Jack stared at her, blinking. A handful of times, when he'd allowed himself to imagine that he still meant enough to her that she would come to find him, he had rehearsed exactly how he'd feign indifference and pretend to be cruel to her. Maybe recite a few lines from the letter he'd left for her so she wouldn't be tempted to stay. He would do whatever it took to get her to keep away from him so that he could keep her safe. Or so he'd told himself.
But now she was here, standing before him, and he knew instantly that those ideas were just fantasy. There was no way he could say those things to her face. He couldn't pretend he wasn't still madly in love with her. There was a reason he'd sent Bobby to deliver those divorce papers years ago – because Jack was a shitty liar and it would only take one single frown from her to make him confess all his sins and beg for her forgiveness.
"I have a lot of questions," Ally said.
"I'm sure you do," he replied.
"I'm gonna go do inventory in the stockroom," Mateo said loudly. Jack waited until he heard the stockroom door shut before gesturing to the barstools at the counter with a sigh.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, as they took a seat.
Ally glanced around the room. "So you're sober now?"
"Almost two and a half years."
"Even while running a bar?"
He gave a bitter chuckle. "It's uh... it's kinda like exposure therapy. I knew if I could handle being here I could handle being anywhere." And he'd been able to. The beginning had been the toughest, but at this point he could easily work through the nights without wishing for a taste of the bitter liquid or longing for one more high.
She nodded. "And The Deep End?" she asked.
"I figured I'd gone way off of it. And I was far from "The Shallow." From you."
"Why did you go away from me in the first place?" she asked. Those green eyes looking right through him.
Jack fiddled with a silver ring on his finger. If there was anything that brought on cravings, it was remembering that night and the weeks that had followed. "I was trying to do the right thing," he said. "I... I know I hurt you. And I know I fucked things up, but I was trying to do right by you."
"By killing yourself?" He looked up, startled, and she flinched. "Sorry. I just – I've spent the last two years trying to make sense of what happened then. Trying to find closure somehow. Usually I find it in music but this time it's not enough. I still feel this... empty space. I need to understand. Please."
She was pleading, and he was never good at saying no to her. "I wasn't in a good place then. This whole being sober shit just was so new and I was still so embarrassed about the Grammys. Honestly I was kinda shocked you still wanted to be with me."
"Did Rez say something to you?" Ally asked. When he didn't answer she said, "I know he did something. He told me as much. Look you don't have to protect him – I fired him at the end of the tour."
"You fired him?"
"I don't regret it," she said, straightening up. "I didn't want a manager who thought he controlled my whole life." That explained why she'd gone back to her natural look. The brown hair, the minimal makeup. Ally had been willing to play the right games to reach her goal but he'd always known deep down that just wasn't her.
If Rez was out of her life then he could be honest. And he owed her that didn't he? Fuck, he owed her the world, but honesty was a good place to start. "He came by the house before your show. Told me that I was running your career. I was an embarrassment. He said... that you looked like a fucking joke, staying with me. And that there was no way I could stay sober. And I was so fucking scared that he was right. I couldn't let that ruin your career or stop you from singing. I didn't want you to waste your time taking care of me when you had the whole damn world to see.
"Then when you came in and said the European leg was cancelled I thought maybe it was my fault. That I'd fucked up so bad they didn't want you to go anymore. Or worse – that you were giving up your dream because you thought you needed to stay and babysit me instead. I just couldn't..." He crossed his arms, trying to ground himself. He could feel that night coming back, the panic, the devastation. The feeling that everything Rez had said was coming true, and surely it was only matter of time before he fucked up again.
Then he'd found the pills in the glove compartment and it had all seemed so clear. This was the only way he could protect her. He had to sacrifice himself for her. He had to let her shine, like the star she was, and he'd felt like a giant fucking black hole, sucking everything good into it and shredding it to pieces. What a terrible thing to be. Didn't he owe it to the world to leave it? Hadn't he always known that? Just like when he was fourteen and trying to escape it all. The world didn't need him.
