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

[tanaquific]

Title: Fool's Paradise Part 2 of 3 (Read Part 1 of 3 here and Part 2 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
Heather was still no closer to working out what she wanted as she roamed around the house later that night. Closing the door behind Edward as he left, she'd felt a mixture of regret and relief. He'd offered to stay or go, whichever she preferred. She'd hesitated for a moment, and then asked him to leave. Much as she wanted the comfort he'd provide as a friend, it would have been cruel on him. And perhaps, without him there, she'd be able to think more clearly.

It didn't seem to be helping. She stopped again by the bookshelves where the pictures of her parents stood, and ran her hand across the frame of the nearest one. Not for the first time that evening, she wished they were still alive and she could ask their advice. Instead, she was stuck with going over the same arguments again and again.

The thought of being with Jake made her dizzy—but she didn't know if she could trust him. He apparently hadn't known his own mind for the past year and a half: what if he changed it again, or realized he'd simply made a mistake. What if... what if he was just using her to get his revenge on Edward? No. She dismissed that last possibility from her mind; Jake didn't use people like that, wouldn't use her like that. But maybe seeing her with Edward had made him afraid he'd lose her as a friend, and he'd panicked and decided the only way to hold on to her was to tell her he loved her. And then, in a month or two, he'd realize he'd made a horrible mistake and that, while he cared about her, he didn't care about her like that.

Whereas with Edward she had no doubts. He wasn't the kind of man to kiss any woman lightly, though she suspected his being posted away shortly had hurried him into it. She certainly didn't think he was seeking comfort with her as a way to deal with Alondra's death; if that had been the case, he would have kissed her months ago. If anything, he'd held back: there'd been a lot of moments recently when he'd almost looked like he was going to make his move.

The trouble was, while it felt good to be in his arms and to be kissed by him, and she liked and respected him, and enjoyed his company, it was a pale shadow of what she had with Jake. Not just the physical attraction, but how she and Jake seemed to think the same way. Finishing each other's sentences, sparking ideas of each other. When Jake hadn't been making her blush with those little gestures she'd thought were meaningless—except it turned out they weren't—they'd been comfortable around each other, like they'd known each other forever. Like they were family. Being with Jake was just... right.

Except maybe he was all wrong about what he said he felt. How could she know?

When it grew late enough, she climbed into bed, but sleep eluded her. Turning the bedside lamp back on, she tried to find a book to read, but she kept gravitating to titles she'd loaned to Edward, remembering the discussions they'd had, and how she'd learned his tastes, and tried to choose things she'd thought he'd enjoy.

Frustrated, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a warm drink. There, the sheer normality of every act—of having returned to what life had been like before the September attacks, when you didn't think twice about taking milk from a cold fridge and heating it in the microwave, and reaching into a well-stocked cupboard for a sachet of hot chocolate—kept reminding her of how she'd worked with Jake on one project or another. Like putting up the wind turbines so there was power; figuring out how to use the sun to get hot water; organizing the older teenagers to help with farmwork—milking cows, harvesting crops—when they didn't have the gas to do stuff mechanically.

Climbing back into bed with the drink, she tried to distract herself with an unfinished crossword puzzle—although even that reminded her of the conversation she'd had with Jake right before she left for New Bern. As she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep, she reflected it seemed like everything in her life was tangled up with one of them or the other.

oOo

Keep busy. That was what Beck kept telling himself over the next few days. Because it was better than not being busy. Because it left no time for thinking: about what he'd found and what he was probably about to lose. Even if those thoughts still snuck up on him unexpectedly from time to time. And shook him up more than he cared to admit, and made it hard to concentrate on what he was so busily occupying himself with.

Besides, there was a lot to do now that he and his troops were going to be officially reincorporated into the US Army. Writing up recommendations for field promotions to be confirmed and medals to be awarded. Putting in place transport to send his men home on leave, and dealing with the fact that, for some of them, home was in AS-controlled territory still, and they needed to make other arrangements for them. Not to mention the headache of keeping a lid on a camp of several hundred soldiers who mostly no longer had any kind of duty and were more than ready to celebrate their part in the War being over.

At least all of that kept him mostly out at the camp, and there'd been no official need to meet with Heather. When he'd needed to go into town on Wednesday to consult with Eric and meet with Gray, he was relieved not to run into her at City Hall. Not that he didn't want to see her desperately, and for things to be all right between them. But to meet publicly as things were now would have been too painful and difficult.

