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tanaquificTitle: Fool's Paradise Part 2 of 3 (Read Part 1 of 3 here and Part 3 of 3 here)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
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
In the deepening dusk, Beck looked across at Heather as she negotiated Charlotte away from the Richmonds'. Her expression was hard to read, but she seemed to have gotten over whatever had upset her earlier. Or was putting a brave face on it, maybe, because he knew she'd been more shaken that she was prepared to admit when she came back to his side after powdering her nose. All she'd say at the time was that somebody had said something, and that it didn't matter, so he'd let it pass.
He wished she'd open up to him more, but—he shook his head slightly—he guessed he was one to talk. Maybe now....
They took the turn for the camp. The track was still rough, though they'd done some work patching it last winter, and the Dodge bumped along for another hundred yards, before Heather took her foot off the gas and let the pickup roll to a halt.
Beck raised his eyebrows, wondering if the truck had broken down again. "Is everything...?"
Putting on the parking brake, Heather killed the engine and turned to face him. She licked her lips. "I, uh...." She chuckled nervously. "I didn't want to say goodnight at the main gates." He frowned at her, unsure what she meant. She added hurriedly, "I mean, say goodnight properly. If you, ah...."
Her meaning hit him, and he felt such an idiot. "Yes." He nodded and held out his hand to her. "Yes. I—."
The rest of what he'd been going to say was lost as she scooted along the seat and threw herself at him with such force that he was rocked backwards. Her mouth didn't quite land on his, but they soon sorted that out as he pulled her to him. He had a moment to think that she was right, this wasn't something he wanted to do in front of the sentries, and then he gave himself up to kissing her back, and nothing else mattered for a while.
When they drew apart, he feasted his eyes on her. She was so beautiful! And he still couldn't quite believe that he really was holding her in his arms at last; that her lips had been sweet and welcoming under his; that her eyes were shining as she looked at him....
It had taken him a long while to admit he wanted this. He'd been attracted to her right from the start, true, but in the abstract sort of way a married man finds any smart, pretty woman attractive. Because he hadn't been anywhere near ready to give up on Alondra back then. Even though the rational part of him knew that there should have been news already: lists of names had been gathered in camps and towns across New Mexico, just like they were being gathered in Jericho and New Bern.
After official word came from the Red Cross, he'd let himself feel some of the grief he'd locked inside. And Heather had been there for him, offering what comfort she could. It was friendship—more than he'd looked for or could have hoped for—but he soon began to wonder if there was something more on her side, from the way she looked at him, the way she touched him. Guilt had held him back from taking more comfort, because in all the time he'd been apart from Alondra—more than half their married life together—he'd never once considered betraying her.
Yet Alondra was gone, and he knew she wouldn't want him to wall himself up in his grief. Would have been the first to tell him to be happy. And so, while his heart ached for Alondra, because it would never not ache for her, he let himself grow closer to Heather: accepting her invitations to dinner; unbending a little more when they talked; letting his eyes and his gestures speak for him. He hadn't been quite ready, even then, to take the next step—though he was pretty sure there would be a time he would be ready—but he didn't know if Heather would wait. She was so much younger than him, after all....
As if she could read his thoughts, she laughed gently and whispered, "I thought you were never...." She touched her fingertips to his lips.
He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. I'm slow."
"No." She rested her hand against his cheek. "It's okay. You've just looked like maybe you wanted to for a while...."
"I did." He drew her close again and murmured against her lips, "I do." He kissed her gently before pulling away and sighing. "But I have to get back to camp."
"I know." She slid back over to the driver's side, and he reluctantly let her go. She started the car and they began to head for the camp again. She glanced over at him. "You'll come to dinner Monday as usual?"
"Yes." He wished he could see her before then, but there was too much to do and, even with the selective deafness and blindness his staff had cultivated, he reckoned a few snatched moments in his quarters would be more frustrating than not seeing her at all. And Monday wasn't so far away, really.
When they reached the gate, she stretched out her hand, and he gave it a quick squeeze before he got out. As he watched her drive away, he began calculating the hours until they'd be together again.
oOo
A noise outside brought Stanley awake. Opening his eyes, he saw Mimi next to him, just like he had every day for the past year. Except now.... My wife! He watched her sleep for a moment, and then the sound that had woken him came again, a faint clatter. Judging from the light falling on the window, it was still very early. He twisted and squinted at the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it said just after seven.
He slipped out of bed and padded to the window to peer out through the curtains.
"What is it?" Mimi's sleepy question came from behind him.
"Someone outside." Stanley snatched up pants and a shirt and pulled them on as he headed downstairs. Opening the front door, he found—.
"Jake?" Stanley padded barefoot to the top of the steps and looked down at where Jake was stacking chairs together and carrying them towards the tailgate of a truck—borrowed from Dale to bring them and the tables over the day before—that he'd brought up to the house.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Jake gave him an apologetic, one-shouldered shrug.
"It's seven in the morning," Stanley pointed out. He shivered in the chill air. "I thought you guys were going to come over at ten or so to help clear up?"
Jake picked up another couple of chairs. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd make myself useful."
Stanley came down the stairs and caught Jake by the shoulder as he came back from the truck, forcing him to stop. Jake gave him a puzzled look. He'd obviously shaved that morning, but there was a pallor to his skin that, together with a puffiness around his eyes, suggested he hadn't slept at all.
Stanley frowned. "You okay?"
Again, Jake shrugged. He gave a choked laugh. "I'll live."
Which wasn't any kind of answer at all, and yet clear enough, Stanley thought, as he let go of Jake. "I'll go put some coffee on," he said, and Jake nodded silently in acknowledgment.
The chairs and tables were all squared away, back where they'd been borrowed from, by the time anyone else turned up. When Stanley had headed back inside to get dressed properly, he'd merely told Mimi that it was Jake. He'd added, in response to her enquiring eyebrow, that there seemed to be something up with him, but didn't elaborate, before he headed off to the devastated kitchen—still filled with dirty plates from the day before—to unearth the coffee pot.
With the outside cleaned up, Jake helped his mom and Trish and Mimi do the dishes, drying them like an automaton while the three women chattered and laughed around him. Stanley managed to duck out of most of that part by seeing to the livestock, who'd had pretty short shrift the day before, but he saw the worried look Gail gave Jake as she and Trish headed off to return the plates back to their owners.
Jake, turning away, found himself waylaid by a bottle of beer that Stanley had purloined out of the fridge. The two of them settled themselves at the top of the steps by the front door. Stanley waited, watching Jake out of the corner of his eye as his oldest friend stared out at the view before them.
At last, Jake sighed and said wearily, "I think I screwed up."
Stanley took a pull on his beer. "So what's new?" Jake shot him an annoyed glance, and Stanley gave him an apologetic shrug. "So what is it this time?"
"Heather."
"Heather Lisinski?" Not that Stanley knew of any other Heathers, but she didn't seem like the sort to take offense, and he couldn't quite work out how Jake might have upset her.
Jake nodded. He twirled his beer bottle absently. "She's... getting mixed up with Beck."
"And that's news?" Stanley raised an eyebrow. "I guess they were a bit more obvious about it yesterday, but—."
"I tried to tell her to stay away from him." Stanley saw Jake clench his jaw. "She didn't take it well."
Stanley gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not surprised. It's nothing to do with you, Jake."
"It might be." Jake puffed out his cheeks. "I think I love her."
Stanley turned to look at him in disbelief. "Heather?" He knew she and Jake had hatched a few crazy schemes together, and there'd been that mad dash cross-country to rescue her from Constantino, but he'd never seen much evidence that they'd been anything more to each other than part of the tight-knit circle around City Hall that had seen the town through the past year. If he'd thought about it at all, he would've said Jake behaved around her much the same way he had around Bonnie.
Jake nodded again.
"Since when?" Suddenly, the fact Jake had split up with Emily was beginning to make a lot more sense. Although, wasn't that nearly a year ago now? If he'd ditched Emily for Heather, why hadn't he asked Heather out already?
Jake folded his arms on his knees and let out a snort. "Since I rescued her and that bus load of kids the day of the attacks?"
Which was eighteen months ago. And Jake had shacked up with Emily again in between. Stanley frowned at Jake. "I don't understand...."
Jake turned his head away and gave a wry laugh. "I didn't notice. Or maybe I did, but I pretended to myself I didn't. That it wasn't that big a deal."