But that hadn't been true, because the world had insisted on him staying – not once, but twice. And he'd learned with time that the black hole wasn't him, it was in him. These festering wounds and old demons he'd never really learned to heal. AA was good for that. So was therapy. And while it wasn't an easy existence, he found small joys. Getting to help bring a new artist or band into the spotlight every night at the bar. Swimming. Feeling close to Bobby for the first time since he was a kid.
"I couldn't do that you," he said. "After that first time in rehab, the only thing – the only fucking thing – that ever made me want to drink or hurt myself was the thought of hurting you. I couldn't bear it. I didn't want to drag you down. If you stayed with me, I was so sure I was gonna ruin your life and I just couldn't do that. How selfish would that be? How the hell could I ask that of you? I wasn't any fucking good for you, and that was all I wanted to be. And I didn't know what the fuck to do so I... I just let the darkness win."
He was staring down at his lap, focusing on the thread patterns in his jeans. He couldn't bear to look at her right now. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have put you through that. I was a fucking idiot, thinking that me dying would help you. And I when I woke up in the hospital I knew that. I couldn't hurt you like that again, but I needed to let you go. I knew you were too good to leave me. I had to stop being selfish. So when I was in rehab I asked Bobby to file the papers for me for divorce."
"You didn't even tell me in person," Ally whispered, a trace of anger in her voice.
"I couldn't. I knew that if I saw you, I would break down and tell you everything. I told you, I just couldn't fucking stand seeing you upset. So I made Bobby do it for me. I was afraid I was gonna cost you everything and I didn't want you to give anything else up for me. I knew I had to leave you even if that meant doing something that might cause you pain. I wasn't good for you so I had to leave you."
"You didn't give me any choice in the matter," Ally said. "We were both in that relationship, but you didn't let me decide for myself what was good for me."
He forced himself to look at her. She was glaring at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "If things had gotten bad, would you have made that choice? Or would you have given up your career?"
"At least I'd get to make a fucking choice!" she snapped, and Jack knew he was right.
"If you stopped singing because of me, I would've never been able to forgive myself," he said softly. "You'd worked too damn hard for everything to throw it all away for a washed-up has-been who was past his prime. I needed to give you the space to shine because you were too damn good to choose yourself over me."
Ally wrapped her arms around herself, like she could hold back all the things she was feeling. When it was all too overwhelming, he used to hold her. Now they kept a healthy foot between them as they sat at the bar, and his arms ached with absence.
"Do you know how much time I spent thinking I wasn't enough for you?" she asked. "Wondering what I did wrong?"
Her words were a stab right through his heart. He had hurt her after all. "You were more than enough," he told her. "God, the only the reason I only reason I could do any of this is because I love you. I moved out here to stay out of the press so you could focus on your career. I named this place after your song. The only reason I even wanted to open it was because of you. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry," he said, his voice wavering. "I'm so sorry I put you through that and I'm so sorry I left you alone. I never wanted to do that. It wasn't your fault. It was mine, it was always my own fucking fault."
He cursed the tears threatening to rise in his eyes as he fought to keep his composure. He needed her to understand how serious he was, how much he meant this. "You did nothing wrong. You never did anything wrong at all. Ally you're... you're the only thing I've ever done right. The only goddamn thing. The only reason I'm sober. Hell, you're the only reason I'm still alive. I would've been gone a long time ago without you. You gave my life meaning for the first time since I learned how to play a guitar. You made me want to be better. It's always been for you. I wouldn't be alive without you," he said, struggling to get through the words.
When he looked up, he saw she was crying silently as she stared at him. Something in him broke and the tears began to flow freely down his face. "I'm so sorry, Ally. I'm so sorry," he cried. Ally covered her face with her hands, but he could still see her eyes, which she had shut so tight. He couldn't bear to watch her cry like that, and instinctively he reached out towards her. Inches away from her arm he froze, hand hanging in the air, terrified to move. The sounds of their crying echoing off the walls in the empty bar. Deciding that there wasn't much he could do to make things worse, he tentatively brushed his hand against her shoulder. To his surprise she didn't pull away – didn't even flinch. So with his other hand he tapped her wrist, and she removed her hand from her face, freely letting him take it. When his fingers closed around hers, she suddenly opened her eyes, and looked at him with an expression he could only describe as pleading.
