#I- I go back and forth on how I feel about shiv because she’s an awful person who CANNOT make up her mind

[whoblewboobear]

I’m gonna live in my little fantasy world of shiv being a mother that is half decent. Like it’s the only thing she has left with substance and she’ll make parenthood her own in spite of Logan and Caroline. Which just creates a different kind of fucked up pressure for a kid that didn’t ask for any of it. There would be a long train of stumbles and fuck ups but I still think she’d try and get help without telling anyone so she can pretend she became mother of the year all on her own.

[loveandthings11]

How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 13

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Very Tall Somethings

Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Chapter Summary: Hunting and Safe Room, redone. Or, the story of Kendall and Rava's chaotic Christmas week. Kendall tries different tactics to get Logan to agree to save Vaulter while trying to stay apprised of goings-on within the company from afar. Rava is terrified when an active shooter situation hits Waystar with Kendall inside. The incident causes Kendall to struggle with his past demons and to try to reconnect with Shiv. Kendall and Rava exchange Christmas gifts and see how much they mean to each other.

On December twentieth, Kendall lies on the couch in the great room and stares up at the ceiling.

“I-I mean, he didn’t mean that, right?” he asks for the fourth time since his call with Logan yesterday. “That was nothing? He wasn’t really offering it to me when I turned it down. Was he?”

“Mind games…” Rava says absentmindedly as she turns the page of her book in a nearby chair.

“Yes, mind games! Fucking- manipulation, yeah? He’s always done shit like that. What- what do I even do with that?”

She can feel his chaotic energy.

“Have you considered calling HR?” Rava says drily.

“Uh-huh. Okay. They’re all at the fucking corporate retreat in Hungary doing God-knows-what with the company-“ he looks at her eyes running across the page. He’s more stressed by the day not to be able to attend any management meetings right now and it couldn’t be clearer that she doesn’t want to hear about it anymore. “Whatever. I need sunflower seeds.” He gets up and goes to pace in the kitchen as he pours the bag into his mouth.

She tries not to look at him while he’s doing it because she knows what that means. He walks back and forth and looks around.

“You know what? I’m gonna be in the gym,” he says as he walks down the hall toward it.

“Twice in one morning?” Rava asks.

“That was floor stuff, weights. Now it’s cardio. Why, you don’t want me too ripped?” She lets him turn the substitute addictions into a joke. Whatever works.

“No,” she laughs. “Go get ripped. That’s…. great.”

“You laugh now,” he says. “You’re not gonna be ready.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” she nods sarcastically. “You should go back to drawing, or music. You used to do more art.”

“Uh- yeah. I did. I should. Just- yeah, I’m going to work out right now.”

He flashes her a smile and walks away. When he comes back in the room she looks over his ever-so-slightly mussed hair. He locks eyes with her.

“Yeah?”

She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side as she chuckles. It doesn’t look like he was going too crazy with the workout, but she does like what she’s seeing. She notices a grey smudge on his hand and nods at it.

"What is that?" she asks. He looks down at it.

"Oh, it's nothing. From the treadmill I guess."

“Okay... well, you are looking good.”

“Feeling good,” he says. But he sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself. “I haven’t heard from Roman in a couple days,” he says.

“Well, there’s probably not much privacy in jail- I’m sorry, the retreat. I always get those mixed up,” she returns.

“Right.” He heads to the shower and, after fifteen minutes, enters the room and starts pacing again. She looks up from her book.

“You’re making me nervous. Come sit down!” He goes to sit down next to her and she watches his foot bounce.

“I’m gonna text him again,” Kendall says with worry in his voice. He types out a message.

Rome. You gotta give me something, man.

He taps his fingers on Rava’s thigh as he looks at the screen. After a couple of minutes, Roman sends a text with a news screenshot and accompanying message.

Preview of an article Karolina sent us. Merry fucking whatever. You’d better not forget this.

Kendall looks at the screenshotted headline and gives a little smile at his screen.

Waystar Royco subsidiary Vaulter lives to fight another day; President Lawrence Yee stays in role under embattled Waystar CEO Logan Roy’s leadership.

“Roman saved Vaulter,” he says out loud in disbelief. “I’ve seen this kind of thing, though. It’s just a temporary extension for now, but it’s a start.”

Rava smiles.

“Good Christmas present,” she replies. “Speaking of which, it’s about time to do the finishing touches on the tree now that you can breathe again. Only a few days til Christmas! You know the kids are going to be ready for holiday stuff.”

“Yeah, for sure.” He pauses a second. “I feel kinda fuckin’… bad that we’re not going to my mom’s. She always wants us to go and Shiv would never do it, but Roman wanted to too. Maybe next year? Or can we- could we go see her next month or something? I just- you know, things were actually good with us at the wedding. It was kind of weird. But, yeah, good.”

“Yeah. Sure, we can go see your mom. Whenever you want.”

Kendall nods and gets up to go to the kids’ rooms to coax them out with promises of hot chocolate and ornaments as Rava looks through the boxes of decorations the staff had been taking out earlier to find the last bits of tree decor. Kendall and Rava have always done this part themselves.

Rava shows Kendall a ceramic ornament they’d bought at a Christmas market in Belgium in one of their first holiday seasons together. The little red frame says Merry Christmas in green and features a sweet picture of 24-year old Kendall and Rava with big smiles on their pink faces pressed together. Kendall’s first Christmas free of his family had been one for the books.

Kendall looks at it and wordlessly returns her look of love. He takes his phone from the glass coffee table and walks the few steps over to her, bending down to her and putting his cheek on hers before taking a quick picture of them smiling once more. Rava nods at the picture and gives him a grin.

“We’ll get a new one made to match,” he says.

“Love that,” she says.

…..

On December twenty-first, Roman calls Kendall.

“Hey, fuckface,” Roman starts. “I’m so hungover I might kill myself.”

Kendall doesn’t know if this is about to be an alcoholic joke or if Roman really just called because he would understand.

“Uh, okay. Well, I’d go throw up and pour yourself an Irish coffee, always worked for me,” he says sardonically to head him off at the pass.

“No. Jesus. I’m not drinking at least until this afternoon.”

“Solid restraint.” Kendall wonders for the millionth time why he’s the only sibling who got the addiction gene. “How was last night? Little bit of corporate trauma bonding?” he asks, stretching out on the couch and enjoying the fact that he spent last night sipping hot chocolate by the Christmas tree while the kids watched Elf.

“You missed a fantastic round of Boar on the Floor. De-licious. Got it all on film, I’m gonna watch it and jerk off later.”

Kendall massages his forehead.

“Jesus. First of all, delete that immediately- or, actually, send it to me and then delete it.”

“I don’t share my porn stash,” Roman says.

“Bro. Seriously. That kind of abuse of power could help our case.”

“Your case. I’m not fucking over Dad. Why do you want it, are you giving it to the biographer? Because Dad will know it’s you.”

Kendall sighs.

“No. I- I mean I got a call, but I didn’t return. Didn’t you get a call?” he asks.

Roman’s quiet before he responds.

“Yyyyeah, of course I did. I’m the most important one.” He changes tone. “But seriously, Dad’s fucking paranoid right now. Someone talked. He doesn’t trust anyone. He’s being… you know. Scary.” He switches back to being cavalier. “He’s gonna find out who it is and it’s gonna be sweet punishment time.”

“Well. It’s not me. But if he wants to know who’s got motivation to talk shit about him, he should look to literally anyone else he’s talked to in the last twenty years.” Roman makes a hurt face and Kendall can practically see it through the phone. “Dude, it’s- it probably won’t even go anywhere. Don’t worry about it. But- yeah. Try to stop people from talking if you can.”

“Why would you want to stop them? You hate Dad,” Roman mumbles.

“I- I don’t- come on, bro. You know that’s not true. It’s tough with us, though.”

“Whatever. This isn’t your ridiculous therapy time where we talk all about how you want to fuck and/or kill our parents and possibly our sister, although you should know she’s mine.”

Kendall rolls his eyes.

“Did he make you play Boar on the Floor?” he asks. The protective older brother in him comes out no matter how annoying Roman is to him.

“Of course not, Dad loves me, Ken. Not something you would understand, but-“

“He never made me play either.” It’s true, but there was always a present threat to both of them at retreats. “Well- good,” Kendall finishes.

“Frank’s here,” Roman says angrily. Kendall feels a momentary pang.

“Yeah? How is he?”

“Being a corporate cock-suck like always. My fucking babysitter.”

“Frank knows what’s doing,” Kendall says. He’s glad Frank is back on at the company, but he misses his guidance. He’s a little envious that Roman is getting the advice he wants. He wonders if he could get Frank on board with his side.

“Ugh. This godfatherly love thing is annoying. Dad’s only bringing him back so he can suck up to the Pierces.”

“The Pierces?” Kendall asks in disbelief.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman laughs. “You didn’t know about that? Man, you are out of the loop.” Kendall squirms at his brother’s glee.

“What do you- Dad’s going after them again? This is his solution. Old tech again.” His mind starts running and he makes a note to text Sandy and Stewy right after this call ends.

“I didn’t tell you that!” Roman exclaims, partially regretting having the shared the information. Kendall can tell how he’s feeling.

“I would’ve found out anyway,” he informs him.

“I guess.”

Kendall decides to change the subject.

“You, uh, see Connor’s video?” he asks.

“Giving away all our secrets to never paying any taxes. Idiot. I mean- love him and his desperate ploys for attention- obviously- but, like, perhaps he shouldn’t be making a joke of our last name?”

“Yeah, thought that was your job.” Kendall sends the rare jab his way.

“Fuck you,” Roman spits back. But he has another thing to discuss. “Um… hey, what do you think of Gerri?” he asks.

“What- Gerri?” Kendall asks. “You mean, like, is she trustworthy? I mean, yeah. She’s all in for Waystar.”

Roman scrunches his face and runs his hand through his hair.

“No, I know, I mean, uh… like as a… human woman? Did she and Dad ever…”

“Fuck?” Kendall chuckles. “I dunno. Maybe. She seems like she’d tell him to go to hell though. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy, fuckin’… take you to bed type.”

“Well, you don’t know. You don’t know her.”

Kendall’s confused by Roman’s sudden defensiveness.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“I don’t- nothing. No reason, I just want to know if she’s trustworthy.”

“Okay.” Did I not just say that? Kendall thinks. “Well, yeah.” His interest is piqued by the questioning. “Why’d you think of that, her and Dad?”

“I don’t know, nothing. She’s just… you know, she was probably hot, once. I should’ve hit on her when I was, like twelve. That would’ve been saucy.” He swirls his finger in the bowl of grapes next to him and doesn’t eat any.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Kendall half-laughs.

“I don’t know. Whatever.” He sounds defensive again and Kendall is more amused by the second.

“Are you trying to fuck Gerri, bro?”

“No, gross, fuck you. She’s, like, efficient. And old. Fuck off. And text me what pills Dad’s supposed to be on.”

“Uh- okay. He- he said I would know?” Kendall’s surprise is evident in his voice. He feels a brief warmth in his chest followed by anxiety that he might never get to experience the closeness he craves with his dad in person again. But he reminds himself that this is a good sign for the future.

“Yeah, don’t get excited. He won’t trust anyone he hires. Thinks they’re all gonna send the list of meds to Michelle Pantsil for the book.”

“Wow. Sure, I’ll- I’ll send you the list.”

“Ugh, just do it, don’t make it a big deal. See you whenever.”

Roman hangs up and Kendall is left with a moment of mixed emotions before refocusing and sending a text to Sandy and Stewy.

Dad’s going after Pierce. Good news. He has no real option if his only plan to get the company even more bloated. Just wants an excuse to chase the old dream. No chance Nan Pierce lets this happen.

Rava pokes her head into the office.

“Are you working?” she asks.

“No- that was Roman, but I think he just called to catch up, actually.” Kendall surprises himself as he realizes that is exactly what just happened.

“Oh?” He’s not the only one who’s surprised.

“Yeah, I think, uh, I guess Dad wanted him to ask me about his pills.” Kendall can’t help but smile a little bit.

“Really?” Rava asks hesitantly. “And that’s- a good thing…?”

“Yeah. That’s a good thing.” He looks at her and gets up to hug her. “Let’s go sit by the tree before the kids go to bed.”

Rava already has had Christmas music playing for the kids, who are inspecting every wrapped present under the beautiful, towering tree.

Kendall notices Sophie subtly peeling back the wrapping paper on the corner of a present addressed to her.

“Uh-uh, Soph. Santa can see that,” he scolds. She looks shocked to have been caught and stares up at him.

“Tell him I didn’t do it! You know the president!”

Rava puts her hand over her face for a moment.

“Santa is more powerful than the president,” Kendall says seriously. “Up, away from the tree. You’ll unwrap it in a few days.”

Iverson looks concerned and Rava goes to smooth his hair.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him. “Santa knows you’ve both been good this year. That’s what really matters. It’s time for bed now.” The kids groan. “Up, up, up,” Rava continues. “The faster you go to sleep the faster you get to Christmas!”

They stand up and Sophie runs ahead of Iverson, who looks over his shoulder at the festively lighted tree and the many perfectly wrapped boxes underneath it.

Kendall and Rava savor the moment of wonder and innocence and she sits next to him on the couch and leans into him. He kisses her head and they gaze at the glowing tree together.

…..

On December twenty-second, Kendall is at Waystar. He’s here to save Vaulter and he can’t do that without talking to his dad. But he won’t answer the phone and his assistants are denying Kendall at every turn. So here he is. The only way was to come in person. He sits nervously at his desk waiting for any sign that Logan is back on the floor so he can make sure his acquisition isn’t going anywhere. It’s proof he deserves to be here. He glances over to Logan’s office. In there. Heads turn at the sight of him looking out at the floor. He feels self-conscious but strangely proud. They all look away once they've been caught. They've been staring all morning. He bites a nail.

Jess walks into his office. “Hey, Ken?”

He's startled out of his nervous haze and looks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s Rava.”

They exchange the briefest of moments. She hasn’t said that in years. Even though it’s been a few months now, he still gets the rush of remembering she’s calling because she wants to talk to him, not because she’s mad or just to coordinate the kids’ schedules. For a while, it had sent shots of anxiety through him to talk to her- another opportunity to fuck up. But not anymore. He smiles.

“Oh. Yeah, of course put her through.” She turns to go. “Jess- can you just- always put her through.”

She nods with a tiny smile.

“Yeah.”

He picks up the office phone.

“Hey.”

Her voice is honey sweet.

“You didn’t text me back.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, hang on.” He picks up his phone and reads her latest message. He thought nothing could scandalize him but he’s been proven wrong.

“Wow. Uh… are you going to act that out later, or-?”

“Maybe. How’s everything going? What are the guys saying?”

He’s still looking at the text and now he really doesn’t want to admit that he might have a colossal failure on his hands.

“I- I don’t remember, I’m a little distracted.” She laughs.

“Tell me!”

“It, uh, it- it’s not… great. But I’m figuring it out. I’ll have it by tonight. I will.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I will.”

It’s like he doesn’t know anyone he doesn’t have to convince.

“I know, Ken. You don’t have to prove it.”

He takes a breath.

“Right, yeah. Okay. I have to go but, yeah, I’ll text you back.”

“Okay.” She knows when work’s not going well, nothing is right in his world. She sounds disappointed and he can’t let that happen either.

“Hey- it’s- it’s five hours til I’m home.”

She can hear him trying and she sighs dramatically.

“Suuuure it is. See you at midnight.”

“I’m coming home at 7:00.” Knowing he’s going home to her makes him feel like he can do this.

“You’ll at least come home before you have to go to some other thing tomorrow, right? I mean, you have to change?”

“Okay. Yeah. See you at 5:00 AM,” he deadpans.

“Ken!”

“I’ll see you at 7:00. Seriously. Maybe we’ll go out.”

“For breakfast? When you get home in the morning?”

He shakes his head.

“Yes. For breakfast. Okay. I have to go save this company now.”

“God, I love how important you are.” He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm but he can hear her smiling and he loves it.

“Bye.”

There’s a tentative knock on the glass and Kendall looks up to see Greg nervously standing at his office door. His voice is muffled as he calls through the glass.

“Uh- hey- hey Ken. Can I come in and talk to you?” He smiles awkwardly. “For a just a- a min? A sec of fam time?”

Kendall’s feeling generous.

“Sure, Greg. Come in,” he calls back. Greg swings the door open.

“H-hey, cuz! What’s up on the anti-corruption, you know, the anti-Roy train?” he attempts.

Kendall gives him a small smile.

“Just anti-corruption. And anti-dictator behavior. What’s up, Greg?”

“Uh, well, you know, just… hangin’ with the fam on the private- private planes and livin’ that high life. I mean, not, like, high. Like not drugs. Not that- uh, I didn’t mean-“

Kendall shakes his head.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Um, so, you know the biography of your dad? Michelle Pantsil?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Um, well, I didn’t exactly meet with her, but I did, like, a pre-meet? And-“

Kendall sighs.

“So it was you. And you said some things you can’t take back now?”

“I mean, kind of?” Greg starts. “It wasn’t anything terrible, but maybe things that shouldn’t be in a book? You know? And Tom said Ratfucker Sam is, like, doing research, and apparently he’s not the best guy?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, Dad’s not gonna love it, man.”

Greg looks panicked.

“Well- well, isn’t there something you can do, or, like-“ he takes in a short breath, “-protect me, maybe? Because I am gonna be able to help you if you win. Or, actually, I can help you win.”

Kendall looks at him.

“Well… I’m not sure what I can do,” Kendall begins.

“I, well, I think you should give me a job if I lose this one?”

Kendall raises his eyebrows.

“No. Dude, come on. If you lose this one? Second choice?”

“I mean, I’m just saying? I have some very, potentially, extremely useful information that I think you could use.”

They look at each other. Kendall thinks about whether he should believe him. He considers the consequences of turning him down and letting the mysterious information stay hidden and the positives of letting it go and staying a small team. He already has one person who’s straddling two sides of the line. But then he considers his dad’s tendency to play as dirty as possible and wonders if he has anything planned to destroy his reputation again. It would be good to have something to stop him this time.

“Okay, Greg. You got it. I think you should leave this side sooner rather than later if you’re going to do it.”

Greg nods.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I- I’m kind of, like, moving up here, though? But also I agree so yeah, yeah.”

The most wishy-washy person alive is on his team, Kendall thinks.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Okay, well… gotta finish this stuff,” Kendall gestures at the stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

“Right! Yeah! Gotta get to work, for sure.” Greg smiles a nervous smile and backs out of the room. “See ya!”

….

On the afternoon of the same day, a news headline flashes across the PGN screen and Rava’s heart stops for what feels like minutes.

“ACTIVE SHOOTER AT WAYSTAR ROYCO: BUILDING BARRICADED WITH SHOOTER INSIDE”

“What?” Her hands shake as she grabs instantly for her phone and there are tears in her eyes before she can even process it. The most terrifying images and future rip through her mind and she fights as hard as she can to make them stop. The one day Kendall goes back. Was it someone looking for him?? Is he hurt? Hiding? Worse?! She can’t breathe right. The phone rings and rings as she dials his number. He doesn’t answer and she starts hyperventilating as she runs for the car. She calls her driver and manages to choke out “Waystar building, right away, please.”

Her coat half on in the freezing air, she jumps into the waiting SUV and calls him again. When she hears his voice on his voicemail, she starts feeling truly terrified. Why would he not answer his phone in the middle of this?? She doubles over and tries to breathe as heavy rain starts to pound on the car.

Her driver glances back at her but she’s too scared to even try to explain. She dials again, still no answer. Just the voicemail message. She frantically pushes away the thought that that’s how she’ll hear his voice now. She waits to hear the beep.

“Kendall!” She practically yells. “Call me! Call me, please call me and tell me you’re okay. Call me. Ken. Call me. Please.”

The drive seems to take hours. The rain makes the traffic even worse than usual and she curses her lack of recollection of the subway system. She dials Jess and is relieved that she answers on the first ring.

“Hi, Rava,” Jess answers through panting and panic.

“Is Kendall okay?” Rava asks helplessly. "Are you okay?"

“Um-“ Jess sounds like she’s running. “I don’t- I don’t know, I’m being taken to a room somewhere but I don’t see him- but that doesn’t mean anything. Everyone’s running around. I’m sorry!”

“Oh, my god,” she lets out a yelp of true terror. “How is this possible- is anyone- you know?”

“I don’t know, I just heard a shot and some people said maybe more than one? But I haven’t seen anything- um, okay, they’re making everyone hang up so we can hear safety procedures? I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything or if he shows up. When he’s here, I mean.”

Rava covers her mouth. She can hear the blood pounding in her ears.

“Stay safe, Jess! Please call me! I’m coming.”

The beeps to end the call seem louder than normal. Rava panics and dials Roman.

“Oh, good, a connection to what almost passes for civilization,” he answers. She drops her head back for a second and realizes she forgot that Kendall told her he’s been out of the office at management training all week.

“Roman,” Rava starts tearfully. “You don’t know? There’s a shooter at Waystar.”

“Oh, holy fuck, what? Are you fucking with me?”

“No! Kendall’s not answering his phone, Jess is being hidden somewhere and he’s not there. I have to call Shiv.”

“What the f-“ Rava hangs up and dials Shiv. Straight to voicemail like it’s off. She begins to really cry and falls toward the seat. He said he was coming home at 7:00.

The car pulls up and she practically falls out of it trying to get out as fast as she can. Armed guards stand outside and look suspiciously at everyone in sight. Police cars line the street, scattered protesters stare up at the building, news crews are everywhere.

