#SHIVLINA | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shivvroys · 2 months

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like you've never seen a broken man (if you go, i won't be well)

shivlina oneshot | loosely inspired by Mad Men 5x11 - The Other Woman

karolina is faced with a difficult proposition, but it's shiv who handles it the worst

read below or on ao3

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.”

― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

She narrowly avoids spilling scalding coffee on herself when Roman creeps up behind her.

“Hey, Shiv, real quick—Karolina’s gay, right?”

“The fuck?” Shiv raises her brows, turning to face him.

“I mean, right?” he scoffs, ignoring her bewildered reaction. “Those blazers definitely scream L Word blu-ray boxsets.”

“Roman, what the fuck are you talking about?” Shiv shakes her head.

Roman rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand in her face.

“Oh, forget it, cockzilla.”

“Why do you want to know who Karolina likes to fuck, dickwad?” Shiv intentionally lowers her tone, keeping her eyes trained on the office door and the people milling about just outside of it.

The last thing she needs is for Roman’s wet dreams to make it onto the goddamn LackeySlack.

“She wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire—you know that, right?” she gives him a mocking pout, crossing her arms.

“Well, so much for my piss kink, I guess.” Roman frowns. He begins circling her office in a performance of sulking, picking up random decorative items and inspecting them, pretending to check the furniture for dust and fiddling with the handles on every cabinet door.

“Fuck me for trying to prepare for our next lawsuit.” he sighs, putting his hands on his hips.

For a moment he looks to Shiv like the spitting image of their second nanny, Sandra, who would always berate him when she’d catch him stealing her dolls after he’d accidentally broken one of his own toys. A somewhat tolerable enough woman, she’d finally gotten fed up and left them after Roman tried to set her uniform on fire while she’d been dozing off in an armchair.

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Shiv finally snaps, frustrated by Roman’s evasiveness.

Normally she’d bite—see what depraved bullshit he’d concocted out of boredom. But the subject he’s brought up sticks to the back of her throat like bad medicine.

He doesn’t seem to be dragging it out specifically to get a rise out of her, though, which brings her some relief. If anyone were to find out, Roman would be the cruellest (and most annoying) executioner.

She’d rather take her chances with Tom.

“You know Karl’s guy at the DOJ?” he asks.

“The one with all the ugly ties?” Shiv nods impatiently.

“Yeah, the guy’s being a flaky little shit right now.” Roman crosses the room, perching himself on her desk and leaning over to mock-whisper conspiratorially in her ear. “Dad’s afraid we might lose him.”

Shiv scrunches her face, stepping back and batting him away like a pesky mosquito.

“And what’s that got to do with Karolina?” she clears her throat, crossing her arms.

The knot she’s been trying to swallow down tightens behind her tongue.

“Oh, you mean Elizabeth Taylor incarnate? His words, by the way.” Roman puts both hands up in defence. “He wants to have dinner with her.”

“What?”

Air rushes out of her like a dam breaking, leaving an aching, hollow cavity inside of her chest. She can barely hear Roman speaking over the blood flooding her ears.

“That’s wrong, right?” his eyes widen. “Like—generally speaking, sex trafficking is not really the way to go when you’re fighting sex trafficking allegations, agreed?”

Shiv takes a deep breath, attempting to steady her hands before they begin shaking. She hesitates before opening her mouth, afraid that a scream might be the only sound to come out.

“Roman, this is fucked on so many levels.” she can feels her teeth creaking under the force of her jaw. “Who told you? Wait, does dad know?”

“I told you we have a group chat without you.” Roman rolls his eyes, concern over the situation already melting away now that he’d found an accessory to the crime.

Shiv grits her teeth, forcing herself not to scream. “Does he know?”

“He asked Gerri to talk to her.” he raises his brows. “Give her the ol’ girlboss rundown before we, you know, stuff her ‘n snuff her.” he claps his hands loudly.

As Roman begins to make his way out of her office, Shiv bites her cheek, calling out to him through tight lips.

“He’s actually letting this happen?”

Roman shrugs, a faint trace of guilt worrying his brow.

“I mean, to be fair, he did send Karl to suck the guy’s dick first, so you can’t call him a sexist.”

“Dad, what the fuck?”

Behind her father, she sees Karl attempt to weasel his way silently out of the room, so she pins him down with a sharp glare.

Her father is sitting at his desk, his fingers loosely woven as he sighs, taking his reading glasses off to fully take her in.

“Shiv, I can’t have you fighting me on this, too.”

She cuts him off with a scoff. “You know what this looks like, right? You’re aware—”

“It is just a business dinner.” he stands up, attempting to wave her off.

Shiv takes a decisive step forward, straightening her shoulders to meet him head-on.

“Not if we have to whisper about it, it isn’t.”

Their eyes lock in a standstill as she watches her father clench his jaw—a mirror pressure gnashing her own teeth.

When she was young, they used to play-fight like this, staring each other down like two angry bulls, her father simmering with faux rage until he’d finally yell or huff out a deep growl. Not enough to make her cry, but just to make her flinch. To see her bottom lip start to tremble.

Then, he’d start laughing—a big, booming sound, and then he’d smile and squeeze her shoulder playfully.

We’ll make a matador out of you, Pinky.

She doesn’t flinch this time, nor does she waver in her stare, so her father finally releases another deep sigh.

“Siobhan, do you know how many senators I’ve had to wine and dine? How many presidents?” he tilts his head as his eyes narrow. “It’s all part of the business.”

Shiv scoffs, crossing her arms before addressing him. “Except those guys weren’t actually sexually attracted to you, dad.”

The more she speaks about it, the more nausea grips her to her core, twisting her up inside.

All she gets from her father is a smirk as he exchanges mocking glances with Karl.

“Dad, this is abuse of power in the lightest.” she emphasizes the last part with a sharp slash of her hand in the air. “It’s—it’s fucking prostitution!”

The words erupt out of her like smouldering lava, and she watches the smirk drain from her father’s face. Now they’ve all been singed by it.

“No, that’s definitely off the table.” Karl jumps in, finally making his presence heard. “I told him this is strictly a dinner.”

Shiv turns her head sharply. “And if he asks for another one? And then another one?” she shakes her head. “Did you make him pinky promise, Karl?” she pouts, furrowing her brows.

He clears his throat, straightening his suit jacket before responding.

“Well, no, but—”

Her father interjects before he has the chance to come up with a half-decent lie.

“The guy’s a flake, but he’s not stupid. He’ll help us, Siobhan.”

He punctuates his sentence with a firm nod—the entire world expected to bend under its weight.

“How do you know that, dad?” she bites the inside of her cheek.

“I know guys like him.” he raises a heavy hand, letting it hover somewhere above her elbow. “All she has to do is shake the lonely fuck’s hand and he’ll set our case file on fire.”

“And besides—” Karl interjects again. “It’s all up to her. We’re only doing this with her full consent.”

It doesn’t escape Shiv’s notice that none of them have used Karolina’s name even once during this entire conversation.

She doesn’t speak to Karolina for the rest of the week. That is, Karolina makes it a point to avoid her like the plague. No more quick, teasing smirks as they pass each other by, no more lingering stares during meetings. The closest she gets to any form of interaction is a “Sorry, do you mind?” when Shiv happens to be sitting right next to the projector remote.

And oh, does she fucking mind.

She’s aware of what’s happening. Her dad, Karl, the whole rotten lot of them—she knows they’re all talking behind closed doors, doing the dirty business in the back while she sits at the bar, kicking her feet and blowing bubbles into her soda with her straw.

None of them dare to even mention the DOJ around her, and in just a few short days she’s learnt to translate Gerri’s um’s and uh’s like learning her left from her right—if she clears her throat first, it’s something to do with money, if she clears her throat after, they need to discuss the thing. It doesn’t help that Karl’s ears turn bright fucking red as if on cue, too.

Karolina, though, remains untouched.

She strides through the building with the same sense of purpose. She speaks clearly and nods firmly, her hands meticulous as she drafts, plans, executes—always moving, a clear and continuous arrow pointing them forward.

That is to say, she is as she always has been. Or rather, Shiv thinks, as she always had been.

Before.

Before the late night drinks, before the stolen kisses during boring parties, before the indulgent smiles and the lingering stares. Before Shiv.

She dwells on it, this strange new territory where she can’t quite tell where they are in relation to the other, what she can say and how much of it Karolina can hear—what Karolina might want to say and how much of it Shiv could take.

And Shiv is nothing if not realistic. She doesn’t expect Karolina to come to her with this, isn’t even sure she could handle Karolina laying this entire fucking mess at her feet and asking for her help in untangling it.

But the more she thinks about it, and in this unending darkness she’s been kept in she’s done nothing but think about it, the tighter her fingers curl into fists. Her chest constricts with it, this thinking. It drips down the back of her throat and coats her trachea. It wraps itself around her lungs like ivy, squeezing until she finds herself gasping in the middle of the night, struggling to catch her breath, the faint shadow of a thought lingering in the back of her mind.

She feels it rotting her from the inside out, all of this thinking, growing like black bile and spilling out through her eyes, her ears, her mouth, through her clenched fingers and gritted teeth.

She wakes up thinking about the scandal it would cause if it were ever to come out, even the idea of it—the shame of it. The fact that Karolina’s career would be over before anyone would even finish reading the headline.

“Waystar Head of PR caught in sex scandal. Dinner over DOJ!”

How it would add even more fuel to the already blazing dumpster fire that is cruises. How it would scorch every single one of them, cementing the fact that Waystar Royco is in the business of trading bodies.

That last part lingers most in Shiv’s mind—the bodies and the people that trade them, and by the time night rolls around it is all she can think about again.

Karolina’s body, the soft skin Shiv’s fingers and tongue have traced endlessly, the warmth of her, the way her hair curls at the sharp curve of her jaw. Karolina’s scent, the way it seems to always linger everywhere—on pillows and sheets, the collar of Shiv’s jacket, the backseat of the car, the back of Shiv’s mind. Shiv closes her eyes and sees Karolina smiling lazily after a particularly hard day and a stiff drink, sees her purse her lips and lean her forehead against Shiv’s, sees her sitting across a conference table, blinking slowly before looking away, the faintest upturn of a lip lingering for a second before disappearing.

To think of it all, the flush that spreads from Karolina’s chest all the way to the back of her ear when she’s aroused, the firmness of her thighs, the sweet cadence of her laughter—to see it reduced to a bargaining chip. To something that can be exchanged discreetly during a handshake, or slipped into a back pocket. It leaves her nerves taut and aching and rapidly coming undone each time she closes her eyes and pictures a stranger’s hand on Karolina’s shoulder, at the crook of her elbow, gripping the back of her knees, tangled in her soft hair.

When Karolina texts her asking to meet, she almost knocks Tom off the bed getting up.

He doesn’t ask where she’s going, offering only a murmured goodbye and plea to be safe.

She doesn’t know how it’s become such a pitiful affair, their relationship whittled down to a sigh they keep passing from one to the other. A barely flickering light they use to keep from bumping against each other in the dark hallways of their gilded cage. Despite the mangled state of it, despite the blood on both of their hands, she feels it thrumming against her ribcage, the soft memory of it—Paris and easy dinners, Tom’s hands rubbing her shoulders to keep her warm, pulling her into his chest to warm the tip of her nose. Beneath everything they’ve become she can still feel that small root they haven’t eviscerated yet, so she clings onto it, and squeezes Tom’s shoulder softly, urging him to go back to sleep..

