Chapter Text
Everything had been great. Maybe the best it had ever been.
The team was on a four-game winning streak, with a strong start to the season besides. Henry and Michelle were moving to London a few days after Christmas. The team and Rebecca had more than welcomed him back without a moment's hesitation. Beard and Jane seemed to be thriving in the chaos they both somehow preferred.
Even Roy and Keely were tentatively back together, a shift in the status quo that Roy had brought to the Diamond Dogs nearly a week after Ted had returned to his role as head coach. Not that he'd particularly wanted to return as gaffer, Roy was more than up for the task and deserved the promotion. He had requested to return as an assistant coach to the indominable Roy Kent. Roy had had different ideas.
He'd practically begged Ted to let him be demoted back to an assistant coach. Anything to get out of press conferences and inspirational speeches. Or, as near as Roy Kent had ever begged in his life.
Ted walked through the door to the manager's office, backpack slung over his shoulder. The buzzing feeling of "first day of school," electric through his veins, even though the office looked nearly the same as when he'd left three months prior. Roy had strode up to him without a word, pressing a brand-new whistle into his palm.
"I made Rebecca fix your contract," Roy growled, gesturing with his chin to a document sitting on the desk that had once been Ted's. “If you’re here, I fucking refuse to answer one more question by those idiots in the press room. And I’m still not reading any fucking reports, scouting or otherwise.”
*********
Ted had been miserable in Kansas, so lonely, that Michelle had hijacked one of their bimonthly “how’s-our-kid-doing” coffee meetings to propose that they needed to find a new solution. A solution that didn’t leave Ted looking like a kicked dog whenever he didn’t think someone was watching.
“Ted,” Michelle had begun, her tone unnervingly gentle. Lately she had been handling him with such kid gloves that he almost missed the eye rolls and early frustration of learning how to co-parent. “This isn’t working. You miss your team, your friends, your community. Henry misses having a dad that is actually passionate about something-" Ted opened his mouth to argue, but Michelle cut him off before he could get a word in edgewise.
“Something that isn’t faking-it-til-you-make-it and being a dad twenty-four-seven.” The look Michelle gave him was so kind that it made his throat feel tight. Ted fought off the downward pull of his lips. “Not that you aren’t doing a great job at both of those things. But Henry can’t have that on him. It’s not fair to either of you, and it’s not fair to me to have to watch it.”
Ted nodded slowly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Not a single thing she said was wrong.
“I, uh, I know. I just don’t have a better way of doing this. Not yet anyway. I can find one, I just need a little time to get back into being here.” Ted said, breaking eye contact for just a moment, taking the most subtle deep breath he could to get a little more steady.
“Good thing I do. Have a better solution.” Michelle said with a small smile, handing him a folder that detailed her job offer at a private school just a forty-five-minute walk from Nelson Road Stadium, a place for Henry at aforementioned school, and details she had hashed out with Beard on the sly regarding Ted returning as coach for AFC Richmond. Rebecca had a new contract ready so quickly that Ted was left wondering if it had already been drafted.
*********
The first month back had been like coming home. Heck, it hadn’t just felt like it, it was coming home. Pints with Beard. Biscuits with the Boss. Meet ups with the Diamond Dogs that felt helpful and meaningful, even if Ted hadn’t barked for advice. Long, meandering walks across Richmond Green, alone or with Beard by his side. Twice daily calls with Henry, who was so excited to move to London that he could barely contain himself. Everything was as good as it had ever been.
Ted had no idea how to say that something was deeply, desperately wrong and he had no idea what exactly it was. The same haunting loneliness he’d experienced back in Kansas trickled in, even when surrounded by the whole team. A bone-weary apathy was quick to follow, which Ted did everything he could to hide from his Nelson Road family.
Ted had never felt so frustrated in his entire life. He knew everything was wonderful, but every time he reached for where happiness, excitement, or even just curiosity sat it felt like reaching out to find an empty shelf. Ted thought he was pretty good at hiding his growing unease, he had plenty of experience, but the lack of respite and cause was a new game. His whole life he’d always known how to find a distraction or a purpose, something to cheer for. But none of the usual balms were able to touch how darn tired he was.
And that wasn’t even touching on the anxiety. Hoo boy.
Ted was no stranger to anxiety, but at least in the past it felt like the fear squeezing his chest and throat had some context. Failing marriage. Divorce. Missing Henry. The loss of Rebecca’s father and all the baggage it brought with it. Even just moving to a whole other country.
No, this new anxiety, that had settled in so slowly he hadn’t noticed it at first until he couldn’t not notice, was a new beast. Contextless jolts of worry and anxiety seemed to be the only way he could stab through the deep exhaustion to get anything done.
