"Oh, you know, I just wanted to because I saw…it's really - just, hard to believe. I know how -"
"Yeah," he cut in before she could finish. "It's…it is what it is."
She nodded, closing her eyes with her free hand upon her chest. She heard it in his voice; it had torn him apart.
She quietly exhaled a sigh. "How are -"
"This is good timing," he went on, sidestepping the question she was going to ask. "Because I was thinking about how we left things, how I didn't get to see you afterwards."
"Oh, well I thought you needed to - just have some time. To yourself."
"Yeah, yeah. That was - yeah, that was good. But I think that it would be good to - uh - I would like to see you. Get things…cleared up."
"Mm-hmm," she was a little caught off-guard, "sure. That would be good."
"I think so," he replied. "Uh, it might be best if - I can get Fikret to stop by, pick you up. And you can come here."
"That's good with me."
"Great. Tomorrow work for you? Say, eight?"
"Tomorrow at eight, great."
The words were out of her mouth before she'd had time to consider what they meant.
"Great," he echoed again. She didn't mean to read anything into it, but she did think that he sounded a little brighter, and her heart lifted.
She scolded herself for her reaction, meaning to be content enough to know that he was okay.
"I'll see you then. And, Jess? Thanks. For, uh, reaching out."
"Oh, no problem." She paused for a moment, not quite sure if she should ask. "And, everything is…?"
"Yeah. It's - well, I've been better. But it's okay. I'm - yeah."
"Okay," she replied, not convinced. But there wasn't much she could do about it now, short of going over to his place herself. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Take care, Ken."
"Yeah," he said after a few seconds passed, murmuring almost under his breath, "you too."
She slept fitfully that night, as she so often did after speaking with Kendall. Her head wasn't in the best of places to begin with, and in the morning she thought several times about calling to say that something had come up, making her apologies. It would be the wisest thing to do, keep her distance and give it the best shot at starting afresh.
Every time she picked up her phone she couldn't go through with it. She took a deep breath and drank too much coffee. Seeing him, just this once, would put her mind at rest. Or something along those lines. It would also absolve some of the guilt about Italy. Not that she could be there to pick up the pieces every time something went wrong, which for Ken seemed to be every other day.
That's not your job anymore, she repeated like a mantra, in the vain hope that it would be effective.
The car arrived on time and she talked with Fikret to forget about her nerves. The drive was too short, and as they pulled up to Kendall's penthouse she felt like she was struggling to breathe. A voice she didn't expect cut into her fog of anxiety. Colin's presence threw her off entirely, but at least it was a distraction. She smiled and nodded as she didn't entirely catch everything that he said, just that he'd leave her and Mr. Roy to it.
She was still getting over the weirdness of that encounter as she made her way up, not feeling ready for what she might find. Another buzzcut, maybe, or something worse, if recognizable on the surface.
The only visible sign of any dishevelment was the days-old stubble and tired look on his face. He was in black, and Jess swallowed at the sight of the polo shirt, thinking that it wasn't a good sign.
"You made it," he said, at a distance from where she stood. "Drive over okay?"
"Great," she affirmed.
"It's good to see you."
She took in a breath, hoping that she wasn't going to pass out. "You too."
His mouth quirked to one side. "You sure about that? I know last time was, uh, not great."
"It's been a hard time."
"Uh-huh," his head was low, hands in the back pockets of his dark jeans as he came closer towards her. "So you said." After a long pause he continued, lifting his eyes to hers. "I know. I do know that."
The voice in her head willed her to stay strong at the show of sincerity. The part of her that, nine times out of ten, softened to him felt ashamed at thinking he could be putting on an act.
"I'm so sorry, Ken," she said instinctively, flattened by his doleful expression. He looked on the verge of tears as he stared at her hard, a little like he aimed to absorb her.
She meant the words whole-heartedly, while also believing that the loss of the company was a good thing. Maybe even the thing he needed more than anything else. He could be his own person now, stepping out of the looming shadow cast by Waystar and his father's legacy. That shadow that was close to engulfing him more than once.
She wouldn't say it, not right now, knowing that it wouldn't be something he wanted to hear.
"That's -" his voice faltered, and he looked away from her for a moment, gaze trained on the floor. "Thanks, Jess."
She nodded, the words echoing in the silence between them. She felt lost, not sure what else to say or do.
She looked at Kendall, feeling it impossible to reach him.
She didn't know if he wanted to be found.