By the time she makes it to Karolina’s apartment she is panting as if she’d ran the entire distance, her chest tight as she tries to reteach her lungs the volume of a breath.

They settle on the couch, making stilted conversation while working through a couple of drinks. Once she’s polished off her second glass, Karolina finally turns to face Shiv, head leaned against her hand as their eyes lock for what feels like the first time this entire evening.

“Spit it out.” she sighs, her eyelids heavy with whiskey and exhaustion.

Shiv swallows nervously, debating how much she can say without spilling her rotten entrails all over Karolina’s soft leather couch. She stares into her glass, clicking her nails against it.

“You’re not seriously considering it.” she finally says, furrowing her brows.

She only looks up from her glass when she hears Karolina scoff.

“I wasn’t aware there was room for consideration.” Karolina replies, eyebrow cocked and lip turned up into a scornful smile.

“See, this is what I mean.” she shakes her head. “It’s fucked—it’s fucking wrong.”

Karolina turns away from her, leaning down to pour herself another glass. The decanter shimmers in the warm light, blurring Shiv’s vision. She follows the dancing flickers of light as they spill out of the decanter with the whiskey, then pool into Karolina’s glass, taking flight as Karolina raises the glass to her mouth before finally settling, small and inviting, in the flushness of her bottom lip.

“And what would you like me to do about it, Siobhan?”

When Karolina’s lips begin moving, Shiv has to blink herself awake to recognize the words they are forming. However sweet the distraction, Shiv pulls herself together, gripping her glass as she focuses back on the topic at hand.

“You can tell Karl and his pervy buddy to fuck off.” she suggests half-humouredly.

Karolina furrows her brows, taking another sip of her drink, this time letting out a satisfied hum before turning to look at Shiv over her shoulder, the same mocking smile dangling loosely from her lips. “Can I?”

Shiv leans forward, her knee knocking into Karolina’s as she lowers her head to meet Karolina’s gaze. “So what, you’re actually gonna go on a date with this guy?”

“It’s just a dinner.” Karolina shrugs.

Just like the first time they’d fucked had been a one-time thing. Just like the second time Shiv had slept over had been about the bad weather outside and the traffic. Just like the extra toothbrush in Karolina’s bathroom was a matter of convenience.

Like coal to diamond, nothing too unbending for Karolina to compartmentalize into clear, easily digestible morsels of truth.

Shiv tries to clear her head, but all she sees when she closes her eyes are those goddamn hands—too broad and hungry and wrong, grabbing at Karolina’s flesh. When she tries to take a deep breath it isn’t Karolina’s warm, spicy perfume trailing the end of each inhale, but some tacky, heady cologne filling her lungs until she’s choking with it, sticking to the back of her throat like ammonia.

“Am I the only one who can actually read the writing on the fucking wall?” she finally opens her eyes, turning her head sharply towards Karolina “You know what he wants, Karolina—what he expects.”

“And what would you like me to do about it, Siobhan?”

“Maybe try standing up for yourself?” she shakes her head. “Give that a go.”

“Stand up to whom?” Karolina laughs, raising her glass to her lips again. “I’m perfectly aware of the situation I am in.”

“Then do something about it.” Shiv raises her voice, anger thrashing in waves inside of her.

Karolina places her glass down on the table with a loud clink.

“Shiv, I appreciate your concern, but I can’t have this discussion with you.”

Shiv scoffs, hands gripping her knees as she leans back forcefully against the couch.

“Rain check the dinner. Let me talk to my dad.”

Karolina laughs, the sound of it reverberating harshly inside of Shiv’s skull.

“And tell him what, exactly?” she says, looking over her shoulder at Shiv with narrowed eyes as she drags out her words. “That you don’t like sharing toys?”

“This is not about that.”

“Isn’t it?” Karolina smirks.

Like tar, something hot and sticky begins to pool at the bottom of Shiv’s stomach.

“How am I more concerned about your wellbeing than you are?”

Shiv brings her hands to rub the bridge of her nose, the pressure gathered there digging into her skull like a bullet.

“There is only one outcome here, Siobhan.” Karolina sighs. “Either I do it, and I’m the whore that did it, or I say no and I’m the cunt that put the company at risk. And to them it’s the same amount of nothing.” she waves a dismissive hand, focusing back on her drink.

“You’re the head of PR, Karolina.” Shiv yells out again, finding herself decreasingly apologetic for her harsh tone.

Karolina doesn’t look back at Shiv this time, speaking around her almost empty glass. “Which works out wonderfully, since I’ll be the one in charge of keeping my own mouth shut.”

“This guy could be dangerous—you know that, right?” Shiv leans back forward, forcing Karolina to look at her. “He works for the DOJ, he’s got money, influence, we don’t even know how long Karl’s known him or how well—”

“So what, Siobhan?” Karolina interrupts her, voice simmering with concealed anger. “No real person involved, right?” she smiles widely, the strain of it marring its usual charm.

Shiv hangs her face in her hands, releasing a shaky breath through her fingers. “This is so fucked.”

“Mhm.”

She watches Karolina polish off the remaining whiskey in her glass before putting it down with a decisive clink and gingerly resting her hand over Shiv’s thigh.

“Speaking of things that need fucking.”

Shiv leans into the kiss, letting Karolina’s warm mouth, the whiskey on her tongue and her soft sighs melt away her anger and her fear—prays all of her melts away under Karolina’s hands.

As she closes her eyes, though, there they are—those damned hands. That suffocating smell. That unbearable fucking weight pressing against her chest.

“Wait—sorry.” she pulls away, her hand coming up to grip the one Karolina had wrapped around the back of her head. “This is—it feels weird to be doing this right now.”

Karolina gives an amused frown, whispering something Shiv can’t quite make out before continuing to trail messy kisses across her neck. Shiv lets her, but finds her own hands growing foreign to her as she wraps them around Karolina’s back—too big, too clumsy, and too rough against the smooth skin peeking out from under Karolina’s shirt.

She pulls back again, taking Karolina’s cheek into her hand and running her thumb slowly against her bottom lip as she shake her head softly. Looking at her through heavy lashes, Karolina lets out a soft laugh.

“Come on, you can pay me after.” she winks, pressing her lips flush against Shiv’s thumb.

A cold wave of shock washes over Shiv, paralyzing her. For a moment, all she can do is stare at Karolina like a crazed animal. Then, like a cord snapping, she pushes herself away until no part of their bodies remain connected.

“Christ, what the fuck, Karolina?” she blinks, barely spitting the words out past the wave of nausea rising in her stomach.

Karolina looks only mildly annoyed as she shakes her head. “It was a joke, Siobhan.”

“Yeah, well it’s a bad fucking joke.” Shiv scoffs, turning away to look anywhere else but at Karolina. “You know what, I’ll talk to you later.”

Not bothering to wait for a protest she knows won’t come anyway, she gathers up her things and all but runs out of the apartment, hoping the sound of the door slamming closed behind her might startle some sense back into Karolina.

She finds out the day it’s supposed to take place through Roman, and spends each night leading up to it biting her thumbs to shreds. Tom doesn’t ask why she’s barely sleeping these days, and she doesn’t ask him to stay up with her. He sighs, or she sighs, and they move along on their merry way like two placid ghosts, only mildly inconvenienced by the other’s presence.

Time stretches and constricts around her, the days dragging on endlessly at times, then rushing up to whisper dauntingly in her ear. A weeks passes like a year and a minute, Shiv counting each painful second one minute, then losing track of an entire day the next. By the end of it, she is dizzy and aching and, above all else, missing Karolina like she’d been ripped straight from under her rib. Like she’d always just been there, tucked away in the flesh of Shiv’s breast. Like all she’d been missing was a name for it, that tenderness, and no other could fit quite like Karolina’s. Either something vital, Shiv thinks, or something cancerous—eating away at her until each cell bears less of Shiv and more of Karolina.

Those damned hands never leave the space behind her eyelids, either, only growing bigger and hungrier with each passing moment. And the bigger they get, the more alcohol it takes to keep them at bay. The louder Karolina’s voice rings in her ears, too.

You can pay me.

Like there is a world where a price can be put on Karolina. Like there is a limit to what Shiv will relinquish, would Karolina ask for it. If there is a trading of bodies between them, Shiv realizes, it isn’t Karolina doing the trading.

And she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she isn’t being fair. That the lines Karolina had drawn from the very first minute were as clear and neat as they come, and it’s only the ugly beast of Shiv’s heart that has muddled them beyond recognition. That whatever was festering inside of her was neither right nor righteous, but ugly and selfish, and there was very little separating her own hands from the ones she keeps seeing in her sleep.

Friday rolls around like a death row sentence, and she doesn’t bother drawing the blinds to pretend it isn’t even midday yet when she pours her first drink. She sets her phone in front of her and stares it down until it turns into a blurry blob in front of her eyes.

As the world slips into dusk, Shiv begins to feel the walls crowding her in, that ever-present vise tightening around her chest. Her hands feel numb and heavy as she keeps knocking them against the kitchen counter, against the whiskey bottle, against her glass and against each other.

In front of her, the phone remains silent and mocking.

Roman picks up on the third ring, and tells her it’s set for nine o’clock before she even asks. He doesn’t say anything except that she owes him one. It makes the corners of her eyes sting, but she can’t bring herself to acknowledge it, so she gives Roman a mumbled thanks and hangs up.

By eight o’clock, she is in a bar not too far from Karolina’s apartment, bracing herself against the bar top as she cradles her head in her folded arms. When she sits back up, the entire place sways softly and sweetly in front of her eyes, the warm lighting making the bottles on the shelves behind the bar shimmer like tiny stars.

When she orders another drink and it gets served with a complimentary dirty look from the bartender, a brief moment of clarity washes over Shiv. She catches her own reflection in the mirror panels that house the shelves of liquor and asks herself, for the first time since she’s arrived at this place, what it is she is actually trying to accomplish.

Hanging around Karolina’s neighbourhood like an obsessed ex, hoping for what, exactly, she can’t tell—for Karolina to stumble upon her? For the gutter to sweep her up and deliver her to Karolina’s door? For her hands to stop shaking long enough to do something useful for once and grab onto Karolina and take her away from this entire fucking mess? For Karolina to want it?

For those fucking hands to disappear from her mind.

Without thinking, she slams back her drink, throwing her jacket on before getting up. Her vision slips and slides away from her, and it takes a heavy grip on the bar to steady herself enough to make out a clear path to the exit.

“Sorry m’am, but you still need to pay.”

She turns to see the bartender watching her with the same disdain as earlier. Fumbling with her pockets, she takes her card out and all but throws it in his face. He closes out her tab and hands her back her card. As she reaches for it, he pulls it back.

“You, uh, good to get home?” he raises his brow, looking her up and down.

Straightening her shoulders, Shiv swipes the card out from his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fucking good.” she scoffs. “Got a friend who lives nearby.”

“You sure you don’t want me to call you a cab?” the bartender insists.

“I paid, yeah?” Shiv points the card back at him. “So fuck off.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning sharply around and walking out of the bar.

As the cold air hits her, a shiver runs through her bones as she stares down at her hands, contemplating what to do next.