Stanley thought about how he'd known he fancied Mimi from the moment he saw her. How he'd realized that she meant so much more to him than that when he'd tried to comfort her about the loss of her family and friends in DC, and there'd been nothing he could do. He stared at Jake in disbelief. "Why would you—?"
Jake shot him a shamefaced look. "Because I'm an idiot?"
Stanley was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Jake had been in love with someone for eighteen months—someone who seemed to like him back well enough; someone who there was no good reason for him not to get involved with—and he'd done... what? Run away? "Have you told her how you feel?"
Jake laughed bitterly. "Not exactly." He took a swig of beer. "I told her she couldn't be with Beck. She pretty much told me to go to hell."
The sound of the door behind them opening made them both turn. Mimi paused on the threshold, looking down at them. "Hey, what's going on?"
oOo
Mimi saw Stanley and Jake exchange a look as Stanley shuffled along to make space for her next to him. He put his arm around her as she sat down. "Jake's making a mess of his love life."
On the other side of him, Jake huffed in annoyance.
Mimi leaned forward and peered around Stanley. She wasn't terribly surprised by the answer; she was just surprised that they were only now discussing it. In her opinion, though she'd been careful to keep it to herself in this case, Jake had been making a mess of his love life for the better part of a year. She caught his eye. "Let me guess? Heather?" It wasn't much of a guess, really; anyone with eyes could see Jake had a thing for her.
Jake put his head in his hands and groaned. "Does everyone—?"
Stanley shrugged. "Well, I didn't...."
Mimi rolled her eyes at him. Almost everyone: Stanley might be good at owning his own feelings—and she loved him for it, loved him for having been the one to say I love you first—but he could be pretty clueless where anyone else was concerned. He returnd her look with a slightly annoyed glare, and then relaxed, his expression suggesting he'd conceded the point.
Mimi shifted her attention back to Jake. Seemed Jake had been clueless, too. Which would explain a lot. And if they were discussing it now.... "Something happened yesterday?"
Jake, his hands still covering his face, nodded, but didn't say anything. When Mimi gave Stanley a questioning look, he shrugged again. "They had a row. He saw her with Beck and—."
"Uh-huh." Mimi ran her mind back over the previous day. Those two had spent quite a lot of time in each other's company; she didn't think she'd seen one without the other. "I did notice they seemed to be... together."
Jake scrubbed his hands over his face and sat back up. He said wearily, "I saw them kissing."
"Oh? That together, huh?" Mimi had to admit to herself she'd missed that possibility. Not that she was very surprised; the major had clearly had a thing for Heather, too.
Stanley snorted. "Apparently, Jake was too dumb—or too pig-headed—to realize he was in love."
That definitely explained a lot. "But you figured it out when you saw her with someone else?"
The corner of Jake's mouth lifted in a wry smile "Kinda."
They sat in silence, Jake staring off into the middle distance, while Mimi eyed him thoughtfully, wondering what his intentions were and what he was going to do about them. What she and Stanley could do to help. She'd messed up enough times herself to know that charging in like a bull in a china shop wasn't always the best approach. But sitting back and suffering in silence didn't get you anywhere, either.
She also wondered, given Jake had been so clueless about his own feelings, whether he had any idea what Heather felt. Not that Mimi knew for sure, of course, but she thought she could make a good guess. Heather was a pretty private person, but some things you could read a mile off. Well—she glanced from Jake to Stanley and back again—unless you were a guy.
She cleared her throat. "You do know she's only with Beck because she thinks you're not interested?" When Jake looked across at her, startled, she shrugged and added, "Well, not only. I think she does have feelings for him. But... if you'd asked me a week ago, I'd've said you were the one she was in love with."
Jake continued to stare at her, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes wide; the resemblance to some of the fish she'd kept back in DC was quite startling, and she had to suppress the urge to laugh. That was so not going to help. Suddenly, he took a gasp of air, as if he'd forgotten to breathe and just remembered. "How—?" he croaked.
Mimi gave him a pitying look. Guys really could be such idiots. "The way she looks at you," she pointed out gently. "The way she talks about you. The way she acts around you."
Jake's expression was filled with hope for a moment. Then he sagged. He turned away and clenched the fist resting on his knee. "Yeah, well, she probably hates me now."
"Probably." Mimi suspected it was a lot more complicated than that. "Maybe you should try offering her an apology? At least fix that much?"
"Yeah, maybe." Jake drained his beer and put the bottle down. He stood and turned, looking down at them. "Thanks. For listening. And for letting me screw up your morning."
Without waiting for a reply, he shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turned away, heading for the Roadrunner. Watching him go, Mimi hoped he could sort things out with Heather. Because she didn't think Jake was the kind of guy who'd take losing a woman like that at all well.
oOo
Relief washed over Gail as she heard the screen door clatter and turned to see Jake closing it behind him. She'd been afraid he'd cry off from the invitation to Sunday dinner; she knew how good he was at ducking out of difficult conversations, even with her.
"Hey." He bent and kissed her cheek. When he pulled back, she saw he looked a little less ragged than he had that morning, but there was still a bitter and unhappy look about him that his smile didn't quite disguise. He turned and, giving the oven a look, sniffed the air. "That smells good."
"I made your favorite." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now go lay the table."
He laughed and she knew he knew she was going to get whatever was bothering him out of him before the end of the evening.
They chatted about other things while they ate: whether Eric would carry on as sheriff now things were getting back to normal; if Gail would go on working at the clinic; about the reconciliation efforts that were going on with New Bern. Watching him devour her cooking, she sighed inwardly. It was nice having him home. She wondered if she should ask him to move back in. There was no reason for him not to, now; Emily had moved out months ago, back to her own place in The Pines to be with Colonel Davies, and Gail felt like she was rattling round the house on her own. But he sidestepped any discussion of his own plans for the future, and she didn't press him. Not yet.
It wasn't until Jake had cleared the dessert plates away, and she'd poured out the coffee, that she gestured at the table and said, "You do know all of this is just to soften you up so you tell me what's going on, right?"
Jake gave a short bark of laugher and sat back in his chair. "Yeah." He toyed with his coffee cup for a moment, before letting out a heavy sigh. "I screwed up again. Really, really screwed up."
Gail clasped her hands on the table and leaned forwards, suddenly dry mouthed, remembering the heartache and worry Jake had caused in the past.
He flicked a glance at her. "I think I met the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I think I lost her."
"Ah." Gail let out a breath. If that was all it was... although, judging by the expression on Jake's face, all didn't really cover it: this wasn't something he'd be able to shrug off as easily as a few nights in jail or the constant glowering disapproval of his father. Suddenly, she almost wished it was just another stupid prank or criminal scheme of Jonah's that he'd gotten mixed up in. Because she'd seen what thwarted love could do to a man.
As for who Jake was talking about.... Gail only had to think back over the past year to be able to make a guess. Things she'd seen herself; remarks that Eric and Mary had made; gossip she'd overheard at the clinic and in Gracie's Market. She just hadn't realized Jake had felt that strongly about her. Sounded like Jake hadn't either. In fact, hadn't Johnston told her that Heather had kissed Jake, months ago, not long after he came back to Jericho, and Jake had brushed her off? Well, he wouldn't be the first man to make that mistake.
He was still staring at his coffee cup, though Gail didn't think he was seeing it. "Heather?" she prompted.
He nodded.
"Does she know how you feel?"
He shook his head.
Gail raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think maybe you should tell her?"
"It's too late." Jake turned his head away, a pained look on his face. "She's with Beck now."
That wasn't much of a surprise, either. Although.... "Are you sure about that?"
Jake looked back at her. "I saw them together. At the wedding." When she opened her mouth to point out that she'd seen them at the wedding, too, and maybe Jake was reading too much into it, he forestalled her by adding flatly, "I saw them kissing." He turned his head away, grimacing again.
"Oh." Gail remembered how she'd seen him striding away from the house with that wild, unhappy look on his face, deaf to her calling out to him as he passed. She eyed him thoughtfully.
"You know," she picked up her coffee and took a sip, "your father was practically engaged to someone else when he and I met. Which I didn't realize at the time," she shrugged slightly, "but by the time I did, I'd fallen in love with him. And if he'd truly loved her and wanted to be with her, I—well, you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be having this conversation, now, would we?"
Jake snorted. "You think I should try split them up?"