"Why don't you, uh, sit down," he motioned to the sofa that stretched out over half of the room. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
"Sure," Jess murmured, taking a seat and watching him walk in the direction of the bathroom. She fiddled with her earrings, placed her restless hands in her lap as her stomach churned.
Kendall reappeared after a few moments, wearing an uneasy smile as he seated himself on the sofa, keeping some space between them. Jess told herself not to look too closely, to try and ignore how his right hand went up to touch the side of his nose a couple times. Instead she smiled at him, prepping herself for all eventualities.
"So, I don't want this to be fucking awkward. It's never been like that with us."
She fervently hoped that the dismay didn't show on her face. He might have been expectedly blind to the many times he'd made her feel so much more than awkward, but she supposed that he was trying, at least.
"I'm going to pay you, like it was severance. Even though - it's just, you know, no hard feelings."
She wasn't entirely sure that was true, but she nodded all the same. "Absolutely. Thank you, you don't need to."
He went on, "And some extra too. Just as a token. Because you've been great, and I, uh, I want you to be taken care of, in any amount of time that you're not - which I don't expect will be very long."
"Ken, that's too - don't feel like you need to…"
"I'm good for it. Really."
She bobbed her head. "I appreciate it."
"Sure." His gaze was intent on her once more as he seemed to be searching for the words. "Look, I want to - I feel like I should explain."
"Oh, no, it's not -" a rush of heat went to her head; the last thing she wanted was to get into the disaster that had ripped through them. "That's not necessary."
"I think it is."
His voice was steadier than it had been up to now, and she felt helpless; that she had no option than to sit back and watch the show, however bad it made her feel. She pictured him rehearsing in front of the mirror, like he was going to give a presentation; she'd seen it happen before, walking by like she hadn't noticed.
"What happened, it was fucked up. I realize that. There was a lot of pressure, that night. A lot happening."
Jess looked at his hands as he spoke, too afraid to catch his eyes.
"It went pretty fast, you know. If I knew - had the, uh, track of what was going to - how it was going to…fucking unravel…I wouldn't have -"
Her silence probably spoke volumes, but she couldn't find the words right then. Sure, Ken, she found herself thinking, you had no idea that you were calling the election for a fascist. She wasn't in the room, that was true. She didn't know what she would have done if she had been. She didn't want to make excuses for him.
But, she realized, if that was true then she wouldn't have been sitting where she was now.
"I think, with everything…it sounds stupid, but it was a blur. I just had to think, in the moment, what would my dad have done? And it's not that I agreed with it, absolutely not. But right then…I do think that it's what he would have done. And with him…it just felt like I had to honor him. Like, if it had been later, a longer time afterwards, I don't think - I mean, I know, it would have been different."
"Mmm-hmm." She had to say something. His eyes felt like they were burning through her. "Yeah, Ken, I can't imagine."
"Uh-huh. So, yeah, it was fucked. And I - understand why. I get it."
She pursed her lips, stopping herself from laughing bitterly. She gripped the edge of the sofa to stop herself from walking out without any further explanation.
He never would offer any. Maybe that was expecting too much.
"And I know that I don't have any right - that it was your decision."
God, she really hoped that he would stop.
"But I just need to let you know that it hurt." He let out a short laugh, which pulled Jess up suddenly. "I should be used to that, I guess. Just not from you."
"I am sorry. I didn't want to - not then."
You gave me no choice, she couldn't help thinking.
Kendall nodded. "It wasn't about the timing. Not only about that, anyway. I just didn't…"
Didn't think you'd ever leave? she found herself filling in.
"I don't know how else to say it," he went on, seeming to refocus, "other than…it was like a wound. Where I'd already been shot through."
She needed a moment to process what he'd said. She needed years, accurately. It wasn't like she hadn't felt it too, the loss. She'd been acting like it was par for the course, a standard side-effect when you'd been so close to someone for so long, without actually being involved. She hadn't known how to put it into words.
And here he was, doing it for her. Making her speechless.
The absolute strangest of occurrences, that she never could have seen coming.
"Ken…" her voice came out little louder than a whisper.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm surviving." He smiled, switching back to bravado. "You've always been smart, Jess. You got out at the right time. I, uh - I got what you probably think I deserve, after everything."
There he was; crashing back down to earth, bringing her with him.
"No," she was quick to say, moving closer to where he sat, acting on auto-pilot. "I never thought that. I've always…thought you could do it."
He looked at her, a flicker of light coming into his eyes. "Yeah?"
She nodded fervently, and smiled as she spoke. "Absolutely."
"That's - that's something. Fuck," he stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, "I didn't - that means a lot. Thank you."