Then, as if waking up and realizing she’d forgotten to set an alarm, she takes her phone out of her pocket and checks the time. Five to nine.

Karolina had more than likely left already.

A wave of nausea washes over her, and her temples start throbbing. In rapid succession she sees it all—the wine, the drinks, the dessert, the hungry hands and Karolina’s soft skin, the shade of lipstick she keeps for special occasions, the light reflecting off of the tiny stones on her rings as she twists them out of habit. The dim lights and the scratchy car seats.

The alcohol has made her thoughts crueller, more daring, and now it isn’t just Karolina’s polite smile that taunts her, but her laughter, her own hands grabbing back, her lips claiming skin that isn’t Shiv’s. Now it’s Karolina herself playing the game for the sake of playing.

Looking up, Shiv’s mind is already made up—she’s had enough of sitting at the bar, kicking her feet and sipping on flat fucking soda.

She doesn’t look at the time again. As she enters Karolina’s building her fists are clenched tightly inside of her pocket, and she has to bite down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at Karolina’s doorman when all he does is politely greet and wave her through.

Her knuckles are red, she notices, as she knocks on Karolina’s door. She blinks, looking down to inspect her hand. Time’s slipped away from her all week, but she doesn’t remember punching anything, or taking up old hobbies again, so it must be the cold, she thinks. Except it wasn’t that cold outside. The whiskey then. Her tongue feels thick inside of her mouth, her teeth sharper. She presses her knuckles against her mouth, blowing softly to bring some warmth back into them.

Her body feels as if it’s on fire, but she can’t quite remember what the weather had been like outside, so she reasons she must be shaking because of the cold still.

“Siobhan.”

She blinks harshly as the door opens, bright light spilling around Karolina’s form like an avalanche. She is wearing a black dress to match the shadows under her eyes, her eyes narrowed into angry slits to match the fire burning inside of Shiv.

“Hey.”

She straightens her back as Karolina’s eyes rake over her, jutting her chin out defiantly. She tries to do the same, but can’t quite manage to follow the dancing shadows that make up Karolina’s form.

“You’re drunk.” Karolina says, tone clipped as she drums her nails against the door handle. “And I have a car picking me up in a few minutes.”

Pushing past Karolina, Shiv makes her way into the apartment. The sudden flood of light is dizzying, and she has to blink harshly as her eyes adjust. She turns to find Karolina looking at her expectantly, one hand cocked to her side.

Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket, Shiv realizes the reason her knuckles were red—an ill-timed attempt to grab onto the ATM for support. Pulling out the contents of her pockets, she extends her hands out for Karolina to take.

“Don’t do it.”

Karolina looks at the stack of bills, her eyes not leaving it as she speaks through gritted teeth.

“Shiv, what is this?”

Shiv blinks. “You said I should pay you, so here.” she takes a step forward, pushing the money out towards Karolina. “I’m paying you not to go.”

Karolina laughs, raising a hand to her lips.

“Is this because you think I might actually fuck him?” she furrows her brows, her voice wavering as she finally locks eyes with Shiv. “One pat on the back from daddy and I’m bending over for the entire fucking village, right?” She swallows thickly, letting her anger coat her tongue like a shield. “That’s why you’ve been so concerned about me.”

Karolina’s sharp gaze, though blurred at the edges by the drinks she’s slammed back, is almost enough to make Shiv’s knees buckle.

“I—”

“Get out.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

Karolina takes a step forward.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

Shiv’s hands are still outstretched, the money making her palms burn as shame fills her, licking up at her insides and crawling up her neck.

She clears her throat, attempting to straighten her back, the light catching on each wrinkle on those goddamn bills.

“I’m not letting you do this, Karolina.”

“Letting me?” Karolina scoffs. “You need to leave, Siobhan.”

Shiv begins to protest as Karolina takes a step forward.

“Get out.” Karolina says, her voice devoid of emotion, though her eyes have become glassy.

Shiv shakes her head, a few errant tears spilling past her eyelashes, which she wipes at roughly with her forearm.

“Don’t fuck him.” she whispers harshly. “Please. Just don’t fuck him.”

As a last-ditch effort she motions weakly to the money in her hands, only to be met with a furious glare from Karolina. In a flash, Karolina’s hands are on Shiv’s wrist, attempting to wrangle her out of the apartment while Shiv struggles, kicking her feet as she tries to pull her hands out of Karolina’s grasp.

Far too dizzy to put up much of a fight, Shiv finds it harder to keep a single image of Karolina floating in front of her eyes than to push away Karolina’s hands. Taking a step back to clear her swaying vision, she doesn’t notice the small threshold separating Karolina’s dining room from her hallway until her heel connects with it, sending her flying back as the money she’s been holding scatters up in the air.

Karolina’s hand in on her arm instantly, catching her. Through the shock, all Shiv can feel are Karolina’s hands on her and Karolina’s worried gaze swimming in her eyes, hundred-dollar bills flying around them like dirty confetti.

Karolina’s hand never leaves her arm, the warmth of her palm seeping into Shiv’s skin like a soothing balm. Desperate to erase the scowl on her face, Shiv does the only thing she knows—the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. She kisses Karolina. Hungry and shameless, she presses herself flush against Karolina, though she keeps her hands by her side, not willing to let any of the grime off of that money touch any part of Karolina.

She feels Karolina pull back at first, the fingers wrapped around Shiv’s arm digging deeper as they push Shiv away. Then, with a soft exhale, Karolina’s other hand comes up to grip the back of her head as she pulls Shiv in.

As Karolina deepens the kiss, all Shiv can hear, feel or smell is Karolina. Karolina’s hand moves from the back of her head to her jaw, nails raking against Shiv’s cheek as it travels lower, fingers wrapping themselves around Shiv’s throat, and all Shiv can think of is how sweet of a death it would be, to let those fingers steal her last breath.

For a moment she thinks it might be happening—that Karolina might actually plan on killing her. That she might let her.

Her throat constricts as Karolina presses her hand against Shiv’s throat and it’s only when Karolina pulls back from the kiss and gives Shiv a sharp nod that she realizes what she’s doing. So, she lets Karolina push her back through the apartment, her heels slipping against the money littering the floor as she still refuses to let her hands stain Karolina’s skin.

Once she feels the sharp edge of a table hit the back of her thighs she stops. Karolina narrows her eyes, her nails digging into Shiv’s neck as her other hand grips her thigh, hoisting her up on the table. She pushes Shiv until her back is flush against the table, the glass cool as she presses her cheek into it.

A part of Shiv wonders briefly whether Karolina realizes she can only push so far while still gripping tightly.

Satisfied with her work, yet still keeping her hand firmly pressed against the column of Shiv’s throat, Karolina begins to kiss her way down Shiv’s neck, stopping only to sigh into her ear.

“You wanna pay for me, huh?” she says, her teeth grazing Shiv’s ear.

“No.” Shiv gasps.

“Yeah you do.” Karolina whispers sweet and sickly into her ear, before lifting her head to look Shiv in the eye. “You think you can buy me.”

Shiv swallows thickly, her neck straining against Karolina’s thumb.

“Karolina, I—“

Karolina cuts her off with a kiss, catching Shiv’s bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it with a wet pop.

“What are you going to make me do?” she raises her brow, her eyes tracing every contour of Shiv’s face as if drawing an intricate map of it.

“Nothing.” Shiv shakes her head.

“Oh, come on, Siobhan.” Karolina sighs in disappointment. “I’m yours, what do you want me to do?”

As she speaks, her hands travel the expanse of Shiv’s body. She wastes no time with niceties, gripping and tearing roughly until her hand dips below the waistband of Shiv’s trousers.

“Whatever you want.” Shiv gasps.

Unable to bear it any longer, she finally lets her arms wrap around Karolina’s back, dirty and shameful as they are.

“Anything you want.” she murmurs, her eyes drifting shut.

“Hm.” She feels Karolina’s breath hot in her ear as the ends of her hair tickle her neck. “Do you like this? This enough bang for your buck?”

She finishes the sentence with a soft pop that reverberates inside of Shiv’s ear like a war drum.

With every inch of her surrounded in Karolina—her perfume, her heaving breath, the ends of her hair tickling Shiv’s skin, her hands making her come undone, the only thing Shiv can do is nod.

She comes with Karolina biting down on her shoulder as she tangles her fingers in Karolina’s hair, both of them still pushing and pulling each other apart.

She’s still trying to catch her breath when Karolina gets up, deserting her on the now cold dining room table, whining and panting like a sick dog. Still dizzy, she allows the alcohol and Karolina’s perfume to rock her gently like a sailboat, as she listens to the rhythmic sound of Karolina’s heels clicking as she moves through the apartment.

Finally, she pulls herself upright, her stomach dropping as she takes in the bills strewn around Karolina’s house—her home. Yet another thing Shiv’s managed to taint.

“My ride’s here.”

She turns to see Karolina entering the room, tapping away at her phone, Shiv barely an afterthought. There isn’t an inch of her that hasn’t been smoothed or retouched to perfection. The only thing that betrays her is the flush spreading across the narrow strip of skin exposed by the neckline of her dress. It crawls up her neck, biting her cheeks, her lips slightly swollen underneath the meticulously applied lipstick.

“Karolina…”

Shiv pauses, waiting for Karolina to look up. She doesn’t, fishing around until she pulls out a set of keys and sets them on the table, next to Shiv’s hand.

“You can leave them with my doorman after you’re done cleaning all of this up.” she nods towards the floor.

As she makes to go, Shiv grabs her wrist. “Karolina, wait.”

Karolina turns sharply, her knees almost knocking into Shiv’s. The column of her neck is still flushed and damp with sweat. When she leans in to speak to her, another wave of her perfume rolls softly over Shiv, stinging the back of her throat.

Her eyes never leave Shiv’s as she speaks, her voice the coldest Shiv’s ever heard her.

“I am done with you, and your family. And your fucking money.”

Karolina doesn’t spare Shiv another glance as she delicately frees her wrist from Shiv’s grasp and exists the room, her heels clicking a haunting hymn throughout the apartment that lingers in Shiv’s mind long after she’s gone.

The first thing Shiv ever does in Karolina’s apartment in her absence is cry. Not a full, heaving chest sob, but a few simmering tears, her hands still gripping the dining table as she grinds her teeth into fragments.

The second thing she does is throw up.

For a moment, she contemplates not bothering to make it to the toilet. To spill her entrails all over Karolina’s nice floors and show her exactly what this entire affair had turned Shiv into—let her pick through the mess and see if she would’ve taken it better.

She doesn’t, ultimately settling for propping her head against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl whilst inspecting Karolina’s array of cleaning supplies tucked under her bathroom sink. After she feels herself moderately hollowed out, she grabs one of the bottles at random, splashing some liquid into the toilet before flushing.

As she moves from the guest bathroom to the one in Karolina’s bedroom where she’d started leaving a toothbrush out for her, she feels her body settling into a comfortable routine which she decides so cling onto.

So, she sets about brushing her teeth, before turning on the shower and busying herself with remembering which of the nearly identical bottles inside was Karolina’s body wash, before picking the one that smelled the best.

The shower seems to set her straight, and as she walks out into Karolina’s bedroom, the cool air feels like a cleansing wave as it envelops her. For the first time in days, she feels like she can take in a full breath, without some invisible vise gripping her heart.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine Karolina somewhere in the house, her feet padding softly as she gets ready for work. She’d always wait as long as possible to wake Shiv up, always peeking through the door with a tiny frown and a steaming cup of coffee.