“Excuse me! Is Kendall Roy in there? Is he okay? Where is he?” she calls desperately to the nearest security guard.

“Please stand clear, ma’am. Police orders. This is a crime scene.”

“NO! My husband is in this building and I need to know if he is safe! Kendall Roy.” The guard appears unmoved. “As in Royco?!” She has never talked to anyone like that in her life, but she will do whatever it takes.

“We’ll update everyone when we have more information.”

She practically screams in frustration and calls Kendall again. The rings end early and his live voice sends waves of relief like she couldn’t even imagine over her.

“Hey! Fuck, sorry, I just heard your message and I was going to-“

“Oh, what the fuck,” she sobs into the phone. “Ken! Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you?”

He sounds like Jess had, being hustled through hallways.

“I’m- yeah, I’m fine, I was making a call on the roof til it started raining and I didn’t even know about this until about a minute ago when these guys came and found me.” He covers the mic. “Excuse me! Where are we going?” he asks the security guards. Rava can hear heavy breathing and yelps and alarms and hurried footsteps in the background.

“Safe room,” Rava hears a guard’s muffled voice through the noise. “With Logan.”

“With- uh- what, no, is there a different-“

“Kendall! Go to the safe room!” Rava yells into the phone. He looks at the phone in surprise and then it really hits him what she must have thought.

“I’m going. Hey, I’m sorry, I’m fine. Really. I mean, it’s possible this was all orchestrated by Dad to get me alone and threaten me.“

Neither of them knows if he’s joking. Rava puts her hand on her face.

“Please. Are you almost to the room? Have they caught the- whoever was-“

“Uh, I don’t know. Not sure, we’re almost there, though.”

“Do not hang up on me,” Rava says sternly, but he can feel where it’s coming from through the phone.

“I won’t. It’s okay. I promise.”

He can’t promise that and she knows it, but hearing it in his voice makes her feel a little bit better. She doesn’t want to be too dramatic.

“Can they just let you out of there? I-“ her breath catches. “-it would be really good to see you right now,” she tries, knowing there’s no way they’re just letting one person out.

“I agree, but they’re not letting anyone out. These guys have the kind of guns Ravenhead loves to talk about.” The door opens in front of him.

“We’re here, head inside, please,” the guard orders.

“Okay, I’m here at the safe room,” he reports to Rava. She’s suddenly beyond exhausted and plops down onto a bench in the wide courtyard in front of the Waystar building.

Kendall steps inside, dreading what Logan’s reaction will be, whether he’ll even let him in. But Logan’s up and striding over as fast as Kendall has ever seen him.

“Kendall!” Rava hears Logan’s voice through the phone. “Are you all right, son? Where were you?”

Kendall can’t believe the embrace he’s getting. He hesitantly hugs his dad back and finds himself wishing against his will that it could last longer.

“Uh- yeah, I’m fine, Dad. I was fine.”

Logan nods and pats his arm before going to sit back down. Kendall takes half a second to remember that he’s still his father’s son, regardless of what’s going on with the company.

“You’re in? You’re okay?” Rava asks nervously.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Thank God. Fuck. I don’t-“ she shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life.” The adrenaline has kept her warm so far but now the cold is getting to her and she zips her coat, gazing up at the building and willing him to come walking out the doors. She longs to feel him against her, to squeeze him and feel his heartbeat.

“I really am sorry, I- I should’ve answered, I was on a call and thought I’d just call you right back and then they came up-“ he begins.

Gerri hangs up her phone and interrupts the moment.

“It was an ATN employee… a suicide,” she tells the room delicately. Kendall glances down and he’s suddenly pulled away from his conversation, from the present moment. He has uncomfortable flashbacks to wondering if anyone would notice. If anyone would care. Logan looks at him for a second and Kendall feels a disturbing connection to know it’s in his head too. The only other person who knew how he used to feel. It’s a wake-up call to see how worried his dad was just now. To hear Rava’s panicked crying at the mere thought. He thinks maybe he’ll never tell her what he used to think about when he was left alone for too long.

“Uh-“ he clears his throat as he and Logan break eye contact and he turns his attention back to the call. “I’m not sure if you heard that… someone- killed himself… at his desk. It’s- it’s him only. No one else.” He wonders what they would have said about him.

“Oh,” she breathes out. “That’s sad… Does that- um, are you coming outside now?” she asks, knowing that’s much too hopeful.

“No, I think we have to be in here a little while longer?” But his head is elsewhere. “Hang on a sec.” He taps one of the guards near the door a bit nervously. “Um. Do you know who it was?”

The guard shakes his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step toward Gerri. “Who was it, do we know?” he asks her.

“A- Mark Johnson?” she says, scrolling through an email from Karolina about the incident. Kendall knew there was a small chance he’d know the name, but he still feels guilty that he doesn’t.

“Oh. Okay.” He wonders if there’s anything that could have been done. The therapists told him there was always something to live for.

“Did you know him?” Rava asks.

“No,” he answers.

But it’s still more upsetting than he’d like to admit. He looks around the room and thinks he should go to talk to Shiv. It’s been a while and he wants to know what’s going on. Maybe she can distract him. Or maybe she can talk. He glances at Gerri and Logan talking to Rhea and wants to make an appearance in that conversation too. If Logan’s going after Pierce, Kendall needs to make it clear that he won’t.

“Uh, I’m going to go make sure everyone else is okay,” he says into the phone. “Yeah? I’ll call you as soon as we get the go-ahead.”

“Oh, okay. I’m right outside for you,” she says. He likes the sound of that. “I’ll see you soon.” She doesn’t like this situation but she knows it could be hours.

“Okay, thanks, Rav. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They hang up and Kendall cautiously makes his way over to the corner where Gerri and Logan and Rhea are talking. He wouldn’t have normally attempted it, but Logan’s concern prompts him to think he might be allowed in.

Gerri’s talking in a low voice about Mark Johnson.

“Apparently he emailed a close friend last week, talking of a ‘culture of bullying.’”

“It’s a newsroom, not a kindergarten,” says Logan as he rolls his eyes. Gerri hesitates.

“Tragically, he also had a history of incidences of – well, not really, mental illness, which he was medicated for through our health plan?”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t get out and muddy the waters,” Logan replies darkly.

Kendall feels like someone’s punched him in the stomach and changes his mind about being a part of this. He walks over to Shiv. He wants out of this room and into Rava’s arms.

“Hey,” he starts.

Shiv’s scrolling on her phone and glances up at him, pressing her lips together for a second as she decides on a tone.

“Hey,” she says carefully, with just enough attitude to make it clear that she’s on Dad’s side.

“Can we talk? Like…” he gauges her weirded out reaction. “Actually talk?”

“Um… I guess?” she says as she glances toward Logan.

They move around the corner and she looks at him expectantly.

“So you’re working here now?” he asks.

Her expression turns suspicious.

“Just observing. Why? You know, that’s company information, not for outsiders,” she smiles. He nods and raises his eyebrows.

“Right. But you’re not an outsider?” he challenges.

“Oh! No, I am,” Shiv says with a sarcastic nonchalance.

“So, Rhea,” Logan says smoothly from the other side of the wall. Kendall and Shiv both turn their heads at the sound of his voice moving back into business mode. “Let’s get into it. There’s a price. Let’s cut the bullshit.”

The siblings look at each other warily as they both lean in Logan’s direction to hear better.

“Well, I’m a mere conduit, so feel free to give some numbers, but it’s a hard no from the Pierces.”

“Twenty-one billion.” Shiv looks alarmed and her eyes dart to Kendall. She’s dismayed to see his lack of surprise.

“Why aren’t you more shocked by this?” she asks. “Oh, fuck. You’ve been in contact. This is all an act? Is this why you’re here today?”

“No, Shiv. I’m here because I need to keep up with what’s going on here and I’m not shocked because I’m taking over the company I’ve worked at for seventeen years. I know what Dad wanted to bid.”

“Fuck off, I don’t believe you,” she whispers as they both quiet down to listen to Rhea’s low-key reaction to the staggering number.

“It’s like Shiv said, the cultures just aren’t compatible,” Rhea answers. Shiv gives Kendall a smug look. “It’s an emotional matter for the Pierces. Money is not irrelevant, but how can I put it-?”

Kendall knows Rhea is really here to shut it all down. He makes a split-second decision to call her bluff. Maybe there is no number big enough. Before Shiv or Logan can stop him, he steps back out into the main part of the room.

“-Relevant?” he finishes. Logan and Rhea look up at him and he feels his heart hammering in his chest. “I mean, let’s be honest here. What is it- twenty-one five?”

Shiv runs up behind him.

“Excuse me?” she looks at Logan. His expression is complicated. “Dad! He can’t just say numbers. Can he?” Kendall holds strong and hopes his dad won’t shut him down.

They’re both glued to Logan’s face and Rhea seems reluctantly enthralled by the family drama. Logan’s anger at the move is simmering under the surface, but Kendall can see that he’s grappling. He wants Rhea’s yes more than he wants to shut Kendall down. The moment feels like it lasts a week but finally, Logan nods. Authority approved.

“Bidding against yourself,” Rhea smiles. Kendall’s emboldened.

“Twenty-two,” he says without breaking eye contact with Rhea.

“Jesus, Ken.” Shiv stares at him.

Rhea’s grin continues.

“That doesn’t sound like a real offer.”

“It’s real,” Kendall confirms more confidently. Rhea raises her eyebrows.

“I’ll really have to take this to the Pierces,” she demurs.

“Uh-huh,” Logan says. “Thank you, kids. Rhea, I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you.” His phone rings and he steps away to answer it. “Marcia. Yeah, yeah, fine. Just some ‘mental illness’ fuck…”

Shiv walks over to a couch and calls Tom, leaving Kendall standing with Rhea. He tries to read her face.

“This isn’t what the Pierces want,” he says, as both a statement and a question. Rhea smiles.

“No,” she confirms. He was right. If she’s saying no to twenty-two, there’s no way this is happening.

“Well, frankly, I think you deserve complete transparency. I don’t think my dad should start something he can’t finish. His tenure, as storied as it is, is going to come to an end when I take over. And I agree with you. It’s just not the direction we want to take the company, Sandy and Stewy and I.”

“Mmhmm. Yeah. I understand that. I have a feeling your dad won’t give up until he gets a solid answer from Nan Pierce though.”

“Right,” Kendall says. “Well. I think we can be confident what that answer will be.”

Rhea gives him an enigmatic look. She can communicate with just her eyes and he knows she sees the same future he does.

“It is going to be you, isn’t it?” she says, more as a statement than a question.

He takes a breath.

“Yes. It is.”

She nods subtly. He nods back and she goes to sit down.

Kendall takes a second to collect himself before sliding back down into the current reality of what has happened today. He looks over at Shiv hanging up the phone and thinks he’d really like to try again to connect to her. He cautiously makes his way over to the corner she’s standing in behind the side wall, hidden from the rest of the room. He can’t help himself and lowers his voice.

“Hey. Did Dad promise you… something?”

Shiv tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Nope. No… did he promise you something?” she asks, concern bleeding through her façade of calm.

Kendall decides to keep it vague. The sadness starts creeping up again and sucking away his adrenaline.

“Well. He’s promised me a lot of things.”

“Old news, Ken.”

“I mean, it’s not. Turn on the literal news and they’ve been talking about it.”

“Mmhmm.” Shiv returns to her phone before flitting her eyes back up when she feels that he’s still looking at her. “…What?” she asks.

“Did you know the guy?”

“Who- the guy who- with the gun? No. Why, did you?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Fucking… terrible, though.”

“Yeah,” Shiv shrugs. “Sad,” she adds in an obligatory tone. He’s too quiet. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“I mean, no one knows him, or- cares? Dad was over there talking about publishing his mental illness, like…” She looks at him expectantly. “You know.” She gives him a blank look. “It’s what they would say, Shiv. About me.”

“Well, they’re speculating with him. But everybody knows for sure how fucked up you are,” she jokes. He doesn’t laugh and his eyes stay on the table next to him.

She gives him an uncertain look. The news is really sinking in now and making him more upset by the minute. The fact that an employee brought a gun in the office, the fact that someone in his company killed himself because of policies Kendall could have improved. The idea that more than one person thought he might have been dead today. The things Logan and Gerri would’ve said if he’d gone through with it years ago. The distance between him and his siblings now. It’s too much. He just wants it all to go away for a minute. She sees his face and doesn’t really know what to do.

“Come here. Give me a hug,” he says quietly.

“Wha-?” she starts. He pulls her in and stays there for longer than she’d expect.

“Ken. Hey. That’s not you.” She rubs his back for a second and pulls back to look at him. “Wait, you’re not, like.. thinking of-? Because, you know, Dad would be pissed. Who would he talk shit about to the lackeys?” Kendall has to restrain himself from asking if she’s kidding. She looks at him like he’s crazy. “It is just a company.” He looks at her like she should know it’s not. “It is. Not really worth…” She gestures at him. “…this, you know.” He shakes his head.

“Not the company. Not really. I just… I don’t know. Someone should have noticed something with this guy. They just- should’ve noticed.”

She gives him a long look.

“You wanna talk some more?”

He looks at her and hates that he feels like he can’t trust her to keep it all to herself. He flashes back to holding her as a baby and wants to cry at the thought that he can’t tell her anything. It’s so quiet for a second that they can hear the rain dripping down the windows outside.

“I- I really can’t.”

….

After what feels like an eternity, Kendall finally trudges out of the Waystar doors into the drizzle. Rava’s head snaps up at the sight of him and slides out of the SUV to run across the courtyard and throw her arms around him in her puffy coat.

“Oh,” she whispers. “You’re here.” He lays his head on her shoulder and just lets the news photographers snap their shots. He’s so relieved and lets his shoulders drop. He hadn’t even realized they’d been practically around his ears. She doesn’t let him go for a whole minute and she’s teary again when they separate just enough to walk over and get in the backseat. She’s a little surprised that he’s teary, too. She opens her arms again when they’re inside and the door is shut, enclosing them in the safe, heated interior with tinted windows. He leans into her and stays in her arms the whole way home. He tells her the whole story and she tries to stay even-keeled while telling him her side. When they’re home, she takes him inside, and even though he has to email Stewy to tell him about Rhea and figure out how he’s going to get Roman to tell him the whole truth about PGM as things develop, he’s just feeling emotionally exhausted. So he lets Rava lead him to their room and slowly pull on some pajamas before she guides him into bed and holds him to her. She takes the remote from the bedside table and starts the fire in the fireplace. While the flame shadows dance on the walls, she nestles into him and slowly kisses his cheek, once, twice, three times. He closes his eyes.

Her lips touch his and he needs them to feel like one. He pulls the comforter over them both and rolls her on top of him for a deep and slow connection that they both need after everything they’ve been through since this morning. He needs comfort, needs to give comfort, and she wants to be taken care of after such a dangerous day. He holds her close and they share each other’s air. They’d rather have less oxygen than be more than an inch apart.

They end the day lying still in the light of the fire, wrapped up in each other with no plan to move. They don’t need words to express themselves and he’s grateful just to have time to exist where there’s nothing to prove. She just wants him to lie there with her. Deep tiredness hits him hard after such a taxing day. Even though he has no idea what time it is and is pretty sure it’s still early evening, he lets himself slip into sleep. His even breathing and the way he cuddles up to her in his sleep make Rava feel like utter mush and she kisses his head before she follows after him and floats into sleep.

….

On December twenty-third, Rava wakes up still on her side facing Kendall as he lies on his back. She glances at his phone screen as he scrolls. An Instagram profile full of professional photos, galas, upscale restaurants and bars… she squints a little in her morning haze and sees the username clearly. MarkJohnson.

She blinks and he realizes she’s awake.

“Hey,” he says, closing the app. He looks haunted.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to close it,” she says. “I thought you didn’t know him.”

“Uh, yeah, I didn’t.” He pauses. “Probably should have. I dunno. I wish I had.”

She runs her fingers over his forearm. She’s still getting used to his newfound enlightenment and desire to be the one to help post-rehab.

“Oh, Ken, you couldn’t have done anything.”

He doesn’t love that attitude but he reminds himself it’s coming from not wanting him to feel guilty. He looks at the comforter.

“He sent an email to his friend saying it was a culture of bullying. My company. I could have done something.”

“You can’t control everyone at the company,” Rava sounds too indifferent and it makes him kind of upset. He doesn’t want to say anything. She glances at him. “I mean, you couldn’t have known, his Instagram looks like a lot of fun,” she prompts. He nods.

“Yeah.” They’re quiet for a moment. “I might start a foundation.”

“For this guy-?”

“Yeah, I mean, you know, for people who are struggling. Like… it doesn’t have to end like that.” He considers how differently he would’ve felt if he’d known that in the future he would be lying next to Rava and on his way to taking over Waystar.

Rava’s a little touched.

“Well, that would be nice,” she affirms as she sits up in bed and reaches for his sweater to pull over her tank top.

“Or- something for addicts, maybe. Maybe both. There’s kind of a lot of crossover. You know? Maybe he had a problem. He had a lot of party pictures? I- I was at some of those galas.”

Rava looks back and realizes his voice was wobbling.

“Hey,” she says, laying back down and giving him a hug. “You don’t know what caused it. It was probably complicated.” She pats his back.

Everyone’s so quick to dismiss and he tries not to spill a tear onto the sweater she’s wearing. But she notices.

“Oh, Ken, what’s-“

“Nothing. It’s just- fucking… sad.” He sniffles and sits up. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

She looks at him with concern.

“You sure?”

He shrugs.

“Uh- yeah. I’m gonna get some breakfast… yeah? You want something?”

“Yeah. I’ll be in in a minute,” she says.

He nods slowly and gets up and walks toward their bathroom. She thinks he looks like he has a hundred pounds on his shoulders. She follows him into the bathroom after a minute and finds him leaning against the wall by the sink with the water running and a silent tear on his face.

“Oh,” she pulls him close and he lets her. She turns the water off.

“Uh…” he wipes the tear from his face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s sweet that you care. It is sad!” She keeps one arm around his waist and touches his face with her free hand.

“It could’ve been- anyone. You know?” He finds himself wishing she did know.

“Sure,” she says.

“Dad’s gonna publish that he was insane because he was on some prescription through the company. You- you know he’d do that to me. He basically already did.”

Logan’s shaming for being a human being never seems to stop, Rava thinks.

“Well,” she says, “that would pale in comparison to the headlines I’d get printed about his Viagra use. And of course his death by daughter-in-law.” Kendall laughs a little through the tears and she squeezes him. “He’s such a…. fuck him,” she says. He nods and tries to get it together.

“It’s okay to fall apart,” she tells him.

He shakes his head.

“Not doing that.” He takes a deep breath and she nods and takes his hand as they walk out to the breakfast table. He sits down and looks at her across the round edge of the breakfast table. “So, tell me what’s going on,” he says. “Something else. It’s- it’s not good for me to think about this anymore.” She gives him a worried look but obliges. She sighs as she forces herself to talk about her situation.

“Well, I called that firm Robert knows to take the case,” she says a little regretfully. Her face is pained. “I- couldn’t handle it on my own I guess.” She smiles a forced smile of embarrassment. “I’m still the attorney of record,” she adds, feeling like she must sound lame, “but they’re mostly handling the day to day now.” She shrugs. “It’s… disappointing. But I’m staying up on it as much as I can. They’re already making more progress with getting documentation.”

He nods and holds her hand. He knows the feeling of failure.

“Well, it’s good for those guys. Tony, yeah? And the other guy?”

“Yeah,” she says reluctantly. “Yes it is.”

“I don’t mean you weren’t good. I mean- you know. If they can solve it. If they can find the guy who disappeared. What’s the resort company called?”

“Um, Triangle Properties.” Kendall thinks for a second about whether he recognizes it. No.

“Uh-huh.”

They look at each other and it sinks in that they have nothing good to talk about at this moment. They pick at breakfast for a few minutes.

“You want to watch tv?” she asks.

“Yeah. That would be good.”

They take their coffees and head into the family room for some low-key zone-out time. She flips on the set and spreads one of the blankets over them both.

“The kids are out?” Kendall asks.

“With Malaya, at the new science museum exhibit. Iverson wanted to go.” Kendall nods. He kind of wishes they were going, too. He could use a distraction and he thinks Rava could, too.

“I’m supposed to have lunch with a couple of the girls today,” Rava says, more like it’s a question than a statement.

“Oh.” Kendall tries not to make his disappointment obvious. “Uh… yeah. Okay."

"I just promised them because it's been so long."

“Right. Sure,” he pushes a smile onto his face. She should have a distraction.

After the show has ended and Rava has gotten ready, she walks over to kiss Kendall, still in his robe in his armchair.

“Don’t go,” he says, only half-serious.

“Ohh, I’ll be home before you know it. But you could have a friend over, too.” She smiles, “or don’t you have any of those?” she teases.

“I have friends,” he insists.

“Outside of business acquaintances?”

“Well, Stewy’s not a business acquaintance.”

“Business partner,” she says as if that distinction is not the point.

He feels regretful for having given up so many of his party friends from the old days, but he’d known he had to do it.

“It was part of rehab to end those other friendships,” he says, trying not to sound annoyed that she would forget that. “You know that.”

“Ken, I’m messing with you. You’re fine.”

“Ivey will build the Lego skyline with me when he gets back.”

“Adult friends, Ken,” she smiles.

“Uh, well, you’re my adult friend,” he says as he purposely looks her up and down.

