The celebration of Nate's promotion to assistant coach was exactly what the team needed. The boost created a moment of levity in an otherwise heavy atmosphere, the anticipation of the upcoming match a lead balloon in all of their stomachs. Though Alex sometimes had her reservations about Nate's attitude, she definitely could not think of someone more in love with the game and more of an asset to their management.

There was a slight relief at Roy's concession and willingness to sit the bench for the match. It was as if they were able to get just a little more air in with the elephant sitting on their chests. It lightened the load. Unsure of what that would mean for the way the team interacted on the pitch, Alex was nervous to see what they did in attempts to fill the void that Roy's presence left.

Roy was surprisingly hopeful about the match. Giving little thought to what this decision meant for his future in the game, he was starting to make peace with what it meant for the singular match that awaited them. And finally, the team had stopped looking at him with sympathetic eyes and went back to fearing him once more.

When Roy entered the coaches office, he was fingering the captain's armband uncomfortably. It had been years since he went without that detail as a part of his uniform. Giving it up would feel like relinquishing a part of himself.

"Hey, Roy." Ted was standing in the office, in the middle of a discussion with Beard.

"Not sure if you know this, but the rules say you gotta pick a new captain." Roy tried to

sound as casual as possible as he reached out and placed the armband in Ted's hand.

"Hm," Ted looked down at it thoughtfully. "No sir. You're my captain, that's the rule."

Ted reached out and placed it back into Roy's hand.

"No, the captain has to be on the pitch," he handed it back to Ted. "That's the rule."

"I say that the current captain has to pick the new captain." Ted handed it back to Roy,

who was starting to feel heat rise in his face. "That's my new rule." Ted smiled smugly.

"Don't want to." Roy threw the armband back at Ted.

"You have to," Ted challenged, tossing it back to him.

"I decline," Roy was growing more frustrated.

"I insist." Ted was now smiling, enjoying the back and forth.

"Can't make me." Roy was now resorting to school-yard retorts.

"Roy Kent," Ted began transferring the band from one hand to the other, "until you choose your successor," he showed his hand, nothing in it, "your duties as captain remain

unfulfilled." He tossed the arm band from the opposite hand and it landed on Roy's head.

"This is why it's hard to love you." Roy grumbled, taking the armband off of his head and trudging back into the locker room.

There was a knock on the door of Alex's office. She had pulled it around after her last

interaction with Richard, whom she absolutely had come to adore, but also had acknowledged as someone willing to linger in her office just to flirt. She only slightly regretted telling him that she had spent most of her time in school also learning French. He had never stopped capitalizing on his perfected use of the double entendre.

"Come in!" Alex called out, hurrying to complete the last of her thoughts as she worked through this week's documentation.

Rebecca stood in the doorway, a sight Alex was not often accustomed to. It was more typical that Alex and Keeley were seated on her comfortable office sectional, much more rare that she ventured downstairs to her office. Alex smiled warmly, offering the seat across the desk from her. Rebecca had made herself scarce since Keeley had informed Alex of her plan to sink the club.

"Hi," Rebecca breathed. There was a nervous lilt in her throat. She attempted to swallow it and settled back into her chair.

"How are you?" Alex asked, genuinely curious since it had been quite a while.

"I'm alright," Rebecca nodded, her eyes sparkled with the threat of tears. "Alex," she cleared her throat. "I want to apologize to you."

Alex looked at her with softened eyes, "Rebecca…"

Rebecca held up her hand with a tight smile. "Alex, I have not been myself. I have not been truthful, I have not been kind. I have done things this season that have been selfish, reckless, and completely out of spite. I want to apologize for bringing you into this new position with intentions to watch this club burn." Rebecca gently wiped a tear away before it even hit the crest of her cheekbone. "I am not myself," she whimpered, and more tears started to fall. "I have been so ugly. So careless. So angry. And I am so so sorry."

"Rebecca," Alex said gently, getting up and walking around the desk. She took the seat beside Rebecca. "Thank you for saying all of those things. I appreciate the apology, but I want you to know that I understand."