She can’t quite recall when it had snuck up on them, this twisted kind of domesticity. When being at home had begun to feel more like sneaking around than being here, with Karolina.

She rummages through Karolina’s drawers, picking out a pair of shorts and an old, oversized t-shirt from Karolina’s college days, Debbie Harry’s faded face shooting daggers at her as she dries her hair.

Karolina’s heels are still clicking a steady, deafening rhythm inside of her head as she sets about cleaning up the dining room, her knees sticking to the cold floor as she picks up each discarded bill and stuffs it into a garbage bag.

Like an alert dog, the sound of the door opening startles Shiv awake. For lack of something to throw over herself in some semblance of a shield, she tucks her hair behind her ears and steps out of the bedroom, her bare feet padding softly against the floor as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Karolina is leaning against the kitchen island, her back to Shiv. A bottle of gin sits next to her, its cap thrown on the other side of the island.

Shiv approaches her slowly, her mouth drying as she takes her in. Her hair is messier than it had been when she’d left, the ends of it curling around her chin. There are tiny flecks of mascara stuck to the corners of her eyes, and the flush hidden beneath her foundation had begun to peek through.

When Karolina finally turns to look at her, all she gets is a dismissive nod, before her attention returns to the glass she is cradling.

“Why are you still in my house?” she says, her tone flat as she drums her fingers against the glass.

“Well, someone had to make sure you were fucking okay.” Shiv huffs out a quiet laugh. “Guy could’ve gone all Silence of The Lambs on your ass.”

Karolina doesn’t say anything, only quirking an eyebrow as she downs her drink in one large gulp before filling it back up.

“So, uh, are you? Okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Karolina nods. “I’m great.”

“Good, good.” Shiv purses her lips, biting the inside of her cheek as she takes a few more steps towards her, rounding the kitchen until she is sitting opposite Karolina. “Yeah, I also like to slam back straight gin when I’m okay.”

Only receiving a slow, distanced nod in return, she crosses her arms, staring down at Karolina’s clutched hands. “I got some takeout. I saved you some.”

“I already ate.”

“Okay.” Shiv sighs. “I, uh, also got some tiramisu—from that place you like.”

“I had dessert, too.” Karolina cuts her off with a glare.

“Right.” Shiv nods, lips pulled back in a tight smile. “Well, it’s in the fridge. Take-out’s in the microwave.”

She watches the tension coil inside of Karolina’s shoulders, her eyes darting wildly anywhere but in Shiv’s direction. With a determined exhale, she gets up to grab a glass for herself, sensing Karolina’s eyes following her as she moves to the cupboard behind her.

Glass in hand, she moves on to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of tonic water before returning to her seat with a proud smirk.

“So, how was it?”

She doesn’t meet Karolina’s gaze, feigning concentration as she makes her drink.

Karolina shrugs, clicking her nails against her glass, the muted trill sending goosebumps down Shiv’s arms. When she finally looks up, she finds Karolina looking at her, really looking at her, for what feels like the first time since this whole fucking mess had started.

Her gaze burns something shameful and awfully sad in Shiv’s chest, her grip on the bottle weakening as she fully takes in the exhaustion reflected in Karolina’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Shiv begins. “Karolina, I—”

Karolina silences her with a shaky hand.

“Shiv, what do you think of me?” she furrows her brows, gaze returning to the glass she is cradling.

“What do you mean?” Shiv murmurs.

Karolina pauses, her thumbs caressing the lip of her glass before she looks up again.

“You threw a stack of money at me.”

“That—I’m sorry.” Shiv closes her eyes, swallowing the shame tightening in her throat. “I didn’t mean—”

Karolina shakes her head, raising the glass to her lips. “If I told you I fucked him, what would you think?”

Shiv exhales a shaky laugh, frowning. “I think I’d track him down and break his fucking kneecaps.”

“If I said I’d wanted to?”

“Did you?” Shiv whispers, finding it excruciatingly painful to speak through the lump in her throat.

Karolina shrugs, reaching for the bottle of gin. Just as her hand meets it, Shiv stops her, wrapping her fingers tightly against Karolina’s wrist.

Karolina’s always run a bit cold, something Shiv would normally take great delight in teasing her about, but now her hand feels frozen to its core.

Then again, it might be Shiv that’s burning up.

“Karolina, did something…happen?” she swallows, desperately trying to keep her voice steady. “Are you…”

“I’m fine.” she pulls her hand from under Shiv’s, bringing the bottle with her.

This time, though, she throws in some tonic water as well, taking a sip as she shoots Shiv a pointed look.

“Are you?” Shiv asks, her voice raising as the hand that had been holding Karolina’s tightens into a fist.

“Nothing happened, Shiv.” Karolina looks at her, nodding softly.

Shiv releases a shaky breath. “Okay. Good.” she shakes her head. “I—good.”

She takes a large gulp out of her glass. The alternative, she thinks, might have made this her last drink.

“He called his colleague while he was dropping me off.” Karolina continues, her voice almost slipping back into her professional tone. “He’ll try to either push back our date or get the case quietly dismissed.”

“He better.” Shiv scoffs into her glass as she takes another sip.

They sit in silence for a while, Shiv sipping quietly at her drink as she watches Karolina’s glassy eyes move over the apartment, over Shiv, over her own hands, getting stuck on an errant thought, on the precipice of some sentence, before resuming their aimless search.

Finally, her eyes settle on Shiv.

“Why are you still here, Siobhan?” she says, quietly.

Shiv shrugs, a smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t know, why haven’t you tried to kick me out again?”

“You don’t seem to listen when I do.” Karolina frowns, though it feels less like anger and more like curiosity.

The entire night crashes into Shiv like an angry wave, reminding her of everything that has brought them to this table. Reminding her that no matter how much she scrubs at her hands, they might never feel clean again.

“Tell me to go again and I will.” she whispers, throwing her drink back and placing it down with a quiet thud.

Karolina shrugs, waving a dismissive hand in front of her. She looks like something out a Hopper painting, shoulders fallen onto themselves and eyes cast downwards, into her glass, as if whatever answer she is looking for was hidden within her own reflection.

Taking a steadying breath, Shiv reaches out again, placing her hand gently against her forearm, willing Karolina to look at her.

“Karolina, you can tell me to fuck off, but just—you’re scaring me right now.”

Karolina bites her lip, shaking her head.

“What the fuck did I do?”

Shiv watches with muted horror as Karolina collapses in on herself, her entire body shaking as her head drops into her hands. Despite the freezing terror running through her, a quick jolt sends her rushing towards Karolina, her hands reaching for the woman’s shoulders like the columns of a crumbling building.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay.” she murmurs.

Karolina tenses under her hands briefly, making Shiv still her movements. Then, Shiv sees her shift her body slightly towards her, giving her all the encouragement she needs to wrap her arms fully around Karolina.

“You’re okay.” Shiv whispers, placing a soft kiss on the crown of Karolina’s head. “You saved all of our asses tonight.”

Karolina’s hair smells like perfume and smoke, and her skin feels cold and feverish at the same time. She barely makes a sound as she cries, the only evidence of it the tremor that rattles her, sending shockwaves down Shiv’s spine.

Bone-tired and still dizzy from all the alcohol she’s consumed for the past weeks, Shiv holds Karolina like they are two sailors lost at sea, each sob rocking Karolina’s body a wave that Shiv tries to shield them against, her grip tightening as she presses soft kisses into Karolina’s hair.

When she finally feels Karolina’s shoulders stilling, she takes a tentative step back to let her catch her breath, her hands still rubbing soft circles into Karolina’s shoulder.

Rubbing clumsily at her eyes, Karolina draws shaky breaths as she flakes bits of mascara off of her fingers. Once she’s caught her breath, she looks up at Shiv.

“I could’ve refused.” she swallows tightly, propping her head in one hand as she smiles ruefully. “I could’ve said no.”

Shiv shakes her head. Her hands reach out as Karolina begins to turn away from her, pulling her back until they are eye to eye.

“Hey, look at me.” she says softly, like she’s approaching a wounded bird, scared it might try to fly away. “Karolina, look at me.”

Karolina does, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. Red-rimmed and blurring into darkness, her eyes look like diamonds drowning in blood.

“You did everything right.” Shiv blinks, one hand gripping the back of Karolina’s head. “If you’re gonna blame anyone, blame me or that fucking perv, or dad or goddamn Karl. But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Karolina bites her cheek, a hand coming up to wrap loosely around Shiv’s wrist. “This is going stick to me like shit.”

“No, it’s not.” Shiv shakes her head, brows furrowed in anger as she rubs her thumb over Karolina’s temple. “And if it does, you’re the only one in that place worth any fucking thing, anyway. Let it stick—see if anyone’s dumb enough to say anything.”

Karolina laughs, squeezing Shiv’s hand.

“Evidently you haven’t spent enough time around that place.”

“I’ve spent enough time around you.” Shiv smiles, still frowning, though for the first time in what’s felt like months she feels some of the tension building inside of her ribcage begin to ease away, if only from the sight of Karolina’s upturned lip.

“You’re being very kind, Shiv.”

Shiv shakes her head.

“No, I’m really not a very kind person.” she says quietly.

Hand still gripping the back of Karolina’s head, she leans down to kiss her. It isn’t a soft kiss, both of them too bruised to ever grasp without a trace of hunger, but it stills something inside of them.

The waves begin to smooth out into lulling ripples. Despite the dark depths surrounding them, they can finally turn to take in the sight. To trace out some horizon line.

Karolina is the one to break it, her hand still wrapped tightly around Shiv’s as she looks up.

“You’re staying the night?” she asks.

“Mhm.” Shiv smiles. “`Till you tell me to go.”

#shivlina #succession fic #siobhan roy #karolina novotney #succession #my fics

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jeniffercheck · 5 months

Text

hairline fracture (is it me that you'd run after?)

shivlina oneshot: argestes, but have roman and shiv switch places -- set during 2x06 (argestes), shivlina are established affair partners, closely follows the canon of s2. CWs below the cut.

words: 9k

for @shivvroys as part of the shivcord winter fic exchange xx

read here or on ao3

cw for domestic violence & implied/referenced domestic violence. It is a prevalent theme throughout the entire fic & injuries are described quite a few times but it does not get graphic. the shown domestic violence does not stray from canon. please let me know if you think i've missed anything!

Karolina grips her glass loosely, a lousy mix of the worst 2000s house beats and party guests shouting over the music reverberating through her ears. Shiv stares at Tom across the room, her eyes turning into something more of a scowl compared to Karolina’s entertainment.

“You’d think he’d have a little more tact than trying to get with a competitor,” Shiv says.

Shiv is obviously using a loose definition of the word competitor, the woman being some executive from a privately owned firm that Karolina can’t recall ever being involved in news or theme parks, but she laughs quietly at the comment, unable to ignore the irony in the complaint.

“The fact that he’d even consider speaking to another woman in public in a way that could even hint at a business deal—” Karolina says. “It’s horrifying.”

“Whatever,” Shiv says, taking a sip of her drink. “We’re different.”

“Because…” Karolina lets the word hang in a question, not one that she really needs an answer to, but one she’d like to indulge in anyway.