"No problem." She stayed smiling, her hands stilled in her lap.
"Is it - do you know what's next?"
She felt unprepared for the question, the turning of the spotlight towards her.
"I'm looking at a few options," she answered, "but nothing definite yet."
"Uh-huh, well that's sensible. And whatever, whoever…they'll be lucky to have you."
The intensity of his gaze and the courtesy of his words, which felt truly genuine, had her flushing.
"Just - uh - can you do me one favor?"
"Sure."
"Could you not write a fucking book about me? Like, I know you have enough material, and it'd be great, if I was anyone else."
Jess laughed, though she knew he was being serious. "I promise not to write a book about you."
"Good. I'll take your word." He smiled at her, but it faded quickly. "I guess it would be too late, and it's not like I have anything to offer you…"
"I think a clean break is good," she replied, seeing his face falling further. "Give yourself time, you need that. But there'll be something."
He scoffed. "I wish I had your optimism, Jess."
"I know that it seemed -" she stopped herself, not knowing how to say it without risking hurting him further. "You have so many good ideas. Like, The Hundred. That was really good. And it could work, with Roman and Shiv. Once everything -"
"We're done," he said, his tone hard and abrupt. "I'm done with them. They made their choice, and - yeah, it's over."
"You're not -" she began, thinking about how bad it had been not that long ago. Everything that had led up to what happened in Tuscany, the way he had cut himself off. "Once everything cools off - and it'll take time…"
"They fucking betrayed me. Every time I breathe I feel the knife in my back. We had it all agreed, and then they turned, because they couldn't fucking handle…and I should have known. I should have fucking known that they wouldn't roll over."
She could see the anger in his eyes, his hands balling into fists.
"I don't know what happened," Jess said, "and it's difficult. You're all grieving. They care about you."
He shook his head. "They have a fucked up way of showing it. If they cared, they wouldn't have done what they did. We could have had everything, but they had to be fucking kids about it."
She stayed silent, feeling like any attempt to provide the other side would fuel the fire further.
"Fuck them," Kendall continued. "This isn't about them. I'm glad you came. I'm really glad you're here. You want something to drink?"
"Um, sure - if you're…"
"Yeah," he stood up, animated in a different way than mere seconds before. "That's a great idea. We ought to mark it. A final goodbye. Let me just…I'll see what's around."
A rictus smile remained on Jess's face as he disappeared. There was something in the way he said it - final goodbye - that made her more scared than ever before. Not of him, but for him. It's not like the thought hadn't crossed her mind, since the news of the takeover became official.
Not when she still had bad dreams about how differently things could have gone.
"Oh! What's…" she exclaimed as he came back with a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses.
"I know, fucking ironic." She almost rushed up to help, but the pop was smoother than she expected. Mainly she was still perplexed about what was going on. "But, yin and yang, or, uh, some shit like that."
He sat back down, closer to her on the sofa, handing over a glass.
"To you and your bright future, Jess Jordan."
She felt uncomfortable, guilty again, as she smiled and took a sip, watching warily as Kendall downed his glass, then promptly poured another.
"I, uh, I should have said - told you, while you were…everything was always so -" He mimed with his hands, and she thought that she followed what he was getting at. "But that's not an excuse. And I know I wasn't the best boss."
"Oh, no," she began, clutching the stem of the glass in her hand. "You were…I always really enjoyed it."
A little white lie couldn't hurt, not at this point.
"I appreciated you. I appreciate you," he corrected himself, "coming here…you didn't have to."
"It's fine."
"I would like to, if it's not weird for you." His eyes had the intent look again. "I don't - right now, it's…but I want you to know."
She was panicking again inside, unable to avoid thinking about the voicemail messages. She wondered if he remembered calling that night, if he was out of it or just in so much turmoil that he blocked it out. Water, rushing in his ears, filling up his lungs, so that he couldn't breathe.
That he stopped breathing for a couple of minutes.
Looking at him, she could see that he couldn't recall, and it would have been an unneeded unkindness to bring it up.
"I know," she said instead, with a genuine smile, which he returned fleetingly.
There were moments of understanding, more than anyone would realize.
More than she herself did.
"I meant what I said," Kendall went on, "I like you. I really like you."
"Thanks." She swallowed more champagne, the bubbles catching sharp in her throat. She tried not to have a coughing fit, while also thinking that it might break the growing tension.
"You never said if…"
Of course.
"I mean, it wasn't the best time, but now…you can be honest. I won't take it badly."