"I understand if you want to terminate your contract with the club after this season. I feel you signed it under false pretenses and I don't want you to feel obligated to continue if-"

"I'm not going anywhere," Alex smiled, reaching out to squeeze Rebecca's hand. "You made a mistake. Well, several." Alex chuckled and shrugged. "But if all of us were put in the seat to make decisions at one of the most difficult times of our lives-well, I'd be surprised if any of us would turn down a chance to absolutely fuck over our ex. Especially that awful man."

Rebecca squeezed her hand back, chuckled, and let her tears fall freely. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Aw," Alex pouted, reaching out and wrapping her arms around Rebecca. "Today's a new day, okay?" She squeezed Rebecca to her. "Everything that happened before this has been done and all we can do is better, yeah?"

Rebecca nodded and reached for a tissue from Alex's desk. "I am so grateful for your kindness. Despite all of the shit I've pulled this season, I made no mistake in hiring you for this team."

"I'd like to think this is exactly where I belong," Alex agreed, nodding with a smile.

Roy laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a thousand expletives echoing in his head. Typically the night before a match was a bit of restlessness that kept him up, but it was rare that the clock hit 2:00am and he was wide awake. The idea that tomorrow was going to happen and he was going to be nothing but another body on the sidelines dawned on him in the least comfortable of ways. At least in previous matches he had some control over the outcome. Tomorrow would be investing all of his hope in eleven other men that were not him.

Alex laid awake with her thoughts, considering the last time she was kept up by her own mind in quite the same way. It had to have been the night before her exams. Nothing else had quite matched the level of anxiety vibrating through her body. She considered each of the team members, assuring herself that she had worked hard to keep their bodies in pique form over the course of the season, all leading up to this match. Her work was sufficient, excelled even, and it would not be a cause for concern tomorrow. But then again, she thought, the hope was the same for Roy before he decided to take the bench. The moment her thoughts landed on the destination of Roy fucking Kent, she let out an audible sigh. She replayed that night in Liverpool in her head for the 3 millionth time since it had happened, the same pang welling in her chest as she did. Groaning in frustration, she pushed it to the back of her head, this was not about a kiss, this was about football.

Roy rolled over and checked his phone for the time. The moment he pulled it from his nightstand, it vibrated in his hand. Eyes narrowed to block out the intrusive light, he swiped up to check the message.

Alex Banks: No matter what happens tomorrow, you made the right decision for you and for your team.

Roy smiled, rereading the message. Though he did not agree with the words, there was a comfort that washed over him at the realization that she, too, was awake. And she was thinking about him.

Roy Kent: Sure fucking doesn't feel that way right now.

Alex was surprised by his candor. She remembered that her mother once told her that the moon makes people more vulnerable.

Alex Banks: My childhood therapist would tell you that feelings aren't facts. ;)

Roy rolled his eyes.

Roy Kent: Don't head shrink me. Tell me I'm making a mistake and fix my fucking knee.

Alex frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt. If it was that easy, she would have already. In a heartbeat.

Alex Banks: Would if I could. You know that.

Roy suddenly felt bad for what he had said. He pinched the corners of his eyes in thought.

Roy Kent: I wouldn't have made it this far without you. You know that.

Alex felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She couldn't help but smile lightly into the dark.

Alex Banks: I'm sure you say that to all of your physios. ;)

Roy chuckled and rolled his eyes at her.

Roy Kent: All of them. Why are you awake?

Alex ignored the impulse to say "just thinking about the way you kissed me like we were the last two people on the planet and then ignored me for weeks."

Alex Banks: Just considering world hunger, global warming, etc. You know, light bedtime thoughts.

Roy chuckled.

Roy Kent: Amazing. I was just doing the same. No thoughts about the match tomorrow?

Alex typed back quickly, unaware of the smile tearing at her lips.

Alex Banks: There's a match tomorrow?

