Fic: Jericho - Fool's paradise - General - Part 1 of 3

[tanaquific]

Title: Fool's Paradise Part 1 of 3 (Read Part 2 of 3 here and Part 3 of 3 here)
Author: tanaquific
Fandom: Jericho
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Words: 23,775
Summary: The war is over, and Stanley and Mimi are finally getting married. But theirs won't be the only lives changed by what happens on their wedding day. Fits the story_lottery prompt "a shooting star".
Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Junction Entertainment/Fixed Mark Productions/CBS Paramount Television series Jericho. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: This story is part of Awesome!Jakeverse, the shared post-season 2 verse being written by Scribbler (scribblesinink) and Tanaqui (tanaquific). Thanks to scribblesinink for the beta.

oOo
Mary arriving home from Mimi's wedding shower was Jake's cue to leave Bailey's. Shrugging into his coat, he turned the corner into Main Street and saw Heather still having a last word with whoever had dropped her and Mary off. Trish, he guessed, recognizing the black minivan with the patches where the J&R logos had been stripped from the doors.

He paused and leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching Heather. She was laughing and gesturing with her arms, and he realized he hadn't seen her this... animated for a long time. Since before the trip to Black Jack.

She stepped back from the minivan, waving and calling "Night!" after it as it pulled away. Then she executed an overly precise about turn. Jake saw her sway a little.

"Hey." He'd intended to keep quiet but he couldn't help himself. "You okay?"

"Yup." She giggled slightly and walked carefully towards him. "Just been making sure Mimi's wedding shower was suitably... showery." She settled herself next to him, nudging him along with her hip.

He grinned and nudged her back. "I'm guessing you had more than the odd light beer."

"Maybe." She gave him a secretive smile. "So, what have you guys been up to while we girls were having fun?"

Jake laughed. "Not so much fun. Getting everything ready for Stanley's bucks' party." Stanley had been making jokes for days about strippers, but Jake knew he wasn't serious—and the looks Mimi had given him made it plain he'd better not take Stanley at his word.

Heather arched her eyebrows. "Let me guess: beer, beer and more beer?"

Jake made a face and lightly punched her in the arm. "You're one to talk. But no. I found out from Mary that she didn't actually get rid of the mechanical bull when she had it taken out. Eric and I spent the day putting in back in." He smiled to himself. "Reckon it'll make Stanley's night when he sees it."

"Sounds like it." Heather chuckled, and he felt the laughter shaking her frame where her shoulder was pressed against his.

They were silent for a while. Jake was thinking about how, once they were done with that, they'd spent the rest of the evening going through Mary's CDs, loading the jukebox with all the stuff Stanley liked, or that had meant something back when he and Stanley were growing up. It had brought up a lot of memories, from back when life had been simpler, and the biggest problem he'd faced was getting bawled out yet again by Dad for failing to live up to whatever impossible standards the Greens were supposed to aspire to.

Heather shifted again, breaking into his thoughts, although Jake had been aware of her presence at his side the whole time. "I can't believe they're actually getting married."

He squinted down at her in surprise. "You didn't think they would?"

"No." Heather paused for a moment, and then giggled. "Umm, I mean: yes, I thought they'd get married. I just can't believe it's happening so soon." She shook her head. "That the war's actually over. That we have food and gas and power. And peace. You know? All the stuff you need for a wedding."

Jake nodded. He still hadn't quite gotten used to having all those things again. And to not spending his days worrying about what Hoffman was going to do next, and whether they'd be able to smuggle in whatever critical supplies were running low. Though Mimi had hardly given them a chance: as soon as the troops from Texas had rolled into town and confirmed the Cheyenne government had ceded Kansas, and supplies were going to start flowing again, she'd begun putting into action the plans she'd been making all winter. Stanley had seemed a little bemused by it all, but happy enough.

Jake had found himself envying the way his friend's life was moving forwards, while his own... well, he didn't know where it was going.

He glanced down at Heather, wondering if she felt the same. He supposed she'd go back to teaching, once things settled down. Or at least, she could. Whereas even if he got his pilot's license back, he didn't hold out much hope of there being any work. So he'd be driving trucks again.

"I miss the stars." Heather had her head tipped back and was gazing up at the sky.

"The stars?" Jake glanced upwards, but couldn't see anything beyond the glow of the streetlamps, relit a week or so back.

Heather gave an embarrassed laugh and shot a sideways glance at him. "After the bombs, when we didn't have any power, you could see the stars from Main Street." She sighed, and shoved her hands into her pockets with a shiver. "It was one of the things I used to remind myself about when things were tough. That not everything that happened because of the bombs was bad."

Jake nodded. That had been how they'd survived, really. They'd worried about food and gas and heat, but it had been those moments that had kept them going. The good things that had happened: Stanley finding Mimi; him fixing things with Dad; Heather finding the stars for a while.

Well, she could still have the stars.

"Come on." He pushed away from the wall and held out his hand to her.

"What?" She gave him a confused look.

"Come on," he repeated, reaching forward and taking her hand and pulling her towards him. With his palm in the small of her back to steady her, he encouraged her across the street to where the Roadrunner was parked, and ushered her into the passenger seat.

Starting the car, he eased them gently off along of Main Street—it was late, after all, and the growl from the Roadrunner's engine bounced back off the buildings even so—and headed out towards the Tacoma bridge. Heather seemed a little bemused, and kept shooting him puzzled looks, but she had folded her hands in her lap, apparently acquiescing to his mad scheme. It suddenly occurred to him that the last time he'd dragged her off somewhere without telling her why had been so Hawkins could tell her about the bomb.

He cleared his throat. "I'm just taking you down to the river. There's a really great place to look at the stars...."

"Okay." She still sounded doubtful, but she settled herself more deeply in her seat. He noticed, as he made the turn off the main road, that she was running her hand over the door trim in what seemed to be an approving fashion. When the car lurched a little on the rough road, she giggled and leaned forwarded and patted the dash. "Nice car. Good car."