"I think it's maybe not as settled as you seem to think it is. That maybe Heather's kissing Major Beck because you didn't kiss her."
Jake huffed again. "That's what Mimi said," he muttered. "That Heather was only with him because she thought I wasn't interested."
"Mimi's a smart woman." Gail reached out a hand to cover Jake's. "Maybe... maybe Heather really does love him and want to be with him. And if she does, you're just going to have to accept that. But sometimes women... settle. For a man who's good enough. Because they think they can't have what they really want."
Jake looked up at her, and she saw hope sparking in his eyes. It went against the grain to tell him to put himself in the middle of a couple, but she wasn't entirely sure he wasn't already in the middle of it. And she had to admit to herself that Eric and Mary seemed far happier together than Eric and April had ever done. That a good enough relationship was... good enough, but maybe everyone ended up unhappier in the long run. And she couldn't help but want her boys to have what she and Johnston had had.
She gave Jake's hand a squeeze. "If she never has a choice, maybe you'll all three come to regret that even more?"
"You think I should tell her?"
Gail hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "I think you should."
oOo
Heather cautiously steered Charlotte down the rutted track to the river. Her stomach fluttered as she saw the Roadrunner was already there. She'd almost chickened out of the meeting, afraid that she and Jake would end up in another row in which they'd both say hurtful things. She'd never expected him to be entirely happy that she and Edward were dating—she knew he only tolerated Edward for her sake, and she didn't expect him to forget what he'd suffered at Edward's hands—but the violence of his reaction when he'd cornered her at the wedding had scared her.
Yet she couldn't entirely blame him for getting mad. He was right that she'd never seen what Edward was capable of, even if she also was sure that Edward deeply regretted every moment of it. She knew Jake was only looking out for her: even if he didn't care about her in the way she'd once hoped, he did still care, and he didn't want her to get hurt. And he had seemed genuinely contrite about the way he'd acted at the wedding.
Though her heart had dropped like a stone when she'd first seen him hurrying towards her as she came out of City Hall earlier in the day to find some lunch. What did he want now?
She sped up, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed him, but he called her name, forcing her to stop. She halted and turned towards him as he hovered a few feet away.
"I...." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. What I said at the wedding—." He shook his head slightly. "The way I acted. I was totally out of line."
"Yes." She knew she sounded cold, but she couldn't easily forget how much he'd scared her. That he'd shown her a side of himself she'd never expected to see directed at her.
He nodded, accepting the censure in her tone. He carried on looking at her as if he wanted to say something more. She fiddled with the strap of her purse. "Was there—?"
"Yes." He swallowed. "Look, I know I have no right to ask you this after the way I behaved, but I really need to talk to you. In private."
He held her gaze; in his eyes, she saw misery and a little bit of fear, and she realized he did understand exactly how badly he'd screwed up. When she didn't answer, still unsure, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Please?"
She hesitated a moment longer, and then she nodded. She guessed she owed it to their friendship over the past year to try and patch things up.
So here she was, drawing Charlotte up next to the Roadrunner at the spot where they'd gone stargazing last week. Jake was leaning against the Roadrunner's hood, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the water rippling a few feet away. He turned his head a little as Heather climbed out of the truck and approached him, acknowledging her presence with a slight nod, before he went back to contemplating the view.
Heather sighed quietly and settled herself next to him. Apparently, in Greenspeak, I need to talk to you meant I'm going to be my usual inarticulate self.
The silence between them stretched out, broken only by the humming of insects. "Well?" she prompted eventually.
He took a deep breath. "Everyone used to think I was the town screw up." He stopped and swallowed before he went on. "Except for you." He turned to look down at her, his eyes dark with misery. "But you're the person I've screwed up with more than anyone."
Heather looked away, unnerved by the intensity of his expression. While she wasn't going to pretend the way he'd behaved hadn't been horrible, she wouldn't go as far as saying it was the worst thing he'd ever done. "Jake, that's not—."
He interrupted her before she could finish. "No, it's the truth. Please." He reached out for her hand where it lay on the hood between them and covered it with his own. Startled, she looked back at him. He caught and held her gaze. "Please. Just let me finish."
She nodded mutely, acutely aware of his touch on her skin as his fingers curled around hers. Apparently just because she was with Edward now didn't mean she was suddenly completely immune to Jake.
He looked at her for a moment longer, and then turned his gaze back to the river, although he didn't let go of her hand. "I...." He hesitated. "I guess when I came back to Jericho, I was still hung up on Emily."
Heather raised her eyebrows. What had that to do with what happened Saturday?
"Thought I was still in love with her." Jake twisted his head away a little and let out a small, choked laugh. "And then I met you." His hand tightened on Heather's. "And... the bombs? They weren't the only thing that turned my world upside down."
Heather's mouth suddenly went dry and she found it hard to breathe.
"But I didn't understand." Jake closed his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. "You see, Emily was the only girl I'd ever been in love with. Since," he shrugged, "since forever, I guess." He snorted. "Even before I kissed her in sixth grade."
He'd begun stroking the back of Heather's hand with his thumb as he spoke, his touch gentle but like a thousand volts through her, although he still wasn't looking at her. Maybe he didn't dare. Because they both knew this speech was eighteen months too late.
He was still talking, still explaining. "So there I was, feeling this... connection with you and... absolutely clueless.... Thirty two years old, and falling in love, and terrified of what I was feeling because I didn't know what it meant, and terrified of what it might mean, because I'd hurt everybody I'd ever cared about in the end...." He let out a sharp breath.
"Jake...." Heather couldn't manage more than a whisper.
He hurried on, not letting her interrupt. "And I didn't want to hurt you. So I did what I always do. I ran away." He laughed bitterly. "And I just hurt you even more."
He pushed off the Roadrunner's hood so he could face her, his fingers now twined with hers. "I blinded myself to all the signs. I convinced myself I didn't care about you. But it's not true. I love you so much." He caught her gaze and she couldn't look away from what she'd wanted to see in his eyes all those months ago. "And I want to be with you so much. And I think I'm too late...."
He carried on looking down at her and she carried on looking back. Everything seemed to have slowed, become overbright—the light bouncing off the river; the buzz of the insects in the reeds; the feel of the warm metal of the hood of the Roadrunner when she put out her other hand to steady herself; Jake's fingers linked with hers....
"Heather?" He edged a little closer to her, a hint of worry creeping into his expression.
She suddenly remembered to breathe, and took in a shuddering gasp, and the world came back into focus. "I—." She shook her head.
Taking another deep breath, she straightened, pushing away from the Roadrunner. She looked down at where he still held her hand and gently disengaged her fingers from his, before she backed up a step. Turning, she took a few more paces, and then halted and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing and stop feeling so dizzy. Trying to make sense of the muddle of thoughts bouncing around her head.
She thought she wanted to cry and scream and curl into a ball and... and maybe hit Jake, because this was all so unfair. Because she was still in love with him; had never stopped being in love with him, even as she'd come to love Edward. And because Edward was a good man, and a kind man, and she would never have let him fall in love with her, never encouraged him and shown she returned those feelings, if she'd had any hope that she and Jake had a future.
And because Jake had no right to throw this at her now, not when he knew she and Edward....
"Heather?"
Jake's voice was soft and full of concern—and longing; she could hear that now. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and then opened them and turned back to him.
He'd taken a couple of paces towards her and stopped, obviously unsure what to do next and afraid of crowding her. He looked as lost as she felt.
She licked her lips "You know, I...." She stopped, unsure what to say or how to say it. Taking another deep breath, she tried again. "Edward and I...."
"Yes. I know." His expression darkened, but he kept his voice level. "And if he's who you want to be with, I'm not going to stand in your way. You were right: I had my chance and I didn't take it, and that's entirely my fault. You had every right to find someone else who wasn't such as jackass." He took half a pace foward and added earnestly, "And I want you to be happy, Heather. I really do. I want you to do whatever makes you happy." He gave her one of those wry, lopsided grins that had always made her heart turn over. Still did. "I'd just rather it was me you were happy with."
She shivered, because, God knows, she'd wanted that too. Except now it was all a mess. Now someone was going to get hurt....