Roy was surprised at the laugh that escaped his lips. God, he needed to get to sleep. He quickly attempted to come back with an equally quick wit.

Roy Kent: Exactly.

Roy Kent: God, if I get one more tweet sent to me about Tartt's fucking interview, I might just play tomorrow to bash his head in.

Alex was aware of what the press were saying about Jamie. The excitement to see him on the pitch against his previous team, the coach who had "given him the axe," and the teammates who were so very eager to play without him created a sensational buzz in the media.

Alex Banks: Who the fuck is Jamie Tartt in comparison to Roy fucking Kent? Don't give him the satisfaction.

Roy felt something swell in his chest and he smiled. That familiar feeling only served as a reminder that there were about a thousand unspoken things between the two of them that he would have to tend to once the chaos of the season was over.

Roy Kent: Thank you, Alex.

Alex Banks: Always, Roy-o.

The Richmond faithful gather on a fateful night. Win and they stay up. Lose and they go down. They come here full of hope, though they know all too well, it's the hope that kills you.

When Roy walked into the locker room that evening, he had solidified his decision. Crossing the room straight to his teammate, he took a seat on the bench as McAdoo worked to lace up his boots.

"Isaac," Roy caught his attention. Casually, he handed over the captain's armband between two fingers. "Never stop breaking tvs."

Roy was unable to make eye contact, but saw Isaac looking at him in awe from the corner of his eye. He tapped his fist against his knee and nodded, not wanting to hear a word about it.

Ted entered the looker room and took in the scene. Each of his players worked to center themselves in a different way. Alex worked among them, encouraging last minute stretches and prepping with physio tape.

"Alright now fellas. Hey, let's focus up, huh?" He called for their attention. The room's attention shifted to Ted, who nodded. "So I've been hearing this phrase y'all got over here that I ain't too crazy about. 'It's the hope that kills you.' Y'all know that one?" The room gives him a nod. "I disagree, you know. I think it's the lack of hope that comes and gets you." Ted puts his hands in his pockets. "See, I believe in hope. I believe in belief!" He points to the 'Believe' sign above his office door. "Now, where I'm from, we got a saying too. A question, actually. Do you believe in miracles? Now, I don't need ya'll to answer that question for me. But I do want y'all to answer that questions for yourselves right now. Do you believe in miracles?" Each of the team members truly looked like they were considering it. "And if you do, I want ya'll to circle up with me right now. Come on. Get 'em in here." The team all came towards the center of the room, meeting Lasso to put their hands in. Alex watched from afar, her heart warmed by their camaraderie.

"Alright captain, let 'em know." Ted said to Roy. Roy looked at Ted and then nodded to Isaac. He smiled softly and switched arms, revealing the armband that he had adorned just moments earlier. The team muttered their approval.

"Alright, captain," Ted repeated with a smile, "let 'em know."

"Richmond on 12." Isaac called, in true McAdoo form. And he proceeded to count all the way up to twelve, completely disregarding the number eight, and he team shouted, "Richmond!" and broke.

At the half, Richmond entered the locker room after each side held their own, the score 0-0. There was an energy in the room that wasn't there before. They still had a chance. Was it hope? The trick plays that they had worked on over the past week were working. The coaches stood by the white board, discussing the plan for the second half. The team had gotten into groups, discussing ideas of their own. The buzz of the locker room was tangible.

"Okay, you know what, nevermind. I'm just going with my gut." Ted broke himself away from the conversation with his fellow coaches.

"Someone check the Crystal Palace score!" Sam shouted at the room.

Ted quickly interrupted. "Hey, no no! Absolutely not. I don't want to hear about any other game going on in any other place." The room started to go quiet. "Look, we ain't playing for a tie. Ain't nobody here going to kiss their sister." The team exchanged confused glances. Ted started to backtrack. "Which is an American phrase that I now realize doesn't exist here. And that 's good because it's creepy and I don't know why it exists. I hate it myself. I don't know why I said that. The adrenaline and nerves and all that." He dismissed his own tangent with a wave of his hand. "But we are playing for a win. Win and win! You hear?" The team nodded. "I can't hear your nods."