Jake, glancing across, grinned and shook his head, and went back to concentrating on keeping the car on the rutted track down to the river. At last he drew to a halt in the clearing by the bend, and killed the engine.

Heather peered forwards through the windshield, looking up at the sky, while the plink-plink of cooling metal died away.

"Come on," Jake said for a third time. He climbed out of the car, went round to the passenger door and opened it for her. Her hand was warm and soft in his as he helped her out. He kept hold of it as she stopped close to him and tilted back her head to look at the starry expanse above them.

"Oh!" She seemed to have sobered up some on the drive out, but now her face was lit by wonder. Jake dragged his own gaze away from her awestruck features, dim in the light of the quarter moon, and looked up. What he saw took his breath away. The night was very clear, and he didn't think he'd ever seen so many stars.

"My grandpa taught me about the stars when I was little. And then, when I was a bit older, he taught me how to use them to fly at night." The quiet of the evening—nothing but the sound of slow-moving water and a faint insect hum—made him hush his voice. Without consciously thinking about it, he guided Heather away from the car and drew her down to sit next to him on the grass.

She leaned back on her arms, head tipped up. "I used to bug my parents to take me to the Cosmosphere in Hutchinson for my birthday every year. And then, when I went to Emporia, I visited the Peterson every chance I—. Oh, look!" She leaned towards him and pointed. "A shooting star. Must be one of the Virginids."

"You really know your stuff, huh?" He was aware of her warmth next to him as he looked where she was indicating.

"I wanted to be an astronomer when I was a kid." She giggled. "Or maybe an astronaut. I think I had those confused for a couple of years." She flopped back on her elbows, wriggling until she was comfortable.

He twisted so he could look down at her while she continued to gaze at the sky above them. "Why didn't you...?"

She shrugged a little. "Didn't have the math. And, you know, I guess the same reason I didn't become an engineer. Girls don't do those things." She turned her head and met his gaze and must have seen something in his expression, because she laughed again. "Oh, it's okay. It doesn't bother me. Somethings just aren't... meant to be, are they?"

She gave an embarrassed chuckle and looked away, back up at the sky. He went on looking down at her, not really seeing her, but thinking instead about all the wrong choices in his own life: the missed opportunities and the dreams he'd clung to even when his better judgment warned against it. About how life was going to change again, and there'd be a whole new set of choices for him to screw up.

Heather flicked a glance at him and caught his eye for a moment, before she looked away again. She shivered. "It's getting cold. Maybe we should go back?"

"Sure." Jake scrambled to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. When she stood, he saw her face once more carried the guarded look he'd come to expect from her. He wished he knew how to take that look away permanently. Wished he didn't feel partly responsible for putting it there in the first place: he should never have let her leave for New Bern, should never have let her get kidnapped.

More bad choices.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you." She pulled her hand out of his and gave a wave that encompassed the place, the stars above and the two of them. "For bringing me out here."

He shrugged. He'd been the one who'd dragged her here without being asked. "You're welcome."

They were silent on the drive back, but it was a good silence, not one he felt he needed to fill. Yet driving back out to the ranch, with the windows cranked down, breathing in the spring scent of damp earth and things growing, he couldn't help but feel like there was something he should have said. He just didn't know what it was.

oOo

Four days later, he parked the Roadrunner in the lengthening line of cars in the pasture below the Richmond farm and climbed out. He squinted up towards the farmhouse for a moment, but he couldn't see any obvious signs of panic from here. Not that he expected there to be; his mother was overseeing the arrangements. She'd accepted the role of honorary mother of the bride with such alacrity when Mimi had asked that Jake suspected she'd always wanted daughters.

"What if she changes her mind?" Stanley, emerging from the other side of the Roadrunner, was also looking up at the house anxiously. He'd spent the night out at the ranch with Jake, to allow the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding to be preserved. Also, Jake suspected—having caught a few glimpses of Mimi and her bridesmaids when he'd been at the farmhouse earlier to help with the last-minute setting out of chairs and tables—because having them both in the same place would have caused a critical mass of pre-wedding stress.

Jake rounded the front of the car and gave Stanley a reassuring punch on the arm. "Don't be an idiot. She won't." Over Stanley's shoulder, he saw Heather's Dodge pull into the improvised parking lot. He hadn't seen her since they'd gone stargazing together the night of Mimi's wedding shower; the memory made him smile.

"Yes, but—," Stanley objected.

"If she's lived with your bad jokes and your smelly socks for the past...." Jake's train of thought was derailed as he saw Beck, wearing green service dress, get out of the passenger side of the Dodge and come round to the driver's side to help Heather out. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Heather had offered him a lift; she did still seem to be the only real friend he'd made in Jericho.

"Jake? Jake!" Stanley gripped his arm. "You're not going to flake out on me, are you?"

Jake dragged his attention back to Stanley. "No." He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Let's...." He gestured up the hill.

Ahead of them, Heather had taken the arm Beck had offered, and they'd set off up the path to the house. Feeling annoyed, Jake shoved his hands into his pockets and reminded himself that Beck had probably had those kinds of manners drilled into him during officer training.

As he watched, Heather tilted her head towards Beck and laughed at something he'd said. Jake clenched his jaw and forced away his annoyance, reminding himself that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on Stanley.

They set off briskly enough, but their progress as they neared the house slowed as people who'd spilled out along either side of the path stopped Stanley to congratulate him and wish him luck. Ahead of them, the crowd was thicker. Jake peered around, trying to see where Heather and Beck had gotten to.

"You have got the rings, haven't you?" Stanley suddenly hissed at him, as he turned away from the latest wellwishers.

"What?" Jake gave him a blank look for a moment, before putting his hand over his breast pocket to confirm the rings were still there, along with the speech he'd spent days slaving over. "Yes. Everything's fine. Just relax."