Leaving City Hall, he was forced to pause at the bottom of the steps while a truck—one of Dale's, he guessed—did a u-turn and rumbled back down Main Street. As he headed to where his humvee was parked, he noted a second truck being unloaded out front of the supermarket.

"Major!"

He halted, still a few paces from the humvee, and slowly swiveled around. Jake was crossing the street towards him.

Beck let turning to look at his nemesis be all the acknowledgment he gave the other man. Jake's stride faltered a little, and then he came on, stopping a few paces away. Beck met his gaze with a stony expression, lips pressed together, though anger was boiling inside him. Probably a good thing that his M-16 was stashed inside the humvee, yards away.

"Major," Jake repeated. He hesitated, clearly taken aback by the animosity Beck knew he was radiating, before taking a deep breath and plunging on. "I... I owe you an apology."

Beck raised his eyebrows. If Jake owed anyone an apology, it was Heather.

Jake gave a small shrug. "I've been pretty hard on you the past year. Even after we... sorted a few things out between us, I never gave you enough credit for what you did for the town. I never gave you the respect you deserved. I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and that I was wrong."

"Respect?" Beck took a step forward and spat the word at Jake. He couldn't believe that Jake would dare to say it after what he'd done. "Maybe you could have shown a little respect by not using someone I care about to get your revenge on me? Maybe you could have shown Heather a little respect?"

Jake took a pace back, holding out his hands on either side—to calm Beck, or to get ready to defend himself, Beck wasn't sure. "I.... That's not why...."

Beck took another couple of quick paces, closing the distance between them. "Do you think I'm an idiot? You had a whole year. And the moment I—. The moment she and I—." He glared up at Jake. The other man's height didn't intimidate him; he'd spent his whole military career facing down guys who were taller than him.

This time, Jake didn't back away, though he shifted his posture slightly, and Beck realized he was offering to let Beck take a swing at him, perhaps because he thought he deserved it, or at least owed Beck. He met Beck's gaze. "I'm sorry about that too," he said quietly. "You're right. I had a year, and it wasn't until I saw her with you that I...." He stopped and swallowed. "I love her. I want to make my life with her. I'm sorry that I didn't see that until—."

Looking into Jake's eyes, Beck realized that—at this particular moment, at least—Jake was sincere in what he was saying, or at least believed he was sincere. Either that, or he was a far better liar than Beck had ever given him credit for.

Suddenly, Beck didn't have the energy to be angry about how badly Jake had mishandled this—what was done was done—though there was still plenty else to be angry about. And Heather certainly wasn't going to be happy if the two of them ended up brawling in the middle of Main Street over her. What mattered was the future. What mattered was Heather.

Pressing his lips together for a moment, he tried to make sure what he said next came out in an even tone that wouldn't put Jake's back up. "I told you once we needed to bury the hatchet, for Heather's sake." When Jake nodded, he carried on. "Well, I guess I need to take my own advice. It's Heather's choice, now. If we both care about her, we'll both behave like... grown men."

Jake took a step back, putting up his hands as a sign he didn't want to fight. "You'll get no argument from me on that."

Before Jake could take another pace back, Beck reached out and caught his sleeve, his fist bunching in the material. "But let me make one thing very clear. If she chooses you," Beck swallowed, because the thought hurt so much, "and you make her unhappy, so help me God, I will hunt you down, and what I did to you at the hog farm will be nothing in comparison."

Jake didn't react for a moment, and then he gave a curt nod. "If I make her unhappy, then, God help me, I hope you do."

Gently disengaging himself from Beck's grip, he took another step back, before he turned and walked back toward the truck. Watching him go, Beck thought the way Jake had taken that exchange said more than mere words ever could.

oOo

Heather sat at her desk Thursday morning trying to type up a report. She'd managed to spend most of the last two days out of City Hall, which had helped her to avoid meeting Edward. A casual remark from Eric on Tuesday had suggested Jake was busy making runs to Topeka for Dale, so there'd been little chance of running into him either. Even so, the days had been a blur—the result of too little sleep and her mind churning in an endless loop—and she'd gotten odd looks from people that suggested she wasn't quite as outwardly together as she hoped.

Nor inwardly: she was finding it hard to concentrate on the report she was working on. She was almost glad when a familiar voice greeting Jimmy drew her attention away from the screen, and she looked up to see Edward making his way round the counter and towards the Sheriff's Office.