She closed her eyes again, and Edward's face swam before her, a shy smile on his lips, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at her. She thought back to the first time she'd seen past his stern demeanour, to the compassion and kindness hidden beneath. Remembered the way slow understanding had grown between them as they'd worked together and drunk scotch together, each revealing themselves bit by bit. How good it felt to be in his arms, and how his lips on hers had tugged at something deep inside her. That he might have been slow to make the first move—for reasons she understood and didn't blame him for—but that she'd never doubted what he felt for her.
He was safe, and steady, and reliable, and she could imagine them building a future together. A happy future. And yet—.
He wasn't Jake. Who drove her crazy in a hundred different ways, and yet whom she understood and who seemed to understand her so well that they could work alongside each other for hours scarcely needing to exchange a word. Whom she'd trust with her life, if not her heart.
Whom, even a few days ago, she would have flung herself at without a second thought if she'd known how he felt. She snorted to herself: if he'd known how he felt.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "You couldn't have told me this before?"
He looked at her unhappily and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was too stupid to see...." He gave a wry laugh. "Even when I was yelling at you Saturday, I thought it was just...."
"Bcause it was Edward?" she finished for him. "Because of what he did to you, and Jericho."
He nodded, his gaze sliding away from hers. "Right. I thought it was just because it was him."
"Are you sure it's not?" Because how could she believe him, really believe him, after the way he'd behaved the past year or more. After all the mixed signals he'd sent out, how could she trust what she was hearing?
He stuck his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Yes. It wouldn't matter who you were with." He lifted his head and looked at her again. "I still wouldn't want you to be with him." He hunched his shoulders a little. "I want you to be with me. For ever."
She had to suppress the urge to giggle. Her, geeky Heather Lisinski, whose idea of a Saturday night date was an assignation with a leaking fuel pump, being pursued by two suitors like the heroine of some trashy Harlequin romance. Having the power to break a man's heart.
The urge to laugh died within her. Because that was what was going to happen here, wasn't it? She was going to have to choose, and someone was going to get hurt.
She ran a hand through her hair. "I need to think about this. I need to—." She backed away another step, fumbling in her pocket for her keys.
Jake hunched his shoulders further. "Sure." His voice sounded as hoarse as hers.
She turned away from him and groped her way into Charlotte, scrabbling the key into the ignition, praying the car would start, thankful when it did.
Driving away, she couldn't stop herself glancing in the rear mirror at the lonely-looking figure she'd left behind.
oOo
Beck rapped softly on Heather's front door, his heart racing a little at the prospect of seeing her again. She seemed to take longer than usual to answer, but he put that down to his own impatience. At last, there was a sound from behind the door, and it opened.
"Oh." She gave him a slightly surprised look. "Hey. Er... come in."
She stepped back, and he followed her inside, wondering if he'd got the wrong day. She had said Monday—as usual—hadn't she? And he knew it was definitely Monday: he'd been counting down the forty seven hours since they'd said goodnight on Saturday. There was a distinct lack of the kind of delicious cooking smells he'd come to expect, as well. Maybe she'd just got home later than expected and was running behind.
As she shut the door behind them and turned, he took a step back towards her. Reaching out and cupping her cheek, he drew her lips to his, the way he'd been thinking about doing the whole drive into town. She tasted as sweet as he remembered as she accepted the kiss, but the passion with which she'd kissed him back last time was lacking. He drew away. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes." She paused and then gave him a look of frightening honesty; he hadn't seen such hopelessness in her eyes since he'd had her arrested. "No."
She pulled away from him, and headed for the fire, crouching down to prod viciously at the embers with the poker. He looked at her hunched shoulders for a moment, before he followed her and knelt next to her.
"Heather? What is it?"
She dropped the poker with a clatter and sat back on her heels, not looking at him. "I talked to Jake today."
Beck tilted his head, trying to catch her gaze—unsuccessfully. "Did he say something to upset you?" He was wondering if it had been Jake who'd said whatever had bothered her so much at the wedding. He couldn't imagine Jake would be at all happy at developments between them.
"You could say that." Heather gave a little hiccup, halfway between a sob and a laugh. "He told me he was in love with me. That he wants to be with me."
Beck felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd suspected Jake had feelings for Heather from the moment she'd walked into the Sheriff's Office more than a year ago. The way he'd acted when Constantino had kidnapped Heather had confirmed there was something going on there. He'd also thought Heather might be in love with Jake too, though perhaps reluctantly. But they'd seemed content to remain friends, while Heather had showed Beck, slowly and shyly, that he was important to her.
And now, just hours after Beck had kissed Heather, Jake had decided to tell her he loved her? Beck swallowed down his anger: if this had been a military campaign, Jake's move would have looked an awful lot like trying to deny resources to the enemy. And that Heather was so visibly upset by it, wasn't just laughing it off, suggested....
Unclenching his fists, he said very gently, "And are you in love with him? Do you want to be with him?"
She put her hands to her face. "I don't know," she whispered. She began to rock backwards and forwards. "Oh Edward, I'm so sorry, so sorry, so...."
Pity welled up in him. He knew the confusion in his own heart of a new love overlaying an old one. There was no possibility of Alondra walking in and telling him she still loved him, but if she had—. He shook his head: of course he would go back to her; they'd been married fifteen years. But that didn't mean that what he felt for Heather was any less real. Or that there wouldn't have been a moment when he didn't know where his loyalties lay.
Without thinking about it, he reached out and turned her towards him Gently he pried her hands from her face. "Shhhh...." He bent his forehead to touch hers. "Shhhh. It's OK."
"It's not. It's not." Hot tears were running down her cheeks.
He shuffled forwards so he could gather her into his arms. She let him pull her against his shoulder, and he rocked her gently, stroking her hair. To see her like this was painful, and yet a part of him whispered that her misery indicated that maybe her feelings for him ran as deep as her feelings for Jake. That maybe his first instinct—she'll choose him—was wrong.
For an instant, he regretted saving Jake from Constantino. But no, he would have lost Heather as well. Even if she'd survived, she might have blamed him for Jake's death in the way she'd never seemed to blame him for what happened at the hog farm. And he wasn't sure how he would have made it through the past year without her friendship.
As her sobs quieted, he found himself growing aware of how good it felt to have his arms around her. He hated that it was because she was miserable, and that he was part of the reason—though Jake, damn him, was most of it. Why did he have to go stirring the pot? Why couldn't he just let her be happy? But it was still unfairly wonderful to be so close to her, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth against him. Hadn't he been hoping that, after they'd eaten dinner, they'd have settled on the couch in front of the fire, and there would have been rather less talking than usual...?
He realized that Heather had stopped crying, and that his knees were protesting his abuse of them. He shifted slightly, trying to ease them, and Heather stirred as well. Her hand gripped his arm a little more tightly, as if to keep him moving away from her, and he unconsciously tightened his own arm around her, not wanting to let her go.
Squinting down at her, he said her name softly.
She sighed, and then gently pushed herself away from him, sitting back, but with her hands still on his chest. She looked up and met his gaze, and gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry. This is... inappropriate of me, isn't it?" When he gave her a puzzled look, she added, "Letting you... comfort me. That probably isn't very fair when I'm...."
Crying over another man. He silently finished the thought for her.
She let her hands fall away from him, but he caught them before she could let them drop to her lap. He cleared his throat. "No. It's all right. I was your friend before...."
She nodded and gave his hands a squeeze. "I know."
He stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, while he held her gaze, trying to read what she was thinking. "Do I get a chance to plead my case?"
She bit her lip and looked down. "It's not like that."
He eyed her bent head, still unsure of his place in the scheme of things. Jake's place. "What is it like?"
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed. "I haven't forgotten all the reasons why I... want to be with you. Why I wanted you to want to be with me." She lifted her gaze to his. "But I can't forget the same things about Jake."
"Why you want to be with him?" When she nodded, he asked, the words hard to form as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, "And those reasons are stronger?"
She shook her head. "They're... different." She pulled one of her hands from his and reached up and gently touched his face. "I didn't fall in love with you just because I couldn't have Jake, you know. If I'd never known him, I would still...."
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and savoring it, while she went on talking.
"But I did let myself fall in love with you because I thought I couldn't have him. I was tired of making myself miserable over him, and I knew I needed to move on. And I didn't just pick the nearest man—." She chuckled. "Even if you were. There are so many reasons for me to love you...."
She took her hand away. He opened his eyes again to see her looking at him unhappily.