Longing.
It was the same longing he felt too, every part of his body railing against the fact that she was sitting there and they were still somehow so far apart. The distance so unnatural even after all that time On impulse, Jack stood from the stool and reached out to pull her into his arms. Her body against his. And the moment he did, she hugged him back, hands clutching tight to the fabric of his shirt as they both broke down into sobs. His shoulders shook as he held her the way he'd dreamt of doing every single day for two years. But this was real. It was real because it'd hurt his heart so fucking much to tell her everything, to face what he'd done.
He'd take the pain. He would take the pain a million times over for a single moment to hold her in his arms. It was catharsis. It was healing. It was all of the heartache they'd carried so deep inside finally spilling out. They sat there, huddled together crying until sobs gave way to sniffles and he relished in the feeling of the two of them slowing their breathing together. Inhaling, exhaling the same air.
When they'd both calmed down enough, he asked, "How did you even find me?"
Jack released her from his arms but as he pulled back she caught his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "It was Ramon. His boyfriend was here a few months ago and he sent photos of the place. Ramon saw the sign and thought I should know." She nodded towards the rosy neon sign he'd put up himself. "So I guess my next question is why? Why that sign? Our sign?"
He shrugged. "Because it was ours. It was yours." The glowing cursive script reminiscent of the words she'd sang that night when he fell headfirst for her. A reminder of the best part of himself, the part capable of loving and being loved by her. "I never stopped loving you. And I guess I just wanted a way of saying it, even if I thought you'd never know."
Realizing what he'd said, Jack quickly backpedaled. "Shit I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that I – I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything. And I don't expect anything from you." The sentiment had slipped so easily from his lips and he was afraid that it might scare her off. And yet she hadn't let go of his hand. She looked right into his eyes, completely steady. The air between them was so ripe with tension and he swore it was like some kind of electricity between them. Ally opened her mouth and he held his breath and –
"Hey we're gonna have to open up soon," Mateo shouted. Ally let go of his hand and they both jumped at the sound of the bartender's voice.
"Shit," Jack muttered. "Um there's gonna people here soon. Pretty popular band playing tonight. I don't know what..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. The last thing he wanted was for someone to catch the two of them together and start a media wildfire. Ally didn't need that kind of press right now.
But then she asked, "Is there somewhere private we could go?" and relief crashed over him. He wasn't ready for this conversation to end yet.
"I've got an office in the back," he offered.
///
Two years hadn't changed much, she thought as she followed him to the back of the restaurant. Long messy hair and that scruffy beard. It looked cleaner now though, like he remembered to take better care of himself. There was a little more gray in it, a reminder that time had in fact passed since she'd last seen him. His skin was tan, his eyes so bright blue. They didn't have that distant look she'd come to fear. And body didn't hold tension like it used to, as if he was ready to run away at any given moment. There was a peacefulness in the way he carried himself.
That was good. It was about time he found some peace.
Jack closed the door behind him and she glanced around his office – it was fairly sparse, with a desk, a chair, and a small couch. There was a shelf on one wall with several CDs and records lined up on it. She had expected to see big posters and photos from his glory days on the wall, like the ones she'd reduced to sparkling, shattered glass on the floor of the house, but there were only two things on the wall – one was a poster that listed the Twelve Steps, the other was a piece of paper taped up on which the Serenity Prayer was scrawled in his own handwriting.
She took a seat on the couch and he, perhaps trying to give her space, walked to the chair behind the desk. He sat down, then glanced at her and laughed. "I feel like this a meeting," he said.
Ally chuckled. It did seem quite formal, the desk between them when moments ago she had been in his arms. His embrace felt as safe as she remembered, and just as warm. The smell of his shirt and cologne wonderfully familiar, like the night of her album release when he'd held her close on the rooftop and told her that her music was the stuff of angels...
