A/N: Firstly I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed my first Midge x Lenny fic. It was a pretty nervewracking experience to post it and I was so thrilled with the response. Partly because of that, and partly because I just love these two so much, I'm back for more!

This fic is how I would like S4 to go, in an ideal world.

Title is from the Taylor Swift song of the same name; not in keeping with the era of TMMM, I know, but it just kind of fit so I'm going with it.

Invisible String

Chapter 1

A string that pulled me
Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar
Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire
Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons
One single thread of gold tied me to you

She might have said that the last couple of months had felt like sleepwalking. She wanted to believe that was how it was, to state with absolute confidence that someone else – someone far more responsible who knew everything about the steps they were making before they'd put one foot in front of the other – had put on her clothes, took up residence in her head and had their hands on the steering wheel.

Time to stop the charade and the dress-up. You need direction.

The compass was broken and she couldn't face looking at herself in the mirror most days, which went some way to explaining what she was wearing right now. Her instinct since driving away from that runway was to blend in, go unnoticed. The desire to stand out, a need that was never fulfilled for long enough, was exactly the thing that kept pulling her into the shit. It might be bearable if it was just about her, only her own reputation that she was running down past below ground.

But there was Susie. Susie, who'd been there from the start to fight her corner (at times literally) and plough money that she didn't have into getting her a little higher up the ladder.

Mama and Papa, who were finally looking at her with something resembling pride. Especially Mama, who wouldn't be shouting from the rooftops and telephoning all of her lunch-club friends to repeat the words she'd heard her say under the glare of the stage lights, but who couldn't stop herself bragging about her daughter opening for Shy Baldwin.

She took a long slug from her glass that wasn't even that substantial, every millisecond of that last set assaulting her thoughts in technicolor and with the volume turned up as high as it would go, the recollections more painful every time they were replayed.

There was Shy himself. The last she heard he was still selling out all over, women still sneaking around and setting up camp outside of stage doors (she'd seen them with her own eyes and understood the motivation), waiting for him to pick them out amongst the rest. It didn't matter that the shine of his star had not been dulled by the insinuations of some Upper West Side broad who thought she was being smart. It was how she dared to think she could even go there in the first place. For all his fame and the adulation being showered upon him, she knew that he had worked harder than she ever could and that behind her words laid the weight of privilege.

Ethan and Esther were too young to understand, but the day would come quicker than she realised. Probably another kid, not that much older, would be too eager and too precocious. The embarrassment, more than that, the shame in their once-innocent eyes would wound her deeper than anything else.

She held all of this, fought against the combined pull dragging her down and quite often struggled to keep her head above water. It wasn't a clear-cut decision, not yet, but everything she'd done – or more accurately, hadn't done – over the last couple of months was solidifying it in the back of her mind. There was still a reluctance, her own self that hadn't grown up as yet clinging on, clawing at her heels. She had to be firm, use her sternest voice like when Ethan pulled cookie after cookie out of the forbidden jar.

It wasn't going to be any different, no matter how much she tried to convince herself. The temptation to fuck up to an outstanding degree was impossible to resist, it seemed. Like candy to a baby, with none of the excusing that it was cute. Only the guilt and knowing that she ought to know so much better.

Tonight was the first time since the dream world she'd been living in had come crashing down (all thanks to her own big mouth and relentless stupidity) that she let herself sleepwalk, without any reasoned logic or comprehension of just how terrible it would make her feel, during the moment and for so many days afterwards. Bearing all of this in mind she still made her way to the dive bar burrowed away in the most obscure corner of Lower Manhattan as if it were some kind of pilgrimage, the final shot of salvation for her soul that was past all redemption.

Or perhaps it was a last indulgence, a farewell to the scene she'd painted herself into, even if the spotlight wasn't shining down on her this night. Instead she'd creep back out through the shadows, thinking of what could have been if she had a better handle on her limits, catching a cab to a home that wasn't her own, kissing her kids on the tops of their heads and promising that she'd do good from now on.

She hadn't checked the bill beforehand, more out of indifference than fear. Honestly, it was just going to be background noise; a pleasant soundtrack while she ordered enough to make her forget, drowning her sorrows appropriately. She didn't pay too much attention to the first few acts, except to think that one looked like he wasn't that much older than Ethan, which was another kick to the floor given the raucous laughter he was receiving. She heard herself mumbling something in response before reaching for her sadly depleted Martini, clicking her fingers towards the bartender until she realised that was precisely part of the problem.