He finally caught sight of Heather, greeting Emily. Beyond them, Beck was talking to Mack Davies, also in dress uniform. Trust the two military men to stick together!

Realizing time was moving on, Jake tried to shepherd Stanley on up past the guests, towards where Reverend Young was waiting to one side of the rows of chairs set out in front of the house. It was a thankless task: as soon as he successfully detached Stanley from one group, another would claim him.

From somewhere behind him, he caught the tail end of a conversation as Mrs Simmons and Mrs Levinson ambled past. "...make a handsome couple. Of course, there's nothing like a man in uniform."

Jake took another glance over at where Emily had now twined her arm back through Mack's. When he'd first discovered she was dating the Texan colonel, it had bothered him. Not that he wanted her back, but he didn't want her to get hurt again. Over time, as he'd watched them together, he'd seen that Emily seemed happier than Jake had ever been able make her since he returned to Jericho. The discovery was oddly liberating. He knew Mack could take care of her in a way he'd never quite believed Roger could, and that meant he no longer needed to carry the weight of feeling responsible for her himself.

Behind him, Mrs Simmons and Mrs Levinson were still talking. "Is it true she had the major over every week for dinner during the winter?"

For a moment, Jake's brain refused to process what he'd just heard. Then he realized with a jolt that the two women weren't talking about Emily and Mack at all. There was a buzzing in his ears, and he had a sudden urge to throw up.

Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he looked around and realized that, rather than being ahead of Stanley, urging him on, he'd now gotten left behind, as Bill and Eric had started encouraging the guests to take their seats. Taking a deep breath, he hurried after Stanley.

Once in their places in front of their chairs—and trying to meet Stanley's worried look with a reassuring one—he squinted back over his shoulder. Heather and Beck were sitting together more than halfway back, their heads close. He twisted a little more: he couldn't quite see, but did she maybe have her hand on his arm, and he had his hand over hers...?

Then the fiddle-player from the band who'd been hired for the dancing afterwards—a local trio and a caller—struck up the music for Mimi's entrance, and Jake was jerked back to what he was supposed to be paying attention to. Turning back to Stanley, he saw his friend had also half turned round, and was grinning like a Cheshire cat. When Jake looked down the aisle at Mimi advancing, he could quite understand why, and couldn't quite suppress a stab of envy.

oOo

Heather was glad she'd tucked a couple of handkerchiefs into her purse. She normally didn't cry at weddings, but this wasn't just any wedding. As she'd tried to tell Jake a few days ago, not very coherently—she blushed a little at the memory of how drunk she'd been—it was more than just two people exchanging their vows. It marked the end of the war; the end of all they'd struggled against for the past eighteen months.

She might well have needed to dab at damp eyes more often if she hadn't been somewhat distracted by the whispered running commentary coming from behind: Mrs Simmons apparently considered it her civic duty to fill in, at every available opportunity during the service, all the background gossip for Mrs Whalley, who'd been in Jericho only a little longer than Heather.

"...don't know why he was asked after the mess he made of his brother's wedding..." was one tidbit Heather caught as she and Edward were taking their seats. She couldn't help glancing at Jake as he made his way up to the front with Stanley: he looked good dressed up, and she couldn't deny her heart had skipped a beat when she'd seen him and Stanley standing next to the Roadrunner as she'd pulled up in Charlotte.

She dragged her gaze away from him and back to Edward, and found him smiling at her in a way that made butterflies flutter in her stomach in quite a different fashion. Impulsively, she edged herself closer and put her hand on his arm. He looked surprised for a moment, and then dipped his head and covered her hand with his. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to.

Music began to play, and Heather turned to see Mimi, with Trish and Mary behind her, walking down the aisle between the chairs.

"...Emily Sullivan's, you know..." suddenly came across quite clearly from Mrs Simmons as the music quieted for a moment. Heather had to suppress a giggle, even as she nodded to herself: she knew Emily had offered the dress for the wedding-that-never-was the instant she'd heard Mimi and Stanley had set a date. Heather glanced to one side, to where Emily sat next to Mack. Maybe it was a way for Emily to close that chapter of her life. And it looked good on Mimi, the cream setting off her dark coloring.

Stanley obviously thought so too, by the ridiculously large grin on his face. That was the point at which Heather had needed to grope for her handkerchief, because if anyone deserved a happy ending, after all they'd been through, it was those two....

The ceremony was brief and Mrs Simmons mercifully silent during the exchange of vows, although Heather could hear she'd started up again while they were singing the hymn. She obviously wasn't paying close enough attention; as the hymn came to an end, she boomed out in a loud whisper, "...old enough to be her father." Which puzzled Heather a great deal, because she'd thought, if anything, that Mimi was older than Stanley. Until, glancing over her shoulder, she caught Mrs Simmons' eye and the woman went bright red; Heather realized with a start that she probably meant her and Edward. Which was.... Heather felt herself blushing as well, but, really, it was no one else's business what she.... Straightening her shoulders, she focused on the Reverend Young leading the final prayer, and tried to ignore the notion she was being gossiped about. Again. This was Jericho, after all.

After the ceremony, she hurried off to make her contribution to the event: helping to bring out the food for the wedding breakfast that had been cooked in kitchens across Jericho over the past couple of days. The trays filled with plates of starters and bread rolls and butter dishes were heavy, and she had to weave her way carefully in between the groomsmen fetching over the chairs that had been used during the service.

She was carrying her second tray past Jake when he stepped sideways unexpectedly, making her swerve and overbalance. Only his quick reflexes and his hands around her waist kept her on her feet and the tray from falling.

"Whoa!" He pulled her back against him. "You okay?"

She nodded a little uncertainly. He lifted a hand up to catch the tray and help her set it down on the nearest table.

"Thanks." She put a hand to her throat, trying to catch her breath, as she turned towards him.