The panic attacks weren’t the worst he’d had, but the lack of an identifiable trigger half the time left him jumpy in the darn grocery store. At least for now he was able to keep things somewhat under control with breathing exercises.
By the end of September, Ted’s chest felt like a hamster that had spent the last three months being squeezed by a toddler.
*********
“Hey Doc,” Ted greeted softly as he slipped into Sharon’s office for a weekly check in, hands hidden neatly in his pockets.
“Ted, how are you feeling?” Sharon replied in turn as Ted adjusted himself somewhat stiffly in one of her office chairs. Her eyes were warm, but Ted didn’t miss the flicker of curiosity as she regarded him, as if she saw something even he wasn’t aware of.
“I’m okay, Doc,” Ted began. Sharon cocked her head. “I’m… adjusting. It’s good to be back, just different, ya’ know?”
How the hell do you explain that despite having everything you’d ever wanted you’re still a complete mess?
“Tell me more. How’s being back different?” Sharon prodded gently.
“It’s… alright…” Ted settled, not having the words for what was wrong. “I’m so dang happy to be here, with everybody, Henry moving out here, I think I got a little whiplash.”
Sharon nodded, appearing to follow. Ted felt wrong bringing up this new anxiety and crushing sadness. His life was the best he could possibly dream of. All he should feel is grateful.
And here he was shaken and exhausted most of the day, only to drown out the noise with whiskey until he passed out.
“I figure I’ll be the happiest guy in the world once I got my feet under me again. Happier than a clam at high tide.”
Once he’d left, Sharon glanced over her notes from the session. Despite Ted’s attempts at talking and honesty about the troubles of moving back, something didn’t quite sit right. He was holding back, falling onto old habits of hiding pain with a joke and a folksy saying. She made a note to check in on him sometime outside of their meetings. Ted sometimes opened up a little easier in a less formal setting.
*********
The stagger home from Mae’s that night was the first time the thought slipped into Ted’s head.
If I’m this much of a mess when everything is perfect, how the hell am I going to keep going when it gets worse? I… don’t know if I want to be here for that. I don’t think I can handle a whole lot more. I don’t want to keep doing this.
The thought looped like a bad song stuck in his head, until Ted poured enough cheap bourbon down his throat to drown it out. His heart somehow hammered until he passed out on top of his sheets.
*********
“Howdy Boss!” Ted greeted, a pink box of biscuits in hand. Rebecca squinted for just a moment at the worry lines standing out on his face and the lock of hair barely slipping out of place. His voice couldn’t quite hit the enthusiastic note she had grown so used to. “Let’s see, favorite ice cream flavor for a night on the town vs. favorite ice cream flavor for a night in?”
Rebecca paused, basking even a few months in at having Ted’s boundless joy and enthusiasm back as a regular visitor in her daily routine. The return of her biscuits didn’t hurt either.
“Classic vanilla for a night in and lemon for a night out,” Rebecca didn’t try to hide her smile at Ted’s usual antics. “Although, Keely brought an Earl Grey flavoured ice cream over the other night and once I find out where she got it…”
Ted grimaced; hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Y’all can’t just let garbage water be garbage water, can you? Now you gotta bring ice cream into it. And to think I’ve called this a civilized country.”
Rebecca let Ted ramble on as long as he pleased, jumping from jokes to goofy anecdotes. While the topics themselves were par for the course, Rebecca felt a stir of uneasiness in her chest. Ted’s manic pace seemed to be a little too much and the bright smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Rebecca waited for a lull in Ted’s story of how he’d tried to train his old dog Hank to bring his shoes each morning and finally had to settle on cutting him off.
“Are you doing alright, Ted?” Rebecca asked. “You seem… scattered.” Ted was nodding before she finished.
“Right as rain.” Ted said, trying to wave Rebecca’s worries away. Despite his placating attempt, Rebecca was skeptical. The worry lines on his forehead were just about the worse she’d ever seen them and his eyes looked…sad. The usual twinkle of joy was completely missing.
“You know you can talk to me anytime, right? Friend first, boss second,” Rebecca offered Ted a small smile. “Can’t have my favorite gaffer unhappy.”
*********
Rebecca kept a close eye on Ted over the next few days, but if he wanted to talk, he gave no sign. By Friday she considered sending Beard a text to see if he knew what was going on but decided against it. If the man had a reason to be worried about Ted, Rebecca was pretty sure he already would have let her know. Not to mention he had a new baby at home. The last thing Beard needed was to be worrying about his best friend for no good reason. Especially on the first weekend of the season without a game. Everyone deserved a proper rest.
Rebecca pushed her worries about the gaffer out of her mind and settled in for the perfect Friday night; a glass of white wine, a book, and the fluffiest dressing gown she owned. She’d saved two of Ted’s biscuits for tonight and ignored the twinge of worry she felt at the slightly too salty taste.