It was in the space after her profuse apology to the easygoing bartender and before the MC's prolonged introduction of the night's headliner that she should have made her departure. She hardly had to hear the precursory warnings to know exactly who was up, her heart dropping like a stone in the ocean and not reaching the bottom, just plummeting further.

Had she heard something? she asked herself. There were so many places she could have gone to, several lined up on one avenue alone. Fate was intervening yet again, there was no other explanation. He'd always been her God and now here she was, kneeling before him. It was fitting, if nothing else. She leant back in her seat as the lights went down, leaving only one which was filled perfectly by Lenny in his sharp monochrome. One word and a raised hand; that's all he needed to have the audience captivated.

He was blistering, his set absolutely sublime. He spoke at triple the speed than was usual, riffing off himself, leaving several thoughts hanging unfinished before colliding headfirst into another, bigger one. She would always be in awe of him and his brilliance, the fact this was more than a career for him. People needed to hear what he had to say. Why he was playing a place like this was a mystery to her when he should have been selling out theatres, but on a night like this she was glad of it.

She pursed her lips and scratched her nails against her arm countless times, and for most of them she was successful, until one punchline threw her completely and she could do nothing other than burst out. His eyes picked her out of the crowd, though she was all the way at the bar. She felt herself flush at how he smiled to himself while he stood in front of an adoring crowd in the full glare of the spotlight.

He looked good. Really good. The suit that he wore seemed a little more fitted, even though she was thinking of him in rolled-up shirtsleeves strolling languidly as the dark blue Miami skies started to lighten. Staying there obviously had a positive effect on him, and later she would find herself smiling when he told her that he'd had to get out for the sake of his health, or perhaps it was his sanity. "Too much sunshine and optimism, and other things that are…generally not good for me, even if I might like to argue otherwise."

The rapturous applause was still ringing in her ears when he appeared before her. Maybe it was the Martinis or the mood she had been in for the last two months but she found herself more astounded than usual at how he just seemed to materialise, even when she had watched him only a couple of minutes previous.

"You bastard." Not the best greeting, but the one she went with regardless. He looked amused as he adjusted the button holding his jacket in place. "You made me laugh."

"I don't know if you know how it works, but that is the intention. If I'm lucky, anyway." She watched as his hand went down to land upon the bar, before her gaze was drawn back to his. "This is unexpected, but I'm not complaining."

"Me neither," she stifled a full-blown smile, somewhat keen to hang on to her sour state of mind.

He looked genuinely happy to see her, which made her happy too but also like she could burst into tears in the next moment. She'd been holding back, making the conscious effort to do so, and it was just now that she realised it probably wasn't a good thing. The way he looked at her, so considerate and as though she was the only person in the room, touched something inside, a place that was raw from the last time they had seen each other.

She could see that he was confused, too, trying to work it out before she offered any explanation.

"Shit," he said suddenly, dipping a little towards her with his other hand inside the lapel of his jacket, "was it someone I knew well? Do I need to do something, send flowers and deepest condolences?"

She was flummoxed for a moment before she looked down at herself, her black button-up, black cigarette pants and black ballet flats. It almost looked as though she was consciously trying to emulate him, which was a comforting thought.

"Oh, no. No, you're good," she supplied, seeing his shoulders sag with relief. "It's just the death of my comedy career. Nothing at all to be concerned about."

He sunk into the seat beside her, his look deeply concerned all the while. She let out a strained laugh, which she did worry was going to turn into a sob at any moment.

"You don't need to…"

She didn't think she was going to explain, but his complete lack of expectation gave her the courage. She told him the full story of what happened at the Apollo, what happened afterwards and everything else that happened since, not that there had been anything of note. She hadn't performed since that night, not even at the Gaslight, which she could see that he found hard to believe.

It wasn't just that, but other things came tumbling out too. Frustrations, fears and doubts that she had held onto for years, some without even realising. She went on, hopping from one thing to another, finding that she just couldn't stop.

All the while he sat there, absorbing everything. The only times he broke off were to placate eager fans who wanted an autograph or to share a few words, showing patience and promising that he'd catch them before they left. Every time she looked up from her lap his eyes were upon her; he was listening as intently as if she were revealing something of far more significance than what an unmitigated disaster she was making of her professional life, not that her personal one was all that much better.