She smiles a little sadly and glances down at herself.

“Not exactly looking my best these days,” she sighs.

“What? You look good every day.”

She looks at him for half a second and looks away. He can tell her confidence is shaken by the loss of control over the case.

“Come here!” he says lightly.

She walks over and he gently pulls her down to kiss him.

“What are you going to do while I’m out?” she asks him.

“Uh, just work out, and… yeah, I have to call Sandy.”

“Okay. I should probably join you in the gym. Gonna go eat instead,” she’s says in a regretful yet amused voice.

“Hey, stop that. Seriously. I have to work out,” he says seriously. “You know. Every day it has to happen. But that’s my shit.” She nods. “You look hot.” He means it but she laughs it off.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you when I’m back,” she says without a lot of feeling.

….

On December twenty-fourth, the Waystar Christmas party is in full swing. The cocktails are flowing, the festive attire is sparkling, the band is playing, and Rava is grimacing. Kendall looks over and doesn’t miss the expression.

“I know, last place you want to be right now,” he sighs. “It’s only 4:00. We’ll be out of here in no time. I just have to talk to Dad.”

She nods because she gets it and she sighs because she doesn’t want to get it.

Logan’s across the room and she hopes he’s feeling as un-grinch-like as possible. She watches Kendall eyeing him cautiously.

“This is the last chance I have to save Vaulter,” he says nervously. “Next time I see him- I don’t even know. A month? Argestes? It’ll be too late.”

“Oh yeah,” Rava says. “I forgot about that trip.” She always liked it out there, minus all the networking. “Well, go do it. You can get this taken care of and we can go home?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You know, it’s kind of fucked up that there’s this party when Mark Johnson…” his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. She squeezes his hand.

“I know. But you’re here to fix the Vaulter situation for all those people. They need you,” she reminds him.

He nods and takes a deep breath and summons the strength to walk to where Logan is standing with Colin not far behind.

She watches from across the room as Kendall approaches his dad. He starts off nice, and she can see his harder business persona come out as she’s sure they’re getting into the nitty-gritty. After a surprisingly brief conversation, Kendall bounds back over to Rava.

“It’s done. I convinced him. He’s keeping it.”

“Just like that?”

“This- this is a new level, I think. I’m playing him, Rav. We’re playing chess. Like equals. He fucking listened to me.”

“He’s listened to you plenty of times before!”

“Yeah- yeah, but this was another level. This was real shit, like- there was respect there. I showed him I did the work, I had the full answer for everything he asked. He said Roman agreed with me.”

Rava pats his arm.

“Honestly, that’s great, Ken.”

He’s basking in the glory of being heard as Rava glances around at the attendees. Her eyes stop when she sees a tall, thin blonde with fake cleavage spilling out of her tight dress walking by and smiling at Kendall.

“Hi, Kendall,” she says in a breathy voice as she passes them.

Rava turns her head and swings it back around to stare at him. He’s looking at his watch.

“Um, who was that?” she asks, eyes a little wider than necessary. He shrugs.

“Nobody, just, uh, some girl I went on a date with last year.” She keeps staring at him. “It was nothing.”

Rava looks down at her corporate-appropriate dress and takes in a bit of a sharp breath.

“Oh. You… went out with her?”

“One time.”

“Oh. Okay.” She raises her eyebrows and wishes for a mirror. He saw her, he asked her out.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing, you know, just that she can’t be more than twenty-five.”

He shakes his head and tries to brush it off.

“I don’t know how old she is. It doesn’t matter, it was nothing.”

She reaches behind her head to fix her hair.

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He half-smiles at her. She can’t seriously be worried about this.

“Nothing even happened.”

She grimaces at the idea of anything happening, of him comparing her to that girl. Nothing happened. She wonders if they kissed at the end of the date. The idea makes her sick.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, I promise.”

She tries to seem casual, like she’s making a joke.

“But you wanted it to, though.”

He looks right at her.

“Actually, I didn’t. She’s really not my type.”

“Right, yes, I’m sure you hate perfect, beautiful, young-”

He smiles.

“Stop. You are perfect, beautiful, and young.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Oh, right,” she says, walking ahead of him a step. He reaches for her hand and grabs it.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, the dermatologist?”

He shakes his head and laughs.

“Don’t say that.”

She looks back at him.

“Stop smiling!” she insists.

“I’m smiling because this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, you were so miserable without me,” she says in a mocking tone.

He looks at her seriously.

“I was.”

She shifts uncomfortably and he slips his arms around her waist, looking into her eyes. She squirms a little and avoids looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She starts moving away and he keeps her there.

“Hey. I mean it, I was.”

She wrinkles her nose.

“Please, I didn’t even look like that when I was twenty-two.”

“I don’t want you to look like that.”

“You asked her out.”

He doesn’t know whether the truth is better or worse.

“Actually-“ He drops his head down and looks up at her. He tells himself not to mention that Rava had a whole pseudo-relationship and tries not to smirk or gloat.  “She asked me out.”

She sucks in one cheek.

“Oh, good. A slutty model,” she says semi-seriously.

“I wouldn’t know. One date, Rav.” He gazes at her and she avoids eye contact. “I-I wished she was you. I fucking wished everyone I talked to was you.”

She sighs and finally looks at him.

“Really?”

“Of course, really. Fuck, don’t get all… fake at the doctor.” He shakes his head. “You’re perfect. Come here.” He pulls her in and she leans against him. She’s briefly amused that he’s blissfully unaware of her expertly-done skin treatments.

“Does she know you’re married again now?” she asks in that fake-joking voice again as she squeezes him to her.

“If she reads Page Six.” He still can’t believe she would care about this. “Can we go home now?”

She looks up at him with a small smile and imitates the girl’s voice sarcastically.

“Yes, Kendall.”

He shakes his head again.

“Stop. Let’s go.” He puts his arm around her and they walk out.

….

On December twenty-fifth, Rava hands Kendall a wrapped present after the kids have gone to take post-unwrapping naps. He takes a look at the gift tag.

I thought about sneakers, but this seemed somehow even better. Something for the man who has everything.

The phrase used to be a dark joke to him. He'd thought he had nothing for the longest time and it had always been impossible to explain to anyone but her. He opens the wrapping paper and beholds a well-loved journal.

“It’s my diary,” she smiles. “From the first years we first started dating. I thought you’d like to read what I- well, how I saw you, versus how you saw yourself.”

“I didn’t even know you kept this!” he says with wonder. He opens it up and starts flipping through it, catching snippets on different pages.

If he could take a month away from the Roys, he’d start to see how brilliant he actually is.

I wish I knew how many colors are in Ken’s eyes. I tried to count them once but he blinked. I could honestly look into those eyes forever.

I didn’t know it was even possible to think about someone so much. All I want to do is lie in bed with him every minute. It’s like I physically need him. I don’t know how I’m going to focus on classes when I have to go back to law school next week. I can’t be away from him anymore!

He’s speechless when he looks up at her again. She’s blushing but she’s happy it’s having the intended effect. He glances back down and flips the page one more time.

If Kendall doesn’t propose to me this year I might actually die!!

He chuckles and points to that line, holding it up for her to see.

“Wow,” he laughs. “Good thing I did.”

“Yeah,” she smiles and they gaze at each other. “It is a good thing.”

“This- this is amazing,” he says. “I don’t even- wow.” He looks at her again. “Can’t believe this is real.” He looks down at the book and smiles again. “So, uh, I guess you’re kind of into me.”

“Mmm,” she says as she kisses him. “I guess so.”

He pauses.

“Did you really count the colors in my eyes?”

She smiles.

“Four,” she whispers in his ear.

“Four? No, three.”

“You’re missing the darker green,” she says.

It’s his turn to feel a little hot in his face.

“Okay. So, you’re actually obsessed with me,” he smiles.

“And look how happy you are about it!” she replies.

“You just took out all the bad stuff,” he insists.

She shrugs. “No missing pages!” He flips through the whole thing again. She’s right.

“Okay, I’m absolutely reading every word of this today. But first, I’ll get your gift.”

He pulls out a wrapped gift that’s clearly a frame.

“I don’t know if this is- yeah, this is probably not, you know, great, but- you said you missed when I did art, so…”

She pulls the paper off of a close-up sketch of her smiling in bed, sheets wrapped below her bare shoulders and slightly messy hair framing her face. Sunlight streams through the window behind her.

“How I see you,” he says. “Versus how you see yourself,” he adds.

“I can’t believe you drew this,” she whispers. “It’s so beautiful, I love it. When- when did you even have time to do this?”

He shrugs.

“You know. I made it work. Got the idea at the wedding, the way you woke up,” he smiles. “I just think you should know…” they look at each other. “You know.” She nods. “Come here,” he says quietly.

She cuddles up to him and they wrap their arms around each other. Today, they do have everything.

Chapter 14 💗

[jeniffercheck]

How about a Love confession with a bit of angst?

-prompt-

my fingers slipped and this turned into a little one-shot, thank u for the prompt & enjoy!! also on ao3<3

It’s four in the morning and Shiv is in Karolina’s kitchen.

It’s smaller than her own, more lived in, and less sterile, and Shiv finds it bizarre that she and Karolina have become something entangled. In some ways, they’re the same. Wealthy, assertive women who seek power and prestige only to receive pushback and shame. In most ways, they’re different. Karolina is ice, but Shiv is fire. Karolina understands limits, and Shiv doesn’t know when enough is enough. Karolina is good, Shiv believes that, that Karolina is genuinely good, and Shiv is just bad.

It’s a back and forth, not unlike anything else in Shiv’s life but it couldn’t be more unique. It’s structured and clear. Karolina keeps Shiv where she wants her, and Shiv does everything she can to break out. Karolina doesn’t play the same games that everyone else in Shiv’s life does. She’s careful and calculated, sure, but she’s honest. She takes what she wants and she rejects what she doesn’t.

Which is maybe why it hurts when Karolina says the words.

“I don’t know why you haven’t just signed the papers yet.”

She’s wiping down her counter as she says so, too late to make coffee and too tired for wine. For some reason, the next logical step in her brain is Clorox. Clorox, and the belief that Shiv should just throw the towel in and get the divorce. Just sign the papers.

“That’s easy to say when it’s not you who has to sign them,” Shiv says.

Her eyes are still puffy. The tailgate ended and she felt so sick to her stomach that she didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. She certainly wasn’t going to sleep in the same fucking apartment as Tom. Not with those words still lingering, muddying up the air with their ferocity and viciousness. Their honesty.

Karolina hasn’t asked what exactly happened yet. Shiv thinks she can tell, what with the unusual crying and the fact that Shiv’s wedding band is currently being toyed with in her hand like a pair of Craps die that she’s getting ready to throw, always with a 100% chance of snake eyes.

“Maybe when Mencken wins, they’ll outlaw divorce and you’ll never have to make that choice,” Karolina says. “Become a slave to Tom forever, transfer your bank account to his. Do you think you’ll have to get his permission to sign off on a check?”

Shiv thinks it should make her laugh, and Karolina has a stupid smile on her face that really makes her want to, but the attempt at comfort only makes her feel worse. The fact that she’s sitting here, just told that she’s incapable of love and that she’ll never be a good mother, and Karolina’s just awake, wiping off her counter with bleach and a paper towel while trying to make her smile at four in the morning because that’s what Shiv needed her to do.

She doesn’t know where to draw the lines because a part of her still thinks that Tom would do the same. That if she went home right now and got on her knees and bore her soul to him that he’d take it back and he’d forgive her. That he’d believe her even though he never should have in the first place.

How do you choose between two people who you think would both give you the world if you let them?

“Do you think I’m capable of love?” Shiv suddenly asks, looking at Karolina. She searches Karolina’s eyes for her instinctual reaction, the sign that she wants to say no but is going to say yes, just because she thinks she should tell Shiv whatever it is that she wants to hear, but Karolina’s eyebrows just twitch and her joking smile falls, and she cocks her head with a great, big sigh. Shiv suddenly feels dumb for asking at all. She knows what the answer is. At least, what it should be.

“I think you’re more capable than you’d like to admit,” Karolina says, which, makes Shiv pause because it’s really not the answer she was expecting to hear. Or maybe even the one she wanted to hear, if she’s being honest. She looks away, unable to stand the intensity of Karolina’s gaze. She thinks back to what Marcia had said to her, now seemingly so long ago.

He made you a playground, and you think it’s a whole world.

But how can it not be the whole world when it all feels like this? When love and death and birth are constantly gripping at her and pulling at the seams from every angle. If she isn’t at the center of the whole world then why does it always feel so grave? Like every step she takes and every choice she makes creates quakes that follow her until everything just topples, crushing her in the aftermath.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits. “Why I can’t just feel it like everyone else.”

“You do feel it, though. Don’t you?” Karolina says, eyes suddenly sad. “I don’t think you’d care this much if you didn’t.”

Which makes Shiv feel overcome because it’s the first time anyone’s acknowledged her feelings as caring. Because Karolina is right, Shiv cares so much, maybe too much at times. She cares so much that it’s easier to pretend that she doesn’t, because if anyone knew how desperate she was for the things she wants they’d use it against her and then she’d have nothing and no one and there wouldn’t be a single thing she could do about it. If she keeps everything at arm’s length, then they can never get too close to be pushed away. If everyone is mad at her then that means they’re not indifferent towards her. It’s survival.

“I don’t want to only hurt people,” Shiv admits, tears returning, but she thinks about what she really means. Maybe she can’t fix things with Tom, but maybe she doesn’t have to ruin things with Karolina before they’ve even really started. “I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt him.”

Karolina moves around the counter towards Shiv and hugs her from behind. Shiv grabs onto Karolina’s arms like she doesn’t think she ever has before, wondering if she can just memorize how it feels to have her close so that she won’t fuck it up again. That she’ll choose not to push her away.

“Then don’t,” Karolina says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She pulls Shiv tighter, and Shiv leans into it. She wants this. She really thinks she does.

“I—I think I could let myself love you,” Shiv says, voice shaking. “I don’t know. I’d like to try.”

She waits painstakingly for Karolina’s response, every millisecond feeling like the pit in her stomach is getting wider and wider. She closes her eyes as Karolina kisses the top of her head, voice soft in her ear.

“I think I could let myself love you, too.”

[shivvytheshiv]

ao3 is fucking me up so i’ll post here for the time being. please share with the credits only!!

fandom: hbo succession

ship: roman roy x gerri kellman

themes: it was supposed to be a five times fic but we lower it to three and dont ask questions. precanon + s2 + postcanon. gerri’s practically doing roman character analysis and roman is a slime puppy

It’s 2AM when that happens for the first time — or, at least, that’s how she recalls it an abyss of ten years later. A crazy day filled with Baird’s relatives, hyperactive five graders and “Happy Birthday” pop-tarts was soon to be over, with girls in their beds and Baird hopefully deep in his sleep, and Gerri is cherishing her moment. Any crazy management malfunctions consisting of sleepless nights and Logan throwing laptops at the wall could never stress her out as much as kids birthdays did, but for all she knew she did okay. This one wasn’t a total disaster. Was about time she’d take her mascara off, finish that martini (or what’s left of it), and head to sleep.

Obviously, that’s when the phone rings. How could it not. Gerri takes a long sip and makes up her very own mental kill list, — she will flip Kendall off, she will give Frank a minute to try and talk some sense and flip him off eventually, she will flip Karl off.

”Roman Roy mobile”, her screen confidently says. Gerri likes to think that’s where the problems started.

Roman has always struck her as some twisted middle ground, if that fuckery of a family could ever produce a middle ground. He wasn’t the second Ken, being all over Waystar sniffing cocaine off the executive floor. He wasn’t totally estranged in a different career field (or most literally a field) like Shiv or Connor. Roman was… there, technically. Middle son, various boarding schools, now constantly flying back and forth from California and being a pain in Frank’s ass. Pretty eccentric around the studio. Never missed a corporate retreat. Most information Gerri had on Roman Roy would fit in a nice dry portfolio.

Heavy caged breathing, almost loud enough to disturb the speakers, would not. Sobbing — is he sobbing?

“Gerri. Did they, did I even get the fucking number right? Did they tell you? Are you, like, there yet? You going at all?”

She can physically feel a freezing blow down her spine. He was surely sobbing. Did the old man have a stroke overnight?

“I’m home, Roman. What’s going on?” She tries to balance out the world’s stiffiest question with some softness, too much to her liking, but to no avail.

“Fuck. Fuck! Because I’m dragging my ass all the way from the fucking La-la-land to some hospital, I don’t have the slightest clue where the fuck that’d be, and they didn’t even tell you, and Shiv’s in France for all I know, probably eating a lobster and blowing the cruises dingbat. And dad’s gonna go mental. A great fucking night. They didn’t tell you?”

The shook in his voice is real, and Gerri wishes to believe it’s from the rush: dealing with her own emotions is enough of a challenge, figuring out emotions of a twenty-something nepobaby sounding so broken something sinks down in her ribcage, while knowing so little, is cruel.

“Gerri. Is he, like. Dying?”

Yet, she tries. She puts the glass back on the kitchen sink with a loud, dull noise, she goes for her jacket and the door keys. This fucking job, Gerri thinks. And this fucking family.

“No one is dying, alright? I’ll check on the hospital address and will get back to you. I’ll see you there, Roman.”

*

Surely it was Kendall. Kendall used a bunch and drove his car into an ice cream stand somewhere around Upper Side; smashed the hood, passed out thanks to the airbag and the weight of his own stupidity; the Hosseini kid company didn’t help much. Karolina gets ahold of the situation an hour later, and that’s how Gerri finds out he got away with few broken bones and that the car was apparently Logan’s (a wild and unfortunate combination of factors, if you ask her, but at least Roman’s concerns didn’t live up to be real).

Gerri walks down a hallway and it’s as messy as hospital hallways get: nurses here and there, Shiv’s nervous voice soaking through Karolina’s firm grab (she’s on speakerphone for God knows what reasons), Frank on his phone. She steps into one of the most depressing waiting rooms she’s ever seen and there’s Roman.

Roman is sitting on the floor, head pressed against a couch, eyes closed. An hour isn’t long enough to fall asleep like that, is it? She’s still quiet when sitting down on that very couch. He moves an inch and rests his head against her knee in dead silence.

Not exactly corporate ethics.

“I told you it’s gonna be alright.”

“Yeah, well. He’s one dumb motherfucker.”

The kid’s a mess, after all. Gerri freezes but gives him a moment, — silence, a hand on his forehead, bit of nothing and everything, — and moves out of the picture right before it turns weird.

**

Gerri is reading through an impressive pile of emails when her phone buzzes. And it buzzes some more.

Roman’s been on the trainee programme for three days.

“Roman. What is it?” No deep breaths could help her get through that bullshit, but oh well. Gerri puts him on speaker and tries real hard to concentrate on the legal department’s claims.

“I will literally unalive myself. Not even joking. You have no idea how many rape victims kill themselves per year and this is worse, because that’s mind rape. They have a chainsaw going through my fucking head.”

“You don’t how many rape victims kill themselves per year. How’s that my problem anyway?”

“Yeah, let me think, Professor Fucking Evil. For starters, you sent me.” Roman sounds like he’s about to howl. Gerri hides a smile in her palm and looks around at the office, lights from her lamp playing on glassy walls, her daughters’ framed picture by the computer. Good god, she must look stupid. Nothing about the thing was normal, but Roman Roy had a free pass to everything not-so-normal, and she was genuinely confused at the borders of professionalism and playfulness.

Not unamused though.

“It’s for the better. The outlook back in here is highly positive, Logan’s content, Frank is ecstatic. If I were you I’d strategically choose less whining, more working. Yeah, soldier?”

“Okay, whatever, Herr Gerr. One quality picture would’ve bo-o-o-oosted my work efficiency, just saying.” The line between recent despair in his voice and cat-like audacity is way too blurred.

“Oh, fuck you.”

***

There’s beeps. Some more. Gerri sees him through the matte glass door, back hunched, a red shirt she recognizes from a lifetime before; he doesn’t hang up and stares at the screen. She waits for a split second before hanging up.

Honestly, she’s thankful for not seeing his face.

Gerri thought walking inside is hard but approaching the bar is painful. Roman is gazing at his vodka tonic like there’s some serious answers at the bottom, she breathes in one more and thinks about that nightmare of a company, the work that’s to be done, the way Kendall popped his stitches in that room, the way he stomped all over her twenty five years of work, — not something Gerri would easily forgive, — and the way there’s no saving for these kids. If there was, is it right to drown it in a fucking vodka tonic?

“Hey, rockstar”.

“Hey, molewoman”. A chalk-on-the-board voice. Gerri hesitates for another moment and puts both of her hands over his shoulders.

They stay for a while like that.

[nakedmonkey]

oh my god alex that prompt list is amazing! whoever put it together must be a super awesome rockstar. btw. i would love prompt 3 ("stop being a fucking prick") with a shivlina rockstar au if it strikes you <3

omg the person who put that list together is a genius <3 (Rockstar AU my everything!)

3. "stop being a fucking prick"

“Shiv?” Karolina asks, leaning forward in her seat, biting back a bit of honesty in favor of decorum. Except Shiv ins’t interested in decorum, or basic fucking manners for that matter. She keeps talking to Mike about levels, and layers, and overall doing a great job at alienating Karolina, who’s been sitting around for who knows how long now, waiting for a moment to talk. She looks at her watch and sighs. “Shiv,” she tries again to no avail and, finally, makes the decision to leave.

“I’m gonna go.” 

