get well soon

Chapter 3: 1945, part one

A/N: This is short, but (hopefully) sweet.

**

'Cause we're the masters of our own fate
We're the captains of our own souls
So there's no need for us to hesitate
We're all alone, let's take control
— "Lust for Life" by Lana Del Rey

**

It's a Friday, and Jack finds himself where he always is on Friday nights, not at a club flirting with gorgeous women, but hunched over his typewriter, a cigar in his mouth. He had been working for Hearst Newspapers for about a month now, and, unfortunately, had realized relatively quickly that journalism was not for him. Perhaps he could quit after a respectable year and take a job as a history professor at Harvard. He couldn't quit now, not when his father had pulled so many strings to get him this job.

"Late night?" His boss, William Randolph Hearst, is approaching his desk. Jack nods solemnly and keeps typing. Hearst never has anything interesting to say.

"I actually have a new assignment for you."

Jack nearly chokes on his cigar. "A new assignment? But I'm already a third of the way through this."

"I think you'll find this assignment more enticing."

Jack raises his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"The Potsdam Conference?" Jack nearly chokes on his cigar again. The Potsdam Conference was the biggest headline of the week. World leaders were gathering in the recently surrendered Germany to discuss the post-war world. Everyone would be there: Stalin, Churchill, Truman.

"Figured you needed something interesting to cover. I know you hate being chained at a desk all day."

Jack blushes. He thought he had been discreet about how bored he was. "Well thank you, sir. I won't disappoint."

Hearst gives him a pat on the shoulder. "I don't expect slacking from you Kennedy. Make it count."

Jack nods and puts his other work aside. The conference is in two weeks. He thinks he'll take off early tonight.

**

Potsdam is boring as shit. Jack had hoped that an assignment as prestigious as this would reinvigorate him when it came to journalism, but if anything it made him realize how unfit he really was for a job like this.

"But I thought you wanted this life." Lem is pounding down a cold one, discreetly eyeing a guy at the other end of the bar, who seems equally as interested...and equally as discreet.

"I wanted a quiet life." Jack says, "Journalism was just one career I had in mind and I had the most interest in it. So when Dad hooked me up with this job I took it. But I also considered becoming a professor, maybe at Harvard, or Choate."

Lem nearly snorts beer out his nose. "Choate? Seriously? You think they'd ever let you back into that school again?"

Ha returns to eyeing the mysterious man at the end of the bar. Jack roles his eyes. He taps Lem's shoulder. Lem looks up at him. "Lem? You think you can focus on me."

Jack gets an eye roll, but it works. Lem's attention returns to him. "Wasn't going anywhere anyways." He mumbles.

"But watching this conference, watching these leaders discuss the future of the world, it made me realize that I want to be in that room. I want to make those decisions, not report them."

He pauses for a moment, almost afraid to say the next part aloud. "I want to run for office."

Lem nearly drops his beer. "Am I hearing this correctly? Jack Kennedy wants to run for office?"

Jack nods. "I do. I have to credit Dad for not pressuring me. He let me have the job I wanted and yet I still came to this decision."

"What a lucky bastard." Lem comments, signaling for two more drinks.

"So when we get back to the States I'm going to turn in this assignment and then I'm going to resign."

"When will you tell the old man?" Lem takes a long drink of beer. Lem doesn't have much to do here besides go day drinking.

"There's a family ski trip scheduled in December. Jean and her friend from college have conspired to bring our large, Catholic families together. I'll tell them then."

"Six months from now?" Lem asks. "Seriously?"

"I want to take some time to travel before I run for office and have all of these restrictions and limitations as to when I can travel for pleasure."

Lem nods. "Understandable."

There's a long pause. They're both thinking about what Jack's just said. Lem's the one to break the silence. "Well then, let's have a toast to future public servant Jack Kennedy."

He raises his pint and he and Jack smash them together, which, instead of making for a joyous moment, breaks both of their glasses and soaks them. They get a hard glare from the bartender and Jack pays for the glasses as he and Lem sprint out of there as quickly as they can.