Swan in the Water
AU: From skid row to penthouse suite, Jesse Sullivan's life is flipped upside down when she spots a familiar face at the bar. Suddenly, she becomes the roommate of the city's most promising and most enigmatic bachelor. Randy Orton only wanted to give her the safety and security she deserved, but it might be his nightmares that will ultimately drive her away.
Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world; she took the midnight train-
Skin met pavement. Blood met snow.
It was a closed head injury due to the hard blow from the unidentified object. Luckily - as if she should thank the Irish for their four-leaf clovers and leprechauns right about now - the object wasn't sharp enough to penetrate through her skull and cause death. The only loss of blood was due to the fact that she had a terrible habit of biting her lip, and she literally ate it when the guy hit her on the back of the head. There might be a concussion, but they can't be sure unless they run tests, which of course cost the taxpayer a month's paycheck and a lifetime supply of Tylenol.
So Jesse Sullivan walked out of the clinic just as fast as she walked in. No way in hell they were billing her for having her head checked out after some thug knocked her out and stole her backpack. She stifled a laugh at the thought of the thief opening her bag and finding her Physiology and Neuroscience textbooks, a broken calculator, and used up pens and highlighters. Still, those were $200 textbooks (that she got online for a fraction of the price, but that's besides the point). Wrapping her coat around her small frame, she continued to trudge on to the place where she was headed before the blunt force interruption to the cranium.
"Oh, honey, I said you didn't have to come in," Samira said as the girl walked around the bar into the older woman's embrace. She checked her for signs of damage and felt a small bump just at the crown of her thick mop of hair. When the girl called and said she would be late, Samira was ready to lay it all out for her highest-tipped bartender. When she revealed that her reason for being late was due to another South Side snatching, the older woman was quick to tell her to go to a clinic, go home, and rest her pretty head. Of course, Jesse would only listen to half of it.
"You know I need the money," she said as she wrapped an apron around her waist.
"Just don't go passing out behind the bar, or Larry will think you've been taking shots from the inventory again."
"Wouldn't want him to think that," she winked devilishly.
Macquarie's was a down and dirty Irish pub that had no qualms about throwing out rowdy University of Chicago frat boys or dismissing any Carrie Bradshaw wannabe that ordered a Cosmo. It was a scotch or whiskey kind of place, and maybe it was the reason old man, Larry Macquarie III, was seeing red on his ledger. Hey, but at least they've got their loyal customers.
There was skinny Pete who was a professor at the university next door. He was working on his doctorate when his wife was having an affair with some bench player for the White Sox. Then there was big banker, Ned. He was a handful when he had too much to drink, which was every other night of the week. The bar had a lot of guys like Pete and Ned - sad, pitiful, middle-aged men whose wives were either screwing the neighbor or being sad, pitiful, and alone back in their 4-bedroom Hyde Park houses. It was utterly depressing talking to these blokes, but their melancholy matched with her feigned sympathy and half-assed compliments paid her rent.
Jesse lived on those tips. She relied on that money to pay for food and rent; and she relied on her wage to pay off the debt and loans she had accrued after four fragmented years at the University of Chicago. She was eighteen when she graduated high school and got accepted with a scholarship into the science program at U of C. She was nineteen when her mother discovered she had a lump in her breast. She was twenty when she decided to take a break from school and take care of the only parent she ever knew. She was twenty-three years and fourteen days when her mother succumbed to breast cancer. She was twenty-four, with hundreds of thousands in medical debt, when she decided to come back to school and finish her degree.
Jesse wiped down the counters as she made small talk with Pete about his dumb, sheltered first-year students. "The public education system in this country is a joke," he ranted deliriously, "How do these kids live without knowing the fundamentals of long division?"
She chuckled and shook her head as she continued to listen to skinny Pete's tirade on the failure of the country to properly teach teenagers basic arithmetic. Jesse heard the bell ring, and saw, from the corner of her eye, that a man had taken the stool at the end of the bar. She turned her attention from the drink she just made to the bar's new patron. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.
He looked up and saw the bartender with her jaw to the floor. He cocked his head to the side and momentarily studied her face before he came to the realization of whom it was standing before him.
"Jesse?"
"Randy!"