He exchanged a stiff nod with her as he passed her desk, and she twisted to watch him as he went into the small glass cubicle and greeted Eric. The tension in his shoulders told her, even more than the careful blankness of his face, how much he was hurting. Biting her lip, she bent back to her work but, after a while, she realized she'd been unsuccessfully trying to reword the same paragraph for fifteen minutes. Perhaps a break and a cup of coffee would help.

Making her way to the small kitchen at the back of City Hall, she found the coffee pot was empty, and most of the cups dirty. She closed her eyes for a moment, because, dammit—. With a weary sigh, she opened her eyes again, and began gathering cups and dumping them in the sink, turning on the hot water so she could wash everything out in preparation for making a fresh brew.

The cups were clean at last, and she was fighting with the coffee pot—you had to line up the filter funnel just so, and you would've thought she'd have got the hang of it after a year—and she was almost in tears, because it was just the last straw, when—.

"Here. Let me...." Edward's voice was soft in her ear as he reached past her and helped her seat the funnel.

"Thanks." She half-turned and stopped, because the kitchen was too small, and he was too close.

He met her gaze, and took a step back, apparently realizing how uncomfortable he was making her. He raked his gaze across her face. "Are you all right?"

She nodded wordlessly, because the answer was not really, and she could see how unhappy she was making him. She swallowed, trying to counteract the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry I'm taking so long. That I haven't—."

He closed his eyes briefly and then met her gaze again. "It's all right." He reached out, as if he was going to touch her arm, and then froze for a moment, before he dropped his hand. "Take all the time you need." He flicked his gaze to the coffee pot and tilted his head. "I'll come back when that's ready."

After he left, she leaned against the counter, looking for all the world like she was just waiting for the coffee to brew, but trying to get her emotions under control, trying not to cry. Because he was so miserable, and she could make him happy, she knew she could. And yet she didn't know if that would make her happy.

oOo

"Kinda confusing having a choice, isn't it?"

Heather looked up, startled out of her thoughts as she stood in front of the shelf of cake and brownie mixes in Gracie's Market. After she'd carried a cup of coffee back to her desk and found she still couldn't concentrate, she'd decided to take an early lunch break and shop for groceries. Even that seemed to require more decision-making ability than she was capable of; Mimi's words as she stopped next to Heather had sprung her from a dispirited attempt to choose one packet over another.

"Yes. Yes it is." Heather attempted to return Mimi's smile as she reached out and picked up the chocolate cake mix.

Mimi hefted the half-filled basked she was carrying. "Stanley and I are still living on leftovers from the wedding, but we needed a few things." She nodded at Heather's cart. "Fancy grabbing a coffee in Bailey's when we're done?"

Heather dropped the cake mix into the cart. "I should—." She stopped. What did she have to rush back for? In fact, the longer she stayed away, the less likely she'd run into Edward again. She looked up at Mimi and forced herself to smile back. "Thanks. I'd like that." She surveyed the items in her cart. "I still need a couple more things."

"I'll meet you over in Bailey's." Mimi dipped her head and turned on her heel to make her way to the checkout.

Heather hurried to pick up the final few items, so as not to keep Mimi waiting too long, but when she got to Bailey's, Mimi didn't seem bothered. She'd installed herself in one of the booths, and apparently already placed their order, because she simply waved at Mary to bring it over while Heather was settling her grocery bags.

There was a moment's silence after their coffees arrived while Mimi sat looking at her thoughtfully. Heather glanced away, trying not to squirm—she suspected her makeup wasn't doing a particularly good job of disguising the ravages of the last few sleepless nights—and cast about for a topic of conversation. "So," she cleared her throat, "how's married life treating you?"

Mimi made a non-committal noise. "It's not so different from before. Mind you," she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, "Jake's been spending so much time out at the farm the past few days, I'm beginning to wonder if I accidentally married him. " Heather looked back, startled by the mention of Jake's name, and Mimi caught her gaze and held it. "Seems he has a little bit of woman trouble."

Heather stiffened, her spoon clattering against her cup. "That's—."

"None of my business?" Mimi gave her an amused look. "Yeah, I know. When did that ever stop me?" She gave Heather a conciliatory smile. "Just hear me out, okay?"

"Okay." Heather slumped back in her seat. Why did everyone in this damn town think they could poke their noses into everyone else's affairs?

"Look," Mimi sighed, "I'm not going tell you who to choose. I can see lots of reasons why you'd want to be with Major Beck. Not my type—but hey, I never thought a hick farmer from nowheresville would be my type, either. And I can see he's got a lot going for him. Steady, reliable, not afraid to show he cares for you right from the off. Everything Jake's not, right?"