That little voice in the back of her mind is at it again, reminding her that this is what it’s like with Shiv, and did she really think this would be simple? Karolina gets up, grabs her jacket, shoves her notepad into her bag, cursing herself for being foolish enough to think she could write this piece. Setting aside all the bullshit between them, did she actually really think Shiv would be anywhere near willing to actually do this? Karolina’s halfway out the door before Shiv rolls her chair right in front of her, blocking her path. 

“Why are you gonna go?” Shiv asks. “Thought you wanted to chat.”

Karolina smiles tightly and says, “Yeah, well. That was when I thought you wanted to do this interview, but maybe you’ve changed your mind?” 

“Why would I have done that?”

Shiv’s eyes are wide in that dangerously manipulative way that could easily be mistaken for sincerity and Karolina feels something tighten in her chest at seeing it there. The way recognition gives way to esteem, or whatever remnants of love there might still be in there somewhere, makes her feel nauseous. She swallows it. Reminds herself she walked into this willingly. That if she leaves now, Shiv wins. 

“Oh, because I’ve been sitting around for five hours,” Karolina answers. “It’s well past midnight, I'm tired, and you’re, you know, in your Clive Davis era apparently.”

“Just the nature of the game, Kay,” says Shiv, poisonous sweetness dripping from her voice. Instantly, she clocks the way Karolina’s hand flexes reflexively at the use of that nickname. “It hasn’t been that long, has it? I’m sure you remember.”

“Stop being a fucking prick,” Karolina snaps. She hates how satisfying it is to break and let this back and forth with Shiv happen. “Are we going to do this or what?”

Shiv’s grin slowly spreads into a toothy smile and Karolina rocks her jaw back and forth, waiting for her to cut the shit. There’s the familiar flutter she thinks perhaps she’s conflating with anxiety again, while Mike grows increasingly uncomfortable somewhere behind them. 

“Should I uh–”

“Go home, Mike,” Shiv says and he mumbles a “thank you” before scurrying away while Shiv rolls her seat back into place and Karolina watches her intently, steeling herself for the incoming battle this interview will surely turn into.

Shiv takes a deep breath, crosses her legs and says, “Okay. Let’s have a chat.” 

[zalrb]

Anonymous asked:

What’s your read on Logan and Kendall’s relationship? I go back and forth about Logan’s intentions and sincerity with all his kids. He blackmails shiv and Kendall in season 1, but they also seem to be the 2 that get him to be the most emotional? He obviously loves them but yah his relationship with Kendall the first two seasons was all over the place lol

It's funny because I read this and I was like aw, poor Roman, he's not even mentioned! And then I was like ... wow, I totally forgot about Connor. And I just did a rewatch.

Something I found interesting is when Logan is "piss mad" and Kendall is yelling

he's genuinely upset that Kendall is upset

and in fact wants to yell at whoever made "Frank" upset because only he can be nasty "Frank"

and that, I think, epitomizes Logan's relationship to all of his children (less so Connor but that's because Connor isn't trying to be a successor) but especially Kendall. He can be nasty to Kendall but no one else -- including Kendall and it usually is Kendall -- can be nasty to Kendall so for instance,

In season 1, he can plant stories about Kendall and tear him down

but he also wants to make sure that Kendall isn't tearing himself down

In season 2 ... first, I want to say, we don't actually know what happened, but Logan blames himself for whatever happened to his sister

so I actually think that when the waiter died and Kendall felt that tremendous guilt, Logan understood what that felt like and had as much empathy as someone like him could feel about the situation because of it

I also think Logan doesn't know how to love without control. So, when Kendall was basically Pod Ken and did everything Logan said no question, knew his role, was a good little soldier, effectively paid him fealty

he was more overt with his affection and his favour

(this framing is also important because it also shows that he has Kendall trapped)

and defends him from the others

but the minute Kendall starts pushing back or does something Logan considers out of line, even if it's a slip of the tongue, even if Kendall doesn't mean to be insulting, Logan is going to tear him down to build him back up. So, with the whole Rhea situation, Kendall deigns to ask Logan if he knows what he's doing

and Logan takes offence to that and counters with making Kendall go to the waiter's house with him to see his parents

tearing him down while simultaneously reminding him that they're "in this together"

making him interact with the parents, and then attempting to alleviate him of his guilt because he doesn't want Kendall tearing himself down

and then in the next episode, while he messes around with Rhea a bit, he backs off (which is definitely also because of her)

and he also stops seeing Jennifer after convincing her to leave the play because Logan doesn't approve.

At the same time, Logan doesn't respect a Kendall who is under his thumb, he respects a Kendall who fights to take over the company

like even when he fucks with Kendall’s head by giving him the option of a buy out on his birthday

when Kendall actually wants to take it and disappear Logan says no

but Logan can't handle any of his children actually succeeding him, he wouldn’t be able to handle Kendall actually winning and he takes it out on the waiter

(much like how he takes out his anger at Shiv on Roman)

He gets angry when one of them fixes a problem, like with Shiv, he gets angry when she stops the vote by giving away a board seat

and it’s the same reaction he had to when Kendall solved the debt problem

and Kendall is the one who sees and understands these kinds of contradictions within Logan

so yeah, their relationship is all over the place because Logan is a narcissist and it’s full of contradictions.

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

So sorry if you've been asked this before but in your Yellowsuccess universe, how do you think Shiv's relationships with her brothers would have changed after her rescue both in terms of how they related to each other as teenagers and adults (sorry tried to make a question mark but my keyboard is broken).

Ooh, thanks for asking! I definitley think it would make the brothers more protective of her, at least at first. Shiv, however, would want things to automatically go back to normal so would start ragging on them and making fun of their big feelings almost immediately after the initial tearful bear hug of a reunion. I got a whole scene planned of her just being the biggest shit to them and after some shock, they eagerly play into it because it's so much better to pretend everything's gone back to normal than to truly acknowledge what she went through.

So their relationship appears to stay the same, but of course more is going on underneath the surface. The brothers probably talk in private about...the rumors. Roman is in denial, but goes back and forth between brushing it off and alluding to it in cruel jokes when he and Shiv are really at each other's throats. Connor is confident Shiv dipped into the ol' cannibalism pot, and cites all the survivalist examples such as the Donner Party and the Andes soccer team that had to resort to it. He rationalizes it all quite calmly, not really getting why everyone is so shocked at the idea. Ken wavers. In his mind, he is the Eldest Boy and Shiv is the Baby Sister. Always. I think he would be the most protective, and that may come out in him infantalizing her so much internally that he refuses to believe she'd be capable of it (Pinky can't dance), but that hard, rational side of him inherited from his father also knows deep down the truth. She survived somehow, after all.

Shiv in canon obviously went through some kind of ordeal before we meet her, so I imagine in this universe this is what makes her "a mess" when she meets Tom. But this doesn't seem to really mess with her dynamic with her brothers that we as the audience can see, so it's my belief that fundamentally none of them are able to really change that dynamic. They can stab each other in the back then provide each other comfort in the next scene. Honestly, I think the ordeal would only solidify these dynamics rather than alter them.

Where the real tension lies is that she never says a real word to them about it all. All she ever does is stare them straight in the eye, smile, and say, "The truth is, the plane crashed. A bunch of our friends died. The rest of us scavenged, starved, and prayed until they finally rescued us."

[fallofromulus]

Roman looks at the President, pointed glance and feels the needed smirk. He can't help himself. He's beaming. "—Yeah, maybe you know — would accept whatever it was that you give me," he laughs. "—Great, glad we are on the same page."

This was awfully something new for Roman, and the cautiousness was driving him insane. He felt the need to stay level-headed in this conversation. Roman can only shrug, and to his dismay, he hated the entire idea of Shiv and Kendall never talking to him again.

But, he's always been lonely.

He's always been on his own, and even if he did meet up with Shiv, Shiv had Tom — Shiv had a baby, Ken had whoever — Connor had Willa — Roman was alone. Did he like being alone? He wasn't sure. In his mind, he wasn't worthy enough for anyone, so it was a big reason he never pursued anything. Maybe getting a cat would adjust this. A dog and a cat. Sounds correct. Roman raises his brows, as if he wants to feel hopefulness. "—No," he agreed. It wouldn't. Shiv would pull out her claws and rip him to shreds, then leave him bleeding.

"I don't —," his voice trails, and it hurts. "There's no reason, if she went public, she would what, expose me for what, being with you? The world would already know. Expose you for whatever she could dig up? To sabotage? Ken fucked around with Dad and Shiv took it upon herself to write a fucking dirty ass letter. This is something out of her control." Roman is talking himself into this. "It's not the worst stone that has been thrown at me."

Roman frowns, listening to Jeryd speak. "So, that's it? You're about to close the chapter on it?" He can't comprehend it. It's all happening so fast, and Roman's heart is catching up with him. He feels something for Jeryd, and it's driving him crazy.

He smiles, looking down at their feet. Then, at Jeryd. Jeryd wears the most beaming grin, and it makes Roman full of bliss and happiness. Roman notices Jeryd's cerulean piercing eyes, taking in every detail of Jeryd. Something stirs in Roman. Maybe, he's — no, that can't be it. There's a bond. He's formed something with Jeryd and in a short period of time, Roman feels dedicated. "Sure about us?" he gestured, pointing to the space between them, moving his finger back and forth. "Yeah, there's a thing — I like it. Feels good. Feels like how we should be."

It's a stretch, but he can't believe he's saying it.

Roman listens attentively, making it known how mischievous he is becoming in all of this. "Oh, already sending the Mystery Gang on the case." He softly smiles. It takes Roman a millisecond to nod his head, and then look up at Jeryd. "Yeah, fine. with it."

Was he?

Daddy dearest was gone, he wouldn't be torturing Roman for being in love with the same sex. He wouldn't torment him. Roman has never been confident in his situation because he never had anyone go to enough distance to actually want to act on it. His flings were nothing. He can't even pinpoint an inkling of what he feels right now with any of them.

Again, Jeryd is the exception to every rule he's made for himself.

Mirroring Roman, his eyebrow raises but he eagerly awaits the answer, watching him as close he can without giving up the pretence of nonchalance. There was a strange fear creeping in. Not that he didn’t think he would be rejected but maybe at some hesitation. “A fan?” He snickers. “I can work with that.” The two of them seemed to be coy about it, getting close to admitting but never quite doing it. 

That was the first person he thought of who would be against like that but he thought there would be some more who would have something to say. “She would be the most vocal but I know how I am and my reputation, I’m not easily liked by some.” Yet he actually liked that and the challenge of it. “This wouldn’t be the same fight,” spoken so calm. “And it would carry through any holidays…she could go public. I remember the letter she published to your brother. You’d get one far worse. Is that something you could handle?” 

It may have been because he as naked in the bathroom but he shifted uncomfortably on the side at Romans question. “We’ve agreed on a divorce.” Spoken so plainly. “It’s not why she came but it’s what she agreed when she left.” Mutual wasn’t the right descriptive but it was something they agreed on, the fault mostly lying at his feet yet no feeling attached to it. 

“I don’t bullshit; if I want it and I say it then I’m serious. You should know that by now,” he gives Roman a playful tap with his foot and a grin to match. “Are you sure? This is about us both.” More serious than he thought. 

He’d be the first which was an extra added pressure and he knows to expect something like this from the other side, not him. “I’ve had some talks after everything happened. Not damage control but running numbers with the guys, see where we stand if anything came out just to be prepared.” It happened shortly after before he was chosen as the nominee. Not being able to help it, he snickers at Romans comment. “It would send the left into a meltdown. They call me homophobic you know? They’d choke on those words.” And he did want to see that level of chaos. “Thing is…I’m fine with my sexuality; I’ve never been ashamed of it so if people know it’s fine. I’m President. I’ve got what I wanted. Can you say the same?” 

[myplasticadversary]

Well actually I go back and forth a lot on exactly how butch I think Shiv would want to be in ideal circumstances. But I feel like it was probably something she daydreamed about a lot as a kid, dressing like a boy and getting her hair really short and picking up ladies and drinking beers and shooting the shit and having a wife, the whole package. Like, doing the role Ken was trying to do but doing it with confidence. And of course she could never act on it because any tomboyish qualities were met with derision, especially from Caroline.

[lewyn-martell]

Logan Roy: does or doesn't want the company to stay in the family?

Under the cut is a reddit comment (and the topic by u/mrjvle for context) I wrote about Logan some time ago and I read it again today and decided I wanted to at least save it here and who knows; maybe folks on tumblr would like to read it too because this was as hard as I could think about this character and I know talk about him is not exactly on demand here. I still struggle thinking about Logan and reading my scrambled thoughts again help me gain a bit more clarity on what I forget/overlook about him sometimes.

Logan Roy: Does or Doesn’t want the company to stay in the family? (by u/mrjvle)

So my sister and I go back on forth on this. She believes Logan is just an mfer who loves messing with his kids, knowing all along he will never leave the company in any of their hands.

I believe he knows they aren’t ready, but wants to see if any of them can put together the complete package. Seems like anytime one of them gets close, they screw it up.

Kendall was attention.

Shiv wants recognition.

Roman wants control.

All 3 have screwed up royally right when they are on the cusp it seems … or did they have no shot at all?

--

This might have been already said here, but my views about Logan are so slippery I need to describe what I'm thinking asap before it goes away hahaha

I think he both wants to and doesn't (for it to stay in the family). He can't bring himself to pass it along with open hands as if it's a gift while he's still alive for a myriad of reasons.

• It's his "safety net" that he made thread by thread with his own two hands (as much as you can claim to do that in capitalism, of course, but I'm sticking with how Logan must view it) and allowed him to leave his unstable life behind (the past is not real), both in regards to financial security and how it was a good excuse/objective for him to distance himself from his actual family due to all that history. Not a guy good at dealing with feelings.

• It represents his life, bigger & greater than his own self (it's his legacy & identity). Logan gave so much of himself to it it's instinctual to guard it and fight for it tooth and nail, even against reason (like when you promised your son he could have it).

• It's absolutely painful for him to give up power & control because of the combo of personality + trauma response + environment that make Logan Roy the special little guy he is today.

• He refuses to face his own mortality. Passing the torch must be a nightmare come to life for him, someone who's afraid of dying (too much death around him going unprocessed) or acknowledging the world doesn't have a space for him anymore, especially when he had to fight for that space since he was a young man (there is a great quote by Brian Cox about Logan "I think at some point in his life, Logan has been brutalised and he's in the process of commiting an act of revenge on the rest of humanity, but for really quite legitimate reasons")

• To expand on that, growing old, I imagine, must be somewhat traumatic or shocking in today's western society if you think about it (been meaning to read more studies about it but always forget) where you are suddenly made to fall back the ladder in nearly all aspects of your life (your body, your mind, sometimes your income, and most importantly the way you're viewed, etc etc etc). It's no surprise for me that the older he gets, the more aggressive he is about hoarding power.

• To quote Kendall, he is jealous and resentful of what he managed to give his kids. He must fully embrace that self made title and to look at what he thought were his little self images just having in their hands everything he had to fight for; it doesn't add up. He should feel glad and proud to pass what he made to these other things he made, but it's obvious it all ended up as a big miscalculation (so to speak. Contrary to popular belief, Logan is not a villanous caricature that wakes up thinking how else he's going to mess with people around him today. More on that later I guess).

What I described above also lays the grounds of why he does want it to stay in the family. Men like him view kids not as their own individuals, but as a extension of himself. He had them in part so he could have what he imagined were perfect kids who would reflect back on him in all the right ways and act exactly the way he wants them to (the other part, I imagine, was the need for the so-called unconditional love that he didn't get to have with his first family and to give his mini Logans what no one gave him).

It's not even far-fetched and too out there that Logan would naturally expect that. A lot of parents imagine the future of their young children as the best they should be, and that mostly means the best THEY think they should be. It's complicated. (Plus, Logan's a narcissist). Add to it the fact that they were his second chance family whom he is sanctioned to have absolute control over and yeah, of course he thought he wanted to pass it along. Of course he groomed them into little business children (amost royalty, dare I say) instead of teaching them the way of the jungle by "not spoiling them". Of course he even agreed to give them enough power to go against him in the divorce settlement. It's something he thinks they should wield, but he also thought they would never have the need to do that to him (that goes into the Love/Power dychotomy of the show) since they would be mini Logans and all their interests should be aligned, with him as The Father and them as the Logan-children.

He couldn't forsee the paradox that would end up being. Just like you said, he believes they aren't ready, but the thing is, they will never be ready (and I disagree with your sister, this isn't a simple thing to have knowledge about. I don't think he knows, even though he suspects). "Ready", for Logan, encompasses them as people (and they'll never be enough), and also himself. He tried to wait for his poor children to make him ready in a way he would be glad to do it, but they could never undo what he so tightly assured would never be undone. They are not little badasses who had to claw their way to the top and Masters of The Game and, again, contrary to popular belief (including Logan's), he would like it LESS if they were. He can't create little Logans without making them bite him back, but he also wants to be the sole Biter and he wants unconditional love from his puppies.

He doesn't want his kids to undermine him and make him weak & defeated, but he also can't just give them the company. There is not a single game these children could play and win (as he has claimed he wants to see "what you kids don't understand it's that it's all part of the game") without him losing. He can't pass the company to his attempted tailor-made self reflections because it's acknowledgment of how much they are Not self reflections. Plus, if he gives it up, it's out of his hands, it's on the hands of his failed copies and that might be even more infuriating than someone completely unrelated.

I can't see Logan as the big bad boogeyman, even though I understand where people are coming from. I understood Lucy Prebble (writer, exec producer) when she said Logan was more of a symbol in the writing than a real character. But to me, it's just harder to see because we are experiencing him through the trauma of his children. I have seen the show multiple times and I still don't think I have this guy pegged, but not because he's just the image of the Abusive Father and I can't see him as a fellow human. I really can't get behind interpretations of Logan as Pure Evil Mastermind who knows exactly what he's doing and why he's doing it, who holds the Rulebook of the Waystar Games and has purpose in his authority. There are no rules. There's not even reason. It's all marching simply to his heartbeat and it's as erratic as you would expect this guy's feelings to be. His kids are not in a fair, logical and clear cut game. Logan will not go gentle into that good night no matter what.

(It also serves as a good correspondence to capitalism itself. How we think They™ are organized and purposeful, evil in their intentions because they See It All and carefully manouvering the world's fate to their whims but it's more like a bunch of delusional dumb dumbs afraid to lose what they have and closing their eyes to any and all bad side effects with worldwide scale for the scramble to get more, lest their wealth comes collecting).

Anyway, I hope I made sense of my Yes And No answer. It's all tangled up to how Logan sees himself, waystar, family, legacy and all his history, basically. It's like a tug of war that it's natural for humans to have inside them, with conflicting wants, needs and biased logic, but blown to Shakespearean scales because of how this guy is made and the size of the playground they're in.

TLDR; Logan loves his kids and he wants the best for them. He also doesn't want the best for them because they need to be like him. He also doesn't want to make them like him because his life sucked balls and because he can't have people taking from him the way he takes from the world. But he also can't just give it to them because Waystar is obsession, power, control, status, identity and security and because he can't just give something that means himself to people who aren't himself or at least mini-hims. His kids also will never be mini hims no matter how hard they try.

.

BTW, regarding your 'wants' for Kendall, Roman and Shiv.

I think if I had only those 3 words, I would shuffle around Kendall's and Roman's... 🤔 Good call that Shiv wants recognition (and tbh I think Ken&Shiv should share the control and recognition ones, their arcs/aspirations are very similar), but of course none of it is only or even mainly what they want... But that's a whole other thing.

[clowndensation]

hii hello <3 I know this is niche but i'm here to offer a succession/dragon age crossover because for some reason my brain needs to mix and mash past and current hyperfixations. i don't have many thoughts currently except the roys being a human noble family in kirkwall and having to interact with hawke and friends. imagine sarcastic hawke interacting with roman - they'd either bond instantly or want to kill each other no in between. logan absolutely despising mages and yet one (or more) of his kids ends up being one. logan hating hawke & co wanting to run them out of town so his kids have to choose between their love for him and maybe doing the Right Thing. also maybe they took a liking to these freaks (affectionate) idk there's so many possibilities!

the succession cast in dragon age... literally let's go.

first of all i 100% absolutely think that connor's mom was a mage, and she was hiding it from logan. so he found out and had her sent away, along with connor (who i don't think actually was a mage, but was either at an age where it was still possible for his magic to develop, or logan didn't trust his mom not to lie. by the time it was confirmed connor wasn't a mage, he was already stained by the association in logan's eyes).

i think, of all logan's children, roman is the most likely one to actually be a mage - getting "sent to military school" instead being the time he was sent off to learn to control his magic. this is why roman is connor's favorite <3. and, this is key, roman learned to control his magic to the extent he can repress it, but absolutely did not learn to actually use it. the fact that his dad allowed him to come back at all contributes a lot to how much romam idolizes his dad, but his mage status has tainted him in his dad's eyes, and he knows it.

i feel like kendall would for sure be the first one to reach out to hawke's crew (to enlist them in helping him overthrow his dad, because hawke and co have definitely run into him before). the arc to take down Logan definitely spans all 3 acts, and in game, you'd get the choice to either appoint shiv, kendall, or roman individually, or let logan stay on (templar bootlicker ending), or convince the siblings to take over their dad's business together (good end, which involves doing a ridiculous amount of personal missions for each of them).

shiv i think would actually have a decent relationship with aveline (and thus hawke), and would be the easiest to convince to low-key support hawke, even though she's kind of back and forth on them taking down her dad during act 1 and most of act 2. shiv would definitely be a refugee supporter, for the record. she's still the most pr-oriented of the kids, and i lowkey think she hates meredith, and is constantly frustrated that roman supports her (because roman has fucked up amounts of self-loathing about his mage status, and makes a point about not caring about mage rights).

also for the record, i think hawke probably likes roman at first, then hates him for going back on the plan to take down Logan in act 1, and it's not until a mission where he reveals his mage status that they actually bond again.

also greg is absolutely a fereldan refugee who got into kirkwall because of his family connection. for the record. and tom is shiv's fereldan husband from a lesser noble house.