"Sorry." He still had his hand on her waist, steadying her.

She shook her head, feeling dizzy, and not wanting to examine whether it was the shock of almost having dropped the tray or something else entirely. "No. It was my fault, I—."

"No, it was mine." He dipped his head towards her a little. "I wasn't looking."

"Hey!" Eric, passing by them, slapped Jake on the shoulder. "Come on, you two. No loitering!"

Heather felt herself grow hot and gave an embarrassed chuckle. Glancing up, she saw Jake shooting an annoyed look after his brother. Then he looked down at her again. He took half a step back, still not letting go of her. "Well, I guess we should...?"

"Yes." She hoped she didn't sound too eager, because now she was sure it wasn't just the shock that was making her uncomfortable. And, dammit, she was so tired of this. She backed away herself, and he let his hand drop. "Let's not do this again, huh?" She listened to herself for a moment. "Uh...."

"Yeah." He gave her a wry grin. "You don't want to know what my mom will do to us if we mess up the food."

He stepped past her, leaving her to pick up the tray and carry it to the table she'd originally been heading for.

They managed to avoid each other for the next few minutes, but found themselves working at the same table again after a while. When Jake brought the first pair of chairs across, they simply smiled awkwardly at each other, but when he came back a second time, it seemed more awkward not to say anything at all. Heather pushed a strand of hair back of her face and glanced over to where the new Mrs Richmond was receiving the congratulations of various Jericho matrons. "It was a lovely ceremony, wasn't it?"

She looked back at Jake and saw he was looking at Mimi with a distant expression on his face. "Yes." He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Stanley's a lucky man."

"Yes." Heather didn't know what else to say; Jake's expression had shifted to the lost look she'd noticed him wearing more than once the past few weeks. The silence stretched out for a moment, and then Jake looked back at her. Heather picked up her now empty tray and gestured wordlessly towards the kitchen—we should get on—and Jake nodded, still apparently distracted.

The next time they encountered each other, he seemed to have made an effort to shake himself out of his gloom. He dipped his head at her as he swung around the chair he was carrying and slid it under the table. "You look very nice today. That color suits you"

Heather blushed. Again, she berated herself. Out loud, she said, "Thanks. You look very nice, too. I mean," she felt herself grow even hotter, "you look very smart. I don't think I've ever seen you dressed up before."

He laughed as he straightened the second chair. "Not my usual style, huh?" He rested his hands on the back of the chair, waiting for her reply.

Heather concentrated on putting out the next plate and lining it up so that the food on it was presented properly. "No. But then, today's not a usual day, is it?" She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. She moved on to the next place setting, expecting him to turn away to fetch more chairs, but he lingered. Searching around for something to say, she grasped on the first thing she could think of. "Do you have a good speech written?"

He laughed again. "Well, I have something written. Don't know if it's any good."

"I'm sure it is."

Glancing up, she saw he was looking tense again, and she mentally kicked herself for bringing him down.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough." With a sigh, he turned away to fetch the last of the chairs.

oOo

It was a good speech. Heather was very glad she'd brought the second handkerchief.

Glasses had been filled with champagne—it had been Emily's turn to help out—and chairs were scraped around as Jake stood up and tapped a spoon against his glass. Heather's had been one of the chairs that had needed turning; after Edward had helped her move it and back it up towards his, he let his hand rest on the small of her back. It was unexpected, and yet it felt good as she leaned into his touch, enjoying the sense of reassurance it gave her.

Jake shook out the piece of paper he'd taken from his breast pocket and cleared his throat. "Most of you know I've not much of a track record as a best man—" His words made Heather shoot a sideways look at Mrs Simmons. "—so I'm not entirely sure why Stanley asked me. Except," he turned and grinned along the table at Stanley, "most of you also know Stanley can be an idiot, so I guess it fits."

There was a ripple of laughter from the guests. Heather saw Jake take a deep breath before he went on. "There's one thing Stanley did that proves he isn't an idiot, and that's ask Mimi to marry him." He shifted his gaze closer to fix on Mimi, sitting next to him, before looking back out across the tables. "That's why we're all here today, and why I get to make this speech." He waved the piece of paper and smiled nervously.

"It's traditional for the best man to tell a few embarrassing stories about the groom." Jake glanced back at Stanley. Heather, following his gaze, saw Stanley slump in his chair and cover his eyes in mock horror. Or possibly real horror. Turning her attention back to Jake, she saw he was smiling as he added, "And I've known Stanley my whole life, which means I know a lot of stories." That prompted an audible groan from Stanley; Mimi patted him reassuringly on the hand.

Jake was still smiling. Looking round at the audience, he caught Heather's eye. She smiled back, because she was sure that, whatever Jake had planned, he wouldn't intentionally embarrass Stanley.

"But I'm only going to tell you two of my memories." Jake reached for the water glass next to his champagne flute and took a sip. "The first was our senior year in High School, and yelling myself hoarse as Stanley ran in a sixty yard touchdown to help Jericho win the final game of the season."

Stanley had dropped his hand and was looking up at Jake with an expression that suggested he was caught between relief and still wanting to kill Jake. Again, Jake grinned at him, before turning back to the audience and adding, "I only wish I had a video of the stupid celebration dance he did."

This time the laughter was louder; Heather thought many of those listening probably remembered the dance as well.

Jake's expression sobered. "That touchdown helped Stanley win a scholarship to college, and I'd love to tell you I saw him score a winning touchdown in his senior year there."

The guests had hushed. Watching, Heather was strongly reminded of Johnston; Jake was less studied than his father, but both of them knew how to hold a crowd. How to command respect.