"But now Jake wants me." She gave a harsh laugh. "Or says he does. And now I don't know what I want...."
oOo
Read Part 1 of 3 here and Part 3 of 3 here
Author:
tanaquificFandom: 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.In the deepening dusk, Beck looked across at Heather as she negotiated Charlotte away from the Richmonds'. Her expression was hard to read, but she seemed to have gotten over whatever had upset her earlier. Or was putting a brave face on it, maybe, because he knew she'd been more shaken that she was prepared to admit when she came back to his side after powdering her nose. All she'd say at the time was that somebody had said something, and that it didn't matter, so he'd let it pass.
He wished she'd open up to him more, but—he shook his head slightly—he guessed he was one to talk. Maybe now....
They took the turn for the camp. The track was still rough, though they'd done some work patching it last winter, and the Dodge bumped along for another hundred yards, before Heather took her foot off the gas and let the pickup roll to a halt.
Beck raised his eyebrows, wondering if the truck had broken down again. "Is everything...?"
Putting on the parking brake, Heather killed the engine and turned to face him. She licked her lips. "I, uh...." She chuckled nervously. "I didn't want to say goodnight at the main gates." He frowned at her, unsure what she meant. She added hurriedly, "I mean, say goodnight properly. If you, ah...."
Her meaning hit him, and he felt such an idiot. "Yes." He nodded and held out his hand to her. "Yes. I—."
The rest of what he'd been going to say was lost as she scooted along the seat and threw herself at him with such force that he was rocked backwards. Her mouth didn't quite land on his, but they soon sorted that out as he pulled her to him. He had a moment to think that she was right, this wasn't something he wanted to do in front of the sentries, and then he gave himself up to kissing her back, and nothing else mattered for a while.
When they drew apart, he feasted his eyes on her. She was so beautiful! And he still couldn't quite believe that he really was holding her in his arms at last; that her lips had been sweet and welcoming under his; that her eyes were shining as she looked at him....
It had taken him a long while to admit he wanted this. He'd been attracted to her right from the start, true, but in the abstract sort of way a married man finds any smart, pretty woman attractive. Because he hadn't been anywhere near ready to give up on Alondra back then. Even though the rational part of him knew that there should have been news already: lists of names had been gathered in camps and towns across New Mexico, just like they were being gathered in Jericho and New Bern.
After official word came from the Red Cross, he'd let himself feel some of the grief he'd locked inside. And Heather had been there for him, offering what comfort she could. It was friendship—more than he'd looked for or could have hoped for—but he soon began to wonder if there was something more on her side, from the way she looked at him, the way she touched him. Guilt had held him back from taking more comfort, because in all the time he'd been apart from Alondra—more than half their married life together—he'd never once considered betraying her.
Yet Alondra was gone, and he knew she wouldn't want him to wall himself up in his grief. Would have been the first to tell him to be happy. And so, while his heart ached for Alondra, because it would never not ache for her, he let himself grow closer to Heather: accepting her invitations to dinner; unbending a little more when they talked; letting his eyes and his gestures speak for him. He hadn't been quite ready, even then, to take the next step—though he was pretty sure there would be a time he would be ready—but he didn't know if Heather would wait. She was so much younger than him, after all....
As if she could read his thoughts, she laughed gently and whispered, "I thought you were never...." She touched her fingertips to his lips.
He gave her an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. I'm slow."
"No." She rested her hand against his cheek. "It's okay. You've just looked like maybe you wanted to for a while...."
"I did." He drew her close again and murmured against her lips, "I do." He kissed her gently before pulling away and sighing. "But I have to get back to camp."
"I know." She slid back over to the driver's side, and he reluctantly let her go. She started the car and they began to head for the camp again. She glanced over at him. "You'll come to dinner Monday as usual?"
"Yes." He wished he could see her before then, but there was too much to do and, even with the selective deafness and blindness his staff had cultivated, he reckoned a few snatched moments in his quarters would be more frustrating than not seeing her at all. And Monday wasn't so far away, really.
When they reached the gate, she stretched out her hand, and he gave it a quick squeeze before he got out. As he watched her drive away, he began calculating the hours until they'd be together again.
A noise outside brought Stanley awake. Opening his eyes, he saw Mimi next to him, just like he had every day for the past year. Except now.... My wife! He watched her sleep for a moment, and then the sound that had woken him came again, a faint clatter. Judging from the light falling on the window, it was still very early. He twisted and squinted at the old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand and saw it said just after seven.
He slipped out of bed and padded to the window to peer out through the curtains.
"What is it?" Mimi's sleepy question came from behind him.
"Someone outside." Stanley snatched up pants and a shirt and pulled them on as he headed downstairs. Opening the front door, he found—.
"Jake?" Stanley padded barefoot to the top of the steps and looked down at where Jake was stacking chairs together and carrying them towards the tailgate of a truck—borrowed from Dale to bring them and the tables over the day before—that he'd brought up to the house.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Jake gave him an apologetic, one-shouldered shrug.
"It's seven in the morning," Stanley pointed out. He shivered in the chill air. "I thought you guys were going to come over at ten or so to help clear up?"
Jake picked up another couple of chairs. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd make myself useful."
Stanley came down the stairs and caught Jake by the shoulder as he came back from the truck, forcing him to stop. Jake gave him a puzzled look. He'd obviously shaved that morning, but there was a pallor to his skin that, together with a puffiness around his eyes, suggested he hadn't slept at all.
Stanley frowned. "You okay?"
Again, Jake shrugged. He gave a choked laugh. "I'll live."
Which wasn't any kind of answer at all, and yet clear enough, Stanley thought, as he let go of Jake. "I'll go put some coffee on," he said, and Jake nodded silently in acknowledgment.
The chairs and tables were all squared away, back where they'd been borrowed from, by the time anyone else turned up. When Stanley had headed back inside to get dressed properly, he'd merely told Mimi that it was Jake. He'd added, in response to her enquiring eyebrow, that there seemed to be something up with him, but didn't elaborate, before he headed off to the devastated kitchen—still filled with dirty plates from the day before—to unearth the coffee pot.
With the outside cleaned up, Jake helped his mom and Trish and Mimi do the dishes, drying them like an automaton while the three women chattered and laughed around him. Stanley managed to duck out of most of that part by seeing to the livestock, who'd had pretty short shrift the day before, but he saw the worried look Gail gave Jake as she and Trish headed off to return the plates back to their owners.
Jake, turning away, found himself waylaid by a bottle of beer that Stanley had purloined out of the fridge. The two of them settled themselves at the top of the steps by the front door. Stanley waited, watching Jake out of the corner of his eye as his oldest friend stared out at the view before them.
At last, Jake sighed and said wearily, "I think I screwed up."
Stanley took a pull on his beer. "So what's new?" Jake shot him an annoyed glance, and Stanley gave him an apologetic shrug. "So what is it this time?"
"Heather."
"Heather Lisinski?" Not that Stanley knew of any other Heathers, but she didn't seem like the sort to take offense, and he couldn't quite work out how Jake might have upset her.
Jake nodded. He twirled his beer bottle absently. "She's... getting mixed up with Beck."
"And that's news?" Stanley raised an eyebrow. "I guess they were a bit more obvious about it yesterday, but—."
"I tried to tell her to stay away from him." Stanley saw Jake clench his jaw. "She didn't take it well."
Stanley gave him an exasperated look. "I'm not surprised. It's nothing to do with you, Jake."
"It might be." Jake puffed out his cheeks. "I think I love her."
Stanley turned to look at him in disbelief. "Heather?" He knew she and Jake had hatched a few crazy schemes together, and there'd been that mad dash cross-country to rescue her from Constantino, but he'd never seen much evidence that they'd been anything more to each other than part of the tight-knit circle around City Hall that had seen the town through the past year. If he'd thought about it at all, he would've said Jake behaved around her much the same way he had around Bonnie.
Jake nodded again.
"Since when?" Suddenly, the fact Jake had split up with Emily was beginning to make a lot more sense. Although, wasn't that nearly a year ago now? If he'd ditched Emily for Heather, why hadn't he asked Heather out already?
Jake folded his arms on his knees and let out a snort. "Since I rescued her and that bus load of kids the day of the attacks?"
Which was eighteen months ago. And Jake had shacked up with Emily again in between. Stanley frowned at Jake. "I don't understand...."
Jake turned his head away and gave a wry laugh. "I didn't notice. Or maybe I did, but I pretended to myself I didn't. That it wasn't that big a deal."