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 3

Word Count: 6341 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Boba Fett, Time Travel, Alternating POV, Violence, Injury, Blood, Slavery/Tatooine Slave Culture, Death Mention, Hopeful Ending

Inspiration: Family is more than Blood by Quillfeet

Got this one in by the skin of my teeth lmao. Did my best to handle any sensitive topics as carefully as I could under a time constraint, but feel free to let me know if any issues crop up.

Anakin bounced on his toes, eager to see the stranger who’d drawn so big a crowd long after the suns had set, but unwilling to leave his mom’s side. Not when he could practically feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut through with even the dullest, poorly-made shiv. Still, impatience and curiosity burned through him and his admittedly small well of patience had already been wrung dry after an unbearably long day of having to behave in front of Watto, his customers, and the other masters in the market.

He tugged on his mom’s warm, calloused hand and she squeezed his, her grip tight but not painful as she peered over another slave’s shoulder. She frowned at whatever she saw, brow pinched and her mouth pursed in the way it sometimes did when she tried not to look worried in front of him. Anything that worried his mom like that should have made him nervous. It didn’t. He practically vibrated out of his skin at her side instead, his need to know turning to a prickling itch that crawled up his arms and down his back.

“Mom,” he said, low and in the tongue only Tatooine’s slaves knew, the word drawled out into an almost-whine he was nearly too old for.

His mom only squeezed his hand briefly, a reprimand and warning, and Anakin’s shut his mouth before any of a dozen question slipped through his chapped lips.

One of the slaves, a twi’lek near his mom’s age, on his other side turned their head just enough to make it obvious they’d heard him. He flushed, embarrassed until they winked and shifted so there was a a small gap to see through between them and the human blocking most of Anakin’s view. He wasted no time leaning over, putting most of his negligible weight on one foot so he wouldn’t pull his mom’s hand while he snuck a glance and give himself a away. Not that it mattered.

He gasped, all the breath stolen from his lungs when he caught his first glimpse of a scene seemingly pried free from some of his worst nightmares. Funny enough, the first thing he saw wasn’t the stranger body, but the sand beneath them: wet like someone had spilled water on it and dark red, almost black in the low light of old, flickering lamps made of more rust than metal — most of which he’d helped his mom fix more than once. Eyes wide, his gaze trailed up from there, from the soles of the stranger’s ratty boots to the top of their head for just long enough that the image of them burned itself into his memory.

Too soon and not soon enough, his mom pulled roughly on his arm, tugging him close against her side and hiding his face in her skirt. He clung to the dull, brown fabric and soaked in her familiar warmth even though it did nothing to stop the way his body shook. She squeezed his shoulders, but did nothing to scold him for looking. There was no sheltering a slave from horrible things. Not really.

Anakin had seen a lot of bad things in his terribly long eight years. He’d seen slaves beaten bloody and others blown up, some so violently that there was almost nothing to give back to the sands when they were mourned. He’d watched his mom scream and bleed and, once, beg to take his punishment when he’d been even younger and taking it himself might have killed him. He’d seen slaves in chains marched across the market and put up for auction. Others he’d watched be chased out of Mos Espa entirely, out into the sea of sand never to be heard from again.

This, however, was new. A cruelty his mom had so far kept him safe from, laid out on the sands of the slave’s quarters for all of them to see. The stranger’s face had been the most visible without any of the tattered bodysuit in the way. It almost looked like some master had at least taken a vibroblade to their face, carved him up bad enough that they were missing a good amount of dark, curly hair on one side of their head. The rest of them, he thought, looked a bit like a krayt dragon tried to chew them up only to spit them out halfway, leaving them worse for wear but just functional enough that they hadn’t just left them out on the sands to die.

Whoever they belonged to, Anakin hoped he never found out if only because not knowing might keep him and his mom safe from being sold to them too.

By the time he’d calmed down enough to pry his hands free from his mom’s skirt and shuffle back around to see, the bulk of the crowd had drifted away — off to sleep or work or wallow until the suns rose on another grueling day. The only ones left were him and his mom, a few adults rushing soiled and new strips of cloth back and forth, and the three grandmothers kneeled beside and working on the stranger. His mom squeezed his shoulders again, half distracted by a conversation with another mother about infection and recovery and the fact that they had no water to spare for the stranger bleeding on the sands as aged but experienced, sun-weathered hands stitched the worst of their wounds closed.

Anakin leaned back against his mom, watching. Without anyone to block his view, he could see more of the picture than his first glimpse had allowed. A red and tan bodysuit torn to shreds that might have been white before the blood and the sand had gotten to it. Strips of cloth ripped by experienced hands to be used as bandages. Green armor whose paint looks like it had been half-dissolved rather than properly stripped off, carefully pried away from the body and set aside with all the gentleness something so obviously expensive deserved. A not-so-small arsenal of blasters, grenades, a rocket and rifle, and more knives than Anakin cared to count all set just as carefully aside with well-deserved fear rather than reverence.

And pain. He saw it in the twitch of the stranger’s lips and the furrow in their brow. In the way they seemed to flinch at the grandmothers’ not-quite-gentle touch despite how he was sure they couldn’t be awake. He saw it in the ragged, uneven way their chest rose and fell, like just breathing was so hard it might as well have been crossing the dunes in a sandstorm.

He frowned. He remembered being so sick once he could hardly breathe — how much his chest had hurt and how his mom had helped soothe it by rubbing something gooey and awful-smelling into his skin. Remembered being punished, ten stinging, throbbing, bleeding lashes on his back, and how he’d cried while his mom held his hands, whispering in his ear to comfort him while another slave had stitched the worst of them closed. He wondered if the stranger had someone like his mom to hold their hand and help them breathe before they’d wound up with whatever awful master had done this.

It made his stomach twist itself into knots to know that they had only the grandmothers to help fix him and an audience to watch and fetch supplies, but no one to help make the worst of the hurt go away. And Anakin…

Anakin felt a tug, deep in his stomach and behind his navel. The kind that urged him to be silent, to run, what people to avoid, or what he needed to do to fix up a droid or appliance just right. He didn’t think before he moved, ducking out of his mom’s loose grip and ignoring her startled cry of “Ani!” as he trotted forward until he stood next to the stranger, deliberately slotting himself into place where he knew he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way.

One of the grandmothers, Amiya who Anakin knew his mom still called auntie even if she’d only ever been grandmother to him, looked up at him as he approached. She slanted a glance at his mom and for a second after she looked back at him, he thought she was going to send him away. Instead, and to his surprise, she only pursed her lips and waited, her work paused mid-stitch and her one scar-split brow arched as she waited. Anakin complied hastily, though the words come out tongue-tied and clumsy despite how he’d spoken the slave’s language just as long as — longer than, even — he had Huttese or Basic.

“They need someone,” he said, soft and suddenly too aware of how quiet the quarter was at night. “To help. Like mom does when I’m sick or hurt.” He stopped, floundered for a moment before adding, so low he almost doubted she heard him: “There’s not a mom to help them, but I can. I want to.”

Amiya watched him, her gaunt, wrinkled face the even and placid mask most of the adults like her and his mom wore where they might catch a master’s eye — a mask Anakin would also wear one day when he was older and had to hide his feelings from whoever would own him. After a long, almost uncomfortable moment she nodded. He flashed her a bright smile and kneeled in a patch of night-cooled, mostly blood-free sand. For a long time after Amiya turned her attention back to the stranger, Anakin just stared. The damage looked so much worse up close and the smell of the gore alone was nearly enough to make him sick. He didn’t realize he’d started to shake until a gentle hand pressed against his back, slick with blood that would stain his shirt as it rubbed comforting circles between his shoulder blades. The white-haired grandmother the hand belonged to smiled, thin and sad, when he turned to her, and he offered his own much wobblier one back.

“Breathe through your nose,” she advised, voice cracked and croaking from long-healed damage, and he did. It helped, but not much. Still, she patted him twice more on the back and offered up a firm “good boy” that sounded prouder than he thought was warranted.

Anakin sucked in three bracing breaths, shallower than he would have preferred, before carefully — more carefully than he’d ever done anything else — picked up the stranger’s larger, brown hand to cradle between his own smaller palms. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull. Barely even breathed. He just rubbed his thumb over their split, scabbed knuckles and pushed safety and comfort and the other warm things he felt when his mom chased away his pains and nightmares at them. Imagined them flowing down from his thoughts to his arms, pooling in his hands to be poured out from his palms and into the stranger’s rough hands, absorbed through the skin like the first sip of soothing water on the worst days.

Whether it worked or not, he wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe some of the tension in the stranger’s brow and the stutter in their chest eased just a little bit. He stayed there, holding their hand and sometimes babbling, soft enough it almost counted as a whisper, switching between all three of the languages he spoke and even into brief bouts of untrained Bocce in the hopes that they knew at least one and would find it comforting. It could have been minutes or hours before his mom came to collect him, his head bobbing and eyes threatening to close as exhaustion swept over him. She crouched behind him and ran her fingers through his hair a few times before she spoke.

“Time to sleep, Ani.”

“But mom—” he started, voice more of a brief mumbling slur for all that he didn’t get to say more than those two words before Amiya cut in.

“Mind your mother, Anakin.” He ducked his head, chastened. “You’ve done good tonight, but it’s past time for little ones to rest. This one’ll be here come the suns’ rise and you can sit with them then until you and your mom are off to your master’s.”

Anakin nodded, mumbled a tired “Yes grandmother Amiya,” and patted the stranger’s hand twice before setting it down with a quiet promise that he’d be back as soon as he’d woken up. He stumbled when he stood, grateful for his mom when she put her hands back on his shoulders and steered him back home all the way to his flat pallet. Sleep claimed him easily that night, too tired to even dream.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The world was pain. Burning, stinging, cutting pain day after night after day for what might as well have been a small eternity trapped in the wet, writhing darkness where only his own nightmares provided grim relief until he clawed and rent and tore his way out of that hell and into another. He gasped and dragged himself forward, burning from the heat of the suns above and the sands below until he felt he’d boil away entirely.

Death would have been a mercy, but mercies had never existed for men like him.

He crawled and shoved and pried his way through the sand with the same desperate, all-consuming determination he’d relied on all his life. A legacy left to him by his father. A curse when giving up would have been a kindness to his battered body.

Time was nonexistent. Unimportant to him in his struggle. Day or night mattered little in the suffocating, sweltering heat when he knew the desert would swallow him whole at any moment. Should have swallowed him whole, but didn’t. The desert, for once, was kind and he hated it for that.

He hated it for letting him live, tortured and weak and pitiful enough that no one he knew would have looked twice at him. There were voices and hands, reaching and gentle and alarmed. He hated this one act of kindness — not mercy, this could never be mercy — the desert had granted him and he fought, battered and bit and snarled in the vain hope they’d leave him for dead when he proved too much trouble. They took it as challenge instead and won.

Defeated, he let himself fall into his exhaustion wondering if he might slip away in his sleep instead and prove their efforts useless.

His nightmares weren’t welcome, but they were familiar to him by then.

He watched his father’s head fall from his shoulders a half dozen times as his body was dragged, unconscious, through the desert.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Anakin sat with stranger the next morning like he’d promised, all but sprinting out the door of their tiny home as soon as his mom had told him he could go. He stayed until his mom called him back and worked with her in Watto’s shop until the toydarian let them leave just as the first of Tatooine’s suns had touched the horizon. When they returned, the stranger had been moved into one of the few empty homes in the quarter — the slave who’d lived there recently sold and a replacement yet to be found — to avoid the worst of the day’s heat. He sat with them again after late-meal, holding their hand and talking, helping with any small task he could until they shooed him off to bed.

His mom stayed with him, longer sometimes and well into the night. She helped whoever else was there keeping an eye on the stranger teach him how to change bandages, spot the signs of infection in a wound, to decide which remedies and medicines were critical and which could be spared and saved for later, as well as how to make a few of the most basic ones.

“There isn’t much we can do for them,” Amiya had told him, grave but gentle, on the third night, “except wait and watch, and ease some of the pain if we can.”

He’d nodded, feeling tears prick at his eyes even as he bit his lower lip to help keep them from falling. His mom brushed her fingers through his hair, pulling him close to her side while he worked to breathe through the tangled knot of emotion pressing on his throat.

“It’s not fair,” he said, voice thick, and his mom clucked her tongue, not unsympathetically.

“Life rarely is, Ani.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then leaned her cheek there like she could drape herself over him — a blanket to blot out the world’s cruelties. “Sometimes, your feelings won’t matter,” she said, sounding wretched as the words settled heavy in the air between them. “Sometimes — most times — all we can do is live in reality and accept that it might be cruel no matter what we do, knowing that denying it will do us no favors.” Anakin sniffed, pulling his knees in towards his chest. “And we will live, knowing this and knowing that being kind in the face of this cruelty is the bravest choice we can make.”

“Are we?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, feeling small and miserable. His mom hummed a question against his hair while Amiya stared at him, dark eyes seeming to peer right through and into the core of him. “Kind, I mean. Is. I mean. I heard some of the other adults — I didn’t mean to listen, really, but they were talking about. About…” He trailed off, but Amiya picked up the thread as seamlessly as if she’d read his mind.

“About a mercy.”

He nodded. His mom stiffened, hugging him tighter. He knew there was mercy in death on Tatooine. He’d heard slaves beg for it before, beaten half to death and left, bleeding and wheezing on the ground. He’d watched one new mother walk out into the sands with her baby one night and come back alone in the morning. He’d even seen a grandmother, withered hands bloody and holding a shiv as she walked out of the house of a slave who’d lost most of their arm when their chip detonated and survived, only for the wound to grow infected and the slave so weak they could hardly drink a sip of water.

He didn’t like it, but he knew.

Amiya sighed, leaned back against the night-chilled stone, and looked at the ceiling.

“Let me tell you a story, Anakin,” she said, and he thought she sounded older then than she ever had before.

“Okay.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The nightmares had no end. They played on loop — his worst and his best memories twisted together with things that had never happened at all until he couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. He lived them. Was them. Played his part in them until he was sure he really had died out there on the sands and this was hell.

If it was, he wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of seeing him beg even if all he wanted in the worst of it was to wake up, ten years old again before everything had gone to shit.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The stranger woke with a groan on the fifth morning, just as Anakin had turned his back to follow his mom to Watto’s shop. He gasped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed to spin back around.

“You’re awake!”

They blinked up at the ceiling, stiff as a board the second Anakin had practically shouted the words before slowly, probably painfully, turning their head to look at him. Anakin rocked back on his heels, mouth open and the words just about ready to burst out of him when they beat him to it.

“What?” they asked in Basic, voice a rough, crackling growl that could have been natural as much as it might have been from a parched throat or their injuries.

It was Anakin’s turn to blink then, uncomprehending for a moment before he realized he’d spoken to them like he would have any of the other slaves in the quarter. He flushed, fumbling for a moment from embarrassment before managing to wrangle together the right words.

“I said: you’re awake. You’ve been asleep for five days! Well, four, but today makes five. So, five days.”

“Oh.”

They stared at him, blank except for the obvious signs they were in pain — their pinched brow, their thinned lips, the pallor of their skin, better than it had been but still noticeable — and Anakin fidgeted in place until his mom called his name. He looked back at her, to the stranger, and briefly to his own feet before turning a bright grin on them.

“I have to go now, but Mom and I’ll let someone else know you’re awake. They’ll give you some of the water we all helped save up just in case you did really wake up. Which you did!” he added, too excited to keep himself from pointing out the obvious.

“What?” they asked again, but Anakin had already turned back to his mom with a cheerful “bye” thrown over his shoulder.

The day passed in an agonizingly slow haze of nerves and excitement that had cooled briefly after Watto yelled at him some time close to midday, and reignited when he and his mom started the walk home under the violet-orange lit sky of late-evening-nearly-night. She steered him home and forced him to eat his late-meal before setting him loose with a small smile and a firm warning to be careful. He grinned at her, nodding even as he practically tumbled through the door and back out into the quarter to make his way to where they’d been keeping the stranger.

“Hi,” he said, peeking through the tattered fabric hung up in place of a proper door.

The room was almost empty, lit mostly thanks to the three moons peeking up over the horizon and the last traces of the twin suns falling on the other side spilling through two windows, little more than a pair of squares cut out of solid rock, and the open, arched entrance. The stranger was the only person inside, propped up to sit against the wall furthest from the door, and mostly hidden in shadow except for the light cast from a neat little device about as big around as the palm of Anakin’s hand that they’d put down next to them. On their other side was a pile of their green armor, all but a pauldron which they’d been turning over in their hands until Anakin had poked his head in.

Their small arsenal of weapons, however, had been moved to the corner of the room furthest from them. Not that he faulted anyone for that. Every slave in the quarter would be in trouble if anyone found them, whether they’d actually helped the stranger or not.

“Hi,” they replied, suspicion all but dripping from the word as they slowly lowered the pauldron down to rest in their lap.

Anakin smiled and took the attention as permission to step inside, settled down with his legs crossed on the room’s sandy floor. Even from a few feet away, he could tell they looked better than even that morning — still battered and bandaged and a little paler than they probably should be, but whole and alive in a way they hadn’t been while asleep. Unconscious, technically, but technicalities rarely mattered to an eight-year-old. The silence stretched between them, both of them staring at each other until he chose to break it.

“How do you feel?” It was only polite to ask, even if it wasn’t what he really wanted to know. A dozen questions burned his tongue, but his mom hadn’t wasted time teaching him to be rude so he kept a tight leash on them and waited. Thankfully, not for long this time.

“Fine,” they said, curt if not a bit gruff. They sounded better, he noted, than they had earlier. “You’re the kid from this morning.” They furrowed their brows, speaking slowly like they weren’t quite confident about being right. Anakin nodded even though it hadn’t quite been a question. He knew that feeling well, after all. “What’s your name?”

“Anakin. What’s yours?”

“Boba.”

Anakin cocked his head to one side and asked, shameless: “Just Boba?”

“Just Anakin?” they drawled in return, their unbandaged brow arched. Anakin grinned, all teeth and excitement. He liked Boba.

“Anakin Skywalker,” he offered, expecting to get Boba’s surname in response only to be disappointed when all got instead was a a slow blink and a huff of breath that could’ve meant anything and nothing at all.

“What’re you doing here, kid?”

He pouted, watched Boba’s lips twitch up into a smirk, and pouted harder. He wondered, somewhere in the very back of his mind, if it was smart to be there, alone with someone who wore armor and had weapons and as much muscle and healthy bulk as Boba did. There was a danger to them, in the way their eyes never quite settled on Anakin in favor of scanning their surroundings again and again. It was there in the way they sat, too. At ease, like even injured and newly-woken they knew they could fight their way out if needed. Anakin wondered, but stayed, knowing his mom wouldn’t have let him come if anyone had mentioned they were dangerous.

“Rude,” he said, still pouting but also a little joking. Testing. Boba rolled his eyes and waited for a proper answer. “I come here every day. I even did the bandages on your arm.” He gestured to Boba’s left arm where they’d been sliced from elbow to shoulder, jagged and sloppy. It had needed stitches in three different places where the cut ran extra deep — the wound too long to spare enough thread for the whole thing. “Mom had to fix it the first three times, but I got it right this morning. Before you woke up.”

“Shouldn’t you be out doing … kid … things? Fun things?” Boba asked, sounding suddenly awkward, their gaze sliding away from Anakin after the clumsy question and looking for all the world like they hadn’t really meant to ask it.

“Maybe.” Anakin shrugged. “Watto’s been in a bad mood though, so mom and I have been getting home really late all week. Even if I wanted to, all the other kids would’ve gone home by the time he let us go.”

Boba’s gaze snapped back to him as he talked, focused instead of awkward, and only offered a low hum in response. He felt a little like a piece of meat in front of a starved massif, but did his best to channel a bit of his mom’s unwavering calm. Not the mask she used in front of the masters so much as the air she adopted in front of some of the new slaves brought to the quarter, scared and alone.

“Any siblings?” They sounded almost hopeful when they asked, only to scowl when he shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “It’s just mom and me. Do you? Have siblings, I mean.”

“No.” Boba sighed. “Sort of, but not really.” Anakin wrinkled his nose.

“How’s that work?”

Boba didn’t answer, only waved a hand at him in a vague gesture he took to mean it was complicated. He nodded, understanding. Slave families were always complicated, and he’d learned not to ask about complicated things when they didn’t want to be talked about. Instead, he changed tracks and poked at one of the many other threads he’d wanted to pick at since Boba had woken up earlier.

“How long have you been on Tatooine? I’ve been here my whole life, but my mom wasn’t. She got sold to Gardulla a long time ago before she lost a bet to Watto and he won both of us.” Anakin’s lips tugged up into a grin and he leaned forward, excited despite himself. “Before that she said she was in space, on a real ship and everything. I’m gonna go up into space one day! Get on a ship and fly right off Tatooine and see all the stars up close.”