Jake turned back to Stanley, who met his gaze. Jake's words were for the guests, but he continued looking steadily at Stanley as he spoke. "But he never got a chance to do that. Instead, he came back home to take care of his little sister, and to run this farm, after their parents died." Jake paused, swallowing, and spoke more slowly, his voice resonating with admiration. "I remember coming back and seeing Stanley with Bonnie, and being awed and humbled by his strength, and his sacrifice, and his love." Jake dipped his head in salute. "You were a wonderful brother, Stanley, and I know you're going to make Mimi a terrific husband."

There were a few sniffles from the hushed crowd, and Heather realized her own cheeks were wet. She lifted her handkerchief to blot them away.

Jake was silent for a moment, before he went on. "As for Mimi...." Jake looked around the guests until his gaze fell on Heather again. "The September attacks brought a lot of bad things to this town, but not everything was bad." He smiled at Heather for a moment, and she realized he was echoing back her own words of the other night. His gaze moved on round the crowd. "Mimi came to Jericho to take Stanley's farm away, and she ended up stealing his heart instead." He turned back to look at Mimi again. "All our hearts."

There was another ripple of laughter and a murmur of agreement. Jake picked up his glass and raised it to Stanley and Mimi. "I hope you'll join me now in wishing Stanley and Mimi a long and happy life together."

"Stanley and Mimi!" Heather added her heartfelt tones to everyone else's before she drank. Setting her glass back on the table, she caught Edward's eye. He smiled at her, and she thought that maybe her own happy ever after was no longer such a distant and unlikely prospect as it had once seemed.

oOo

Beck, seeing Heather return his smile, felt a little more light-headed than the sip of champagne or the glass of wine with the meal could really account for. But then, the whole day had made him feel somewhat intoxicated.

It had been a pleasant surprise to be asked to the wedding at all, in fact, although he supposed he'd developed a fair working relationship with Stanley over the year he and his troops had effectively been Stanley's tenants. He'd been even more surprised when, after Heather had abandoned him temporarily to fulfil her contribution to the day's chores, people had come up to talk to him without him seeking them out. And not just Gray Anderson, or Eric Green, or the two deputies, with whom he'd worked most days, but people he'd scarcely spoken to more than a couple of times.

He guessed he'd gotten so used to thinking the town regarded him as the man who'd occupied and oppressed them—and tortured their favorite son—and that he needed to win their trust back that he hadn't noticed that at some point he apparently had.

When Heather came back to his side, he murmured wryly, "I think Jericho might finally have forgiven me."

She raised her eyebrows as she slipped her hand through his arm again. "Most of them did that months ago. Didn't you notice?"

"I guess not." He smiled down at her, but she was already turning away to answer a question from Emily. It didn't matter, because her hand on his arm reinforced the message she'd sent during the wedding ceremony—leaving him more distracted than he should have been—that she didn't just see him as a friend. That he was—he shook his head slightly at the thought, because the term made him feel thirty years younger and as giddy as a teenager—her date. He at last allowed himself to think what he hadn't let himself consider every time she'd had him over to dinner the past few months: that, later, he was going to kiss her.

When they sat down to the wedding breakfast, the food was good, the conversation at their table relaxed and, even as an outsider, he appreciated Jake's speech. Watching Jake work his audience, he was glad to know that his instincts hadn't been wrong: Jake was "The Guy". Even if they'd been pulling in opposite directions most of those first months he'd been in Jericho, and far too often even after that. At least their mad scramble to rescue Heather had sorted most of that out, though they'd continued to butt heads on a regular basis.

The speeches over, there was a general bustle to clear the dishes and move the tables, so that those who wanted to could dance. Again, Beck expected to remain on one side, but Heather laughingly pulled him into the forming double line.

"I don't—," he tried to object, but she just tugged harder on his hand.

"Of course you do." She waved at where the caller stood next to the musicians. "He'll tell us what to do, and you'll soon get the hang of it. It'll be fun!" She gave him a mock pout. "Besides, I want to dance and, if you won't, I'll have to keep borrowing Mack from Emily, and he's too tall."

He hadn't been able to resist smiling at that—he often came away from talking to Davies with a crick in his neck himself—or at her general cheerfulness. And how could he deny Heather a little fun, after all they'd been through?

oOo

Dancing was hot work. Heather flapped a hand to cool herself as the band finished another tune with a flourish and the dancers paused to catch their breaths. Even Edward looked a little red in the face. He slid a hand under her elbow. "Let's take a break."

Heather nodded—she could hardly complain about his lack of enthusiasm; they'd been do-se-do-ing and promenading for nearly an hour—and allowed him to guide her away from the dancing and up onto the porch. He drew her out of the path of people going in and out of the house and on around the corner, to where it was suddenly peaceful, the house baffling the noise of the band starting up another jig.

Heather walked a little further along the porch before resting her arms on the rail. "Isn't this such a lovely house?" She sighed contentedly. "The view here is great."

"Yes, it is."

Edward sounded amused and, turning, she saw he wasn't looking at the distant sweep of the hills but at her. There was something in his gaze that had been there all afternoon—been there for months, if truth be told, though never so openly as today—that had made her breath catch every time she looked at him. Licking her lips, she stepped towards him.

"Heather...?" he murmured, his eyes asking a question to which her leaping heart joyfully answered Yes! She gave the slightest of nods, and he reached out for her, tipping her face up so he could cover her mouth with his.

oOo

Jake ambled along the porch and halted at the end, glad to be away from the crowds for a moment. Some instinct made him glance over his shoulder, to where the porch continued on round the side of the house. At the far end, standing close together, were two figures he recognized only too well: Heather and Beck. Even as he watched, Beck raised his hand to cup Heather's cheek and he leaned forward to kiss her. Her arm snaked around his neck to pull him closer as she returned the kiss.

Jake stumbled back until the corner of the building hid them. Turning, he leaned against the sun-warmed wood and gasped for air, his mind a jumble of sensations. The image of Heather kissing Beck, overlaid with the memory of how her lips had felt on his own; the feel of her confidently pulling him close as she embraced him on his return from Texas, mixed with a vision of her at Beck's side, a comforting hand on his shoulder; Heather's hand in his as he'd helped her out of the Roadrunner the other night.