“Because, I don’t trust them,” Shiv says, finally tearing her eyes away from Tom. It’s the unsaid that Karolina revels in when she pokes and prods, this time around being that Shiv trusts her.

“Although—” Shiv starts.

“Here we go,” Karolina sighs, bracing her arms on the table for impact.

“At least Tom has the decency to laugh at everything she says,” Shiv looks over at the pair again, and Karolina follows her gaze, an animated Tom laughing obnoxiously at whatever the woman has just told him.

Karolina leans closer to Shiv and whispers delicately in her ear, “Maybe she’s just funnier than you.”

She bites back a smirk as Shiv looks at her again, eyes sharp and eyebrow quirked.

“You think I’m jealous,” she states.

Karolina shrugs. “Are you?”

“No,” Shiv says immediately. She rests an elbow on the table and leans her head into her hand, an insufferable smugness taking over her features. “There are more pressing matters in front of me.”

Karolina lets her hair fall in front of her face, if only to hide the growing redness from the eyes of the surrounding crowd. If anyone were to ask, she’d say it was the alcohol. If anyone were to know, well, they’d know that Shiv Roy has Karolina Novotney wrapped around her fucking finger; annoying conversations about her husband be damned.

“Glad you came?” Shiv asks.

While glad is certainly not the word that Karolina would use for her last-minute attendance at the Billionaire Boys Club annual reunion—waking up to the news that her employer has hundreds of accounts of heinous crimes and illegal cover-ups headed right to the press is really not her preferred way to start the work week—it’s always nice to spend time with Shiv in a place that doesn’t feel so shrouded in secrecy. Still, there’s work to do, whether she wants to have that conversation or not.

“I’ll be glad if we can make it through this panel in one piece,” she admits.

“Well,” Shiv says, suddenly agitated. “Take that up with Kendall and Roman.”

“I’ll be taking it up with all three of you tomorrow,” Karolina says. “I need you all on your best behavior.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shiv says. “Regret, responsibility, and remedy. Condemn and move on. Are we missing anything? Maybe, daughter and doormat?”

Karolina frowns. She’d assumed Shiv’s being here was something she wanted—a strategy to stay in the game, not another instance of being walked over. Karolina lowers her voice, suddenly conscious of their position in the room, a pit of wandering eyes and ears.

“Shiv, I won’t let them make you the face for this, you know that, right?” she asks. “If it all goes crashing down—”

“You wouldn’t,” Shiv says, her expression softening. “But I can think of about ten other faces who would.”

“Every one of those faces would have to go through me,” Karolina affirms.

Shiv is weary in her silence, and despite her instincts, Karolina grabs her hand from underneath the table.

“It’ll be fine,” she says. “All of them know how integral it is to have a female voice on the panel tomorrow. We can’t have Rocket Man and Rape Me fronting a situation like this, can we?”

Shiv looks down, worrying her lip slightly.

“What is it?” Karolina asks.

“It just—” Shiv shakes her head, “It feels like I’m losing favor. This can’t go wrong.”

Although Karolina’s entire job is influencing public response—she’s not entirely clairvoyant. She can’t know what people are going to think about Shiv Roy stepping into the role of the spokesperson for a company she doesn’t work for without it looking entirely pandered, and she doesn’t know how it’s going to look internally—despite the fact that nobody’s opinion below the executive floor matters much anyway—but, she does know that this is a huge deal, and huge favor, and the people who really matter shouldn’t take it lightly. Shouldn’t is always the keyword.

“You’re ready,” Karolina says. “We’re going to murder board the hell out of you three tomorrow. You’ll have a response to everything. Just stick to the script.”

“Stick to the script,” Shiv says. She leans in closer, suddenly smirking, “Got any other scripts you want to show me?”

Karolina squeezes her hand and then drops it, biting back a smile as Shiv shifts in impatience.

“If this panel goes well, I might just think of something.”

If.

“You sure there aren’t any we can workshop right now?” Shiv asks. She lowers her voice. “I’d really like to see that murder board you mentioned.”

“No,” Karolina says, though she knows she doesn’t sound confident. “We’re getting up early tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on,” Shiv says. “You really want to spend the rest of the night watching Tom cockblock himself?”

“And here I thought I was in the clear of hearing about him for the rest of the night.”

“You know he’s been talking about buying a vineyard?” Shiv asks.

Karolina downs the rest of her drink.

“If I take you to my room, can we please stop talking about Tom?”

Shiv can’t hide her smile.

“Only one way to find out.”

—

Karolina isn’t sure how it starts.

From her perspective, the panel goes well. It’s not entirely what they planned, what, with three conflicting personalities sharing one stage, but it worked. They got the message across: Waystar is taking the matter seriously, and they’re not leaving it in the hands of the same kinds of people who buried it under the rug all those years ago. Simple, effective. Condemn and move on. Except, if there’s one thing about the Roy family, it’s that none of them know how to fucking move on.

She’s in the corner of the room with a few members of her team, working on their rapid response plan for once word of the panel inevitably gets out. She’s only half-listening when the siblings re-enter, unsurprisingly still arguing about the events onstage. It’s the usual, Kendall mad at Shiv, and Shiv mad at Kendall, and Roman instigating so it seems like he did anything at all, the conversation not grabbing Karolina’s attention when Marcia’s voice peaks out from the group, a scolding for Shiv, of all people.

Karolina makes her way to the other side of the room, but there’s a building chaos in the short walk and she knows she’s too late to calm any of them with positive public response or statistics. It’s several voices escalating in volume until Logan’s rises above them all, and then there’s a loud crack, and suddenly Roman’s holding Kendall back, a jumble of “Don’t fucking touch her!” and “What the hell, Dad?” and Gerri’s eyes are flitting between Logan’s and Karolina’s, a frantic sort of resolve seeping out of her as she asks, “It played well, right Karolina? They’re saying it played well.”

“It played well,” Karolina automatically confirms, her heart pulsing through her throat as she shifts her eyes on Shiv, hunched over and gripping the side of her face. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands as Kendall and Tom attempt to inspect the wound, a futile effort anyway as Shiv finally regains some composure.

“It’s fine—I’m fine,” Shiv says, dodging the flurry of worried arms and voices as she escapes the room. “Someone get him a fucking Quaalude.”

Broken bits of Shiv’s, now fallen, champagne glass crackle under Tom’s steps as he trails behind her, and it’s only a few seconds between the door slamming shut and Gerri taking charge. Marcia takes Logan away—where to, Karolina doesn’t want to know—and Karolina feels a light tugging on her elbow, and suddenly Gerri’s pulling her into a corner. Gerri looks annoyed, and Karolina wonders if it’s at all similar to the seething sort of rage that’s simmering around in her at what they were just forced to witness, or if it’s closer to inconvenience—another tally on Gerri’s shit-list that she’ll never actually do anything about.

Gerri searches her eyes and under the scrutiny, Karolina crosses her arms, if only to hide the light tremble that she knows is coursing through her hands. Gerri, knowing her better than anyone, knows this as well, reaching out and gripping Karolina’s forearm. She rubs her thumb soothingly up and down, a peace offering before the barking of orders.

“I need you here,” Gerri says softly. Karolina clears her throat.

“I’m here,” she says. Gerri looks guilty for a moment after she’s said it, and Karolina can imagine why, because this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this situation—Karolina troubled by the Logan of it all and Gerri silently pleading with her to keep it together for just another hour—and it’s not unlike the other times Gerri’s sent her the same apologetic regret, as if Karolina’s career at Waystar is something she should’ve stopped all those years ago rather than encouraged. She didn’t always understand it, Gerri’s self-imposed debt felt owed to Karolina, but she thinks she’s starting to now.

Shiv never would’ve been here today if it weren’t for her. She never would’ve been on that stage, saying those things, pissing Logan off enough to do that, if it weren’t for decisions that Karolina had made, had said were good, foolproof even. She’s at fault, a backhand by proxy that she can almost feel pulsing in her own knuckles—an apology she’ll never be able to fulfill, a regret she will never live down.

“I’m here,” she says again, if only to ground herself, and Gerri looks wary, but she nods anyway.

“Okay,” Gerri says, sighing. “Okay, just—go see if Tom needs any help. He still has appearances to make if it can be helped, so—”

“I’ve got it, Gerri,” Karolina says. “Comms will get started on Logan’s statement regarding the panel, if asked. Once that’s briefed, we need everyone on the same page.”

Gerri’s visibly relieved at Karolina’s assertiveness, and she uses that reaction to anchor herself further as Gerri squeezes her arm once more and returns to the leftover crowd, giving everyone firm orders as Karolina leaves the room.

She spots Tom a few halls down, knocking repeatedly on a door that’s clearly not going to be opened.

“Tom,” Karolina says, his worried gaze meeting hers. She doesn’t know what he knows, doesn’t know what he suspects, but he doesn’t look at her with the same kind of threatening contempt he usually does. Right now, it’s just concern. Karolina speaks low, not wanting to be heard through the door. “She say anything?”

Tom shakes his head. “Hasn’t said a word.”

“Okay,” Karolina sighs. “Look—obviously this is, extenuating, but Gerri is requesting that continue the conference as planned—”

“Karolina—”

“Tom—”

“I’m her husband,” he hisses, and they both freeze. Karolina doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t have to say what she is to Shiv, because it’s her hesitation and his response to it—that flash of recognition that if it were Tom, Shiv wanted, he would’ve been through that door already. She’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t actively keeping her from getting Shiv help. “Just—keep me in the loop.”

She waits until he’s gone to knock on the door.

“Shiv?” she calls out. “It’s just me.”

It’s a little while before the lock clicks, and Karolina opens the door carefully, unsure of what she’ll find. It’s not entirely unexpected—bloodied towels on the counter, a disheveled Shiv going back and forth between rinsing out her mouth and attempting to apply pressure—but Karolina doesn’t think any amount of bracing could’ve prepared her for the sight anyway. She locks the door behind her.

“Here to serve the gag order?” Shiv asks, and Karolina has enough humility left in her to feel ashamed that it’s not out of the realm of possibility. Still, she doesn’t dignify the comment with a response.

“To check on you,” she corrects. Shiv pauses in front of the sink, her hands resting on the porcelain bowl. The injured side of her face is hidden from Karolina’s view, and if it weren’t for the splotchy mascara and the red tint of Shiv’s nose, Karolina might not have known anything was wrong at all.

“He meant to hit Roman,” Shiv says, as if it makes the situation any better. Karolina’s not so sure it does, but Shiv sounds sure of it, as if the knowledge that the backhand was meant for someone else can somehow absolve her of experiencing it like she’s the one who got hit. But she was.

“Okay,” Karolina says, even though she doesn’t believe her, and she’s certain Shiv doesn’t either as she turns on the faucet, eyes focused fervently on her hands as she scrubs at imaginary filth. The blood is already gone, so it must be the feeling.

Karolina makes it about fifteen seconds into Shiv’s erratic scrubbing until she can’t watch any longer.

“Shiv,” she says calmly, placing a hand on Shiv’s back. Shiv falters slightly, tensing under Karolina’s touch but not stopping, scrubbing at her nail beds as if she’d spent the entire day digging. Sometimes it’s all Shiv seems to know how to do; dig until her fingertips are raw and her head’s gone too far under far too quickly for Karolina to keep up. By the time Karolina gets there, the hole’s been filled. Whatever Shiv has buried is deep, and whatever Karolina hopes to find will take a lengthy excavation of her own, but that’s usually. This time around, Karolina doesn’t have to search for what Shiv’s trying to bury. It’s red and it’s angry and it’s in the shape of a human hand across the side of Shiv’s face, and Karolina saw it happen. Shiv knows she saw it happen.