It was when she had remained silent for longer than thirty seconds, having finally run out of steam, that he intervened.

"Two things," he uttered, signifying with the same amount of fingers held aloft, "one; breathe."

She did as he said, taking a couple of prolonged breaths, the second significantly less shaky than the first.

"Two; I'm gonna get you another drink. A couple, in fact."

The reasonable side of her was eager to refuse, but the practical point of her not having more than a singular dollar note on her person counted-balanced the urge. Not to mention that she really needed another drink.

She finished the first in record speed, watching him watch her with something that resembled fondness. Those eyes of his were so warm and wise and understanding. It was hard to get away from them, and right now it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"You feel better?"

She toyed with the stem of the empty glass and then with the back of her neck. "A little. It helps to talk to someone who can empathize."

"Oh, most definitely. I'm still waiting for the dictionary to redefine their definition of fuck-up so that I can cash in some cheques. If they handed out badges every time I fucked up, I would wear them with pride." He gestured to his lapels before leaning forward on his stool towards her. "I hope you're not thinking of making a contention for the title of Biggest Fucker Upper in this godforsaken business we call comedy, Mrs. Maisel, because you are going to have a battle on your hands."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she answered, contemplating the second Martini on the bar. Though her throat was bone-dry, the words she was about to say clogging it up, she didn't make the move to drink. "I think…I'm pretty sure I'm going to…give it up."

Those last three came out as a mumble, merged into one. She wasn't entirely sure that she had said them at all, given that she was met with silence as a response. Before she could ask whether he had heard, she looked up from the ring of condensation on the bar that was absolutely fascinating to find those eyes pinned to her again. He arched his back, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"If only it were that easy, or that much of a luxury."

A surge of petulance rose up within her. "Nothing about this has been easy. Nothing."

His face changed on the turn of a dime; he looked uncomfortable and hurt by the harshness of her tone, which in turn made her feel even more shit than she already felt.

"Midge, I didn't…it wasn't a personal insult."

"I know," she sighed, "I'm just being…"

She didn't know how to finish the sentence, so she did nothing else but left it hanging in the air.

"It's a surprise, is all. To hear that from you."

"Like I say, it's not something I've come to lightly. It just hit harder this time. Knocked me clean off my feet and hurt like hell." In so many ways.

He nodded his head rhythmically, and she knew that he understood better than anyone. Not that they hadn't tried – Susie, her parents...hell, even Joel. But she hadn't been this honest with any of them about what she was feeling and the way she saw her life panning out, which was completely unclear to her right now.

"And when something hurts like that – I mean, really bruises you, from the inside and out – then to keep doing it would just be sadistic, right?"

"I may not be the best person to comment upon that."

His deadpan delivery and tiniest pull of a smirk made her soft at the edges.

"The audience knows what they're getting in to when they buy a ticket. Or at the very least, they have a notion." His tone was altogether more serious, then swiftly flipped to cutting. "It's not safety-proofed, and you're not infallible. If people can't accept that you're human, then fuck them. They shouldn't be in the water in the first place if they're not prepared for the waves to rise. That is not down to you."

She replied with a wavering smile, flattered that he was so passionate on her behalf but knowing at the same time that she didn't merit his defences, not on this occasion.

"If it was only me I was hurting, that would be fine. But it's not." Her throat was burning like a wildfire, causing her to nearly choke on her words. "I'm hurting other people too. Shy, I can't even think… and Susie…I can't even help…"

The tears came to claim victory before she could get anything else out, making her hide her face behind her hands as she spluttered and sniffled loud, oblivious to everything other than the fact that Lenny was sitting in front of her, bearing witness to the whole show.

"Hey. Midge."

She took them away slowly, the shape of him blurry before her.

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

She shook her head while she dabbed at her eyes, at first with her fists and then with a napkin that looked clean enough.

"It's okay," she said, in slight disbelief that she had broke down like that. She knew that she wasn't the most attractive of criers, which made her want to kick herself, repeatedly. "I wouldn't say no to…if that's okay…"

"Sure," he replied, holding out the carton of cigarettes and then the lighter.