Again, not something she thought was true. But she couldn't lie, not about this. Especially not right now, when her heart was tender towards him, yet again.
"I like you too, Ken."
Even now.
Maybe more than ever.
Another quick flash of a smile, and then silence. What more was there to say?
Too much, she considered.
She watched him, her heartbeat rattling in her throat as he stared off, not out of the window, just ahead. He took up his glass, contemplating it for a second before downing the contents. For a moment, Jess thought he might pick up the bottle and swig, instead of pouring another measure.
"Ken," she ventured, cautious, "do you think that's…"
"Uh, sorry. I should have offered."
She shook her head, "I'm good. I just don't know if…it might not be the best thing."
It was stupid to say, considering he'd almost certainly been doing lines before she arrived, one since she'd been there. Out of sight…she supposed. She wanted to feel like she could do something, like the past five years hadn't been a complete waste of her time.
"I - thank you for the concern. Really. But I'm fucked, Jess." He said the words without resignation, like an acceptance of a fate that couldn't be changed. "So, in the scheme of things…I might as well get something out of it."
The tears surged to her eyes as she watched him sink another glass, then put his hands against his head.
"You're not," she began, not knowing exactly what to say but knowing that she wanted to give him some comfort. "I know, now…but it'll get better."
"You don't need to lie. Not anymore."
She could feel her face crumpling as she looked at him.
"You know it like I do," he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You've been with me. My whole life was leading up to one thing, and now it's gone. Rava won't let me speak to the kids. I don't have…"
He didn't say it, but his hand gestured towards her.
You do, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.
"There's nothing. Nothing left. And I want…I don't want to be…"
He stopped, his breath taking over from words. He covered his face with his hands, to stop it from showing. She could only imagine how many times in his life he'd been told not to cry, how Logan must have shouted it, repeatedly. His shoulders started to shake, and Jess felt wrecked and relieved at once. Glad for him that he hadn't succumbed to the pressure.
She inched closer to him on the sofa, so close that their legs were nearly touching.
"It's okay," she said, sounding like her mother did. She felt a little like she wanted her to be waiting back at home, being fairly certain that she would cry in the same way later on. "It's okay to let it out. And it'll be okay. It will. You'll figure it out. You just need some time."
Between tears and gasps of breath, he mumbled some words. The only things that she could catch was I don't, and I'm not.
She had held back, and maybe it was the half-unspoken phrases that spurred her on.
She laid a hand against his shoulder, swallowing down her own gasp. A burning sensation coming to life in her stomach as, after a few moments, she moved the same hand along and began to rub circles against his back, her initial hesitancy dissipating as she let deeper instincts take over.
"You can do so many things," she carried on with her attempts to soothe him. "Great things. And you will."
Her eyes were trained on the nape of his neck as his head remained bowed. She stopped herself from bringing her hand higher to touch there, thinking that things had become surreal enough, while also acknowledging that it was good that she could finally be honest with the feelings she'd kept buried for so long.
When his tears had worn themselves out she withdrew her hand, shuffled away a little.
"Thanks," he murmured, swiping his hands at his eyes.
"It's no problem. I mean it. I'll be on the lookout," she added as she stood, wearing an encouraging smile.
"Well, uh, we'll see. It's gonna take…"
"Yeah. These things can't be rushed."
"Uh-huh. I - I feel a little better."
"That's good. I'm glad." She looked towards the bottle and glasses, hers still about a third full, and wondered whether she should take them elsewhere, even if it wouldn't make a lot of difference.
"Wait," Kendall said, taking notice, "are you…do you need to leave?"
"Um, well, I have some stuff tomorrow, and an early night would be…but I don't have to."
"Sure," he got to his feet, "it's okay, you can…you didn't have to be here, so…yeah, it's fine."
"If you're sure." The logical part of her was screaming, don't be such an idiot.
"Yeah, absolutely. I don't want to keep you."
She smiled, feeling like he meant it. "It was good to see you again."
"Yeah, you too. I mean, obviously…the highlight of recent times."
Her smile got a little wider, and she felt ridiculous for feeling any spark of pride about that.
"I can give you my number, if you like. My personal number. And if you want to talk, then you can call."
"Uh-huh. I would like that."
"Great. I'll text you it."
So now you actually are going to be his therapist. She supposed that it could be worse, and at least she knew she would be doing something.
He stared at her for a couple of moments, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his mouth quirking as he looked away.
"If it's weird you don't have to, but I thought that a hug…after everything."
"Oh, sure," she replied.
"I, uh, kinda feel like I need it."
"Sure," she repeated with a smile, going closer towards him.