She walked towards him and reached over the bar to give him a rushed and suddenly awkward hug. She hadn't seen the guy in close to seven years, and now here he was looking like a stud and a half in her bar. No longer the lanky, awkward, white kid who was forced to golf with his dad. Randy Orton had grown into this tall, tanned, well-built stallion. He was hot and she could tell that he was no stranger to hearing it.
Randy skimmed over the woman before him. Jesse Sullivan had grown into a woman, all right. She was still a little munchkin, a full foot shorter than he was, but she wasn't that flat-as-a-diving-board, lifeguard at the country club pool. She had filled out nicely in all the right places, but kept her waist and legs fit and toned. Her hair was still a massive mess of curls atop her head – no longer a natural deep brown but a dark blonde; and her green eyes sparkled like sea glass just like they did when he'd last seen her seven years ago.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm back in town," he gleamed, showing off a set of pearly whites no longer encased in those braces when he was sixteen. "I finished my MBA in May then I travelled for a bit and, now, I guess I'm back to start grinding it out in the real world."
She shook her head and smiled. Nothing like hearing about Masters degrees and leisurely travels to remind her of her place in society compared to someone like Randal Keith Orton - son of a man who made it on Forbes' list more times than George Clooney made it on People's most beautiful. "Glad you're back," she replied in the most politically correct manner she could muster. Truth was, she knew the smiles and the catching up would be momentary and fleeting - just like those summers.
"So what have you been up to?"
"Oh, you know, working here," she shrugged with half a smile, "I'm in school right now…"
"School? So you must be in med school now, right? Starting your internship year soon?"
Of course he remembered. Who wouldn't remember a sixteen year-old mixed race girl from public housing in Washington Park talk about her dreams to, one day, become a doctor? She talked about her dreams, while he sulked about how his father dreamt on his behalf. Poor, little rich kid, she thought initially. But soon enough, she realized there was more to Randy than this 'woe is me' character she created for him.
"No, actually, I took a few years off. I'm in my fourth year of my undergrad."
"That's cool. I took a year off too," he smiled.
"You probably took a year off to backpack across Asia," she chuckled, "Not the same."
"So what kept you busy while you weren't in school?"
Jesse shrugged. She really didn't want to talk about it but if she said nothing, she knew Randy would pry. If she bluntly said it, he might just want to skirt the issue altogether. "Mom had cancer and she died three years ago."
"Oh, I'm really sorry to hear that." Randy felt like a massive dick for steering the conversation there. He never met Jesse's mother so he wasn't really sure what to feel, or if he should be feeling anything at all. He knew she was a single parent and Jesse said she got her ambition from her mother, so it must have been devastating for her. He couldn't even begin to wrap his mind around her loss. Randy felt strangely nervous talking to Jesse. He had already screwed up by talking about his life like she was just one of his pretentious colleagues at Yale. This was Jesse, for god's sake. She was the only person he could truly open up to when he was growing up.
"It sucks, but it happened a long time ago," she replied with lack of interest. Jesse leaned over the bar and looked him in his crystal blue eyes, "So what can I get for you, Randy?"
Randy stuck around for last call. He stayed put when Jesse had to entertain other patrons and when Larry called her and yelled at her for not exercising her second amendment right to have a gun on her in the event of receiving a closed head injury in exchange for one's personal belongings. Jesse swung the kitchen door open and walked back out to the bar. She rolled her eyes when she reached Randy.
"What's up?" he took a swig from his tall glass of ice water. He had his two beers several hours ago and he was driving home. The only reason he stayed in this bar was for the person standing right before him.
"My boss, Larry, thinks I'm crazy that I don't own a gun."
Randy laughed, "What red-blooded American in their right mind wouldn't have a .44 Magnum in their pocket at all times?" he mocked in a stereotypical Southern drawl.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Cowboy Randy," she cast him a sideways glare, "He just thinks I need it for self defense. Especially with all the crime in this city…"
"Something happen?" He noticed her cut lip, but didn't think it had anything to do with an assailant. He had always known it was one of her little quirks to be biting down on her bottom lip.
Jesse shook her head, "Nothing major. Just got hit on the head on my way to work. Guy stole my backpack, but I'm not hurt so everything's fine."