Stanley thought about how he'd known he fancied Mimi from the moment he saw her. How he'd realized that she meant so much more to him than that when he'd tried to comfort her about the loss of her family and friends in DC, and there'd been nothing he could do. He stared at Jake in disbelief. "Why would you—?"
Jake shot him a shamefaced look. "Because I'm an idiot?"
Stanley was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that Jake had been in love with someone for eighteen months—someone who seemed to like him back well enough; someone who there was no good reason for him not to get involved with—and he'd done... what? Run away? "Have you told her how you feel?"
Jake laughed bitterly. "Not exactly." He took a swig of beer. "I told her she couldn't be with Beck. She pretty much told me to go to hell."
The sound of the door behind them opening made them both turn. Mimi paused on the threshold, looking down at them. "Hey, what's going on?"
Mimi saw Stanley and Jake exchange a look as Stanley shuffled along to make space for her next to him. He put his arm around her as she sat down. "Jake's making a mess of his love life."
On the other side of him, Jake huffed in annoyance.
Mimi leaned forward and peered around Stanley. She wasn't terribly surprised by the answer; she was just surprised that they were only now discussing it. In her opinion, though she'd been careful to keep it to herself in this case, Jake had been making a mess of his love life for the better part of a year. She caught his eye. "Let me guess? Heather?" It wasn't much of a guess, really; anyone with eyes could see Jake had a thing for her.
Jake put his head in his hands and groaned. "Does everyone—?"
Stanley shrugged. "Well, I didn't...."
Mimi rolled her eyes at him. Almost everyone: Stanley might be good at owning his own feelings—and she loved him for it, loved him for having been the one to say I love you first—but he could be pretty clueless where anyone else was concerned. He returnd her look with a slightly annoyed glare, and then relaxed, his expression suggesting he'd conceded the point.
Mimi shifted her attention back to Jake. Seemed Jake had been clueless, too. Which would explain a lot. And if they were discussing it now.... "Something happened yesterday?"
Jake, his hands still covering his face, nodded, but didn't say anything. When Mimi gave Stanley a questioning look, he shrugged again. "They had a row. He saw her with Beck and—."
"Uh-huh." Mimi ran her mind back over the previous day. Those two had spent quite a lot of time in each other's company; she didn't think she'd seen one without the other. "I did notice they seemed to be... together."
Jake scrubbed his hands over his face and sat back up. He said wearily, "I saw them kissing."
"Oh? That together, huh?" Mimi had to admit to herself she'd missed that possibility. Not that she was very surprised; the major had clearly had a thing for Heather, too.
Stanley snorted. "Apparently, Jake was too dumb—or too pig-headed—to realize he was in love."
That definitely explained a lot. "But you figured it out when you saw her with someone else?"
The corner of Jake's mouth lifted in a wry smile "Kinda."
They sat in silence, Jake staring off into the middle distance, while Mimi eyed him thoughtfully, wondering what his intentions were and what he was going to do about them. What she and Stanley could do to help. She'd messed up enough times herself to know that charging in like a bull in a china shop wasn't always the best approach. But sitting back and suffering in silence didn't get you anywhere, either.
She also wondered, given Jake had been so clueless about his own feelings, whether he had any idea what Heather felt. Not that Mimi knew for sure, of course, but she thought she could make a good guess. Heather was a pretty private person, but some things you could read a mile off. Well—she glanced from Jake to Stanley and back again—unless you were a guy.
She cleared her throat. "You do know she's only with Beck because she thinks you're not interested?" When Jake looked across at her, startled, she shrugged and added, "Well, not only. I think she does have feelings for him. But... if you'd asked me a week ago, I'd've said you were the one she was in love with."
Jake continued to stare at her, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes wide; the resemblance to some of the fish she'd kept back in DC was quite startling, and she had to suppress the urge to laugh. That was so not going to help. Suddenly, he took a gasp of air, as if he'd forgotten to breathe and just remembered. "How—?" he croaked.
Mimi gave him a pitying look. Guys really could be such idiots. "The way she looks at you," she pointed out gently. "The way she talks about you. The way she acts around you."
Jake's expression was filled with hope for a moment. Then he sagged. He turned away and clenched the fist resting on his knee. "Yeah, well, she probably hates me now."
"Probably." Mimi suspected it was a lot more complicated than that. "Maybe you should try offering her an apology? At least fix that much?"
"Yeah, maybe." Jake drained his beer and put the bottle down. He stood and turned, looking down at them. "Thanks. For listening. And for letting me screw up your morning."
Without waiting for a reply, he shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turned away, heading for the Roadrunner. Watching him go, Mimi hoped he could sort things out with Heather. Because she didn't think Jake was the kind of guy who'd take losing a woman like that at all well.
Relief washed over Gail as she heard the screen door clatter and turned to see Jake closing it behind him. She'd been afraid he'd cry off from the invitation to Sunday dinner; she knew how good he was at ducking out of difficult conversations, even with her.
"Hey." He bent and kissed her cheek. When he pulled back, she saw he looked a little less ragged than he had that morning, but there was still a bitter and unhappy look about him that his smile didn't quite disguise. He turned and, giving the oven a look, sniffed the air. "That smells good."
"I made your favorite." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now go lay the table."
He laughed and she knew he knew she was going to get whatever was bothering him out of him before the end of the evening.
They chatted about other things while they ate: whether Eric would carry on as sheriff now things were getting back to normal; if Gail would go on working at the clinic; about the reconciliation efforts that were going on with New Bern. Watching him devour her cooking, she sighed inwardly. It was nice having him home. She wondered if she should ask him to move back in. There was no reason for him not to, now; Emily had moved out months ago, back to her own place in The Pines to be with Colonel Davies, and Gail felt like she was rattling round the house on her own. But he sidestepped any discussion of his own plans for the future, and she didn't press him. Not yet.
It wasn't until Jake had cleared the dessert plates away, and she'd poured out the coffee, that she gestured at the table and said, "You do know all of this is just to soften you up so you tell me what's going on, right?"
Jake gave a short bark of laugher and sat back in his chair. "Yeah." He toyed with his coffee cup for a moment, before letting out a heavy sigh. "I screwed up again. Really, really screwed up."
Gail clasped her hands on the table and leaned forwards, suddenly dry mouthed, remembering the heartache and worry Jake had caused in the past.
He flicked a glance at her. "I think I met the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I think I lost her."
"Ah." Gail let out a breath. If that was all it was... although, judging by the expression on Jake's face, all didn't really cover it: this wasn't something he'd be able to shrug off as easily as a few nights in jail or the constant glowering disapproval of his father. Suddenly, she almost wished it was just another stupid prank or criminal scheme of Jonah's that he'd gotten mixed up in. Because she'd seen what thwarted love could do to a man.
As for who Jake was talking about.... Gail only had to think back over the past year to be able to make a guess. Things she'd seen herself; remarks that Eric and Mary had made; gossip she'd overheard at the clinic and in Gracie's Market. She just hadn't realized Jake had felt that strongly about her. Sounded like Jake hadn't either. In fact, hadn't Johnston told her that Heather had kissed Jake, months ago, not long after he came back to Jericho, and Jake had brushed her off? Well, he wouldn't be the first man to make that mistake.
He was still staring at his coffee cup, though Gail didn't think he was seeing it. "Heather?" she prompted.
He nodded.
"Does she know how you feel?"
He shook his head.
Gail raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think maybe you should tell her?"
"It's too late." Jake turned his head away, a pained look on his face. "She's with Beck now."
That wasn't much of a surprise, either. Although.... "Are you sure about that?"
Jake looked back at her. "I saw them together. At the wedding." When she opened her mouth to point out that she'd seen them at the wedding, too, and maybe Jake was reading too much into it, he forestalled her by adding flatly, "I saw them kissing." He turned his head away, grimacing again.
"Oh." Gail remembered how she'd seen him striding away from the house with that wild, unhappy look on his face, deaf to her calling out to him as he passed. She eyed him thoughtfully.
"You know," she picked up her coffee and took a sip, "your father was practically engaged to someone else when he and I met. Which I didn't realize at the time," she shrugged slightly, "but by the time I did, I'd fallen in love with him. And if he'd truly loved her and wanted to be with her, I—well, you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be having this conversation, now, would we?"
Jake snorted. "You think I should try split them up?"