Heather snorted and nodded.

"Whereas Jake." Mimi briefly closed her eyes and shook her head despairingly."He acts like he wants you, and then he acts like he doesn't. And then he acts like he does, but he doesn't do anything about it—until some other guy, who he's done a pretty good job of hating up to that point, makes a move, at which point he starts declaring his undying love for you." Mimi leaned back and threw her hands up in the air. "And then he wonders why you don't fall into his arms immediately and instead ask him whether it's just that he doesn't want you to be with Beck."

Heather fiddled with her coffee cup. "It's hard not to think that...."

"The thing is," Mimi leaned forward again, "when Jake talks about you... he talks about you. He keeps telling us stories about all the stuff you did together. About how it was your idea how to get gas from Murthy's, and how brave you were when the schoolbus crashed, and the two of you building those stupid model airplanes. I'm beginning to feel like I know more about what you spent the past year doing than I know about what I did."

Heather looked away, blushing. "I'm sorry he's—."

Mimi reached across and put her hand on Heather's. "He's not. It's no trouble. He's Stanley's oldest friend, and I wouldn't be here if he hadn't kept Goetz from me. But what I meant to say is that he barely mentions Beck, and when he does...." Heather felt Mimi shrug. "He's not mad at him, or bitter, or angry."

Heather looked back at her, and Mimi smiled and squeezed her hand in confirmation.

"So...?" Heather asked uncertainly, not quite sure what point Mimi was trying to make.

Mimi sat back and spread her hands. "It's your choice. But I don't think Jake's doing this out of spite, or because he's afraid he's going to lose you as a friend. If you want to know what I think, I think he really does love you."

oOo

One side of the command tent was rolled up to let in some light and fresh air as Beck and Colonel Davies discussed final arrangements for leave for the soldiers whose homes were in AS territory. Beck broke off from the point he was making at an apologetic cough from his aide.

"Sir. Miss Lisinski is on her way to see you."

Beck nodded curtly in acknowledgment, unable to speak, because he'd hadn't seen her since he'd run into her in the kitchen at City Hall the day before. And because, if she was coming here....

Davies stretched and yawned ostentatiously. "I could do with a breath of fresh air. Why don't I step outside and stretch my legs, while you two discuss whatever it is you have to discuss." There was a hint of amusement in his voice that jolted Beck, until he remembered that the last time Davies had seen him with Heather had been at the wedding.

But he was grateful for Davies' tact. Whatever was coming, best to get it over as soon as possible. Nodding to Davies as he left, Beck retreated to his private quarters, giving orders that Heather was to be shown straight in.

He resisted the urge to pace while he waited the few minutes it took her to reach the command tent. He could hear her exchange a greeting with his aide, and then she was pushing aside the tent flap and stepping through. He realized he was standing to attention—just like he had when his company commanders had decided his fate—and he made a conscious effort to relax. But one look at her face told him her choice.

"It's Jake, isn't it? You've chosen Jake?"

She nodded, and he saw a little bit of the tension go out of her shoulders, probably in relief that he'd guessed and she didn't have to say it. She took a step closer, licking her lips nervously before she spoke. "I'm sorry. I had to."

He nodded and dropped his head. It wasn't that he hadn't expected it—he'd never really thought he had more than a glimmer of a chance—but to actually hear her say it. To hear that had to....

He sensed her moving and felt her hand on his arm. "Oh, Edward!" Her voice cracked slightly. "It's not that I don't care about you, or don't think I could have been happy with you. That we couldn't have made each other happy."

"We still could," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

He felt rather than saw her shake her head. "Only if Jake hadn't.... Only if I'd carried on thinking that it was all on my side, and I needed to put it behind me as a silly mistake. But knowing that Jake does love me—."

He couldn't stop himself asking, "You really believe that?"

She took a moment to answer, and then she sighed. "Yes. Whether he loves me as much as he says he does.... Whether it'll last...."

He heard the edge of fear in her voice; that, more than anything, told him how much she wanted things to work out with Jake.

She squeezed his arm gently. "Don't you see. If I don't try, a little part of me would always be wondering, what if? And I think a part of you would always be wondering if I'm wondering. And that's no way for us to live."

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he'd take her however she came. But he couldn't, because he knew she was right. She'd been in love with Jake long before Beck had come to Jericho. Long after, too. And every time Beck kissed her, a little voice of doubt in the back of his mind would ask whether she was comparing him to Jake. Every silly argument between them would have him afraid she was regretting her choice. His doubt would be like a canker at the heart of their relationship and, no matter how hard he tried to cut it out, it would eat away at them both.