"Yes, Coach!" There was a chorus.

"Okay good Roy, you are starting in the second half go ahead and warm up."

Alex blanched. Roy didn't miss a single beat when he turned to get ready. Isaac pulled the armband from his arm and handed it back to Roy with a meaningful nod.

"Alex?" Roy called her over. Alex took a second to get her feet to move, but she crossed the room towards her as the rest of the team began to prepare to take the pitch again. She stood in front of him, not quite sure where to start. "How fucked am I?"

"You're not." Alex said swiftly, but I need to get through at least one round of stretches to avoid any unnecessary strain. "So let's get moving."

She walked him through the exercises, stretching his calves and hamstrings as best as they could in the short prep time to get him as ready as they possibly could. As the team started to make their way to the field, the energy started to become more and more tense.

"You've got this," she encouraged, letting the rest of the team get in front of the two of them making the most of every second they had to prepare him. Roy nodded, a familiar signal to Alex that he was falling into his pre-match nonverbal mode. "You're Roy fucking Kent." She squeezed his shoulder and he looked at her.

They held each other's gaze in the tunnel as the team started back out onto the pitch. He stared at her with an intensity that burned a hole in her gut. She read his expression; fear, determination, intention, all locked in his gaze. She nodded in acknowledgement and lifted herself up on her toes, kissing his cheek gently.

"Get out there and show them what you're fucking made of." She pulled back and pushed him forward. Roy had never felt so determined in his fucking life.

When Roy took the field, Alex stood at the sideline with her cheek bit so hard between her teeth she was starting to taste blood. He held his own for the most part. There was a pregnant anticipation at the sidelines as they held their tie, nil-nil.

It was only after a penalty kick that Man City scored their first goal, a deafening groan from the Richmond supporters echoed her thoughts. Fuck, she thought, and hope that it would not mean the end of the hope they had been carrying.

Once Jamie got possession of the ball, that fear was only further ignited as he started to tear up the field. Alex held the zipper of her jacket tight between her lips, needing something to bear the brunt of the tension in her jaw. It was only seconds before Roy was tearing up the field toward him at full speed, challenging any idea of being "too slow" to keep up. Alex held her breath as he took off after Jamie, praying that his knee would hold and he could maintain the stamina. Once catching up to him, he skillfully slid, all contact made with the ball, leaving Jamie falling head over feet toward the ground, the ball rolling out of bounds.

The minute Roy hit the ground, Alex knew that it wasn't good. She watched the way he hyperextended his leg to get the ball out from under Man City's forward and then the way he hit the ground, his other knee bent underneath him. The stress alone on the joint was enough to bench him for a while. But that contact, that landing.

"Fuck," she breathed, gripping her kit and throwing it over her shoulder. Once the referee called time, she took off across the pitch toward him.

Roy rolled onto his back, cursing himself, his fists over his eyes.

Several of his teammates crowded him. She let them interact as she got to her knees beside him. Her hands reached out for the knee she had become accustomed to manipulating through hours and hours of treatment.

Roy winced, "fucking hell."

"I know," she said back to him. The two locked eyes. He nodded through gritted teeth.

"Do you need a stretcher?" Colin asked.

"No," Roy demanded. "Just help me up."

Sam reached down and helped Roy to his feet. But stopped, letting Roy back onto the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Roy asked.

"Listen," Sam encouraged, looking around the stadium with a smile.

He's here. He's there. He's every-fucking-where. Roy Kent! Roy Kent!

It was impossible for him to bear weight at first on his right leg, the joint just incapable of supporting him. The entire crowd began to chant, the sound of which caused goosebumps to erupt on every exposed bit of Alex's skin.