Karolina shuts off the faucet before she even really thinks about it, and Shiv pauses, her hands still hovering in the sink. Karolina reaches around her and grabs a clean towel, drying Shiv’s hands wordlessly. She’s surprised that Shiv lets her, surprised that Shiv hasn’t run off already, adamant that she doesn’t need this, that she doesn’t need Karolina, and she’s surprised when Shiv turns around, her arms crossed and thousand-yard stare piercing the entirety of Karolina’s gut. She can see the wound in full now, harsh on Shiv’s pale skin and only getting worse by the second.

And what can she say? I’m sorry he did that. I’m sorry he used you in the face of scandal and then got mad when you tried to make it better. I’m sorry that you were only doing what you were told. I’m sorry that I’m a part of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

How many times can she apologize for the things she can’t control? How many times will she have to look Shiv in the eye and apologize for being a bystander to it all anyway?

“Can I look?” she asks. She doesn’t think she has to; the sound of it was enough to know that the hit would leave a mark, and though it’s not a lot of blood, she wasn’t expecting as much as there actually is.

“Please?” she tries again, like Shiv would be doing her a favor. She thinks Shiv would be, because it’s Karolina at fault here—Karolina’s fault they said yes to the panel, her fault they even let Shiv on that stage—and Shiv lets out a deep, uneven breath and turns slightly, allowing Karolina access to the injury. She winces as Karolina pokes and prods, opens her jaw when Karolina asks her to open it, closes it when she asks her to close it. She discovers the main source of the blood—a loose molar and a chunk of skin missing from the inside of Shiv’s cheek, both of which feel terrible to call lucky, so she doesn’t call them anything at all.

She grabs the wet towel, slowly dabbing at Shiv’s face to clean the lingering mascara and blood, and Shiv closes her eyes, letting Karolina work.

“You did everything right,” Karolina eventually says, because she can’t bear to bring up blame.

“Doesn’t fucking feel like it,” Shiv mumbles.

“I know,” Karolina says. She sets the towel down, her hand coming to rest on the unharmed side of Shiv’s face, thumb grazing the soft skin lightly. Shiv opens her eyes, narrow and distant in the name of resolve, and it’s only a moment before the weight of it all catches up to her and takes her down. She drops her head into the crook of Karolina’s neck, her cries coming out like silent pleas to just make it fucking better, and Karolina doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to start helping beyond the logistical mess of it all.

If they started driving now, how fast could they get back to the city? Should they charter a helicopter instead? How long before the pain sets in Shiv’s brain catches up to the loose molar? How soon could they get something heftier than extra-strength aspirin? Should she take something non-drowsy? What if she has a concussion? Can she take a fucking horse tranquilizer? Is there something that can make her forget? Something that can send them back in time and do everything differently, change whatever’s allowed them to make it to this point?

She holds Shiv tighter, like maybe the more of her that’s touching Shiv, the better she can absorb all of the hurt and replace it with something else. Dull it, at the very least. She’s still unsure of what to say, the right things all seemingly evading her. The simple ones come to the forefront, like what you’d ask a child with a freshly skinned knee, screaming their head off in the middle of the street. Are you injured or are you shocked? But Karolina’s not a mother, and nobody ever bandaged up her scrapes and bruises. It’s a level of comfort she dreads being asked of, something she and Shiv had successfully avoided throughout their entire entanglement, but Shiv didn’t ask for this, and Karolina doesn’t think she’s ever really had anyone to bandage up her bumps and bruises either, so if Karolina is the person Shiv’s letting through that locked door, she’s going to do what needs to be done.

“Does it hurt?” she asks once it seems Shiv’s calmed down a little. She’ll do the job; she just never said it wouldn’t be done poorly.

“What do you think?” Shiv says, pulling away.

Karolina sighs, pulling out her phone. “We need to get you to a dentist.”

“No,” Shiv immediately says. “No—I’m not going to some fucking hokey emergency dentist out here in Bumfuck. I’ll go to my dentist in the morning.”

Karolina doesn’t have to do the math to know that’s far too long to sit with a loose tooth without any medical intervention. Beyond the possible concussion, or jaw injury, or infection risk—

“We need to get you checked out, Shiv,” Karolina says. She must sound serious, because it’s enough for Shiv to lock eyes with her, and it takes all of Karolina’s resolve to stay calm as the tears begin to pool in Shiv’s eyes again. Somehow, she holds her gaze, ignoring the light drum in her stomach when Shiv huffs, her eyes moving to the ceiling.

“As if this isn’t already humiliating enough,” Shiv mumbles. She looks back at Karolina, a wordless sort of pleading that Karolina doesn’t know how to say no to. “I just want to go, Karolina.”

Karolina grips her phone, swallowing down her concerns. She nods, knowing it’s not the time to pick a fight.

“Do you want to see Tom first?” Karolina asks. Normally, she’d be thrilled by Shiv's response. Right now, it’s just sad.

“No,” Shiv says.

“Shiv—”

“It’s fucking embarrassing,” Shiv whispers. “Okay? I just—I just want to leave.”

It’s the unsaid that Karolina clings onto, that somehow Karolina has positioned herself in a place where Shiv is comfortable, a place where the embarrassment is dulled and she’s free to feel, despite Karolina’s perceptions of herself, despite her job, despite her role in all of this, and she won’t let Shiv down. Helicopter, she’s decided.

“I’ll go talk to him and get the flight situated,” she says, but then she stops at the door.

“Shiv—” Shiv looks at her, and Karolina doesn’t know if this is the first time this has happened, if every strike that was meant for Roman actually went to him, or if this is just another occurrence on an itemized list of occurrences, but words sit at the tip of Karolina’s tongue, things she wishes someone had been around to tell her all those years ago, things she wishes she could have understood sooner, first time or not. “It’s not humiliating. It feels that way, but—they all care about you. They do, and they don’t think any less of you.”

Karolina leaves before Shiv has to come up with a response, and she’s grateful that their exile goes smoothly. In some twist of fate, Tom still has to show face at the conference, so she lets him feel useful by having him call in an emergency fill of a narcotic for the ride. She’s hedging her bets on no concussion, supported by the fact that Shiv hasn’t had any claim of a headache and by her refusal to even stop by the summit’s medical staff for a quick check-up. Shiv’s out by the time the helicopter is in the air, and Karolina tries multiple times to get some rest herself with no success, her eyes continuously drawn to the sleeping bundle of red hair on her shoulder, not in her lap because she dazedly agreed to at least wear the seatbelt on the flight if she was going to make Karolina commit fifty other acts of negligence in one night.

Shiv wakes drowsily when they land, and she gets her way in the car when Karolina lets her forgo the seatbelt in favor of resting her head in Karolina’s lap. Karolina spends the duration of the ride brushing her fingers through Shiv’s hair, careful not to touch the swollen skin as it stares up at her. She has the driver go straight to her apartment, because she doesn’t know where to go, but Karolina’s place seems like the safer option, away from prying eyes, away from Tom.

Karolina knows they’ve been distant lately, half of her conversations with Shiv filled with verbose rants over him. If she were Tom, she’d feel pretty shitty right now, but she can’t blame Shiv. It’s hard to seek comfort from someone who’s got one hand in yours and the other in the one that hit you. She’s not entirely sure what makes her different from Tom in this case; they both know that if what happened tonight leaks it’ll be Karolina crafting the narrative, it’ll be Karolina reminding the world that Logan Roy is a tremendous father and while he’s been recovering smoothly, we’d all do well to remember what a strain the past year has been on Mr. Roy’s health.

A confused old man accidentally hits his daughter. It’s a tale so old she actually thinks it might be better for the Roy family if it did leak, tugging on the heartstrings of the American public in the midst of a scandal. See? They’re victims too. All of them. Then, the car runs over a hefty pothole just a block down from Karolina’s building and Shiv winces deeply in her half-slumber, the pads of her fingers digging lightly into Karolina’s thigh, and Karolina regrets thinking it at all.

Maybe that’s the difference; if Karolina were to dig deep, she’d be one hand in Shiv’s and one hand adjacent to Logan’s, and right now, the hand that’s adjacent to Logan is full of a shaking kind of vitriol that she doesn’t think Tom could ever stomach holding over him. Condemn and move on. How can Karolina move on from this? The thing that isn’t, finally in front of their faces, and splattered across Shiv’s in shitty red splotches.

When they pull up in front of Karolina’s building, she drags her feet waking Shiv up. Her doorman gets their bags, and she waits until she imagines he’s about halfway to her front door when she starts kneading her hand into Shiv’s arm, murmuring a soft, “We’re here,” as she does so. Shiv stirs slowly, and Karolina instantaneously feels bad as Shiv’s brows furrow, her whole body tensing up in Karolina’s lap. That means it hurts, and there’s not much else they can do about it at this hour.

“Can you make it up?” Karolina asks, silently hoping that the answer is yes, because the only other alternative is Karolina tipping her doorman to carry Shiv up, and she isn’t so sure which one of them would hate that more.

“Yeah,” Shiv says, her voice nearly sick with pain as she slowly rises from Karolina’s lap.

Karolina steps out of the car first, relieved when the change in lighting seems to have no effect on Shiv. She holds out a hand and Shiv takes it, eyes hanging low as they make their way up to Karolina’s apartment. When they get in, Shiv’s got the bathroom first, Karolina digging around in her medicine cabinet for anything they can mix with what Shiv’s already taken.

Her mind wanders to how normal it is, Shiv’s toothbrush hidden in a drawer, Shiv’s extra clothes with their own shelf in Karolina’s closet, the side of Karolina’s bed that grows colder every night she spends alone. It feels normal, except Karolina’s rummaging around in her medicine cabinet to find a suitable secondary painkiller so Shiv doesn’t spend the entire night writhing in pain because her father nearly knocked her teeth out. Karolina takes a deep breath as she pours out a dose. Her phone lights up out of the corner of her eye every few minutes, likely texts from Gerri and emails from her assistant, and she puts it in her pocket without glancing at the screen, taking the pills and a cup of water to the bathroom.

She finds Shiv with a clean face, inspecting the damage under the harsh light. She sets the water and the pills on the counter, engulfing Shiv in a hug from behind. Shiv instinctively closes her eyes, leaning some of her weight against Karolina as they stand there. Karolina finally has a better look at the fully bloomed wound as well, Shiv’s skin a myriad of different colors trailing from her jawline toward her cheekbone. The worst is on the lower half, swollen slightly, no doubt in part due to the loose tooth. Karolina wishes she were good for anything more than damage control, better at anything other than closing doors and sweeping under rugs, but reasons that’s maybe what Shiv does need—someone to help her clean up the mess.

“Take these,” Karolina says, holding the pills in front of Shiv. Shiv sighs as she grabs them from Karolina, not meeting her eyes through the mirror, and she washes them down with a wince that Karolina assumes is downplayed based on the fact that Shiv didn’t even open her jaw wide enough to let anything more than the pills in. Karolina tries not to dwell on it. She kisses Shiv’s unharmed cheek lightly, and Shiv squeezes one of Karolina’s hands before escaping the embrace to go into the bedroom.