Boba leaned back, drawing one of their legs up so they could rest their left arm against the knee as they listened. It made it harder for him to read their face, but not impossible. And Anakin was nothing if not good at figuring out how people felt if he concentrated hard enough.

“Sounds like a good goal,” they said, amused. When they said nothing else, Anakin frowned.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” Boba tipped his head just slightly to one side, and he huffed, shoving as much exasperation into the breathy sound as he could. “My question? About how long you’ve been here.”

“Long enough.”

He nodded, humming a little in response. It made sense, he mused, that someone with a master as mean as Boba’s might not want to keep track of how long they’d been with them. That thought, though, brought up another very important question that Anakin wasn’t sure anyone else had thought to ask them yet. He hesitated, mouth suddenly dry as he shifted in place, and picked at the hem of his tan shirt to buy himself a few seconds more.

“Have you—” He stopped. Pressed his lips into a thin line so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to lick them. “Terrin and Bhan found you out in the sands behind the quarter,” he said, carefully picking his words. “Mom said they brought you back here. And. Well, uh.”

“Spit it out kid,” Boba said, not unknindly but not kindly either.

“It’s just, five days is a lot y’know? And-and some masters’ll wait a few, yeah, if they hurt you bad enough, but. But five is a lot, ‘specially for a slave, even if you look really well fed and have cool armor and get to actually hold weapons. But five is a lot of days! And I was really scared I’d wake up or-or come back from Watto’s and you’d be blown up ‘cause your master didn’t wanna wait anymore and—”

Boba moved, faster than someone that hurt should have been able to, and leaned forward, almost crouched, with his hands up, palms out. Anakin’s mouth snapped shut on instinct and he sucked in a huge breath of air, relieving the ache in his lungs he hadn’t noticed in his rush to get all the words out even as the rest of him tensed. They waited until he wasn’t practically gasping, their already dark eyes almost black in the shadows.

He’d thought Boba felt like danger before, but now they looked it, balanced on the balls of their feet with their hands out in front of them. For a moment, it was like seeing double: Boba as they were, bandaged and hurt, and another Boba clad in green, well cared for armor, crouched much like they were now except they held a blaster in one hand and a vibroblade as long as Anakin’s forearm in the other.

Just then, Anakin thought, a little hysterical, they looked like the predator they could be.

As quickly as it had come, the moment passed and he was left with only Boba as he knew them: unarmored, unarmed, dressed half in the remains of his once-white undersuit and the ratty strips of cloth they’d used to dress their wounds. He breathed, long and slow, until his heart felt a little less like it wanted to beat its way out of his chest, and forced the rest of his body to loosen up at least a little, not wanting to look too much like an animal about to run.

“You think I’m a slave,” Boba said, almost a whisper, but Anakin couldn’t find it in himself to nod or speak. Not yet. “Thank you,” they added, a lot like they were trying not to spook him, “for the concern, misplaced as it is.”

It took a few tries, but Anakin finally found his voice for long enough to ask, soft as he could: “If it wasn’t a master, then —” He swallowed even though his mouth felt drier than the desert. “Then who did this to you?”

They didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to lower themself back down with a groan half-muffled behind gritted teeth. Anakin felt small under their gaze if not quite scared, but did his best to keep himself upright rather than cowed.

“I did,” Boba answered, strained, with a weight to the words Anakin didn’t understand. They did nothing to make him feel any less small, no bigger than a single grain of sand. “I was stupid. Wound up in—” They paused, squinted at Anakin, and then quickly amended what they’d meant to say. “Wound up in trouble with no backup.” They shrugged, the dark circles under their eyes looking suddenly so much bigger. Heavier. “I remember a little of how I got out, but not how I wound up here in … Mos Espa I think someone said.”

Anakin opened his mouth, not sure at all what he wanted to say, if anything, until his mom’s voice at the entrance startled him.

“Anakin, time to sleep.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, eyes firmly set on Boba, but Anakin nodded anyway.

He stood, brushing sand off his pants for a moment before looking back at Boba. He smiled, dimmer than before, and said: “Goodnight, Boba. See you tomorrow,” he added and waited until Boba’s lips twitched up again — not quite a smile, not quite a smirk, but an invitation back all the same. He did grin then, offering up a little wave before turning on his heel to follow his mom.

“ ‘Night, Skywalker,” he heard Boba say, as the cloth in the doorway settled back in place.

Anakin took his mom’s hand when she held hers out. She squeezed his fingers briefly, then tugged him close. He breathed in. Out. And listened for the little notes he sometimes heard on the wind — the tug in his gut and the pull in his bones that sometimes pulled him closer to one decision or another. He felt it, faint but there. A warmth like good, hot food in his belly or his mom’s hugs after an awful dream, and for a single second, the scrape of fingers on metal ringing in a way he’d never heard before but made him think of Boba regardless.

He let his mom hold him all the way to his room until he kissed her goodnight. His last thought before he fell asleep, curled up on his pallet and tucked under his thin, scratchy blanket, was of the stranger named Boba and the pleasant notes plucking a tune inside and around him, whispering to him even on the edge of his dreams.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Boba watched Skywalker — Anakin Skywalker — leave, nothing but a kid smaller than Boba ever remembered being: naive and vulnerable and dressed in all the inadequate trappings of a slave and so damnably bright that it hurt to look at his little, hopeful face. Not so much as a hint of the Jedi knight he remembered from his youth — most of it propaganda he’d caught glimpses of in prison and a few jobs before the Empire erased everything — remained in the child except maybe in the edges of that smile, confident if not yet cocky, but innocent. Painfully innocent.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, the skin on his palm still a little raw from the acid in the sarlacc’s stomach. Maybe, he thought desperately, he was still there, being slowly digested to death because surely, surely, that made more sense than what every other conclusion he reached for pointed to. He had to be dead or dying, not—

Not 36 years in the kriffing past, if the date the woman who’d told him where on this godsforsaken planet he was had given him was right. It made no sense. He wasn’t a Jedi — little gods no — and he had no connection to their Force or any other magic. He didn’t think the sarlacc had anything to do with it either, but that still left him with no answers and a galaxy’s-worth of questions.

“Fuck,” he growled, as much a helpless sound as it was a curse to whatever or whoever had caused this. He’d wring their neck as soon as he found out, even if it meant figuring out a way to strangle some magical cosmic thing that a dead order of damned wizards had believed in. For now, though, he was stuck. Injured and healing, without a ship or a credit to his name, no reputation to speak of, and Anakin fucking Skywalker who apparently helped nurse him back to health and had promised to come back in the morning.

And a father who was alive somewhere in the wider galaxy.

The realization came slow and with all the strength of an imperial star cruiser hurtling forward at full speed. He swallowed, blinking back a wave of stinging tears as something thick and pitiful welled up in his throat. He breathed, deep and slow, and forced himself back into order by sheer force of will. He was still stuck on Tatooine, tucked away in the slave’s quarter by some idiotic sense of communal good-will that would do nothing for their self-preservation, but he had time. He had time, if not a lot, to find his father and… Do something.

“Fuck,” he said again, but it was tired. A thick and bone-deep weariness that threatened to suffocate him if he thought about it for too long.

He sighed and wondered, for just a moment before he let sleep drag him back down into the darkness and nightmares, if his father was the man who’d raised Boba already, or someone else entirely. He hated that he didn’t know which one he’d prefer if he woke again tomorrow and found that time travel really was the answer to where — when — he was.

[loveandthings11]

How Deep My Love Goes, Chapter 11

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Fic Summary: A Kenrava-focused fix-it alongside canon 💗

Nobody Stays Missing

Two minutes after Kendall has taken his first steps out the door and toward Logan to deliver the letter, Rava sits down and turns her attention to her case for as long as she can before everything blows up. She taps her pen against her laptop keyboard and glances back and forth from her scribbled notes to her typed ones, trying in vain to find the missing piece of her case- written evidence from the company of the years of stolen wages. She looks over her client Tony Trume’s latest distressed email, concerned about his coworker friend and wondering if he’s in danger himself. 

She drops her face into her hands for a moment, wishing she knew an expert in international corporate law. She briefly thinks of Gerri and hesitates. The questions alone would sound like an accusation of having been on the wrong side of cases like this before, and Kendall is about to be at war with Waystar. Rava looks at her phone and thinks maybe she could just ask a quick hypothetical, one lawyer to another. Gerri doesn’t know what’s happening with Kendall yet, she’d still pick up the phone- for the next five minutes. She takes a breath and presses her name. Gerri answers on the first ring. 

“Gerri Kellman.”

“Gerri, hi. It’s Rava.” She can practically hear Gerri’s eyebrows go up.

“Rava? Um, hi, how are you? Enjoying the festivities?”

“Oh, yeah. You know, the Roy joys.” She sounds forced and she knows it.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well,” Rava continues, “I actually have a hypothetical for you- having nothing to do with Waystar, just a case thing. Can I run something by you? I’m no expert in corporate law.”

“Oh. Sure, go ahead,” Gerri answers with slight confusion. Rava wonders how much time she has before Kendall gets to Logan’s room with the letter. While Rava details the situation, Gerri stays quiet.

“So, that’s it,” Rava finishes. “Stolen wages for years, a whistleblower who went missing, and a new whistleblower who is terrified that the same thing is going to happen to him. If a situation like that were to occur, what would be the best way to proceed, do you think? I’m, uh… a little lost, but you know this stuff.” Rava smiles into that last part, an effort to curry favor with a woman she knows gets too little credit. Gerri takes a moment.

“Honestly? If I were the attorney on this, well, I wouldn’t be. This kind of thing tends to be bad for everyone except the company you’re after. Look out for yourself here. Nobody will be kind to your reputation if you lose this, and I’m sorry to say it, but you will probably lose this.”

Rava feels a bit of the chill she’d feared. Gerri probably ate cases like this for lunch twenty years ago. She blinks and considers for a moment. She knows she probably only has seconds left before Gerri finds out what Kendall’s done. She can almost hear his footsteps.

“Are you saying that because you’re general counsel for an international company, or because you believe it?”

Gerri sighs and Rava hears a phone vibration on the other end. 

“Both.” She pauses. “Fuck. Look, I’m sorry, I think you know what I have to go deal with-“

“Right, yeah. I appreciate you hearing me out.”

“Sure. Bye, Rava.”

The end of the call sounds final. They’re on opposite sides now. Regret starts to creep up as Rava wonders if hearing that was worth the risk of letting someone else in on her case. She looks at her phone and decides to calm down by taking a look at the photos of the wedding party from just an hour before. She’d asked the photographer to take a couple of shots on her phone of just her and Kendall. She’d run up just in the nick of time and slipped in next to him. He’d smiled and whispered, “Thank God, Shiv just asked if I was hallucinating you coming here.” The camera had caught him whispering in her ear and her laughing. She hopes this bear hug works so Logan can officially be out of the way and she can see Kendall’s smile all the time. It warms her chest even to think about how happy he’ll be when he’s finally in charge. 

……………..

“That was really hard.” Kendall stares into the void as the image of Logan’s eyes floats in his head. Filled with anger, shock, disapproval… pride? That’s probably too hopeful. Stewy pats his knee.

“I know. You did it, man. Hey.” Kendall glances up at him. “You fuckin’ did it.” He nods. He can’t remember how to smile right now.

“I fucked my sister’s wedding.”

Stewy rolls his eyes but keeps his tone gentle.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t fuck the next one. Now you’ve learned who to trust. Me. Not Frank. Maybe not Ro-Ro, as much as it hurts.” Kendall looks down. 

“You literally told me not to trust you,” he mutters. Stewy chooses not to hear that and Kendall continues. “But, yeah, it’s not our fault Roman didn’t answer the phone. I had to act or the whole thing would’ve fallen apart. I know he wasn’t expecting it to happen today, obviously- uh, well, none of us were.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Ken, by the way.” Kendall ignores him. 

“And we don’t even know if he ignored the call on purpose,” Kendall continues. “Maybe he did hear about the press leak and he thought he could change teams at the last minute. Just detach himself and run right back to Dad?” Kendall presses his lips together in stress and slumps forward while he worries.

“You didn’t ask your Dad if Roman had come to him?” Stewy inquires before realizing Kendall could probably barely make himself say the part he planned. “Okay- no, I get it, that was enough for you.” He switches to an easy vibe to keep them both calm. “Honestly, Roman was probably too busy getting fucked up to answer, he’s sick of this shit. Probably the most he’s worked in his entire life,” he laughs. Kendall feels queasy not knowing the answer and Stewy wants to pull them both out of the worrying. “But who cares? Time to celebrate. Drinks!” He gets up and pours himself a generous glass of scotch from the crystal bottle on the nearby mahogany table, opening his jacket and taking out a little plastic bag like they both always used to carry. Kendall visibly shrinks back and shakes his head. 

“Come on, man, again?” Kendall tries, wondering how it’s possible that he still doesn’t get it. Stewy rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t want any, just turn that way.” He gestures toward the wall and pours a bit of coke onto the table. Kendall inhales sharply and gets up and walks toward the door. 

“I can’t be in here if you’re gonna do that.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Stewy says as he cuts up a line and snorts it. 

That’s it.

“It IS a fucking big deal,” Kendall spits out, prompting Stewy’s slow head turn toward him, standing right at the door facing away. He’s been putting up with this for years and now is not a relaxing moment. Now is the time when it’s hardest to say no and Stewy should have known that. He focuses on the carved wood on the door, counting the almost invisible marks in the grain.

“Dude. Relax, I’ll put it away,” Stewy says. Kendall closes his eyes and doesn’t want to turn around. He hates feeling like people think he’s a buzzkill, but he just can’t take it. Stewy looks over at him and puts the bag back in his jacket. “Ken. It’s fine, you can turn around.” He reluctantly does. “It’s all good, man. We’re doing this.” There’s a pause. “Hey. Like we always planned, yeah?” Kendall nods. 

“Yeah.” He looks at the wall and the floor. “I gotta go, the fam’s waiting.” He reaches for the doorknob.

“Ken.” Stewy tilts his head and tries to look at him. Kendall wishes anyone he knew knew how to apologize.

“It’s fine. I’m good.”

Stewy looks at him, feeling discontented with a hint of regret.

“Really? Is this actually about this, or about the vote? Are we good?”

Kendall shrugs.

“Sure.” He opens the door and shuts it behind him. He turns and almost runs into Iverson on the gravelly path, trailed by Rava and Sophie a little ways back.

“Hey!” Rava calls as Iverson walks over to him first. “We were just looking for you.” Kendall leans down to give Iverson a hug. 

“That picture you drew is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he says seriously. “I mean that.” His son smiles and Kendall looks up at Rava and Sophie as they get closer.

“Hey,” he says. He knows he sounds spent and he feels like it. Rava’s eyes widen.

“You okay? How was talking to your dad?” She looks apprehensive but hopeful. Kendall sighs.

“I mean… it’s done, so, yeah.” He stands up and they all start walking back toward their room. 

“And…?” 

“I don’t know. That was just-“ he sighs again. Everything always has to pile on at once. His dad will never forgive him. He’s in a fight with Stewy. He can’t believe he’s going to have to face the entire family hating him at Shiv’s wedding, to face Roman thinking he cut him out on purpose and possibly turning against him. “Is it- can I just not talk about it right now?”

“Sure,” Rava says with concern as he gazes at the road in front of them. “It’s good we’re going back to the room before the festivities start.” The festivities. He can’t imagine wanting to go to a wedding reception later. He nods. The room sounds good. He hopes it’s quiet.

The kids want to continue their walk, so Bianca takes them out. Kendall and Rava enter back into their suite, all heavy wood and velvet upholstery in jewel tones of deep green and blue. Kendall pulls off his shoes as Rava steps down from her heels. He gazes at the grand canopy bed and wants to lie down more than anything. He fiddles with his jacket and Rava gives him a warm look. 

“Are you worrying about wrinkling your suit?” He glances down with a small smile. She knows him so well. “Maybe if you just lie really still,” she suggests jokingly. He gives in and hangs up his jacket, walking back and lying down on his back staring up at the ceiling for a minute. She sits down next to him and looks over. She can’t take the suspense anymore. She has to know something. She starts with an easy question.

“So, um- did he yell? When you gave him the letter?”

Kendall exhales.

“Yeah.”

She puts her hand on his arm, a gentle reminder that she knows how hard that is for him. He turns his head away and tries to mentally float away from the memory.

“And… I mean, what did he say?”

“He wouldn’t even read it.” She winces a little. “I told him.” He closes his eyes and she smiles a bit sadly.

“Well… you did it.”

“Uh huh.” She rubs his arm.

“It’ll be okay,” she assures him. He keeps his eyes closed.

“Yeah? Do you have any proof?” 

She chuckles a little. 

“Only proof that it’s always ended up okay.” He opens his eyes slowly. She’s not wrong. She wonders if she should tell him about the talk she’d had with Gerri, but thinks now is not the time. It’s not the right day to mention anyone at Waystar. She decides on someone safer. “Hey, does Stewy want to join us and head over to cocktail hour later?” She figures he’s on the team now and his presence might be a positive distraction from the Logan mess. Kendall squirms a little at the thought of explaining and hopes he can just keep his distance from Stewy for the rest of the day.

“Uh, no. No, he’s- let’s just go with the kids.”

“Okay.” She looks at him expectantly. “Everything okay there? He’s still on board and everything?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s in.” He’s quiet for a second.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” She asks.

“Nothing, just-“ He briefly wishes he had the ability to hide small things like this from her and resigns himself to the fact that she’s too perceptive for that. Sometimes it’s a relief that she can read him like a book, but not at the moment. “He just- lives in the past sometimes. You know?” She gives him a confused look.

“No, what does that-“ She closes her eyes for a second as it hits her. “Jesus Christ. In the room with you? He’s doing drugs right in front of you?” She massages her temples. “I really might kill him, Ken.”

“No, it’s- you know, it’s fine. I mean, he stopped when I asked- when I told him to.”

She shakes her head and looks down at him.

“You shouldn’t have to tell him to,” she says. How anyone could want to make recovery harder for him than it already is is beyond her. Kendall looks at her and implores her with his eyes.

“Don’t say anything. Just- let it be. He’s not gonna change. I can’t have any more enemies right now.”

“Right. So it’s fine that for the next year you’re going to be having meetings at powder-covered conference tables? I don’t think so.” They hear the door open from the living room of the suite and Bianca’s keys jingle. “It’s not just about what you’re okay with,” she says, glancing in the direction of the door where the kids are. They share a meaningful look and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. I’ll deal with it.”

She nods, but she’s simmering beneath her placid surface. She considers the dynamic between Kendall and Stewy. Kendall gave Stewy another chance after he abstained from the vote. Stewy didn’t seem concerned that abstaining might end their friendship. He gave Kendall the money, but that just gave him more power over him. As far she Rava can tell, Stewy has the upper hand and Kendall isn’t going to say anything that could jeopardize their coalition. But this is just too important. There is no coalition if everyone in it is high out of their minds. She won’t lose him to a company or an overgrown fraternity.

“You know, I think I left my scarf at the ceremony, I’ll be right back.” She pats his shoulder and gets up, heading back down the path to the room she found him walking out of. She swings open the door and is suddenly alone with Stewy, who is disconcerted as he looks up from the slightly powdery table where his laptop is.

“What on earth were you thinking?” She hisses. Stewy drops his head back and sighs. “Remember Sophie and Iverson, his children? I would think as his supposed best friend you would care whether he can see them?”

“He tattled on me? Jesus… come on, you’re not taking the kids,” he says sarcastically. The cavalier attitude makes her want to scream. She closes her eyes in frustration and memories she hates start to come up. She doesn’t know how to get through to him except to bring him back.

“I- I mean, you were there. Covered his face from the photographers? Sat with me in the fucking ambulance? Promised me this would never happen again? ‘Never again.’ That’s what you said from the doorway of the hospital room you were too scared to come into. Remember any of that? Or have you obliterated all those brain cells?” She scoffs. 

Stewy tries to keep his usual cool , but she can tell she’s getting to him. It had been the only time she’d ever heard him say ‘I’m sorry.’ He’s rarely at a loss for words and he doesn’t like being guilt-tripped. She doesn’t need to play dirty and he resents her acting like it’s his fault Kendall has a problem. The defensiveness combines with the coke and spills out for a moment.

“Stop, it is not a big deal.” Rava’s eyes widen and he hears himself and backtracks a little. “Yeah, I know. I remember.” He can’t bring himself to get deep right now and just wants her to go so he can get the evening started. “I’ve already gotten my scolding for the day. I got it. Okay? No more. I seriously did not think he’d care.” He starts walking out but can’t quite stop himself from turning back around to face her. “You know, it’s not my fault he can’t handle his shit like I can.”

“Can you?” She asks pointedly. She gestures to the table, clearly not yet cleaned. “I mean, can you not?”

He rolls his eyes but it takes a second.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he says.

“Well, sometimes I do.”

“You worry about me. Because you care?” He asks airily, sarcasm almost masking curiosity.

She takes a second. He doesn’t have many people looking out for him.

“Yes, Stewy. Because I have the burden of worrying and caring about other people.”

“Oh, right. That must be terrible,” he deadpans. The corners of her mouth turn up nearly imperceptibly.

“Sometimes.” They look at each other. “You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I have experience in being supportive,” she offers carefully.

“You should save that for the guy who needs it,” he says, not unkindly, but not without defensiveness.

“Okay. Whatever you say.” She takes a step toward the door and looks over her shoulder at him. “Never again.”

Stewy nods and mets her gaze for a second.