He pushed off from the wall and hurried down the steps. Behind him, he thought he heard someone calling his name—his mother, maybe?—but he ignored it.

Adrenaline carried him down the hill as far as the rows of cars. He stopped next to the Roadrunner, his hand on the roof. His head was swimming and he took a deep breath, but it didn't seem to help with the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Instead of reaching for the door, as he'd first intended, he took a few more steps and settled himself against the trunk, looking out at the hills on the other side of the valley, but not really seeing them.

He tried to calm his breathing, to stop himself trembling, while his thoughts stampeded around his mind like a herd of spooked foals in a paddock. How can she...? How...? Him!

Bad enough she'd wanted to be his friend. That, after everything he'd done, she'd felt sorry for him.

Sure, Beck might have turned his back on Cheyenne and thrown his lot in with Jericho, but only when faced with evidence even a blind man couldn't fail to see. And before that.... Jake ground his teeth as he remembered being forced to listen to Beck lecturing him about "justice", in that oh-so-reasonable tone—after he'd had Jake tied up and blindfolded and dragged to a damn torture chamber.

Another surge of anger rose in him: he balled his fists as he remembered the heat, and how hard the floor had been, and how he'd been glad when numbness had finally set in to his arms and shoulders. Beck placing that glass of water, carefully, precisely, a smug smile on his face.... Jake still woke in the night sometimes, sweating, thinking he was back there.

How can she—? How—?

But then, hadn't Jake fallen for Beck's lies himself? Trusted he'd find reason, that Beck would listen when he tried to surrender, tried to explain. That Beck had actually meant any of what he'd said. And then Beck had pulled the rug from under him. Cold-eyed. Cold-hearted. Didn't give a damn that an eighteen year old girl had been murdered by one of Cheyenne's thugs.

Jake gasped for air, his body remembering the suffocating cloth pulled down across his face, the way the shock of Beck's betrayal had been like a punch in the stomach.

He'll betray Heather, too....

God, hadn't he already done the same to his wife? Bile rose in Jake's throat as he again remembered seeing Beck and Heather together in the interview room in the sheriff's office, her hand on his shoulder. The guy's wife had been barely cold in the ground and he'd been turning to Heather for comfort....

What kind of man—?

The kind of man who'd use a woman to get what he wanted. Jake pushed away the memory of that moment when he'd realized his mom wasn't another hallucination. That she was really there.

How can she have a man like that sit at her table, eat her food? How—?

He closed his eyes. Because she didn't know. Because she was too trusting. Because she always believed the best of everyone, could never imagine what people were capable of. Especially the kind of man who could use smooth words to hide the fact he was prepared to torture and terrorize to get what he wanted.

Well, Jake wasn't about to stand aside and let Heather get mixed up with a guy who could give Phil Constantino a run for his money.

Twisting around, he squinted back up at the house, where laughter and music covered up something so sickening it made his stomach churn. No, he'd find Heather, and tell her exactly what kind of man she was getting mixed up with, and exactly why she should stay away from him. Before Beck had a chance to really hurt her.

oOo

Edward's kiss was everything Heather had expected it to be: confident, competent, and yet a little reserved and formal. But it still made the blood hammer in her ears, and she reached up and slipped her arm around his neck to draw him to her. And then, suddenly, his reserve was gone, and he was kissing her passionately, his mouth demanding and urgent on hers. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her against him, and the world fell away as the feel and taste of him overwhelmed her. She felt him back them up, drawing him with her, and dimly wondered what he was doing, until her arm brushed wood, and he steadied, and she realized he'd stepped back so he could lean against the wall and gather her even more tightly against him.

After a while, his lips grew more gentle, softly exploring hers, while he slid his hand to cup the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. She rested her palm on his chest as she returned the kiss, feeling his lean muscles under the crisp weave of his service dress.

At last they broke apart, yet he still kept her close, brushing the hair back from her face while his gaze held hers. The intensity of his expression, declaring his feelings for her even as he remained silent, was almost too much to bear. Letting her gaze drop, she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder while he softly stroked her hair, his breath tickling her neck. The quiet strength in his arms made her feel safe in a way she didn't think she'd felt since before the bombs.

"We should go back," he murmured eventually, still gentling her.

"Uh-huh." She didn't move, not yet ready to let go of the moment. Apparently he felt the same, because his only response was to tighten his arm around her a little. Another minute passed, and then she reluctantly pushed away from him. They shared a wry smile: there would be time later for the two of them, and it really wouldn't be very polite to skip out on Mimi and Stanley on their big day.

As she stepped back, Edward caught her hand and twined his fingers in hers. Keeping her close, he led her back towards the front of the house.

oOo

Chavez was taking a breather, a cold beer in his hand—even he was flagging after two hours of whirling partners round the dance floor—when he saw Jake round the corner of the house and stop, as if he were waiting for someone or something. At first Chavez didn't realize what, or that Jake had been following Heather; not until she came back out the kitchen, and Jake moved to intercept her, blocking her path away from the bottom of the steps down from the porch.

"We need to talk."

Chavez could see the anger clouding Jake's face as he loomed over Heather, and he straightened from where he'd been slouching against the wall. The wedding had been very pleasant up to that point. There'd been plenty of pretty girls to dance with and flirt with—although he'd quickly returned Allison Hawkins to Darcy's side after just one dance when he'd seen the way her father was looking at him. And the food and drink were good. Not to mention that, short of a tornado or a thunderstorm appearing out of the clear blue sky above them, this was the first time in months they weren't living under the threat of some sudden crisis interrupting their fun.

There'd certainly been no sign of this coming: Chavez had seen Jake and Heather together earlier in the day, and they'd been chatting happily enough. So what the heck had happened since then to make Jake angrier than Chavez had ever seen him, apart from that frantic night last July when they'd learned about Constantino's plans?