"Do you have meetings in here?" she asked.
"Yeah, sometimes. When we're booking new performers or Bobby wants to go over the finances and shit."
She tried to imagine him looking serious in a business meeting, and just couldn't do it. He wasn't like the record label sharks who wore slick suits and cut deals. Jack said what he meant and was a shitty liar who couldn't imagine trying to take advantage of a person.
"What made you want to open this place anyways?"
He looked down at his hands. "I mean... I wanted to do something that helped people. Guess I was tired of only thinking about myself." She wants to interrupt and tell him that's not true, but he doesn't pause long enough to let her speak. "And I got to thinking about you and the night I first saw you – at Bleu Bleu, and you were wearing those eyebrows and I thought you were too damn good to be singing in a fuckin' bar. And I realized that if my drunk ass hadn't wandered in that night maybe you still would be and that just wouldn't be right. Then I thought that there must be a lot of people like that, and I wanted to help them share their message. Give 'em a platform. You know, I figured plenty of people in the industry might come by here if my name is on it and maybe they'd hear one of them singing their heart out on stage and think the same thing I did."
"That's really beautiful," she said.
There was a knock from the other side of the door and a woman's voice called, "Jack! We need to do sound check and that Gwyneth chick is complaining that speakers make her voice sound tinny. It's your turn to deal with her!"
Rolling his eyes, he apologized and slipped back out of the office. Ally stood up, wandering over to the shelf to glance at the music. None of his albums were there, but the familiar black spine of SUPERNOVA was right in the middle. Had he listened to it? Of course he would've, everyone knew it was about him and how he'd left her. What had he thought of those songs and the artist she had become?
She walked over to his desk and opened a few of the drawers. Those on the side were full of paperwork, but the long drawer in the center had a notebook open in it. Recognizing his handwriting, she pulled the drawer open further to read it.
Toast one last drink and two last regrets
Three spirits and twelve lonely steps
Up heaven's stairway to gold
Mine myself like coal
A mountain of a soul
Each day, I cry
Oh, I feel so low from living high
My heart would break without you
Might now awake without you
Been hurting low from living high for so long
I'm sorry, and I love you
Stay with me, "Bell Bottom Blue"
I'll keep searching for an answer, cause I need you more than booze.
All this time, she had told herself that he didn't love her. That he didn't even care about her. She thought there was no chance he missed her or even thought of her. But everything he'd done had been because of her. Forher. He moved away to lay low so her music could be the focus. He'd built a bar to help fledgling singers get discovered. He'd named it for "Shallow", hung their sign on the wall. He'd written songs about her. Gotten sober because of her.
It didn't excuse the hurt he'd caused her. At the same time, she knew he was right, that she never would have left him on her own. They'd been too codependent back then, so reliant upon each other for inspiration and validation. They didn't know how to ask for help from anyone else or when to walk away from something that wasn't healthy. Love was one hell of a drug.
And he did love her. What he did had been misguided and messed up. He'd broken her heart and destroyed the life they'd built, but there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her still. But was it a love that could sustain itself? One that could be healthy, and grow.
He'd told her that he didn't expect anything from her.
And hearing those words from him, confirmation of what she'd read into and hoped for, it had done something to her heart. She loved him too, of course. But could she let him love her again?
The door swung open and Jack came back in, and the moment she looked into his eyes she already knew the answer.
His gaze trailed down to the open drawer and Ally felt sheepish for snooping. "I'm sorry," she began, but Jack just waved his hand.
"It's fine. I'd say you have a right to do just about anything you please with my stuff. Besides, I don't have anything to hide. Not from you."
This time, they both sat on the couch, with a decent gap of space between them. Suddenly she didn't know what to say, not with the truth laid out before her like this.
"It's been a long time since I was in Arizona," she tried.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think since I traveled with you. They tried to get me to do a few shows here for my last tour but I just couldn't be here."
"Well, that's alright there's not really much worth seeing here. Just a lot of sand and retirees," he joked.
Ally smiled. "But you're happy out here?"