He looked up and met her gaze, and nodded. It killed him to say it, but he knew she needed to hear it from him: "You should be with him."

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath. Opening her eyes, she managed to give him a half smile. "Thank you." She swallowed. "You're a good man, Edward. Better than I deserve."

He shook his head, because it wasn't that. He just knew when a battle was lost and it was time to retreat. When to fight on would just be a waste of lives.

Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hand and leaned forward to gently kiss her on the cheek. "Be happy, Heather," he murmured, holding her close for just a moment longer, breathing in her scent, knowing this would be the last time.

When he pulled back, he met her gaze again. "And remember. I'll always be your friend. No matter what."

"I will." She put up her hand to circle his wrist, her fingers warm and gentle on his skin. With a sigh, he drew away, but she caught his hand as he let it fall and squeezed it. She held his gaze and whispered with surprising intensity, "Be safe."

He nodded, and then she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, and then he turned and leaned his hands on the table, swallowing down the bile in his throat, because the pain was like a knife in the guts. Because even though he'd known this was the most likely outcome, he'd still hoped....

He didn't know how long he stood there before a gentle rap on a the tent frame and quiet cough from just outside his quarters brought him out of the black thoughts churning through him. "Sir? Colonel Davies is back."

He sucked in a deep breath, and straightened. "I'll be right there." Forcing his features into what he hoped passed for composure, he pushed back out into the main tent.

Davies was standing by the table, reading through some pf the papers they'd been working on. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over Beck. Apparently whatever he saw confirmed something, because he nodded his head slightly and made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. But all he said was, "Afraid we'll have to truck your guys down there. Take three, four days, maybe. Would love to fly 'em, but we're still getting refinery capacity back on stream and we need all our aviation fuel for the flyboys."

Beck nodded, trying to claw his mind back to their interrupted discussion as he crossed back to the table and the scattered documents. There was a trick you learned on the battlefield, when you blanked off whatever had just happened and went on, because if let yourself get distracted thinking about it, you'd pretty soon be dead too. And the comforts of one hundred and thirty seven soldiers were far more important than whatever was troubling their commanding officer.

He and Davies went on talking for a while, but Davies was soon shuffling the papers together and saying, "I think we're pretty much done here." He slid the papers back into the folder they'd come from. "All these arrangements," his tone was a shade too casual, "put me in mind that you'll be leaving Jericho soon yourself, and I never did show you any of our Texan hospitality. Got my hands on a bottle of George Dickel Special Barrel Reserve back at The Pines that it'd be a shame to drink alone." He looked up at Beck, eyebrows raised, leaving the unspoken invitation hanging.

Beck blinked, trying to stave off the sudden rush of emotion that replaced the numbness he'd been carefully cultivating, as he realized Davies was offering more than just good-quality whiskey. He didn't like that it was so transparently obvious what had happened, but he was touched by the other man's offer. He'd been so focused on Heather, on what she meant to him, that he'd almost forgotten there were other people around him who might care even a little for his suffering. Most of them—those under his command—could only show their concern in small ways; he didn't think he'd ever had a week of such smart salutes and prompt reports. But Davies wasn't part of his chain of command or bound by those protocols.

Beck dipped his head. "Thanks." He cleared his throat. "I'd, uh, appreciate a taste of that." And whatever conversation went with it.

oOo

The warmth of the afternoon was beginning to drain away as Jake concentrated on forking used bedding from the barn, trying not to think that about how it had been just a week ago, just about now, that he'd finally understood his feelings for Heather. A week that had seemed to last forever while he waited for her to make up her mind, growing ever more despondent that the delay meant she would choose Beck.

"Jake?"

The soft voice behind him made his heart leap. He turned and saw her standing just outside the door, the late afternoon sun making a nimbus around her.

"I—." She gave a nervous cough and twisted her hands together. "I made up my mind."

He leaned on the pitchfork, his heart suddenly pounding. "And...?"

She shrugged slightly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and then he let the pitchfork drop and strode across to her, stripping off his work gloves as he went. Reaching her, he caught her face between his hands and kissed her, trying to keep the kiss gentle, but wanting her, wanting her oh so much. And then she was kissing him back, her arms around his neck to pull him close, and he slid his hands down her shoulders to draw her against him, letting out all his pent-up desire and fear and hope in a deep kiss that seemed to last forever.