Randy's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe she was being so nonchalant about all of this. Larry may have been right; Jesse might be crazy. "Jesse? Shit! Are you ok? Did you get your head checked?"
"Oh crap, not you too?" she sighed, "I'm fine. I went to the clinic and they flashed a light in my eyes and felt my head for bumps; they pretty much cleared me."
"Pretty much?"
"They wanted to run some tests, but I didn't have time… or the insurance so I bolted."
"Jesse!" He stretched his arms over the counter and dropped his head. She might have grown up into this beautiful woman, but she was still stubborn as ever. "We're going to go to the hospital after your shift, get you those tests, and make sure you're all right."
"Randy, you don't need to do that."
"I want to."
When the clock struck 2AM and the bar had to close its doors, Jesse pushed Randy out the door. He was being so difficult about the tests that he wouldn't leave unless she promised him she would get them done. To appease him, she promised. She didn't think that she would walk out of the bar at 2:30AM and find him leaning against his car. She shook her head and turned around but he caught her by the elbow.
"Jesse, don't be difficult," he said sternly, "You will either get your ass in my car or I will carry you over my shoulders and do it myself. It's up to you."
She looked around the empty street and sighed defeated. "Ok, do the second one. My feet hurt and tossing me into your car sounds like fun."
Randy and Jesse drove to the nearest hospital and parked the Range Rover close to the entrance. "$8 for parking?" She asked in disbelief. "People are dying in here!"
"Relax, Fidel Castro. Did that blow to the head turn you into a socialist?"
The two made their way into the hospital where Randy arranged a physical exam, a Head CT scan, and an EEG for Jesse. Fortunately, it was Friday night and she didn't have to get up early for school the next day. She just had to make sure she had enough coffee before she started her midday shift at Macquarie's. Randy sat patiently at the waiting room as doctors gave Jesse all the tests she needed. With a cup of piping hot coffee in hand, Jesse joined him and awaited the results.
The doctor returned, clipboard in hand to share the positive outcome, "Jesse, you suffered a very minor concussion but since you didn't experience any levels of unconsciousness or any of the symptoms associated, you should be fine. Keep in mind though, if you experience any seizures in the next 2-3 weeks, give me a call so we can run some tests again. Besides that, you're just as healthy as any active 25-year-old woman."
"Thanks, doc," she beamed as she nudged Randy in the rib, "Told you so."
Walking back to the parking lot, Jesse stopped when Randy's Range Rover came into view. "I'm going to go head down that way," she said pointing west to Washington Park. "So, I guess this is goodbye. Thanks for taking care of the tests," she mumbled, remembering no one ever asked her for her insurance information or her address for when they would send the bill. Randy must have taken care of everything. Typical.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said, pulling her back towards him. "I'm not letting you walk home in this hour."
"Uh, this is normal for me, dad."
Randy rolled his eyes, "Would you quit being so goddamn snarky for two seconds? I'm trying to be nice here."
"Doesn't suit you, Randal," she stuck her tongue out.
"Come on, Jesse. Let me drive you home."
As they continued to drive westward, Randy noticed the buildings becoming more and more dilapidated. Abandoned public housing, seedy convenience stores, gun shops, and fast food joints replaced the charm, history and culture of Hyde Park. He couldn't picture Jesse walking through this area everyday to get to school or work. No wonder, she got mugged. And no wonder it barely fazed her; she had probably been the victim of a number of unreported assaults.
Jesse alerted him to stop when they arrived at a four-story apartment building. Some windows were boarded up and a group of young men gathered around a fire in an oil drum right in front of the building. Jesse began to open the door of the SUV when Randy stopped her. I'm going to park the car and walk in with you.
"No, you're not. You leave your car here for two seconds and those kids will have it carjacked out of the state by the time you get back downstairs."
"I can't just let you walk in there alone."
"Randy," she sighed. His chivalry was charming and sweet, but it emerged from an upbringing so far removed from the gritty streets of Chicago. "I appreciate all that you've done for me tonight. I really do. But this is my world, I live it every day, and I am fine. You don't have to protect me. I can protect myself."
"But-" she cut him off, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Goodbye, Randy."