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know if... happyis the right word for it. But I'm not unhappy. I like the work. I like the people. I like being sober. And I know this little bar ain't much, but I don't know. There's something about this place."
There was something about it. He'd built it himself, from an idea into a tangible space. Somewhere people could be together and hear something beautiful.
"It's really special," she told him.
Jack glanced at the door. From outside the muffled sounds of people and a guitar could be heard. "Do you wanna see it? I mean, how it really is when it's not empty?" Ally frowned and Jack added, "We could hide you. It'd just be in the back of the bar. Mateo can get you a drink and I'll have Kashvi keep an eye out to make sure nobody bothers you."
It was risky. If anyone recognized her, it would be all over the papers. Ally, in Jackson Maine's bar. The paparazzi would have a field day. No doubt it would be all over the tabloids and talk shows. Ramon would have to field a thousand interviews. It would be so stupid. But she found herself saying, "Sure. I'd love that."
After a little digging around in the office, Jack came up with a few articles clothing to cover her up in. Ally tucked her hair into a baseball cap, slipped on an oversized motorcycle jacket, some too-big sneakers, and a pair of round sunglasses.
"You sure this'll work?" she asked.
"Don't worry. I'll get up on stage and say some shit so everyone will be paying attention to me. Just hang in the corner in look bored for a song, then sneak back in here. Come out when you hear my voice, alright?"
Jack went out first, and as instructed she waited until she could hear him over the speakers before quickly leaving the office and slinking out into the crowd with her head down. Sure enough, everyone's focus was on Jack as he introduced the next act and thanked everyone for coming. An excited murmur went through the room. It must've been rare for him to make a public appearance. Ally took her place in the back corner of the bar, wedged up by the counter. Mateo discreetly slid her a drink – a whiskey and coke, she realized, as she took a sip – and the band began to play.
They were good. The girl singing had a tinny voice, it definitely wasn't the speakers. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Just a different sound. And the crowd seemed to be enjoying it. People were swaying and dancing, groups of friends at tables would pause between sentences to listen to the music. The lights were warm hues, balanced nicely by the soft glow of the neon pink sign in the back. A few patrons chatted happily with Mateo and the other bartenders, and an Indian woman who she assumed was Kashvi brought out orders of food that smelled divine – far better than anything she'd seen in a bar before.
All of it just felt good. She remembered the pleasure of performing on a stage like that. Recognizing faces in the crowd, the regulars who would sing along to cover songs. Nobody clamoring for photos or anything – just taking in the moment. Letting the music move them. It made her nostalgic for a time when she didn't have to hide her face in public. But she was willing to bet the people on that stage would give anything to be singing in the venues she'd played at.
She let herself get lost in the vibration of the drums and giddy laughter of the people around her. It all felt so intimate and vibrant. He really had made something special here. Ally pulled his motorcycle jacket a little tighter around herself. It smelled of smoke, exhaust, and sweat and she could almost hear the wind whipping past them as they drove to the endless Arizona horizon so long ago.
Being here was like her universe folding in on itself. Past touching future touching past. Her life had been marked by "before Jack" and "after Jack" and "after Jack left," and suddenly they were in the same room again and when he looked it her it still made her heart race the way it had when he first looked at her with that blue-eyed gaze.
All too soon, the song was ending and Jack was stepping back on stage, much to the chagrin of Gwyneth. Ally tossed back the rest of her drink before leaving the glass on the counter and slinking back through the bar towards the bathroom and dressing room. Jack was saying something about the band and how much he appreciated them sharing their music. Sneaking a glance back to make sure nobody was looking, she quickly ducked back into Jack's office. The soft sounds of a new song began playing and a tinny voice began to sing a familiar tune. "Treat me like your patient, just don't keep me waiting. Or I'll just be wasted in a crowd of the..."
The door swung open once more and Jack hurried in, locking it behind them. He leaned up against the door, grimacing, and she soon heard the sound of footsteps and excited chatter, his name crooned over and over again. The two of them sat in silence, holding their breath until mercifully they heard Mateo's voice over the crowd.