They'd hugged a couple times since she'd been in employment, the last being the first time she saw him after Logan's death. Each had been brief, appropriate given their position to one another, but meaningful too, she thought. She remembered just one of his arms around her shoulders, keeping restraint, being respectful. Nobody ever seemed to be willing to accept or understand that he could be like that towards her. Not being Logan Roy's son; if he didn't always follow example, there were some areas where it would have been impossible not to.
This was a different kind of embrace, and she held her breath a little as he held onto her with both arms, one around her shoulders and the other lower against her back. The seconds stretched on into a minute, longer, and she could feel him clinging, the scratch of his stubble as his cheek pressed against hers. She held onto him too, knowing that she would need to be the one to relinquish but feeling that it was okay to stay for a while.
For a moment she closed her eyes, letting herself believe that they were other people.
For a moment it could be true.
Her eyes were still closed when she felt him shift a little, his breath warm on her cheek. His lips brushing there. She sucked in a breath, placed a hand against his shoulder, though it wasn't to push him away. She murmured his name in a whisper.
"Kendall."
While he relaxed the tightness of his grip on her, he didn't break away. He dipped his head a little so that he was kissing her neck, one of his hands holding the back of her head. The tip of his tongue pressed against her skin and, helplessly, a sound she was certain she'd never made before slipped from her mouth. Kendall smiled against her, his other hand running down towards the small of her back.
"Kendall," she repeated, her voice shaky, her hand drifted to his chest. "Ken."
"Hey," he said, his voice lower than usual. "It's okay. I wouldn't…you like me, right? And I like you. I really like you, Jess. For a long time. And this feels…like, tonight, you didn't need to come."
"Yeah, but…I wasn't expecting…"
"Yeah, I didn't -" he took his hand off her head, like he might have realized something, just a little, "this wasn't an intention, just a feeling like I should…it's not a trap."
She nodded, drawing her hand back. "I know."
"I wouldn't do that. Believe me, Jess."
She wanted to. She thought that she did, but this had blindsided her.
"I thought I was losing you, but this is better. I've been thinking, maybe that's why you did it."
His mouth curved as he stared at her, his hand still on her back.
She was astonished.
"Ken…I…"
She hadn't planned for this or anticipated, even if it was becoming clear that nothing was off limits when it came to him.
She thought maybe he was going to say something like you must have thought about it. So she floundered, knowing that she couldn't lie.
There was something about him that seemed to render her incapable.
"It's okay," he said again. "You don't need to say anything."
She really should. When did she ever get a say?
His hand on her back burned through her. The look in his eyes pulling her under.
She couldn't find the air to breathe.
"There's something else I wanted to say to you." He let out a snicker of a laugh; she didn't know how, but his mouth was by her ear. "A lot of things, actually. But they can wait. They've waited long enough."
He kissed her cheek again, softly. She reached for his free hand before he could place it against her side or her hip.
Their fingers tangled briefly. A cold, almost painful shiver raced down her spine.
"You say it's going to be okay." The way he spoke made her heart plummet past her chest. His chin rested on her shoulder for a few moments. "You make it sound like it could be. I think - I think this makes sense. With you."
She felt a tear slip down her cheek, unbidden. Kendall pulled back, his hand on her face. His thumb tracing where the tear had fallen.
"Jess. Hey."
"It's okay," she heard herself, her voice sounding far away in her head. Everything seemed distant, other than him.
Too close. Just like you wanted. Not close enough. Not now, not like this.
"I'm okay. I -"
Words gone again. The thoughts made no room for them. Kendall stared at her, a hint of a smile on his face. Something that was so foreign, she couldn't help but be entranced.
The thoughts quieted too, nothing but white noise in her head. She wondered if this was what it was like, when he stopped feeling the sun on his back and became submerged. The familiar ache spread out in her chest, tempered by the equally familiar pain that accompanied nights of longing. So many times that she couldn't forget or push aside.
When she put her hand to his face, the feeling became something solid. Maybe because it knew it was going to be chased away.
Temporarily.
She didn't know if she moved closer or if he pulled her to him, his lips on hers. She heard a sigh coming from far off.
She was far away. Back to the beginning, as if there had ever been a choice.
There's nothing. Nothing left.
His lips pressed harder, more desperate, and she clasped her hands to the back of his neck. It was so easy, so good to fall, after so long spent balancing. The taste of champagne on his tongue made it seem like a celebration.
Something coming out of the wreckage.
There was nowhere else to go, so she let herself fall.
Further and further.