Karolina takes her time as she cleans up, somewhat selfishly she feels as she listens to Shiv rummaging through drawers all alone in her bedroom. It’s not the violence itself that’s still making her hands a little too clammy and her heart beat a little too fast, maybe more so the reminder. It’s like you’d ask a child, are you injured or are you shocked? Karolina would venture to say shocked. Fathers hitting their daughters, a tale as old as time, but it’s not so much a tale when it’s right in front of her. And now it’s in her home. It’s snuck its way under her door frame and into her bed, and it feels somewhat like the first time, a ripe eight-years-old and powerless as her mother cries, so confused as to why any of this is happening at all and terrified to so much as make a move, might she make it all worse somehow. In this case, the only thing she can do is keep moving, keep going forward in the event that something she does can make it better.

Shiv is already in bed by the time she returns to the bedroom, drowning in one of Karolina’s old sleep shirts, and she shakes off the feeling of yet another thing being tainted—her bed, her mirror, her shirt, her pillow, her Shiv. It doesn’t feel fair to say, because Shiv has always been wounded and it’s never changed much. She’s always walked around with a gaping hole in her chest whether she ever wanted anyone to notice or not, but the difference now is that she can’t hide it, and Karolina can’t choose to not look at it.

She climbs in bed next to Shiv, careful not to disturb her too much as she settles down, unsure of how close she’s wanted, but Shiv immediately leans back into Karolina and she assumes she’s wanted plenty, dropping a light kiss to the crown of Shiv’s head.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“It’s bearable,” Shiv says, and bearable doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, so Karolina just smooths Shiv’s hair, waiting for Shiv to fall asleep.

—

Shiv doesn’t talk about it. Not really. She wakes up the next morning and she makes an emergency dentist appointment, and she doesn’t even ask Karolina to go with, not in those words entirely, but she does say they’ll likely have to put her under, and Karolina doesn’t have to think twice before saying that she’ll call the driver and go with, just in case.

It’s a uniquely infuriating kind of feeling, having Shiv curled up on her couch with perpetually teary eyes and an ice pack hiding a mess of bruising that had only gotten worse overnight. Karolina had felt sick when she woke up and saw it, as if she’d been tricking herself into believing it wasn’t as hard of a hit as it actually was, a lighter bruising even pooling under her eye.

Karolina’s grateful that it’s a scheduled travel day for the executive team, hoping the pseudo-day off will give her the time to figure out how she’s going to face Logan when she returns to the office. How she’s going to pretend that Shiv doesn’t mean anything to her this time around, that her loyalty is to Waystar and by extension Logan, and that his image her top priority even though every time she thinks about him the only thing she can see is her own father’s backhand racing down for a strike. She knows it’s a mess of her own making. No one gave her the handbook, but she saw the signs, and she stayed. She welcomed it into her life and made herself a part of it. She tricks herself. She lets Logan yell at her until her legs feel like Jell-O and her tongue is crawling down the inside of her own throat and then an hour later, she laughs about it by the coffee cart as if it’s just all just some small misunderstanding. They all do it, they downplay and they pretend, because it’s easier than dealing with the truth.

Even now, molar hanging on by a literal thread, any emotion Shiv’s carried over from the night previous has been replaced with an it’s fine, it’s not that bad, and Karolina knows that’s what Shiv is accustomed to. Knows that Shiv shutting her eyes tight and talking as normally as she can through a tight and swollen jaw while on the phone with Tom is all she knows how to do. To satiate everyone else completely. Forget that it’s a big deal, just move on.

Karolina doesn’t understand how not to make this a big deal, but she doesn’t want to make it more difficult for Shiv. She doesn’t shove another ice pack in Shiv’s face when she gets off the phone, doesn’t question why the pills she left out are sitting untouched on the nightstand, doesn’t even bother to tease Shiv over wearing another item of clothing from Karolina’s closet like she normally would; she barely wants to breathe, afraid to mess up whatever semblance of equilibrium is left in Shiv’s orbit in case anything at all turns out to be the last straw.

She briefly wonders if it’s worse this way, dancing around the hard truth that Shiv Roy is a human, not immune to having pierceable skin and breakable bones, but she figures this is how Shiv wants it; downplayed. If Shiv doesn’t take a pill, then Karolina doesn’t have to know that it hurts.

The only thing is that Karolina does know that it hurts. She can feel the sharp pain that splinters from the hinge of her jaw to the base of her neck. Understands the earache, the weary, tired eyes, the persistent taste of iron in her mouth, and the way that everything seems to move a little slower, feel a little less real. She knows so much yet so little, because she’s not inside Shiv’s mind and she can’t tell what Shiv’s thinking, so she doesn’t hover. She just does what she’s asked, and she does what she can, and she doesn’t pressure Shiv into doing what she can’t.

She ignores the too-pale hands that clutch around her arm on the way down to the car, doesn’t pull out her phone when it buzzes a dozen different times because she doesn’t want Shiv to see all the names of the people who have let her down in the last thirty-two years as they come up on her caller-id, and puts on her most dazzling smile inside the dentist’s office as Shiv recounts the story that’s caused her ailment; an embarrassing tumble during some turbulence on the private jet. I should’ve listened to the stewardess—guess it’s one way to make time for the dentist, right?

Karolina makes sure to write the cover story down in her notes. It’s not the first she’s ever had on file for a Roy, and it’s not even the first that’s left her feeling wrong and wondering if she’s ever had any morals to begin with, but it is the first that she can’t reason with. She can’t decipher a why she’s doing it at all, the only lingering explanation is that it’s for Shiv. She’s doing what Shiv wants. What Shiv needs. She recalls Shiv’s quiet confidence walking into the examination room with the dentist, like she hadn’t been squeezing Karolina’s hand up to the very point that the car door opened outside the building, and she wonders what else she’s missed, how many other things she’s allowed Shiv to shrug off without question.

She swallows down the thought, settling into the private waiting room that she imagines the hokey dentist in Bumfuck wouldn’t have had. She pulls out her phone, searching for one voice on the other end of the line.

“Prognosis?” Gerri asks. Karolina’s relieved to hear her voice, relieved to hear anything beyond Shiv’s pain-induced silence and her own racing thoughts. She can hear fading voices in the background of Gerri’s end, meaning they’re likely not on the road yet.

“That we don’t get paid enough,” Karolina can’t stop herself from saying, even though she knows deep down that at this point, there’s no world where her debt with Shiv requires any payment at all. Because wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that she was wiping blood from Kendall’s nose? Getting him blow because even though they all know he should be the last person contacting shareholders, she did it anyway? She’s a cacophony of transactions, but she’s losing sight of a number that excuses any of it. Gerri sighs on the other end.

“Negotiations are off,” she says.

Karolina knows it’s wrong that her immediate reaction is satisfaction, because she also knows how much this is going to impact the shitstorm that’s already clouding each of them, but she can’t help it. It feels like some sort of check and balance in the name of a restorative justice that will never be served, and she holds onto it. It’s something.

“And the article?” Karolina asks. Gerri makes no note of the fact that it’s Karolina’s job to know.

“We’re moving to internal investigations,” Gerri says. “We’ll be outsourcing a firm—no word yet on who our lucky match will be.”

“Great,” Karolina says, and even though it’s a private room, she still speaks lower. “Your bases are covered, right?”

“Blindsided by the article,” Gerri feigns. It’s another painful reminder of who they are and what they do, and though Karolina was blindsided, a part of her always knew. The rumors about cruises were inescapable in the PR department and there are no rumors at Waystar that come without basis.

“I don’t know when I’ll be in the office, but there’s no official communication that doesn’t go through me,” Karolina says. “We have enough messes.”

She hates to refer to her current predicament as a mess, because it’s nothing she feels burdened to clean up. Nobody’s forcing her to sit in this dentist's office, and certainly nobody’s forcing her to open her apartment doors, and her bed sheets, and her top left dresser drawer, but she can’t say that. Not even to Gerri.

“How’s our archeologist?” Gerri asks.

“Undergoing a root canal,” Karolina says. “They can save the tooth, so, some good news, I guess.”

“Good,” Gerri says. Karolina can hear papers shuffling in the background, and she’s dreading the amount of catch-up she’s going to have to do just from missing one day in the office. “Where’s her head at?”

“I think she’d like to pretend it never happened,” Karolina admits. Shiv hasn’t said it yet, but she can’t imagine this being the hill that Shiv Roy would choose to die on. Gerri hums on the other end, and Karolina can guess how the rest of the trip is going. She can only hope someone did actually get Logan a fucking Quaalude.

“Logan would be pleased with that,” Gerri says, and even though she says it sarcastically, the sentiment alone is enough to crack Karolina’s outward indifference.

“Well, as long as Logan’s pleased,” she snipes. Gerri’s silent on the other end for a moment and Karolina waits for the usual lecture, that Karolina cares too much and you’re not their babysitter, Karolina, just do what’s in your purview and nothing more, which is always cheap talk coming from Gerri anyway, but it doesn’t come.

“And how’s your head?” Gerri asks.

Karolina sighs, running a hand over her eyes. They both know this call was never about business. “Haven’t had any complaints, Ger.”

“Very funny,” Gerri says, and Karolina can’t find it in herself to be too satisfied, but she can picture the look of fond disdain in Gerri’s silence, and she finds a little bit of comfort in the image. “Seriously, Karolina…if you need the cavalry to step in—"

“It’s fine, Gerri,” Karolina says. “I’m fine.”

Because Gerri knows. She’s heard the stories and she’s seen the remnants herself. She’s the first pair of eyes on Karolina the second Logan’s a little too aggressive and the first voice in her ear when she thinks Karolina’s about to crack, but it’s different this time. It’s not about her, it’s about being there for Shiv.

“She’s not your responsibility,” Gerri finally says. It’s an act of protection, Karolina knows this, and she can rationalize Gerri’s point of view—Karolina inserting herself into a ticking time bomb of a family, putting herself right at the center of something she’s spent her entire adult life trying to escape—but Karolina had never done anything to earn Gerri’s protection. It was something Gerri decided on, something she felt she could give, and it shouldn’t be any different for Karolina. Gerri’s right, Shiv isn’t her responsibility, but Karolina still owes her something. There’s a sense of security that Shiv is now cashing in. If Karolina were to break that, what would it make her?

“I think we both know that’s not true,” Karolina replies.

Gerri doesn’t have anything to say to that.

—

Karolina’s created an entire action plan for monitoring news about cruises and drafted up about four different press releases by the time Shiv gets out (her favorite is the one where she’s announcing Hugo’s retirement).

Shiv seems to be in a lot less pain after the procedure, hunkering down on Karolina’s couch as soon as they get back to the apartment. Karolina’s still trying her best not to hover, but there’s also a part of her that can’t settle down, so she compromises by sitting on the couch adjacent to Shiv and opens her laptop for the first time in over twenty-four hours. She forwards the action plan to her team for review and does a few indirect searches regarding Waystar and the news. It’s not as bad as she was fearing. There’s a bit of a rocky perception from the conference that’s mostly shrouded in inconsistent messaging, but it’s nothing she can’t work with.