Those first couple of drags set her on a more even keel, tipping her head towards the ceiling as she exhaled so that her field of vision wasn't obscured further. She appreciated more than ever that they could sit in silence for a little while and it didn't feel uncomfortable, as much as she enjoyed volleying smart remarks back and forth. She wasn't in that frame of mind at the moment and he recognised that. He offered the carton to her again and she took another with a smile, depositing it into her purse for later.

"This is not what you need post-set."

He shrugged his shoulders. "As it goes, this is one of the better nights."

He was being so nice to her, so generous with his time. In truth she had been anxious about seeing him again after how she had walked away from him in Miami. The more she replayed that almost-perfect night in her head the longer she lingered on the worst part of it, the moment she had turned things sour with her mention of getting a cab.

She should have known better, that he would take her stupid mistake with good humour. He was not the type to hold it over her head, not like other people whom she knew far too well. She supposed that he couldn't have exactly snubbed her, not when she was the one who had sought him out, albeit unconsciously.

She would be lying to herself if she were to swear that she hadn't thought about it since. Thought about how the night could have gone so differently, if only she would have stepped over the threshold. In her mind he would have took a few seconds to let it sink in, staring at her with that look that she'd given up on trying to define in his eyes as she was framed by the doorway, and then he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and the rest of the world with it.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, because that never works."

She almost wished that he would. If anyone had mystic abilities or the power to know what was going to happen in the future, she honestly believed that Lenny did.

"All I can say is what I know to be true. That is, that you are one of – if not the most – natural, gifted, wildly talented and incredibly funny acts out there. This shit is not a walk in the park. It's hard. It makes you exhausted, it consumes your life, it tears out your soul."

"This is exactly the pep-talk that I wanted, thank you."

A spark of a smile flickered in his eyes, encouraging her to keep it coming now that she was bouncing back.

"On anyone else, everyone else that I've seen, it shows. The fear, the horror, the desperation to get enough laughs to light the spark and keep it going. Not once have I seen that with you. You embody fearlessness. Joy radiates out of you and it is infectious. What you have spreads through the room like magnificence."

She was genuinely speechless, astounded for one of the few times in her life. Coming after weeks where she had berated herself, constantly beat herself up for what she had said for cheap laughs – precisely because she was absolutely and utterly terrified – what he was telling her, without a hint of exaggeration, was almost too much to process.

The fact that it was coming from him too both helped and completely hindered matters.

"Everyone fucks up, but it's what you do with it afterwards that counts. How you go forward. I'm not saying that the hurt is a good thing, exactly, but it is good that it hurts you, for now. It shows how much you care."

He stopped to put out his smoked-down cigarette and take a sip of whiskey.

"I can never imagine that you would stop caring about anything, Miriam Weissman."

"You're going to make me cry again," she said, shaking her head to stop the tears from springing.

"My apologies. Unless you'd rather that than laugh. It does seem to be easier for me when it comes to the fairer sex."

"Now, Leonard, what would your mother say if she knew you were telling lies?"

"I know that she would encourage it. Where do you think I get it from?"

"Well, I think better about the both of you, if that's any consolation." She smiled at him, feeling lighter and hoping that the feeling wasn't temporary. "Thank you. I needed to tell someone. I was starting to go crazy."

"Any time. Don't they say something about craziness? That it seeks out company, or something."

"I couldn't possibly comment," she replied with another smile. "I could bequeath my joke books to you. Lot of dick jokes in there that are good to go."

"Sounds great," he nodded, jutting his chin out slightly, "I could do with a different, much more specific, reason to get arrested. I'm kind of running out."

"I'm keeping the black satin dress though. Sorry to disappoint."

"Ah, well, you can't win them all."

By now she was positively grinning up at him, having enjoyed their exchanges and feeling a little like her old self.

Making her way across the city once the clock struck twelve wasn't the most inviting prospect; she was afraid that once she set foot outside the bar that the spell would break, the cab that Lenny hailed on her behalf turning into a pumpkin before the chance she got to climb inside. Just as well that her shoes still fit properly.

And Lenny was...well.

He opened the door for her and she smiled in response, not realising until later that night – or more accurately, the early morning – that she had been fluttering her eyelashes too.

"Thank you for listening," she said, winding the window right down, much to the driver's chagrin. "Despite everything, it's been a wonderful night. As usual."

"I have to agree. Thank you for coming. It can't have been easy."