He saw Heather raise an eyebrow, apparently not liking Jake's attitude any more than Chavez did. But before she could say anything, Jake had grabbed her arm and hurried her a few paces away.

When he stopped, she shook him off. "What do you want?" Her tone was as hostile as her expression.

"You and Beck...." Chavez, watching carefully even as he stashed his beer bottle somewhere safe, saw Jake swallow.

Heather set her mouth into a thin line. "That's none of your business."

Jake stepped closer and grabbed her arms, glowering down at her. "You can't be with him." He gave her a small shake. "You shouldn't be with him."

Chavez took a pace forward, but before he had a chance to intervene, Heather had wrenched herself away from Jake and taken a step back. "Oh, no. You do not get to say that!" She glared back at Jake. "You gave up any right to say that when you ignored me for a month." Chavez could see she was shaking. "You had your chance, Jake—and you weren't interested. And just because you hate Edward doesn't mean you get to tell me what I can and can't do."

"Heather...." Jake reached out a hand, sounding as if he was trying to placate her, but she took another step back. "It's not...." He shook his head. "No, I don't like him. But I don't like him because of what he is. What he's done. Because he can't be trusted." His voice hardened again. "Do you know what he's capable of? Do you know what he's really like?"

"Better than you." Heather tilted up her chin defiantly. "Don't ever—." She stopped, apparently too angry to continue. Then she shook her head and backed away another step. "It's none of your business, Jake." She turned on her heel and stalked away from him.

Chavez shook his head slightly as he watched Heather make her way towards the front of the house. Looking back at Jake, he saw he was staring after her. Then Jake let out a sharp breath and set off in pursuit. Chavez hurried after him, only for Jake to stop dead before he could reach him. When Chavez caught up, he saw Heather had headed straight back to Beck and slipped her arm through the major's. Beck must have realized she was upset, because he spoke to her for a moment, and then put his arm around her waist to draw her against his shoulder.

Returning his attention to Jake, Chavez noticed he was staring at them with narrowed eyes, his hands forming fists, oblivious to the laughing, chattering crowd around him.

Chavez reached out and caught his arm. "Come on, Jake. Let's have a beer." When Jake made to shake him off, he tightened his grip and said quietly, "Come on. Don't do this. Do you really want to spoil things for Stanley and Mimi?"

Jake finally dragged his gaze away from Heather and Beck and looked at Chavez. Abruptly, he sagged, the tension going out of him; the anger in his eyes was replaced by pain. He nodded curtly at Chavez, before turning on his heel and heading towards the back of the house again.

Grabbing two opened beers from an ice bucket, Chavez followed. They walked on until they rounded the barn and were out of sight—and earshot—of the wedding party. Chavez stopped and leaned against the sun-bleached boards, sipping his beer, while Jake paced up and down for a while, muttering to himself

At last, he turned to Chavez and burst out, "How can she want to be with him? After everything he's done?"

Chavez shrugged. "He's a decent enough man despite that, and he obviously cares about her." He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe you're asking the wrong question?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" A frown settled on Jake's face.

Chavez stopped smirking. Entertaining as he'd found the whole thing for the first few months, it suddenly didn't seem nearly so funny now. Not now he finally realized what was going on. He caught and held Jake's gaze. "Ever since we got back from Texas, I haven't been wondering why Heather's been getting involved with Beck. I've been wondering why she isn't already with you."

"What? No. We're not—. She's—. I—." Jake suddenly folded into a crouch and put his head in his hands.

Chavez left him like that for a moment, but when Jake didn't move, he pushed off from the barn and crossed over to him. Jake looked up as he approached, and Chavez offered him a hand to help him back to his feet.

The anger in Jake's eyes had been replaced by anguish. "You knew?" When Chavez nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

Chavez raised an eyebrow. "I thought you knew. How you felt about her, I mean. I assumed there was some other reason you two didn't get together after you split with Emily. After all, you'd both been through a lot...."

"I—." Jake shook his head, turned away, and took a few quick steps and punched the barn wall. Chavez winced in sympathy at the sound of flesh meeting wood. He wasn't surprised when Jake shook his hand and then, nursing it in the other, slumped against the wall.

Chavez walked back and offered him the other beer, before leaning next to him.

Silence stretched out between them. Squinting sideways, Chavez could see Jake frowning, clearly turning things over in his mind, trying to make sense of them. He wasn't at all surprised at Jake's words when he finally spoke.

"She was just... Heather. We fixed stuff together. Air pumps, and cars, and model planes, and...," Jake snorted, "pages in reports that were going to expose nuclear bombs. She's great to be around. To just hang out with...."

Chavez grinned. "Yeah. She is." He liked Heather a lot, and not just because she was a fellow coffee-fiend. "But the rest of us don't...." He spread his heads, unsure how to explain the way Jake had acted like he and Heather were dating, even when they weren't: how comfortable he was around her; how protective; all the small gestures that revealed how attracted to her he was. When Jake gave him an inquiring look, Chavez settled for exasperatedly snapping, "Don't look like we're always on the point of kissing her."

"Oh." Jake looked down at his feet and scuffed the dirt with his toe. "I did that?"

Chavez nodded.

After another long silence, Jake said reflectively. "She kissed me once. About a month after the bombs. After I came back to town, and before I got back with Em. It was...." He closed his eyes and groaned. "God, it was great."

"So what happened?" Chavez took another swig of beer.

Jake sighed. "Bad timing? Thinking I was still in love with Em?" He shook his head. "Deciding it might be kinder on her in the long run not to get involved?"

"Huh." Chavez bit down on the temptation to ask Jake how well that last one was working out for the two of them.