It’s a while before Shiv stirs, and Karolina doesn’t take the time for granted, ordering soft groceries and panic-searching everything she can about root canals and molar splinting and if there’s somehow still a risk of concussion even though it’s been a full twenty-four hours and Shiv has never even once complained about a headache.

She left a pair of pills out on the coffee table, a light prescription from the dentist should Shiv need it, and she pretends not to watch when Shiv finally sits up and analyzes the display as Karolina types away. Shiv takes them, Karolina glad that she’s no longer participating in whatever emotionally charged abstinence she was displaying earlier in the day. Shiv leaves the room wordlessly, and Karolina distracts herself with work while she waits for Shiv to return, careful to listen out for any signs that might make her needed. She’s about to give in and check on Shiv when she appears back in the living room, a pillow from Karolina’s bed in her hand, and she lays down right up against Karolina. Karolina instinctively drops a hand in Shiv’s hair, scratching lightly as Shiv gets comfortable again.

“You need anything?” Karolina asks.

“Just this,” Shiv says quietly. “And to not have wires poking my cheeks like I’m fucking fourteen.”

“I can only help with one of those things, unfortunately,” Karolina says, brushing back a lock of hair.

“Really?” Shiv hums. “You’re supposed to be a fixer.”

It’s not meant to be a jab, but Karolina can’t help the way it hits her. Fixing something like this is out of her depth, no matter how much she wishes it wasn’t.

“How’s the rest of it?” Karolina asks. The dentist checked out Shiv’s jaw, figuring it was most likely just sore from the hit, but did refer Shiv to a specialist in case there are any lasting issues. Karolina, naturally, is on edge about the possibility of another complication, but Shiv doesn’t need that from her. She needs reassurance, a strong hand to hold. Not shaky.

“Hurts,” Shiv says. “Maybe Dad’s true calling was the ring.”

Shiv can’t see Karolina, so she doesn’t even attempt feigned amusement. She doesn’t think that’s what Shiv was going for anyway, what, with the deadpan tone and the fully deepened bruise. It’s then, that Shiv’s phone rings from the coffee table. They both look at it, Dad, popping up in big bright letters on the caller ID. Shiv’s knuckles pale as her hand clenches into a tight fist, her thumbnail worrying itself into the skin of her fingers.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Karolina reassures. Shiv nods, digging a hand into her eyes. She must hit her bad eye the wrong way, because she yelps out in pain before her entire body goes rigid under Karolina’s hand.

“What is it?” Karolina asks worriedly, sitting up. Shiv exhales slowly, her body releasing some of the tension as she does so, but her face still clearly expressing the discomfort she must be feeling as she attempts to breathe through the pain.

“I just—moved too fast,” Shiv says.

“Okay,” Karolina says. “That’s okay, let’s just take it easy. I’m going to get some ice.”

Shiv nods and Karolina carefully gets up, once again pushing back the immediate concern that comes with Shiv not denying care. She returns to the living room with the ice pack and kneels in front of the couch, brushing a thumb across Shiv’s forehead as she hands it over. Shiv hesitantly holds it against the side of her face, and Karolina continues to brush Shiv’s hair, waiting patiently for her breathing to return to a normal pattern, and she’s relieved when it does.

“Why don’t we get comfortable in bed?” Karolina asks, and Shiv shakes her head lightly right away.

“No,” Shiv says. “Can we—will you stay here?”

“Of course,” Karolina says. It’s not often Shiv asks her for anything—she’s barely asked anything of Karolina throughout this entire ordeal—and even if she did, Karolina would never say no. “I’m wherever you want me.”

She gets back on the couch, and Shiv settles against her once more. Karolina draws light patterns along her side, only pausing when her laptop dings with an email, and she closes it before they have to hear any more.

“I’m sorry,” Shiv says, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Karolina says. “And you don’t have to talk to me right now, either.”

“It’s fine, I just—forgot about my eye,” Shiv says. Forgot. As in, Shiv’s not used to having shiners that she has to be careful not to touch, and she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t even have one to be careful with in the first place. Karolina tries not to dwell on that part of the conversation, doesn’t want her anger to seep through the comfort that she’s supposed to be supplying.

“Just, don’t push it, Shiv,” she ends up saying.

“That’s my big skill, Kay,” Shiv says. Karolina’s heart lurches at the nickname, Shiv’s voice far too frail and far too defeated.

“You did what was asked of you,” Karolina says. What I asked of you. “You tried to make things better.”

“I don’t even know why I did,” Shiv says. “I should’ve just let Kendall have his fucking moment.”

“With that plausible deniability bullshit?” Karolina asks. “You said some hard truths, Shiv. That isn’t a crime.”

And the punishment certainly didn’t fit the bill.

“Still, I should’ve known better,” Shiv argues lightly.

“Should’ves won’t get you anywhere,” Karolina says. “You could’ve read a script Logan had written himself, and this still would’ve happened.”

Shiv is silent as she mulls over the words. They both know Karolina’s right, that nothing is good enough for Logan Roy unless it’s his words coming out of his own mouth. Shiv removes the ice pack and Karolina reaches out to put it on the table for her. She intertwines their hands, shivering slightly at how cold Shiv’s is.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Shiv eventually says. “What to say to him.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Karolina tells her. “This isn’t your mistake to fix.”

“You don’t know what it’s like with him. Everything is our fucking fault.”

“I know what it’s like—”

“To work for him,” Shiv interrupts. “Not to have him as a dad.”

Karolina brings Shiv’s hand to her lips gently. Shiv’s skin still smells like the lavender body wash she likes to steal out of Karolina’s bathroom, and it’s nothing like blood, or sweat, or angry fathers.

“I had my own dad, Shiv,” Karolina says. “Nothing was ever good enough for him, either.”

Shiv stills, her fingers fidgeting in Karolina’s hand.

“I mean, but did he…” Her voice trails off, but Karolina doesn’t have to work very hard to figure out what the question is supposed to be.

“He did,” Karolina says quietly. “And thinking about everything that I should’ve done—it never made anything better. There’s no world where he wanted to be anything other than what he was. It took me a long time to accept that.”

Shiv sits up and Karolina meets her troubled eyes with a calm gaze. Shiv looks her up and down as if she’s inspecting her, like she can’t quite imagine the Karolina she knows ever having any man-made imperfections. Karolina knows when a light scar catches Shiv’s eye, remnants of a thinly split brow in ’98, one that’s difficult to notice unless you’re searching. It was a humiliating affair that left her facing reality for the first time when she was a doe-eyed intern at Waystar and a certain member of the legal department who’d taken her on as some sort of mentee inquired why she came back from the Thanksgiving holiday roughed up. Karolina said she had brothers; her background check didn’t add up.

(Then came a small note on the inside of her planner reading that she’d have to get better at cover-ups if she wanted a future in PR. The next half was an address, and an open invitation for the winter holiday should she choose not to spend it with her brothers.)

Shiv brushes her thumb across the scar, faded and not Karolina’s biggest takeaway from that period of her life, and Karolina grabs the hand, bringing Shiv’s knuckles to her lips once more. Shiv’s eyebrows are furrowed in a pitiful sort of sadness that she doesn’t mind too much coming from Shiv. Coming from someone who understands.

“What are you thinking?” Karolina asks.

Shiv shakes her head lightly and sniffs. “That I’m tired of this bullshit,” she says, attempting to keep the tears at bay. “That I don’t know if I can walk away.”

Karolina takes a deep breath, attempting to not let the conversation get to her the way it feels like it is, poking and prodding at her gut.

“You don’t have to,” Karolina says. “You don’t have to do anything. All of it, it’s your choice.”

“But you walked away?” Shiv asks, as if Karolina has the right answer. She wishes she did.

“Shiv, my father…there was no room for conversation,” Karolina says, unable to control the slight shake in her voice. “If I kept going back—”

She doesn’t like to think about it, the way his anger kept building the less it seemed she needed him. Just like she doesn’t indulge in should’ves, she doesn’t like to think about the what ifs. Staying just wasn’t an option.

Logan seems to carry the same propensity for rage, but with a level of regret that sucks everyone back in. She doesn’t know what she would do in Shiv’s position either; it’s not hard to go back to someone who understands that they’re supposed to say sorry. And maybe that’s why she’s put up with Logan for so long herself. It’s nice to imagine a father who knows what he does is wrong, even if that doesn’t make it right.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Shiv says, but the words sound wrong coming out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, too,” Karolina says. Then a nagging question appears on her tongue, one that’s been eating away at her from the moment she stepped into that bathroom. “You said—that he meant to hit Roman?”

Shiv looks away then, as if guilty of something.

“He wouldn’t—I mean, it wasn’t often, but he—” Shiv stumbles through her words. “I mean, we were kids. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t me.”

Her voice cracks at the end, and Karolina gently pulls Shiv into her, holding her tightly. She can imagine how confusing it must be, to go your whole life feeling some sort of distance from the violence, even if it was occasional. It’s not like Shiv has been spared any of Logan’s mind games, but even then, there’s a level of comfortability that she most likely reached in it. Whatever her normal was with Logan, he destroyed that.

“Have they just been carrying this with them their entire lives?” Shiv asks.

It’s a loaded question, one Shiv deserves an honest answer to. Karolina doesn’t like to believe it’s something she’s always carrying. It’s there, and it affects her in ways she wishes it didn’t, but she doesn’t think it has total control. She laughs, and she cries, and she still can’t stand the scent of Lucky Strike Reds without it making her skin itch a little, but she loves the scent of the Marlboros Shiv loves to pull out at the end of a long and drunken night at a Waystar event. It’s give and take, things come and go, but she’s still her, regardless of what she’s carrying and how much.

“Shiv, it all fucking sucks. Whether he’s spitting your name or spitting in your face,” Karolina says. She rubs a comforting thumb along Shiv’s arm. “Haven’t you already been carrying things your entire life, too?”

The question brings a discomfort to Shiv that she can Karolina immediately. It’s not normally her place to point out the flaws in Shiv’s upbringing, and it’s not a topic they’ve ever broached until tonight, but it needed to be pointed out. Shiv thinks this is the first time she’s suffered under Logan’s hand. Karolina would argue that Shiv doesn’t know what it’s like to not suffer under him.

“What do you think I should do?” Shiv asks, ignoring Karolina’s question. Karolina hates when Shiv does this, when she looks at Karolina like she has all the answers. Like whatever thing she’s about to say is an absolute that Shiv will let herself be ruled by, despite acting like she doesn’t ever really want anyone’s input at all. That’s where her responsibility lies, in being honest with Shiv. She thinks Shiv knows that, or at least, Karolina hopes she does.

“I think that wounds heal and scars fade,” Karolina says, piecing together her thoughts. “I think…that your father isn’t someone who’s going to change, but I think he might say that he’s sorry. It’s not a bad thing, if you’re willing to let it go. It’s not a bad thing if you can’t forget it, either.”

“I’m tired of being terrified of him,” Shiv whispers through a teary breath.

“I know,” Karolina says.

“If—if I walk away,” Shiv swallows, “What happens to this?”

This. Karolina’s not even sure she can define what this is in the current moment, but she can still recall her life without Shiv in it, and Karolina knows one thing is certain.

“Absolutely nothing will change.”

#tumblr user jeniffercheck posting a shivlina fic in the year 2024???#we lived to see the day #shivlina #shivlina fic #shiv x karolina #karolina novotney #shiv roy #succession fic #duskfalls

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