“Yeah. Never again.”

Rava strides back into the suite and finds Kendall standing just inside the bedroom waiting for her. She stops short as she sees her pashmina draped over his arm.

“Found your scarf.” He raises his eyebrows and looks at her coolly. “I told you I would deal with him,” he says iin disbelief.

“Well, to be honest-“

“You didn’t think I would so you went behind my back.”

“Ken-“ 

He shakes his head.

“That’s great, Rava. You know, if you want to treat someone like a kid, we have two of them.” She rolls her eyes.

“Right. Because that’s what this is.”

“No, what this actually sounds like to me is you having no faith that I can do what I promise. You said that phase was over. ‘New phase.’ But it’s not. You don’t even think I can stand up for myself with someone I’ve known forever? So- so what else do you not think I can do?”

She hears the freakout and sighs, keeping her voice even.

“Okay. I’m not doing this. You’re talking to yourself, you know that? It’s you who’s worried you’re not up to the job, or staying clean, or whatever you’re referring to, not me. And if you want to talk about that, I am here. But Stewy and I are fine.” He’s getting more wound up by the second, feeling the tension of the day coming back after his brief attempt at relaxation.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Well, fine. I’m sorry for caring so much about keeping you safe that I’ll go talk to someone who is putting you in danger.”

He scoffs. “Stewy? Okay. I don’t need you to keep me safe, I can take care of myself.”

A silence louder than their voices fills the room.

“Got it. New phase.” She raises her eyebrows and walks toward the door. He sighs and follows after her. Distance is not the phase he meant.

“Well, I didn’t- I- no,” he starts. She feels self-conscious and crosses her arms. “I love that you care.” He comes closer and hesitantly places his hand on her arm. “I love this,” he gestures between them. “I just- just let me deal with my own stuff.” She nods without looking at him. She reprimands herself for wanting to be needed so badly. There’s some relationship book she’d read making her out to be a bad partner for that- for viewing him as someone to fix or save. They haven’t seen his eyes, she’d thought, but she knew they had a point. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” she says blandly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.” She meant it to sound genuine, but it just makes him sigh. He didn’t mean actually alone. She brushes her hand down his arm and steps away a little bit. “You go ahead to the reception. I’ll catch up later with the kids.” She can feel that he’s upset but she can’t look.

“You’re- you’re skipping cocktail hour? Rava.” 

But she’s walking back into the room already. She knows she shouldn’t do this, but her skin is crawling at the whole situation and she wants to be alone. But it’s the last thing he wants. He can’t believe that she won’t admit she’s wrong and he doesn’t even know who he can talk to at this stupid cocktail hour where there are no cocktails for him. He wishes he could summon that little plastic bag and anything else that might numb him. He feels guilty as he wonders if he’ll ever stop missing Macallan 30. 

Reluctantly, he drags himself into the section of the stone manor that houses this part of the event and puts his hands in his pockets as he passes under the huge wooden archway of the door. He thought he was done making awkward event entrances by himself. He’s almost afraid to look around because he might accidentally make eye contact with someone who wants to kill him, but he quickly glances up to see if Roman’s around- and sees Caroline heading his way. Oh, good. Her smile is gleeful.

“Kendall.” She kisses his cheek. 

“Hi, Mom.” He prepares himself for whatever barbs are coming at him.

“I heard you ruined your father’s day before he even got into his suit,” she titters. “I’m so proud.” He tries not to take the much-needed comment seriously.

“Yeah. Thanks.” The last time they’d talked alone, four months ago, was when Kendall had called to try to connect with her on a lonely Saturday. He was looking forward to the CEO announcement and wanted to share it with someone. Caroline had sounded highly doubtful that Logan would keep his word and it had made him bite his nails and lose sleep for a night. She’d assured him it would be better for him to get out and he’d attempted to explain why that was literally unthinkable. He’d tried to throw in a bit about missing Rava and his eventual plan to win her back, and she’d told him how smart she’d always thought Rava was to stay out of the Roy fray. Kendall had felt stung and wondered why he always kept trying with his mom. He looks cautiously at her as she continues.

“Where’s Rava? Haven’t you gotten her enough staff for her to come join the fun?”

“Yes, Mom. She’ll be here. I guess.”

She looks pleasantly amused and takes a sip of her champagne. Kendall looks at the glass enviously. 

“So, how long do you give it?” His eyes flash up at her. Even he has a limit.

“How long do I give us?” He asks incredulously. “Really?”

“No!” Caroline laughs again, light and tinged with the discomfort of a life of never being taken seriously. “Your sister and Tom.” He takes a breath.

“Oh.” Nice not to be the target. “Uh, I don’t know, until she convinces Dad to make Tom head of whatever the fuck and she finds out that’s all he wanted?”

“Are you going to promote Tom if you win this little game you’re playing with Logan?”

“It’s not a game.” She looks slightly suspicious and Kendall feels more annoyed than ever at the fact that Logan thinks they’re just playing chess. “And as for Tom, as much as I love social climbers…” he trails off as he sees Rava coming through the room’s grand entryway in her blue silk dress. She starts a conversation with the people next to her and doesn’t look around for him. Caroline follows his gaze.

“So what did you do?” She asks. “The au pair?” He shuts his eyes and sighs. 

“Jesus. Obviously not.”

“So now poor Rava’s stuck with the kids and doesn’t come to cocktail hour on time?” He looks miserable. “Always the serious one,” she almost laughs and he wishes she would be serious for one second. She pats his hand. “But the handsome one, too. I’m sure you could do better than that nanny. Lord knows your father always did.” Kendall remembers feeling sorry for her once it occurred to him around age fourteen that Logan kept mistresses at the other residences where he occasionally stayed. 

“Okay, Mom. That’s not- no. I’m not Dad.” 

“No, no, of course not. Only joking.” She tilts her head down and raises her eyebrows. “You could laugh. Not all of us want to be so sullen.” Kendall gives her a dry look and Caroline takes another sip as she looks over at Rava. “Only been a few months since her miraculous return, and she’s all the way over there.” He feels a little lost in resentment. “Careful. The drifting happens before you know what’s hit you.”

Kendall looks at his mom and wishes he could really talk to her, ask her advice and have her give him a hug. He briefly considers the fact that she is referencing a time when she missed Logan and he tries to conjure a memory of his parents laughing or flirting or kissing. A strange sense of pity for both of them settles onto him and he wonders if Caroline ever held Logan the way Rava holds him every night. If Logan would even let her. Stewy’s advice to distance himself from the Enemy echoes in his head as he struggles not to empathize with them.  He’d watched as they’d started to sleep in separate rooms, then separate houses as he got into his late teens. The idea of being distant from Rava that way makes him feel sick.

“Well, we’re not drifting. We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course. So, you give Shiv what- a year?”

“Sure,” he replies. Caroline smiles.

“Come outside with your dear old mum?” She asks, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her clutch. He glances at them.

“Really trying to quit,” he answers. “For the kids.”

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore,” his mom teases.

“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” he sighs.

“Just one. Or stay here and wait for the feral dogs to come after you,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. "I hear they're all out looking."

He sighs again and turns and follows Caroline outside. He lights her cigarette and stands in the windy air. It’s cold and he buttons up his coat to stop it from prickling his skin through his suit. She hands the cigarette to him and he takes a drag, taking a moment to feel the calm before handing it back and deciding that’s it for the night. He and Rava don’t need another thing to fight about. It’s been weeks and he’s been doing so well. He stares out at the landscape he has so many memories of running in. The feeling of freedom was nice, even if it wasn’t real.

"So, you, uh, just got inspired to get me out of there right on time?" He asks.

"Well, I'm a philanthropist now," she says with a delectable sarcasm.

"Oh yeah?"

"According to Tatler. I wouldn't dare argue with that kind of expertise." He almost chuckles. Did she do something just to be nice?

"Uh-huh."

“You know, your father nearly smacked a waiter tonight, couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.” She says it like she wishes she were surprised. Kendall shakes his head.

“Well, is the kid okay?”

“Oh, he’s all paid off and drove off, that’s the way. No consequences for Logan.”

“Yeah.” Kendall pauses. “Maybe. Maybe there are consequences for him.”

Kendall walks Caroline back into the party and starts carefully wandering into the minefield of a cocktail hour, scanning for Rava. They have to fix this. He hated going to weddings during the separation, even when he was only there for the networking. He used to sit at the table and stare at cake he couldn’t eat during slow songs. Sometimes if the song hit home too hard he’d find an excuse to leave the room. He and Rava always fed each other wedding cake at receptions they attended to recall their own happy day. Loneliness was so much worse when it felt like the memories of his own wedding day were getting rained on. This was the first wedding he’s looked forward to in years- their first as a reunited couple- and he doesn’t want it to be a loss. 

He’s shocked to spot her in the corner with Stewy as well as Kendall’s least favorite board member, Paul. Kendall is under no delusions of who the “friend” was who Stewy had told him wanted Rava. He feels a surge of anger at all three of them- how could Stewy let Paul talk to Rava? How could Rava make up with Stewy before him? How could Paul still be hitting on Rava even after they had officially and very publicly gotten back together?? The way he’s looking and smiling at Rava makes Kendall want to scream. Paul must be twenty years older than them, it’s pathetic. He can see Paul’s eyes flitting to places only he can touch and he has to take a breath so he doesn’t force him to back away. He thinks vengefully about how long Paul will last on the board when he’s CEO. He makes a beeline for their group and tries to stay as smooth as he can. Stewy sees him coming and puts his arm around him once he gets there, patting his back and bringing him into the circle.

“Ken. So glad you made it.” Stewy makes eye contact for a moment. “Seriously.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Kendall answers. We’re good. He swiftly turns to Rava.

“Hi,” he says with a smile at her, kissing her cheek and slipping his arm around her waist. She looks pleasantly surprised at the warmth in what she was expecting to be an awkward moment. He looks at Paul as he wraps his fingers around her side, making sure her body is touching his.

“Paul, good to see you,” he says with what Rava has often joked is his “business smile” as he reaches out his hand to shake Paul’s. She recognizes the expression and tries to hide a grin. This is an entirely different kind of awkward moment.

“You too, Kendall. Hope life outside the Waystar family is serving you well.” Kendall stops himself from rolling his eyes at the obvious dig.

“Yeah. I’m good,” Kendall confirms. 

“Rava was just telling me that you two are heading to Saint-Tropez this season.”

Kendall’s fury at Paul subsides a little at the mention of the couple’s old inside joke- Rava used to tell other people that she and Kendall were going on vacation before she’d ask him so he would have no choice but to take time off and go with her. He looks at Rava and she gives him an apologetic smile. He chuckles. 

“That’s right, I had almost forgotten. But yeah, it’s about time. Pretty over this dreariness. It’s about time to take my wife to the Riviera again.”

“Oh, yeah, well, maybe I’ll see you there. I’m getting a place there this winter too,” Paul replies.

Stewy looks quietly delighted at the passive-aggressive discord and Rava catches his eye for half a second to share in the amusement. The ice between everyone in the circle melts a bit as she leans into Kendall.

“We would love that,” she says. Kendall glances down at her with a hint of a smile. Paul gets the picture and looks at the ice cubes Stewy is lightly swirling. 

“Stewy, can’t have an empty glass. To the bar?”

“Thank God, yes. Excuse us.” Stewy nods and smiles at Kendall and Rava before he walks away. 

Rava looks up at Kendall and hopes he doesn’t let go. His muscles loosen a little but he keeps his arm around her.

“That whole thing with Stewy-“ she starts. “-I should have told you I wanted to talk to him. I got scared, Ken. I don’t think he respects your sobriety. As your friend, he should, so I told him that. We just… hadn’t checked in in a long time. He and I are okay, though. We just needed a minute.” She gives him a hug that he can tell she needs for comfort. He hugs her back and turns his face into her hair. 

“Okay. Yeah- I mean, I don’t know that I really wanted to talk to him about it anyway. I want you guys to be fine though. This is going to be hard if you’re arguing all the time.” They move apart and she shakes her head. 

“No, we won’t. We’re fine now- and I hope he’s going to do better. He knows I want good things for him, too.”

“Okay. Good.” He takes a second. “I really hate fighting with you,” he says quietly. He barely shakes his head for a second. “I don’t want us to, like, drift, you know?” He sighs and searches her eyes before glancing down for a moment. The thought of being distant and cold like his parents is so genuinely upsetting that he can feel a lump forming in his throat. “I’m fucking insanely stressed and I know things are all over the place, but- I don’t want to do things ‘on my own.’ I tried that, you know… and I hated it.”

“Hey, no, no drifting. Come here, Superman.” She pulls him back. “I want you right here all the time,” she lays her hand on the back of his head with her chin over his shoulder. It feels so freeing to say the truth after trying to keep her distance for so long. He breathes in her scent and lets some tension go. He wishes they were already in their room so he wouldn’t have to let go so fast. This day has been exhausting and it’s hitting him. He just wants to curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

“That’s what I want too,” he murmurs. He pauses to collect himself before remembering the conversation they’d just been a part of. “That and for Paul to fall off a cliff,” he grumbles, tightening his arms around her and slipping his hands just a bit lower on her back. Rava smiles and decides to egg him on just a little bit.

“Ohhhh, he’s not that bad.”

Kendall pulls back to look at her.

“No?” He asks with just enough humor to keep it low-key. “You don’t see the way that old geezer looks at you? I can’t wait til I don’t need his vote and can fire him Dad-style, whole board watching.”

“Ken,” She stifles a laugh. “That is insane.”

“He was fucking undressing you with his eyes,” he mutters. Rava smiles and presses her chest into him. 

“Well, maybe after the reception I’ll let you undress me with your hands.” 

“Are you flirting with me?” He brushes his cheek against hers and works all the charm he has. She pretends to think.

“I think I might be.” He feels the warmth come back into his body.

“So, reception for, like, not that long?” He laughs. She laughs along and he takes her hand as they walk toward the reception hall. “Are the kids-?”

“With Connor,” she answers.

“Oh, good. They’ll come back teaching us about fucking- cryogenics and conspiracy theories about French history,” he jokes. “Actually though, I’ve always thought he should be a dad.”

Rava shrugs and grins. 

“Maybe he will be. Willa’s not exactly age-appropriate.” He chuckles.

“Yeah. The kids need cousins.” The thought makes him happy and Rava considers what a good job Connor did with his first kid.

……………..

The passive-aggressive toasts that veer toward simply aggressive make Rava shake her head and roll her eyes at Kendall every minute or so, quietly laughing at the pathetic nature of their insults. She’s keeping it light enough that he can ignore most of the jabs in his direction and he’s grateful only to have to listen halfway. It’s hard to distract him when Logan subtly accuses him of ruining the wedding, but he tries to focus on knowing what he’s doing is right. He looks nervously at Roman and is not comforted by his lack of eye contact, which feels purposeful. Kendall can’t decide if he’s being paranoid or not. Next to him, Rava almost catches Gerri's eye, but Gerri deftly avoids looking back. As Rava sips more champagne, her tongue gets more acidic, making him laugh with her sharp comments about everyone’s caustic remarks. He admires how naturally she can lighten a mood, the way she can smooth over the most difficult situations so effortlessly. He’s always wished he had that kind of ease and hopes it somehow soaks into him. During a brief break between toasts, Kendall gets curious about her family politics.

“Hey, how’s everything with your stepdad these days? I know he was kind of being difficult to you around Thanksgiving-“

“And most of the time? You know, he ‘expects my success!’” she imitates. She gives him a twinkle. “But unsurprisingly, he’s been much nicer since I told him we’re back together.” Kendall tries not to let the glow shine through his eyes. He’s unsuccessful and Rava thinks it’s sweet. She knows how much it means to him to get challenging parental approval. “He does love you,” she smiles.

Kendall shrugs in a comically exaggerated way.

“I should be the favorite somewhere, right?” 

She takes his hand under the table and chances a look in Logan’s direction. She catches him calmly looking right at Kendall. The vitriol seems to have left his icy blue eyes, and for a second, she could swear he was just a dad wanting to see his son at a family wedding. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t discount being number one here either. Not just yet,” she says. 

Kendall decides he likes the premise too much to argue with it, but his stomach twists at the idea that his dad must feel betrayed and furious. He allows himself a millisecond-long glance at his father, who he can see is turning away. He feels a pang of regret and tries to replace it with fortitude, but he’s hit with a wave of desperate wishes to be closer to him, to hear that he’s proud, to get a hug just given out of affection. He thinks about how hard he’s trying to earn his dad’s respect and wonders if he can ever win his love. He remembers Logan smiling at him when he was a little kid and feeling like the world was his every time. What had he done wrong to lose that? He runs through every corporate action he had taken since his dad had bestowed the future title on him a year and a half ago. The late-night strategy sessions they’d had about his ascendence to the throne were some of the only bright spots of the last few years. “When it’s you,” Logan had always started, “I want you to focus in on…” Kendall had always had to try with all his might to hear anything after ‘when it’s you’ in his father’s gruff, strong, self-assured voice. He could have sworn he felt the hot shots of adrenaline and dopamine shooting through his entire body. The few times he’d received praise for doing something right, he had floated home on air. Anxiety floods him at the thought that he might never get another night like those. He’s dying for reassurance.

“I think we should go to your parents’ house when we get back,” he says suddenly. Rava smiles uncertainly.

“Okay.” She squeezes his hand. “You in need of some cookies and compliments?”

He had truly missed his in-laws during their time apart. Rava’s mom and step-dad had always been so kind to him in ways his own parents never were. Rava’s mom Cheryl freely hugged him all the time and always asked the cook to bring him seconds. Their beautiful house always smelled like some delicious baked good, and even into his thirties she would still pat him on the shoulder and tell him he was doing a great job and deserved a break. Rava’s step-dad Robert poured him scotch and talked business in a much more upbeat and excited way than Logan did, once in a while even offering a high-five after hearing about a successful board vote or an acquisition when Kendall managed to save existing jobs while still turning a profit. It was so rare that Kendall got the chance to talk about work with someone who had no financial stake in what happened and just genuinely wanted him to succeed. As a powerful M&A lawyer, Robert had high expectations of Rava and could be hard on her, and Kendall tried to slip in bits about her success too. They went golfing every few months after Robert retired, and Kendall knew it as worth enduring Logan’s disapproval of him having any other family members. One of the most painful casualties of the separation for Kendall was his never-ending worry that his surrogate parents for seventeen years now thought he was a junkie and hated him. But Rava had reminded him throughout their time apart that she would never talk about him that way and that they were also sad about the split.

“Cookies and compliments,” he breaks into a little smile and looks at the table. “Do you know how good that sounds right now?” He almost laughs at himself for how much he needs to be around people who honestly like him in this moment.

“Then we’ll go. For now, how about some cake, and your hair looks nice,” she says with a grin. He reaches up to check his hair in case it was messy and that was a joke. She laughs lightly. “Really? I meant that! It is definitely time to go to my parents’. You need a break.”

“Stewy will love that.”

“He’ll love having you getting things done at full capacity. And Roman- where is Roman?”

“Uh, we don’t know,” he replies uneasily. 

“You don’t know?” She repeats. 

“He gave his speech, he went somewhere with Tabitha maybe, I don’t see her either now, but… you know- weird timing.”

“Well, yeah,” she agrees. Just as she finishes the word, the DJ returns and turns on the fun music everyone’s been waiting for. Kendall and Rava breathe a sigh of relief at being free from the dangerous speeches and walk out onto the dance floor. Kendall stops for a minute to look around and make sure it’s safe out there. Logan is walking out with Frank and Gerri, Shiv is with Tom at the head table, and Roman has indeed disappeared. He finds that particularly worrisome but decides to push it out of his mind and enjoy the moment. Rava goes ahead to the kids and the three of them start dancing while Kendall hangs back. Classic multicolored uplighting flits across their faces and he takes a moment to absorb the purely happy scene. Rava catches his eye and smiles as she does silly dance moves with the kids. He feels the same flip in his chest as he would when she’d spot him at a party when they were just starting to date. She could always tell that the party king image was an inch deep and that he probably needed encouragement to approach her. Sophie runs over and throws herself into him for one of her sweet enthusiastic hugs that make everything brighter. Rava follows with Iverson and reaches for Kendall’s hand.

“You wanna dance?” She’s bouncing already and he takes her hand and follows her out with a cheerful air. She makes them all into a circle and they swing around, jumping up and down. The kids look positively delighted, and seeing their joyful expressions looking up at him makes him promise himself he’ll do anything it takes to keep them like that forever. He watches Rava giggle and twirls her. She spins close to him and gives him a quick kiss.

“Mom!!” Sophie yells. Rava chuckles and pats her head as she looks back at Kendall and watches him bounce and dance.

“I remember you,” she smiles at him. “You’re fun!” He laughs. 

“You’re definitely the only one who’s of that opinion tonight.” But he only needs one. The song slows down and Rava glances at Kendall’s watch.

“Kids, it is way past your bedtime!” She motions to Bianca to come take them to bed. “Bianca is going to help you get ready for bed and then we’ll come kiss you goodnight, okay?” The kids reluctantly agree and Kendall kisses the top of their heads before Bianca leads them out.

“Slow song…” Rava looks at him invitingly. They sway to the music and she looks up at him, placing both her hands on his face and pulling him to her lips. She can’t wait another second to feel his lips, to close her eyes and lean into him. He lets himself relax the way he only ever can with her. After a minute he returns to proper form, but she steps in to close the gap between them, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t remember this part of Cotillion,” he smiles.

“Hmm, well, New York didn’t do it like Connecticut, then,” she smirks.