"I think it's maybe not as settled as you seem to think it is. That maybe Heather's kissing Major Beck because you didn't kiss her."
Jake huffed again. "That's what Mimi said," he muttered. "That Heather was only with him because she thought I wasn't interested."
"Mimi's a smart woman." Gail reached out a hand to cover Jake's. "Maybe... maybe Heather really does love him and want to be with him. And if she does, you're just going to have to accept that. But sometimes women... settle. For a man who's good enough. Because they think they can't have what they really want."
Jake looked up at her, and she saw hope sparking in his eyes. It went against the grain to tell him to put himself in the middle of a couple, but she wasn't entirely sure he wasn't already in the middle of it. And she had to admit to herself that Eric and Mary seemed far happier together than Eric and April had ever done. That a good enough relationship was... good enough, but maybe everyone ended up unhappier in the long run. And she couldn't help but want her boys to have what she and Johnston had had.
She gave Jake's hand a squeeze. "If she never has a choice, maybe you'll all three come to regret that even more?"
"You think I should tell her?"
Gail hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "I think you should."
Heather cautiously steered Charlotte down the rutted track to the river. Her stomach fluttered as she saw the Roadrunner was already there. She'd almost chickened out of the meeting, afraid that she and Jake would end up in another row in which they'd both say hurtful things. She'd never expected him to be entirely happy that she and Edward were dating—she knew he only tolerated Edward for her sake, and she didn't expect him to forget what he'd suffered at Edward's hands—but the violence of his reaction when he'd cornered her at the wedding had scared her.
Yet she couldn't entirely blame him for getting mad. He was right that she'd never seen what Edward was capable of, even if she also was sure that Edward deeply regretted every moment of it. She knew Jake was only looking out for her: even if he didn't care about her in the way she'd once hoped, he did still care, and he didn't want her to get hurt. And he had seemed genuinely contrite about the way he'd acted at the wedding.
Though her heart had dropped like a stone when she'd first seen him hurrying towards her as she came out of City Hall earlier in the day to find some lunch. What did he want now?
She sped up, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed him, but he called her name, forcing her to stop. She halted and turned towards him as he hovered a few feet away.
"I...." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. What I said at the wedding—." He shook his head slightly. "The way I acted. I was totally out of line."
"Yes." She knew she sounded cold, but she couldn't easily forget how much he'd scared her. That he'd shown her a side of himself she'd never expected to see directed at her.
He nodded, accepting the censure in her tone. He carried on looking at her as if he wanted to say something more. She fiddled with the strap of her purse. "Was there—?"
"Yes." He swallowed. "Look, I know I have no right to ask you this after the way I behaved, but I really need to talk to you. In private."
He held her gaze; in his eyes, she saw misery and a little bit of fear, and she realized he did understand exactly how badly he'd screwed up. When she didn't answer, still unsure, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Please?"
She hesitated a moment longer, and then she nodded. She guessed she owed it to their friendship over the past year to try and patch things up.
So here she was, drawing Charlotte up next to the Roadrunner at the spot where they'd gone stargazing last week. Jake was leaning against the Roadrunner's hood, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the water rippling a few feet away. He turned his head a little as Heather climbed out of the truck and approached him, acknowledging her presence with a slight nod, before he went back to contemplating the view.
Heather sighed quietly and settled herself next to him. Apparently, in Greenspeak, I need to talk to you meant I'm going to be my usual inarticulate self.
The silence between them stretched out, broken only by the humming of insects. "Well?" she prompted eventually.
He took a deep breath. "Everyone used to think I was the town screw up." He stopped and swallowed before he went on. "Except for you." He turned to look down at her, his eyes dark with misery. "But you're the person I've screwed up with more than anyone."
Heather looked away, unnerved by the intensity of his expression. While she wasn't going to pretend the way he'd behaved hadn't been horrible, she wouldn't go as far as saying it was the worst thing he'd ever done. "Jake, that's not—."
He interrupted her before she could finish. "No, it's the truth. Please." He reached out for her hand where it lay on the hood between them and covered it with his own. Startled, she looked back at him. He caught and held her gaze. "Please. Just let me finish."
She nodded mutely, acutely aware of his touch on her skin as his fingers curled around hers. Apparently just because she was with Edward now didn't mean she was suddenly completely immune to Jake.
He looked at her for a moment longer, and then turned his gaze back to the river, although he didn't let go of her hand. "I...." He hesitated. "I guess when I came back to Jericho, I was still hung up on Emily."
Heather raised her eyebrows. What had that to do with what happened Saturday?
"Thought I was still in love with her." Jake twisted his head away a little and let out a small, choked laugh. "And then I met you." His hand tightened on Heather's. "And... the bombs? They weren't the only thing that turned my world upside down."
Heather's mouth suddenly went dry and she found it hard to breathe.
"But I didn't understand." Jake closed his eyes for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. "You see, Emily was the only girl I'd ever been in love with. Since," he shrugged, "since forever, I guess." He snorted. "Even before I kissed her in sixth grade."
He'd begun stroking the back of Heather's hand with his thumb as he spoke, his touch gentle but like a thousand volts through her, although he still wasn't looking at her. Maybe he didn't dare. Because they both knew this speech was eighteen months too late.
He was still talking, still explaining. "So there I was, feeling this... connection with you and... absolutely clueless.... Thirty two years old, and falling in love, and terrified of what I was feeling because I didn't know what it meant, and terrified of what it might mean, because I'd hurt everybody I'd ever cared about in the end...." He let out a sharp breath.
"Jake...." Heather couldn't manage more than a whisper.
He hurried on, not letting her interrupt. "And I didn't want to hurt you. So I did what I always do. I ran away." He laughed bitterly. "And I just hurt you even more."
He pushed off the Roadrunner's hood so he could face her, his fingers now twined with hers. "I blinded myself to all the signs. I convinced myself I didn't care about you. But it's not true. I love you so much." He caught her gaze and she couldn't look away from what she'd wanted to see in his eyes all those months ago. "And I want to be with you so much. And I think I'm too late...."
He carried on looking down at her and she carried on looking back. Everything seemed to have slowed, become overbright—the light bouncing off the river; the buzz of the insects in the reeds; the feel of the warm metal of the hood of the Roadrunner when she put out her other hand to steady herself; Jake's fingers linked with hers....
"Heather?" He edged a little closer to her, a hint of worry creeping into his expression.
She suddenly remembered to breathe, and took in a shuddering gasp, and the world came back into focus. "I—." She shook her head.
Taking another deep breath, she straightened, pushing away from the Roadrunner. She looked down at where he still held her hand and gently disengaged her fingers from his, before she backed up a step. Turning, she took a few more paces, and then halted and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing and stop feeling so dizzy. Trying to make sense of the muddle of thoughts bouncing around her head.
She thought she wanted to cry and scream and curl into a ball and... and maybe hit Jake, because this was all so unfair. Because she was still in love with him; had never stopped being in love with him, even as she'd come to love Edward. And because Edward was a good man, and a kind man, and she would never have let him fall in love with her, never encouraged him and shown she returned those feelings, if she'd had any hope that she and Jake had a future.
And because Jake had no right to throw this at her now, not when he knew she and Edward....
"Heather?"
Jake's voice was soft and full of concern—and longing; she could hear that now. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and then opened them and turned back to him.
He'd taken a couple of paces towards her and stopped, obviously unsure what to do next and afraid of crowding her. He looked as lost as she felt.
She licked her lips "You know, I...." She stopped, unsure what to say or how to say it. Taking another deep breath, she tried again. "Edward and I...."
"Yes. I know." His expression darkened, but he kept his voice level. "And if he's who you want to be with, I'm not going to stand in your way. You were right: I had my chance and I didn't take it, and that's entirely my fault. You had every right to find someone else who wasn't such as jackass." He took half a pace foward and added earnestly, "And I want you to be happy, Heather. I really do. I want you to do whatever makes you happy." He gave her one of those wry, lopsided grins that had always made her heart turn over. Still did. "I'd just rather it was me you were happy with."
She shivered, because, God knows, she'd wanted that too. Except now it was all a mess. Now someone was going to get hurt....
She closed her eyes again, and Edward's face swam before her, a shy smile on his lips, his eyes filled with admiration as he looked at her. She thought back to the first time she'd seen past his stern demeanour, to the compassion and kindness hidden beneath. Remembered the way slow understanding had grown between them as they'd worked together and drunk scotch together, each revealing themselves bit by bit. How good it felt to be in his arms, and how his lips on hers had tugged at something deep inside her. That he might have been slow to make the first move—for reasons she understood and didn't blame him for—but that she'd never doubted what he felt for her.