At last he broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek against her hair. They didn't speak, just held each other tightly, while he reveled in the feel of her against him.

A soft nicker and a stamp from behind him eventually dragged him back reluctantly to the real world. He pulled back, cradling her face between his hands, and smiled down at her apologetically. "I, uh, need to finish seeing to the horses. And," he suddenly remembered what he'd been doing right before she'd turned up, "I should clean up...."

She giggled nervously. "It's okay." She put her palms flat against his chest. "It's kinda... manly...." Her cheeks dimpled as she chuckled, and he laughed with her. "Maybe I can help?"

He glanced down and noticed she was wearing a pretty dress, and strappy shoes that were flat but not best suited to the barn. He shook his head. "I'm almost done. Why don't you go into the house and fix us a cold drink, and I'll be with you in a few minutes."

"Okay." She stood on tiptoe and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, before sliding out of his arms and skipping away towards the house.

oOo

He didn't think he'd ever finished the chores and showered so fast. When he came downstairs, hair still damp and tousled, he found Heather sitting on the porch, looking out at the horses cropping grass in the paddock. He stopped in the doorway and watched her for a while, his breath catching at how beautiful she was, while he marveled that she was here, finally here....

She turned and caught him looking and jumped in surprise. "How long have you been there?" she asked accusingly.

"A few minutes." He grinned unrepentantly.

She blushed and turned away to busy herself with a tray she'd placed on the low table in front her. "I got us some lemonade. I could make some sandwiches if you...."

He padded across to her on bare feet and put his hands on hers to still her from re-arranging the glasses. She looked up at him again and he bent down and kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her and the feel of her. She accepted the kiss quietly, almost tentatively, and he realized she was as nervous and scared and excited as he was

He drew back and settled himself next to her. "Lemonade sounds good."

She leaned forward to pour a glass for each of them and handed one to him. When she sat back, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. She sighed quietly and relaxed against him, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling so right, feeling like she'd always been there and she always belonged there.

They sat like that for a while as the light slowly faded. Jake sipped his drink, and thought about the road he'd traveled since that fateful day of the September attacks. About how much he'd lost and how much he'd gained. About all that they'd endured, and how the woman at his side had made it so much more bearable. About how he probably didn't really deserve this amazing gift that had been given to him, after the way he'd behaved, but he wasn't going to complain.

He turned and squinted down at Heather, wondering if her thoughts ran in the same direction. "You're quiet." He dropped a kiss into her hair.

She shrugged slightly. "Nothing to say. Too happy." She reached up and covered his hand where he cupped her shoulder. Then she tensed. "Oh god, should I be saying something?" Her fingers tightened on his. "Is there something I should have said? Is there something you want me to—?

He chuckled, and she stopped talking, twisting round to bestow an anxious look on him. He smiled at her happily. "That's my Heather." Another chuckle escaped him. "I love it when you babble."

Her anxious look turned annoyed for a moment, and then she relaxed again and lightly biffed his hand with hers. "Nobody makes me babble like you, Jake Green."

"I know." He smirked at her.

Giving him a look that, this time, was clearly mock-annoyed, she leaned forward and put her glass down, before settling back. She turned so that, tipping her head up, she could meet his gaze, and he bent and captured her mouth in a slow, tender kiss.

Her lips parted under his, allowing him to gently deepen the kiss while he drew her closer, his arm now wrapped about her waist. She wriggled around until she was lying more comfortably against him. On the way, she managed to dig her elbow into his ribs in a way that made him wince, but he didn't break the kiss, because he damn well wasn't going risk making her feel uncomfortable. He sensed, in the uncertain way her lips responded to his, that she was still nervous and unsure, and he was afraid she would flee the scene entirely in embarrassment if he made one false step.

Carefully lowering his own glass to floor beside them, he slid sideways, drawing her with him until he was half lying, with her resting against him. He wrapped both his arms around her, while they went on with their slow exploration of each other. She shivered where his fingertips brushed across her skin as he caressed her, while his mouth learned the shape of her jaw or the curve of her cheek, before his lips returned to hers again and again. He sensed her growing confidence when her hands at last began to move over him, stroking his arm or tangling in his hair, while she kissed him back.

Finally, they simply lay quietly together, her head resting on his chest, her body warm against him as the evening chill crept on. Dusk was falling, and the first few stars were appearing in the darkening sky. Jake looked up at them and idly wondered if there'd be another meteor shower tonight. Not that he needed to see a shooting star: he had everything he could ever wish for in his arms.