Roy steeled himself at the sound of the resounding support from the entire stadium, Man City and Richmond supporters alike. He reached over and handed Isaac the band from his arm. The gravity of his injury was heavy enough that they all knew what this may mean for Roy Kent. At the sound, Roy lifted his hand and smiled through the pain. He waved at the crowd in acknowledgement, letting go of Sam as he stabilized himself. And in Roy Kent fashion, he limped off to the locker room without any aid, ignoring the pain that throbbed with every single step.

"Leave it," Roy grumbled at the sound of the door opening, tugging his uniform over his head and throwing it down the bench in anger. His rage had reached new heights when he recognized the otherwise hollow feeling within him. Alex continued into the room toward him, ignoring his insistence that whatever his knee needed, waiting wouldn't make a god damned difference.

"Roy-" She began, putting the bag down beside her. Her voice was steady, but gentle. She approached him with caution as if he were an untamed animal.

"I said leave it!" He shouted, his fist making contact with the wall of his locker. Alex jumped back to give him room.

Roy collapsed onto the bench. His shoulders slumped, the throbbing in his knee now matched by a similar pain in his knuckles. Alex looked at him sympathetically, her heart shattered to see him so defeated. Roy pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, as if he was trying to shut it all out; trying to make it all disappear. Alex took a few strides closer, standing in front of him. Before Roy could say anything, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. Roy stiffened at the first contact. He inhaled deeply, recognizing the comfort in the scent on her clothes. He let out the exhale, giving up the tension in his body, and wrapped his arms around her middle, burying his head into her abdomen. Alex closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to fight off the threat of tears. He could not see her cry. She held the back of his head in one of her hands, gently smoothing down his hair while the other splayed across the warm skin of his back. At that moment, Roy thought if they could just stay like that forever, he would never have to face the consequences ahead of him.

The match ended. Richmond lost. Their tie was broken by an unprecedented extra pass from Jamie Tartt. The players entered the locker room one by one, wearing their defeat like heavy, ill-fitting armor. Each and every one of them seemed to buckle under the weight of it, making it just in time to the benches at their lockers. The silence was deafening. Alex left her seat beside Roy on the bench to leave space for the team to feel the gravity of this loss amongst one another. Taking a spot beside the locker room door, she made herself small, unnoticeable, to everyone but Roy.

"So look, I-" Ted stepped forward to speak to the team. Will reached out to him, offering a water bottle. He declined. "Hey, y'all played one heck of a game out there. We may not have won, but y'all definitely succeeded. I mean, you gave the champs 90 minutes of hell.

"Zoreaux-where are you?" The keeper raised his hand, "That dude had more saves than a Baptist preacher. Give it up for Zoreaux." The entire locker room agreed and applauded their keeper's hard fought match.

"What about Roy?" Ted gestured over to Roy, whose jaw was clenched tight. "Roy chased down his grandson and stopped him from getting an easy one." There was a chuckle that resounded in the room. Even Roy broke into a smile.

"Now look," Ted grew sullen. "It's a sad moment here. For all of us. And there's nothing I can say, standing right in front of you here that can take any of that away. But please do me this favor will you? Lift your heads up and look around this locker room, alright?" Everyone in the room lifted their heads up and exchanged glances. Alex's eyes met Roy's; he held their gaze as Ted continued. "Look at everybody else in here. Now I want you to be grateful that you're going through this sad moment with all of these other folks. Because I promise you, there's something else worse out there than being sad. And that is being alone and being sad. And nobody in this room is alone. Sam, do you remember what animal has the shortest memory?"

Sam cleared his throat and smiled, "a goldfish."

"That's right, a goldfish." Ted nodded proudly, "Sam, what do you think we should all do

once we get done being sad and or angry about this situation?"

"I think we should all be goldfish."

"I agree," Ted nodded approvingly. He appraised his team."Let's be sad now. Let's be sad

together. And then let's be a gosh-darn goldfish." There was a quiet murmur of acknowledgement in the room. "Onward. Forward." Ted turned and walked into the coaches office, leaving his players to grieve amongst one another.

Alex turned, knowing it was not her place to be among them in this private moment. Roy watched her walk away, a pit in his stomach as she went.