"Hey, hey hey! Mr. Maine has already left the building. Now you're welcome to continue enjoying the show, but if you insist on hanging around his office I'll have to ask you all to leave." There were a few groans and someone said, fuck off man, but the crowd gradually dispersed until there was nobody left outside. Mateo kicked the door twice with his foot before walking off, in what she assumed was a signal that the coast was clear.
Jack looked at her and for some reason the expression of relief on his face made her laugh. It only took a second before the two of them burst into a fit of giggles. It felt so silly to be sneaking around like this, as if they were two lovestruck teenagers coming home after curfew.
When the laughter settled she said, "Thank you for that. You were right – it's really something." He smiled at her with such tenderness that she couldn't help but reach out and take his hand. His skin calloused and warm. It made her feel so safe to hold onto him. Grasping a part of the way things used to be. "You should be proud of it."
"I am," he said, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers. Daring to keep that contact. "It's one of the few things I've been able to take pride in since I left." His eyes never left hers. He was being so gentle with her. So kind. This was the best version of Jack, the man she saw in glimpses when he was sober. The man she'd had for a few weeks between rehab and the hospital. Still a little rough around the edges, sure, still unafraid to be blunt and honest. But this was the person she heard in all his songs, who she had hoped would someday find his way back to the world. To her.
///
Ally was looking right back at him and in that moment nothing else mattered, nothing else existed beyond the two of them and this room and her hand in his.
The shrill ring of her phone made them both jump, and she pulled her hand from his to answer it.
"Hey. Oh, no everything's okay, why? What? Oh shit. Shit shit shit, I'm so sorry. Stay there I'm coming, just give me like two minutes, okay?" She hung up, sighing.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, I just didn't realize how late it was. Ramon is out back waiting for me and he's afraid if he stays there any longer someone might recognize him. I have to go."
Of course. This couldn't last forever. The clock would strike midnight and the fairy tale would have to come to an end. The two of them going their separate ways. What the fuck did he think was gonna happen? She'd show up here and everything would just be good again? She'd ask him to come back to California with her? What he'd done was terrible. And maybe she was ready to hear him out – to laugh with him and hold his hand – but they weren't going to go riding off into the sunset together.
Ally quickly shrugged out of his borrowed clothing and put her heels back on. Straightening up once more she said, "I'm glad you're doing better, Jack." It was the first time all day she'd said his name and for a split second he forgot how to breathe. God it sounded so good to hear her say it. It had never felt like anything special until he'd first heard it fall from her lips. Jackson Maine. And he'd told her that there was no need to say his full name, because everyone who really knew him called him Jack and how he believed she would be someone who knew him – who saw him for who he was. But in all those years nobody had ever made a single syllable sound so beautiful, so special. It was what she called him. It was her name to say. Everything he was belonged to her.
He swallowed everything her voice made him feel and said, "I'll show you out." Moving quickly he snuck her past the dressing room door and out to the back. The door opened out to the darkness of the night, cool desert air washing over them. A black car was in the distance, and once they stepped out the driver flashed the headlights.
"There he is," Ally said. Turning to Jack she said, "Well, um, good night."
That was it. A simple parting message. He forced a smile on his face and said, "Good night, Ally. Take care of yourself." He hoped she knew that what he really meant was, I love you more than anything in the fucking world and I'm so sorry I wasn't better and if I could do it all over again I would choose you every time.
Jack stood on the back step watching as she walked towards the headlights. His lip quivered, fighting tears. As he watched her go, every step she took away from him was a sharp pain in his chest, an old wound he couldn't quite close. He'd left her before, and now it had come full circle. It was her turn to leave him and this time there would be no lose ends to tie up, nothing to bring her back to him. This was the goodbye he had never wanted to face. At least he'd gotten to hold her one last time. Make amends. Try to make things right. But goddamn, it hurt so much to know that this was the last time he would –
"Hey," she said, turning to look back at him. A smile at the corner of her mouth he could barely make out in the moonlight.
"Yeah?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't hear the emotion in his voice.
"Are you free tomorrow?"