"I think I'm more of a sadist than I realise."

He laughed at that, making her feel a frisson of delight.

"There's no rush, you know," he said, his arm leaning against the open window, his elbow less than an inch away from her hand, "just sleep on it for a while."

"I thought you weren't going to tell me what to do?"

"Okay, one strike."

"I'm going to be keeping score."

"Oh, I'd expect nothing less," he retorted, wearing a smile that went straight to the pit of her stomach and ended up settling lower. "This might not mean much, but I believe in you. Whatever you decide to do."

Goddammit, if her heart wasn't fluttering ridiculously fast.

"And if I decide to go permanent at B. Altman, never set foot in another club ever again," she said, feeling her words accelerate faster in time to the beating within her chest, "we'll still be friends, right?"

She was undecided about a lot of things right now, but one thing she was certain of was that she never wanted to lose him.

"Always," he replied, leaning in just a little closer.

"Good," she said, "you don't get rid of me that easily, I'm sorry to say."

"Hey, pal, are you gonna get in the car or what?"

The disgruntled voice of the driver interrupted their pleasant conversation.

"You do know who you're talking to?" she answered, despite not being addressed. "That's Lenny Bruce."

"Never heard of him."

"Sir, thank you for keeping my ego in check," Lenny rejoindered.

"Anyway, he's paid you already so I don't know why you're complaining."

"I don't get paid to wait at the sidewalk, lady!"

"Okay, okay. I guess I better go then."

She turned to face Lenny again. If this had been the third or fourth time they had met since Miami she would have took a chance and asked him if he wanted to get in the cab too. Things felt a little too fragile, even with the night that had passed.

"I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Don't worry about it. Just come to another gig and don't burst into tears afterwards, then we're even. Take care of yourself, hey?"

"Yeah. You too."

She waved at the same time as she wound the window back up, so as not to rile the driver any further, looking out of the back until Lenny was no longer visible against the cloak of the night. She had expected for her spirits to plummet at the point that the cab drove away, but he'd had a much deeper effect which made her smile to herself.

"I'm supposed to know who that beau of yours is, then?"

"Oh, he's not mine," she responded to the driver's query, while feeling a pang of regret in her chest. He could have been. Why didn't you just lie? "But, yes, he's the best comedian this country has ever seen. You should totally check him out. So long as you don't have a weak heart or anything. But then I guess you wouldn't be driving a yellow cab if that was the case. At least I hope it isn't. I've been having something of a crisis lately, but I really would like to live for a little while longer…at least to figure out where I want to head and get further down the road to enjoy the sights…"

"Jeez, lady, I didn't ask for your life story."

"Your loss," she said, sitting back comfortably against the worn leather, "because I have to say, it's really interesting. You wouldn't believe half of the things that have happened."

A smile crossed her face, doors that she had slammed shut having their handles tested again.

"And that's not even taking into account what's going to come next."

She woke up the next morning with a surprisingly clear head, given all of the Martinis she had drained. It was early but the kids were still asleep, blissful silence surrounding her and the sunlight edging its way into the room slowly. She lay staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, and then bounded to the bathroom, removing the curlers from her hair.

Today, she smiled at herself in the mirror and didn't feel like a fraud, for the first time in what was really too long.

She went to the window, taking the phone with her as she followed the rise of the sun with keen eyes. She bit lightly on her bottom lip, knowing that her optimism for the early hour would not be returned – at least not before she could pass on the good news.

"What in the name of ever-living fuck – Miriam, I know you own a goddamn clock, may I suggest that you take a look at it before waking me from my precious and elusive sleep?"

"Good morning to you too, Susie."

"Believe me, there is nothing good about it, unless you get the hell off the line."

"I thought you might want to know, that's all."

"Whatever it is, it can wait until a reasonable hour and I'm actually able to digest it."

She smiled at Susie's grouchiness and the sight of the most incredible sunrise filling the sky.

"I'll let you sleep, I swear. Especially because you're going to need your energy to get me some bookings."

"Wha – holy shit, Midge, you're telling me you've finally come to your senses?"

"Yep," she replied cheerily, "I'm going back. You didn't really think I could stay away, did you?"

She kept the act up, knowing that she was the only one who ever needed convincing that comedy was all she was meant to do.

Not for the first time, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last, she thanked God for Lenny Bruce.