They lapsed back into silence. Jake clearly had some thinking to do, and Chavez reckoned keeping him away from Beck and Heather for a while longer wasn't a bad idea. While Jake seemed to be past the stage of wanting to hit Beck, that didn't mean he wouldn't do something equally boneheaded given half a chance.

At last, Jake drained his beer. "So what do I do now?"

Chavez gave him a sideways glance. "What do you want to do?"

"Be with her." Jake shot back the answer without a moment's hesitation. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. "Just put my arms around her, and make her safe, and make her happy." He looked across at Chavez and smiled bitterly. "She's not even going to want to talk to me, is she?"

Chavez tilted his head. "Right now? No, I shouldn't think so."

"Probably not even want to see me." Jake stared at his feet gloomily.

"Maybe not. But I think other people will. Like Stanley." Chavez pushed off the wall. "It is his wedding day and you are his best man. Come on." He jerked his head in the direction of the house. "Let's go see where they're up to, and we'll figure it out from there."

oOo

Jake was still sunk in thought as he followed Chavez back towards the house, wondering how he could have missed the signs: how good it had felt to hold her in his arms after they'd rescued her from Constantino; how furious her championing of Beck had always gotten him; how many excuses he'd found to hang out with her, work with her, simply be around her....

Rounding the corner of the house, he immediately tried to spot her in the crowd of guests. The dancing seemed to have just finished: everyone was clapping the musicians, and people were breaking up into small groups to talk. He craned his neck, looking for a flash of the color she was wearing.

"Oh, there you are, honey." His mom hurrying up to him temporarily distracted him from his search. "I was looking all over for you. Stanley and Mimi are about to cut the cake, and Bill's had a little bit too much to drink to...." She paused, peering up at him, the slightly stressed look on her face replaced by a frown. "Is everything all right?"

He swallowed down a bitter laugh. "Not really." When she reached out a hand to him, he added hastily, "I'll be okay." He tried to smile at her reassuringly. "What did you want me for?"

For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to let the subject drop. Then she gave a quick nod and patted his arm comfortingly. "Bill's supposed to be handing the cake around, but—."

Jake had just caught sight of Heather to his right, standing near the far corner of the house. He was dimly aware of Chavez at his side offering to help, and his mother thanking him, but he was too busy watching the way Heather was laughing, the way she brushed a lock of hair back from her face—

"Jake?"

He dragged his attention back to his mom. "Yeah, I'll...." He swallowed and focused. "Just tell me what to do."

Gail gave him another concerned look, but apparently decided getting the cake served was more important than dealing with whatever was going on with her son right now. Following her across to where the cake had been on display all afternoon, Jake shot another look back over his shoulder at Heather. He was relieved to see that their earlier confrontation didn't seem to have entirely ruined the wedding for her. Because, God, he'd been such a jerk.

He winced as he remembered the way he'd grabbed hold of her. The way he'd spoken to her. If he'd wanted to drive her straight into Beck's arms, he'd picked the perfect way to do it. He shook his head slightly. No: he'd already done that by being too stupid to understand what he felt for her—even though it had apparently been obvious to everyone else—and act on it. By ignoring her for a month after she kissed him, because it had been glorious and terrifying in equal measure, and he'd let his fear win out. You had your chance, Jake....

He realized everyone was clapping as Stanley and Mimi made the first cut into the cake, and he distractedly joined in. Then his mom appropriated the knife and began slicing the cake into small squares. As he picked up a stack of plates and waited for her to fill a large plate with slices of cake, he wondered bleakly if he could even salvage the friendship he'd had with Heather.

Woodenly, he took the plate his mom handed to him and headed off into the crowd, relieved when he realized that Chavez had positioned himself so as to make it natural for him to offer cake to the guests around where Heather was standing, leaving Jake to serve the other side of the gathering. Moving from one group to the next, he cast another glance at Heather, and saw she was now talking to Trish. As he watched, she glanced up and her gaze fell on him. He saw her stiffen, staring at him for a moment. Then, quite deliberately, she took a step sideways so she could turn her back on him.

It was like a stab through the heart, but he couldn't blame her. Swallowing down his pain, he went on handing out cake, managing to make all the right noises when people talked to him. At last, he was done, and he could retreat to a quiet corner. Chavez spotted him and came over; though they didn't speak a word, Jake was grateful for the protective cover, because he wasn't sure he could hold things together much longer. He tried not to keep looking at Heather, because it didn't help, and she sure as heck didn't want to catch him staring at her again, but he couldn't help himself.

When dusk started to fall, people began to drift away, and he saw Heather and Beck leave together, hand in hand. He closed his eyes. Maybe not being friends with her any more was the best thing, because he wasn't sure he could handle seeing her with Beck. Even though he had to admit to himself now that Beck wasn't so bad. That most of his hate had been fueled not by what had happened at the hog farm—or by what Beck had done to Jericho—but by jealousy, pure and simple.

Much as it stuck in his gullet, he guessed he owed Beck an apology too.

After a few more minutes, his mom came and rounded the two of them up to lend a hand with some final clearing away before it got dark, and to help Jimmy pour Bill into the Taylors' car. Then, finally, mercifully, he could leave. Chavez bummed a lift with him, claiming Mack and Emily had skipped out without him—although Jake suspected he was still being babysat.

Dropping Chavez off in the center of town, Jake pointed the Roadrunner towards the ranch; when he got there, he found he couldn't actually remember making the trip. He couldn't recall anyone blaring their horn at him either, so he guessed he'd been paying some kind of attention. But mostly he'd been thinking about how he'd told Chavez that he wanted to be with Heather. Not just to kiss her, or to make love to her—though he shivered at the thought of them together like that, because, God, he wanted that too. No. Bumping down the track to the house in the near dark, he knew that what he wanted, what he really wanted, more than he'd ever wanted anything, was to spend the rest of his life with her.

And if that didn't happen? He had no one to blame but himself.

oOo

Read Part 2 of 3 here and Part 3 of 3 here