“Oh, am I married to a bad girl?” He whispers.

“You have no idea.”

“No? You have tricks I haven’t seen?”

She raises her eyebrows and pulls him to her again for a deeper kiss. They’ve both forgotten everyone’s eyes around them.

“Mmmm… that’s good champagne,” he whispers. She laughs silently and puts her forehead on his.

“Stopppp!” 

“Yeah, I’m generally not very good at that,” he jokes. He kisses her again, open-mouthed, and she can feel the passion. He’s tasting her. “So good,” he breathes. “Let’s go. Back to the room.”

She giggles and he starts walking with his arm around her. Just at that moment, they clock Roman and Tabitha walking through the door. Rava looks disappointed at the thought of yet another interruption in their day and Kendall notices.

“Hang on just a second,” he says quickly, and she reluctantly lets him go and makes peace with another night of falling asleep by herself. To her surprise, he walks over to Stewy and then straight back to her. “Okay, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to talk to Roman?” Rava asks.

“I told Stewy I think I’ve had enough confrontation for one day. I talked to my dad, I think he can handle my brother.” He smiles at her. “You know what he said, though, and I hadn’t even processed it yet?”

“What?”

“We did it. We’re taking over the fucking company.”

Chapter 12 💗

[raging-violets]

[ HIDE ] - in order to hide receiver from people chasing them, sender pulls them into a tight hug while hiding their face from view. + shadow star!

It took me forever to respond to this because I needed to re-watch some of Star Girl to remember what I was going to do, lol. But I hope you like it anyway.

This set in 1x07 - Shiv (1)

-

"Pat?"

The name barely warbled over Courtney's lips as she crept out of the empty classroom. Creaking sounded around her, the walls of the old school building settling in the night. Still, she knew there was something--

"Ugh!"

A strong kick to Courtney's back sent her flying into the row of lockers in front of her. She crashed into it so hard her feet flew out from beneath her, sending her feet over head onto her back on the floor. Courtney barely had the chance to look up, to see who had attacked her, before she was grabbed by the front of her suit, hefted up into the ceiling where her body broke a light, and was kicked into another locker on her downward trajectory.

The second she landed on the ground, the Cosmic Staff sent out a beam toward her assailant, who simply bent to the side and evaded the attack.

Looking up, Courtney gasped when she spotted Cindy decked out in her own green leather suit...not even bothering to hide her face. The reality slammed into Courtney's head immediately. If she wasn't trying to hide...She's going to kill me.

"Stargirl, I presume?" Cindy asked, her voice light, airy, and...menacing.

Regret immediately filled Courtney, knowing if she hadn't pushed her friends and Pat away earlier that afternoon, if she hadn't shown off, if she hadn't been so stubborn...

They all would've been there for her.

As a team.

Courtney didn't have much time to think about it, what with the ball of fire Cindy sent her way. Instead, she turned and raced toward a more open fighting space; the gym.

Back and forth they moved, strike after strike, attacking each other with all they had. Courtney felt the reverberations of Cindy's staff hitting the Cosmic Staff move through her body, jarring her body quake from head to tie. After a few hits, Courtney felt herself starting to tire, wondered how long she could keep going while Cindy kept coming at her.

Cindy reared back and kicked Courtney hard in the chest, knocking her back. Then she pulled her staff back, scrounged up energy, and sent another wave of fire toward Courtney. Courtney bent her knees, bracing herself, seconds before she felt arms wrap around her and she went spiraling off to the side.

When she stopped moving, she looked up to see who had saved her but her head was pressed firmly into her savior's shoulder. "Don't."

She recognized the voice immediately. "Brady?"

"Shh."

Listening, Courtney heard the shuffling sounds of Cindy's footsteps coming closer to their hiding place. Closer, closer. Courtney closed her eyes, pressing her forehead into Brady's shoulder--Shadowhunter's, she could feel the leather material of his suit push against her mask. Cindy walked by their hiding place, under the bleachers, she realized, looked directly at them, walked away, muttering under her breath.

Brady must've used his powers for invisibility to ensure they weren't found. Still, for a few minutes, she held still, held her breath, focused on Brady's arms around her. All until the sound of Cindy's footsteps disappeared and the silence surrounding them became deafening.

"Brady...let go," Courtney said.

"No." The harshness in his voice, accompanied by him holding her tighter surprised her. Courtney's eyes widened, slowly, she brought up her hands to rest on his back. "She's going to kill you." The finality of his tone stirred her even further.

"I know." Courtney pushed him away and summoned her staff. "But she could kill everyone else."

And with that, she turned and flipped out of their hiding space and charged back into battle with Cindy.

[eddieeatsass]

don’t take me for granted - detnarg rof em ekat t'nod

Summary: Eddie decides to have a little fun at Richie's expense, and uses Bill to fulfill his plan. But of course what fun would it be if Richie wasn't there to watch? Pairing: Reddie/Kaspbrough Rating: E Warnings: Smut, explicit language, threats of violence, alcohol

Read on AO3 Read the rest of the Dark Mirror Verse series

“Another round of shots?” Beverly asked the room, already pouring the alcohol before anyone agreed.

“If I drink any more, I’m gonna puke.” Ben protested, holding his bloated belly before belching obscenely loud.

“Puke in my living room and I’ll cut your dick off.” Eddie warned with narrowed eyes.

The rest of the group accepted the shots Beverly handed out, and after an enthusiastic countdown from the pink-cheeked redhead, they were all throwing back the cheap liquor.

“To Bill!” Beverly cheered, raising her hands up in the air and letting her body fall sideways into the aforementioned man.

“Why are we celebrating Bill when we’re the ones who busted him out? Without us he’d still be holed up in a cell, nothing but a prison bitch for some guy named... Donnie, or something.” Richie waved his hand as he picked a name at random.

“His name was Robert, actually, and he was a very tender lover. Well, except for that time he held a shiv to my throat and fucked me raw in the shower. But that was only the first time. After I agreed to be his go-to, the guy was a total sweetheart.”

All eyes were on Bill, wide and unsure, until Beverly began laughing, then everyone joined in, shaking their heads at the absurdity of the situation.

“Of course you were someone’s bitch.” Stan mumbled into his beer can before taking a sip.

“You’re just jealous because I’m not your bitch.” Bill griped.

“Try being my bitch for one night, I dare you. You wouldn’t come out of it alive, pussy boy.” Stan challenged, a glint in his eye.

The rest of the night went on just like that: binge drinking, thinly veiled sexual tension, and hurling harmless insults back and forth. It was when Beverly and Ben headed home together, intentions evident in the way she laid her body into his, that things started to heat up.

“I think we’re gonna hit the sack too.” Mike announced, Stan in tow as they made their way towards the front door. Mike’s muscles bulged under his shirt as he held Stan’s weight up easily.

“Goodnight fuckerssssss.” Stan slurred, having clearly hit his alcohol limit three drinks ago. Stan was notorious for having a stomach of steel, or rather, kidneys of steel. He was like a cat, 9 lives and counting, so there was never a need to be worried about his intoxication level. Stanley was unstoppable, and never wasted an opportunity to remind those around him.

“Try to get him home in one piece, Hanlon.” Bill shot over his shoulder, taking another sip of the beer he was nursing and washing down the bitter taste with a bite of pizza. God he’d missed pizza in prison.

“Can we take your motorcycle?” Stan asked eagerly as Mike shrugged Stan’s coat over his loose limbs.

“It’s like dressing a toddler.” Mike grumbled to the rest of the room, ignoring Stan’s question as he tried to get Stan’s feet into his shoes next.

“Mike! Buddy! Motorcycle!” Stan insisted, kicking off the shoe Mike had just gotten on.

“You little shit.” Mike hiked Stan over his shoulder, forsaking his shoes entirely in favor of shutting him up.

Stan’s whiny voice continued to echo into the distance as they disappeared through the front door and down their apartment hall. The last thing they heard before the door closed was Mike's booming voice, promising Stan they would take the motorcycle out tomorrow.

“What a mess.” Eddie scoffed with light laughter, twirling a pair of handcuffs around his finger. When they’d broken Bill out earlier that night, Eddie had managed to swipe the pair of handcuffs right off one of the guard’s belts. A little consolation prize for all the hassle they had to go through to get Bill’s dumb ass free.

“At least he’s a hot mess.” Bill commented, slouching down the couch just a bit more.

“I’ll drink to that.” Eddie agreed, finishing off his beer and slamming it down on the coffee table.

“You think anyone with a dick is hot.” Richie shoved Eddie’s leg with his toe, causing him to teeter into Bill’s chest, where he stayed.

“Not just anyone with a dick. Anyone with a nice dick.” Eddie corrected.

“And Stan ticks off that box.” Bill agreed.

“It’s not that nice.” Richie grumbled, jealousy seething from the fine lines of his furrowed brow.

“Awe, is someone jealous?” Eddie mimicked an empathetic tone, jutting his bottom lip out in a false pout.

“Please,” Richie huffed. “To be jealous I’d have to care about you.”

It sounded harsh, but Eddie knew Richie was just putting on a bravado to save face. Richie had an ego the size of his dick, and anytime something threatened to crush it, Richie went into fight mode. But knowing the cause of action didn’t make Eddie any less inclined to test how far he could stretch Richie’s blatant lie.

Eddie crawled across the sectional couch, stopping in front of Richie who was sat right at the end.

“You don’t care about me?” Eddie asked, continuing his routine of fake dejection.

Richie searched Eddie’s face, trying to figure out what his boyfriend was up to.

“What, you suddenly go soft on me, Kaspbrak?”

“Well, I just wanted to double check before I fuck Bill over there.”

As Richie’s face hardened, Eddie was quick to handcuff his wrist to one of the exposed pipes jutting out from their wall, and dart away before Richie was able to grab him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Richie shouted, causing both Eddie and Bill to burst into laughter.

“I SWEAR TO GOD ONCE I GET MY HANDS ON YOU YOU’RE DEAD, KID.” Richie threatened, glaring daggers at Eddie, who just slithered farther away from him.

Bill, who had been too distracted to hear Eddie’s plan, was surprised when the spitfire saddled up on his lap. But once Eddie leaned in and whispered his scheme, Bill was more than eager to comply.

“I thought you didn’t care who I slept with.” Eddie mused, beginning to grind against Bill’s lap lazily.

“I fucking don’t, but at least uncuff me so I don’t have to watch your bodies smack together in ungodly ways.”

Eddie just ignored him, turning his attention back to Bill’s half lidded eyes.

“Why don’t you tell Richie what you’re gonna do to me, huh Bill?” Eddie giggled as he began to kiss down the column of Bill’s neck.

Bill wasted no time reaching his arms around Eddie and grabbing his ass with both hands, kneading it indulgently.

“I’m gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours.” Bill stated simply, shooting a feral grin Richie’s way. Bill had always been unhinged, but when someone dangled meat in front of him he lost all common sense.

“It’s anything but tight.” Richie shot back. “He’s nothing but a loosened up fuck-hole, good luck getting any pleasure out of him.”

Richie was playing right into Eddie’s hands, the degradation causing him to grow tight in his pants.

Eddie grabbed Bill’s face roughly, connecting their lips in a messy show of dominance. Make no mistake, Eddie was the one in charge here; he was pulling both men’s strings tight enough to leave marks.

Eddie could hear muttered swears accompanying the clanging of metal as Richie tried to break free. He made sure to swirl his tongue along with the rhythm of his hips, stirring up Bill’s insides until he was humping up into Eddie’s small body.

When Eddie pulled away, a string of saliva spread thin between their lips, snapping at the last moment and leaving Eddie’s chin wet and messy.

Eddie stripped off his t-shirt, grinning wickedly as Bill followed suit and their bare torsos reconnected as he was pulled in close.

Eddie had seen Bill’s tattoos numerous times, but never this close up. He traced them delicately with his fingers, admiring the variations in tone between the older and newer ink. He followed the lines on Bill’s chest piece, a black and white bat with wings that spread across the tops of his pecks. Its face was mangled, mutated in a way that wasn’t distinctive but still left you feeling uneasy. It was a beautiful piece. Eddie had been there when Bill had first gotten it done, but now he was able to admire it from a whole new perspective.

Eddie ducked his head down, placing a kiss to each of the bat’s wings, before moving his attention to Bill’s nipples. They were pierced with simple silver barbells, small treasures that increased sensation in the area. Eddie was very familiar with them.

Eddie hovered above one, looking up through his long lashes to gauge Bill’s reaction as he flicked his tongue out and gently licked at the bud. The response was a loud groan, maybe exaggerated for Richie’s benefit, but satisfying nonetheless.

“You stupid slut.” Richie spat, only adding to the arousal Eddie already had building up. He looked over his shoulder innocently, locking eyes with Richie as he stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly pulled the fabric down to expose his ass.

Fire engulfed Richie’s eyes and he violently pulled against his restraints, looking at Eddie’s ass, his property, sitting atop Bill Denbrough’s lap.

It didn’t take long before Bill’s hands wandered down to the divots in Eddie’s lower back, tracing them with sharp nails that left scratches in their wake. Eddie arched into the touch, moaning loudly at the feeling of being marked. Bill’s fingers drifted further down, finding Eddie’s puckered hole ready for the taking, as they circled it teasingly.

“Don’t draw it out, just fuck me Denbrough.” Eddie demanded, tugging hard enough on Bill’s hair that it forced his head back.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Bill agreed, making quick work of unzipping his pants and pulling out his painfully hard cock.

“Should I tell you twice how much it’s gonna hurt when I CUT OFF YOUR FUCKING DICK!?” Richie shouted.

“Shhhh Richie, calm down. Sharing is caring, right?” For the first time since this all started, Bill looked past Eddie to regard Richie. He was red in the face, a vein Bill had never seen before popping out on his forehead. It was a beautiful sight, a complete loss of power. Bill almost had half a mind to take advantage of Richie’s bound state himself, but he’d rather wait for a time when Richie willingly submitted to him. Now that would be a sight to behold. Maybe he could have both of them at the same time, even.

Eddie’s impatient whine brought Bill back from his fantasies, directing his attention to where Eddie had maneuvered himself closer to Bill’s cock.

“You want it dry, dirty slut?” Bill taunted, watching the way Eddie’s cock twitched in response. Bill chuckled darkly, the black of his eyes growing as he roughly pulled Eddie’s pants and boxers the rest of the way off, leaving him completely nude and completely exposed to whatever abuse Bill had in store for him.

“I’m gonna make you bleed.” Bill whispered into Eddie’s ear, noticing how the smaller boy shivered.

Bill’s only prep was a glob of saliva he let drip down from his mouth to his cock, coating it in a slicked sheen that would do little to actually help Eddie’s discomfort. Then he was lining himself up with Eddie’s entrance and forcefully pushing himself in.

Eddie screamed, raw and wanton, a masochistic grin overtaking his features as he was split in half on Bill’s cock. It was thicker than Richie’s, not quite as long, but it still managed to fill Eddie up.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH, FUCKING BASTARD LOWLIFE- I’M GONNA RUIN YOUR FUCKING LIFE YOU FUCKING-”

Richie’s yelling was like music to their ears, because deep down they all knew Richie was loving this. It was the same sick pleasure he got when Eddie managed to get Richie in a submissive state. He struggled with an  internal battle of not wanting to let go of control, but knowing that loss of power felt so so good. One glance over their shoulders confirmed that Richie was in fact straining against his pants, trying to hide his subtle grinding up against the seam of his jeans.

Eddie’s thighs were already quivering, clenching around Bill’s own as he slowly lifted himself up and clenched back down the thick shaft. His breathing was heavy, sweat beginning to break out on his body as he struggled to take the intrusion.

But the burn felt good, and soon it started feeling really good, and eventually Eddie found himself losing his composure completely.

“Fuck, no wonder they call you big Bill.” Eddie said unabashedly. He heard Richie scoff behind him.

“Oh come ON.” Richie groaned. Eddie could practically picture him rolling his eyes.

Bill’s face was flushed, his mouth hanging open as he panted along with Eddie. His hair was tousled from Eddie’s ministrations, and his pupils had eclipsed his eyes, leaving nothing but a thin ring of blue keeping him from looking inhuman. He looked hotter than Eddie had ever seen him look before, but that could be attributed to the fact that his cock was in Eddie’s ass at that moment.

“Your cock sleeve is fitting me nicely.” Bill said to Richie, shooting him a wink along with a wicked grin.

“FUCK you.” Richie snapped.

Eddie’s head began swirling with the familiar fog that usually came before he hit his peak. Looking over his shoulder, he zoned in on Richie.

“He feels so good, Rich.” Eddie moaned, his eyes beginning to roll back in his head as Bill thrust up into his prostate head on.

“Anything would feel good to you, you fucking tramp.” Richie seethed.

Eddie glanced back down to Richie’s lap, smirking knowingly.

“You like watching me get fucked, don’t you Richie?”

Richie was completely quiet, but Eddie could see his jaw clenching like a vice grip.

“Yeah, he does.” Bill supplied. “Fucking cuck.”

“BILL YOU FUCKING SON OF A BITCH I’M GOING TO SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT.” Richie shot forward, his restraints finally giving out. Things moved in a flurry after that. Within a few quick moves Richie grabbed one of the switchblades they had under the coffee table, pushed Eddie off, and pinned Bill to the ground with a blade to his neck.

He could hear Eddie complaining behind him but drowned him out, hyper focused on the man before him. The knife dug into Bill’s neck where Richie held it with brute force, bobbing against Bill’s skin every time his laughter caused his Adam’s apple to move.

That laughter, unrestrained and maniacal, was the laughter of someone a little too unhinged.

“Do it, come on pussy, fucking do it!” Bill began pushing himself forward, causing the knife to breach his skin.

Richie searched his face, trying to find a logical reason why he couldn’t end Bill’s life the way he had countless others. The answer wasn’t conscious, it was a feeling low in his gut, one that made him uneasy and frankly a little bit queasy. It was something he felt for all his friends, the reason he continued to bail them out of their problems, sit with them through their miseries, seek out to destroy the people who hurt them. And as much as Bill had pissed him off, he was still a part of that very small circle of people that Richie would kill for, but could not kill.

Pulling the blade away, Richie spat in Bill’s face. Sneering down at him as the anger simmered in his belly.

“You’re not worth it.” He gritted out.

Suddenly, Richie felt a warm sensation beneath his thigh, which he had been using to pin Bill down. He moved off of his friend, stumbling back a few steps as he gazed down at the mess Bill had made.

“Did you fucking cum on me, bitch!?” Richie growled, instantly rethinking his choice to let Bill live.

Bill just laughed once again, the noise joined by another chuckle from behind Richie.

He turned slowly to address his boyfriend, who was fanning the fire with every giggle he supplied.

Richie reached forward, grabbing a fistful of Eddie’s hair and forcing him to his knees violently enough that they’d be bruised tomorrow.

“Clean up the mess your dog made, you useless slut.”

Richie pushed Eddie’s face against his thigh, rubbing his face in the cum that dripped down towards his knee. Eddie obeyed, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out, licking as much as he could while Richie maneuvered his head aggressively. When Richie decided it was clean enough he tugged Eddie back up roughly.

“Don’t ever do that again. Next time, I won’t let them live.” Richie warned.

“I’ll make sure it’s not someone we know, then.” Eddie challenged. “But… it kinda seems like you liked it.” Eddie eyed the damp spot on Richie’s pants, the one that wasn’t left behind by Bill. "Everyone got to finish but me." He added as a last thought, pouting for real this time.

“Don't worry, when I'm done with you you'll be so oversensitive even breathing will hurt.” Richie pulled Eddie towards the hallway, the strong grip on his hair still acting as a rein.

“Thanks Eddie, real good work kid, let’s do it again sometime!” Bill shouted towards their disappearing figures. Before Richie was entirely out of sight, he chucked his knife through the air with expert precision, landing it right beside Bill’s head. It stuck into the wood flooring at a 90 degree angle, cutting off a few inches of Bill’s hair in the process.

“Next time I won’t miss.” Richie growled.

That night, Eddie learned two things. Firstly, Bill was a good fuck. He wasn’t Richie… but he was a pretty good substitute. And secondly, riling Richie up resulted in the best sex he’d ever had. So in conclusion, this would not be the last time Eddie pulled the strings.

[nakedmonkey]

2 and 14 shivlina?

2) Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

I go back and forth about it. Lately I've been thinking of a situation where Karolina would be the one to say it out loud after Shiv danced around it for a while. I think Shiv is afraid to label anything between them because it'll give her license to cheat or be generally awful. And I think Karolina needs there to be clarity and needs to draw a clear line where one is necessary. So she'd be straight forward and be like, "Hey. I like you and this feels like it's mutual. What are we doing."

14) what’s the thing they miss most about each other?

My personal HC is that they break up "for good" when Shiv finds out she's pregnant, and Karolina is the one to do it.

At this point, what Shiv misses the most is just having someone around whose intentions she can trust. In a more impractical sense, she misses the comfort of having Karolina physically around. She wasn't prepared for how instinctively she found herself aching for her specifically. More than once she finds herself scrolling through past text conversations contemplating asking her what she's up to. But that's not good for anybody, so she puts her phone away and prays for sleep.

Karolina misses the familiarity and the feeling of being understood. Not having to explain her crazy work hours, or the insane things she does on a daily basis, pausing mid conversation to answer a call--She misses Shiv's wit, how she fights through her own sharp edges to find a bit of softness and be comfortable there. She even begins to miss their fights, and that's when she knows maybe it's time to call some friends.