He was safe, and steady, and reliable, and she could imagine them building a future together. A happy future. And yet—.
He wasn't Jake. Who drove her crazy in a hundred different ways, and yet whom she understood and who seemed to understand her so well that they could work alongside each other for hours scarcely needing to exchange a word. Whom she'd trust with her life, if not her heart.
Whom, even a few days ago, she would have flung herself at without a second thought if she'd known how he felt. She snorted to herself: if he'd known how he felt.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "You couldn't have told me this before?"
He looked at her unhappily and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was too stupid to see...." He gave a wry laugh. "Even when I was yelling at you Saturday, I thought it was just...."
"Bcause it was Edward?" she finished for him. "Because of what he did to you, and Jericho."
He nodded, his gaze sliding away from hers. "Right. I thought it was just because it was him."
"Are you sure it's not?" Because how could she believe him, really believe him, after the way he'd behaved the past year or more. After all the mixed signals he'd sent out, how could she trust what she was hearing?
He stuck his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Yes. It wouldn't matter who you were with." He lifted his head and looked at her again. "I still wouldn't want you to be with him." He hunched his shoulders a little. "I want you to be with me. For ever."
She had to suppress the urge to giggle. Her, geeky Heather Lisinski, whose idea of a Saturday night date was an assignation with a leaking fuel pump, being pursued by two suitors like the heroine of some trashy Harlequin romance. Having the power to break a man's heart.
The urge to laugh died within her. Because that was what was going to happen here, wasn't it? She was going to have to choose, and someone was going to get hurt.
She ran a hand through her hair. "I need to think about this. I need to—." She backed away another step, fumbling in her pocket for her keys.
Jake hunched his shoulders further. "Sure." His voice sounded as hoarse as hers.
She turned away from him and groped her way into Charlotte, scrabbling the key into the ignition, praying the car would start, thankful when it did.
Driving away, she couldn't stop herself glancing in the rear mirror at the lonely-looking figure she'd left behind.
Beck rapped softly on Heather's front door, his heart racing a little at the prospect of seeing her again. She seemed to take longer than usual to answer, but he put that down to his own impatience. At last, there was a sound from behind the door, and it opened.
"Oh." She gave him a slightly surprised look. "Hey. Er... come in."
She stepped back, and he followed her inside, wondering if he'd got the wrong day. She had said Monday—as usual—hadn't she? And he knew it was definitely Monday: he'd been counting down the forty seven hours since they'd said goodnight on Saturday. There was a distinct lack of the kind of delicious cooking smells he'd come to expect, as well. Maybe she'd just got home later than expected and was running behind.
As she shut the door behind them and turned, he took a step back towards her. Reaching out and cupping her cheek, he drew her lips to his, the way he'd been thinking about doing the whole drive into town. She tasted as sweet as he remembered as she accepted the kiss, but the passion with which she'd kissed him back last time was lacking. He drew away. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes." She paused and then gave him a look of frightening honesty; he hadn't seen such hopelessness in her eyes since he'd had her arrested. "No."
She pulled away from him, and headed for the fire, crouching down to prod viciously at the embers with the poker. He looked at her hunched shoulders for a moment, before he followed her and knelt next to her.
"Heather? What is it?"
She dropped the poker with a clatter and sat back on her heels, not looking at him. "I talked to Jake today."
Beck tilted his head, trying to catch her gaze—unsuccessfully. "Did he say something to upset you?" He was wondering if it had been Jake who'd said whatever had bothered her so much at the wedding. He couldn't imagine Jake would be at all happy at developments between them.
"You could say that." Heather gave a little hiccup, halfway between a sob and a laugh. "He told me he was in love with me. That he wants to be with me."
Beck felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd suspected Jake had feelings for Heather from the moment she'd walked into the Sheriff's Office more than a year ago. The way he'd acted when Constantino had kidnapped Heather had confirmed there was something going on there. He'd also thought Heather might be in love with Jake too, though perhaps reluctantly. But they'd seemed content to remain friends, while Heather had showed Beck, slowly and shyly, that he was important to her.
And now, just hours after Beck had kissed Heather, Jake had decided to tell her he loved her? Beck swallowed down his anger: if this had been a military campaign, Jake's move would have looked an awful lot like trying to deny resources to the enemy. And that Heather was so visibly upset by it, wasn't just laughing it off, suggested....
Unclenching his fists, he said very gently, "And are you in love with him? Do you want to be with him?"
She put her hands to her face. "I don't know," she whispered. She began to rock backwards and forwards. "Oh Edward, I'm so sorry, so sorry, so...."
Pity welled up in him. He knew the confusion in his own heart of a new love overlaying an old one. There was no possibility of Alondra walking in and telling him she still loved him, but if she had—. He shook his head: of course he would go back to her; they'd been married fifteen years. But that didn't mean that what he felt for Heather was any less real. Or that there wouldn't have been a moment when he didn't know where his loyalties lay.
Without thinking about it, he reached out and turned her towards him Gently he pried her hands from her face. "Shhhh...." He bent his forehead to touch hers. "Shhhh. It's OK."
"It's not. It's not." Hot tears were running down her cheeks.
He shuffled forwards so he could gather her into his arms. She let him pull her against his shoulder, and he rocked her gently, stroking her hair. To see her like this was painful, and yet a part of him whispered that her misery indicated that maybe her feelings for him ran as deep as her feelings for Jake. That maybe his first instinct—she'll choose him—was wrong.
For an instant, he regretted saving Jake from Constantino. But no, he would have lost Heather as well. Even if she'd survived, she might have blamed him for Jake's death in the way she'd never seemed to blame him for what happened at the hog farm. And he wasn't sure how he would have made it through the past year without her friendship.
As her sobs quieted, he found himself growing aware of how good it felt to have his arms around her. He hated that it was because she was miserable, and that he was part of the reason—though Jake, damn him, was most of it. Why did he have to go stirring the pot? Why couldn't he just let her be happy? But it was still unfairly wonderful to be so close to her, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth against him. Hadn't he been hoping that, after they'd eaten dinner, they'd have settled on the couch in front of the fire, and there would have been rather less talking than usual...?
He realized that Heather had stopped crying, and that his knees were protesting his abuse of them. He shifted slightly, trying to ease them, and Heather stirred as well. Her hand gripped his arm a little more tightly, as if to keep him moving away from her, and he unconsciously tightened his own arm around her, not wanting to let her go.
Squinting down at her, he said her name softly.
She sighed, and then gently pushed herself away from him, sitting back, but with her hands still on his chest. She looked up and met his gaze, and gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm sorry. This is... inappropriate of me, isn't it?" When he gave her a puzzled look, she added, "Letting you... comfort me. That probably isn't very fair when I'm...."
Crying over another man. He silently finished the thought for her.
She let her hands fall away from him, but he caught them before she could let them drop to her lap. He cleared his throat. "No. It's all right. I was your friend before...."
She nodded and gave his hands a squeeze. "I know."
He stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, while he held her gaze, trying to read what she was thinking. "Do I get a chance to plead my case?"
She bit her lip and looked down. "It's not like that."
He eyed her bent head, still unsure of his place in the scheme of things. Jake's place. "What is it like?"
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed. "I haven't forgotten all the reasons why I... want to be with you. Why I wanted you to want to be with me." She lifted her gaze to his. "But I can't forget the same things about Jake."
"Why you want to be with him?" When she nodded, he asked, the words hard to form as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, "And those reasons are stronger?"
She shook her head. "They're... different." She pulled one of her hands from his and reached up and gently touched his face. "I didn't fall in love with you just because I couldn't have Jake, you know. If I'd never known him, I would still...."
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and savoring it, while she went on talking.
"But I did let myself fall in love with you because I thought I couldn't have him. I was tired of making myself miserable over him, and I knew I needed to move on. And I didn't just pick the nearest man—." She chuckled. "Even if you were. There are so many reasons for me to love you...."
She took her hand away. He opened his eyes again to see her looking at him unhappily.
"But now Jake wants me." She gave a harsh laugh. "Or says he does. And now I don't know what I want...."
Read Part 1 of 3 here and Part 3 of 3 here