*********
Ted had lost count of how many drinks he’d had. Lost track of the time. He knew it was late, and the bottle was dwindling. And it wasn’t helping. Not that Ted was sure the drinking had ever really helped. Just made it so he could fall asleep without his heart pounding.
Ted’s throat was burning and tight as a noose. He’d barely been able to track a single conversation lately, no matter how hard he tried. He’d listen, focus, cock his head to show he that he cared. Despite every effort, the words felt like they were slipping by his head just out of reach.
Who the hell was he if he couldn’t even pay enough attention to really care about people? Four years ago, he’d left home for England, because his being home had been doing more harm than good. Then he fled back home because he was starting to do more harm than good being in England. And then he’d come back. And…and… There was no place left to run, just a path of damage everywhere he’d been.
Ted tried to take a deep breath, but it stuttered short.
He’d typed up a note… Worried that between his shaking hands and general drunkenness no one would be able to read a note he’d written. Not that it mattered. Not that it’d really help. But… He’d wished his dad had left a note. Some kind of closure.
Maybe if Henry knew that it wasn’t his fault, he’d be okay. Ted tried to take another deep breath and failed, a ragged sob taking its place. Henry was never going to understand, no matter what he wrote. He was never going to be okay, because God knows Ted isn’t okay.
Ted’s mind fixed on the rope in his closet. He knew how to tie the knots, those years in Boy Scouts would finally have some use. Figure-eight knot to the exposed rafters, secure. Then Jack Ketch’s knot, the Hangman’s Noose. Always done with an uneven number of wraps, ideally thirteen.
Another relevant number. Thirteen wraps. Thirteen days in September.
Ted rubbed a fist into his eye, trying to stop the tears. As damn tired and drunk as he was, getting the rope, tying two knots, and getting up on a stool was… too damn much. Hell, just getting off the couch felt like it was too much.
A gun would be a lot easier. Fewer steps. But more clean up. A hell of a lot more. And Ted couldn’t leave that on somebody else. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have gun.
BANG! The sound echoed in Ted’s head. Ted rubbed his temples.
Ted reread the note, sobs hitching as he did. All the important things were covered, all the important people addressed. They’d all be better off. It might take a few years, be a hard adjustment, but…
The part of the note to Henry finally broke him. It was too… Empty. All Henry could possibly read into it was that Ted hadn’t been able to stay. Hadn’t been able to love his son enough to stay. Had been able to pass this… curse onto his son. Hadn’t cared.
And Beard… He’d never given Beard a chance to even try to understand. After nearly thirty years of friendship. Ted had kept all this darkness and pain locked down, trying to hide it the best he could, and he’d never given his best friend the chance to really know him. Ted’s chest got even tighter. Beard would blame himself. He’d think he hadn’t been a good enough friend for Ted to be able to reach out. And that was a lie. He has the best friend Ted could have ever asked for.
Ted grabbed his phone, movements shaky, clumsy, and awkward. He pulled up Beards contact and pressed the call button before the guilt and shame overcame him. Beard always saw past all his bullshit. And if he didn’t talk to someone now…
It was just him, whiskey, a rope, and the rafters.
Far too many rings… then voicemail. Ted immediately tried again, and again. Same result. On the fourth attempt Ted left a message, voice shaking and rough.
“Hey Coach… uh… when…er… if you get a chance, I could really use a friend tonight. I know you’re real busy, but… please call back or come over as soon as you can. I love you, Willis.”
Ted almost threw his phone across the room, shame and anxiety overtaking him. Beard had a baby. He was either asleep or wishing he was. Either way, Beard was not checking his phone to see if his eternally too cheerful best friend was trying not to kill himself.
Ted’s hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t believe he hadn’t dropped his phone. He stared blankly at his contacts, heart racing.
He couldn’t leave Henry like this.
Impulsively, Ted hit the call button for Rebecca. The phone rang once, twice, three times before a voice answered.
“Hi Ted, it’s a little late.” Rebecca’s tone was soft and slurred from sleep. “Is everything okay?”
The breath of relief Ted released came out as a sob. He tried desperately to get his breathing under control, but no matter how hard he tried, every word choked in his throat.
“Ted?” Rebecca asked, voice suddenly fully aware. He heard the rustle of movement, maybe bedsheets. “Are you having a panic attack?”
“I… don’t…know,” Ted finally panted. His hands tugged at his hair. Everything had gotten so far out of control. Ted thought of the rope. Two knots. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried once again to take a breath. His chest hurt from the effort.
“Ted, I’m on my way, I’m bringing my key,” Rebecca’s voice barely pierced through his looping thoughts. Ted had forgotten that he’d given her a key last summer to water his pothos plant. “Please stay on the line with me.”