Life in Bizarro World by Marzee Doats
Past Featured StorySummary:

A possible explanation for Heather's absence from the episode Red Flag. Definitely Jake/Heather. Definintely AU after Vox Populi.


Categories: Jake/Heather Characters: Heather Lisinski, Jake Green
Episode/Spoilers For: 1.10 - Red Flag
Genres: Romance
Challenges: None
Series: Bizarro World
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 4911 Read: 16220 Published: 08 Jun 2008 Updated: 08 Jun 2008
Story Notes:

Disclaimer: Jericho is the property of CBS Paramount Network Television and Junction Entertainment. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: My first Jericho fanfic, my first fanfic in about 3 years. I just really hated that they left Heather out of the Thanksgiving episode!

1. Life in Bizarro World by Marzee Doats

Life in Bizarro World by Marzee Doats
Life In Bizarro World by Marzee Doats

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: My first Jericho fanfic, my first fanfic in about 3 years. I just really hated that they left Heather out of the Thanksgiving episode!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Emily didn't leave until nearly nine o'clock, and then his mother made him follow her home, just to be safe, even though it was a waste of gas that they really couldn't afford. Emily invited him in, and Jake accepted because he knew they needed to clear things up. It was after nine thirty when she finally kicked him out, crying, mad as hell.

Jake had driven to Heather's, but her windows were all dark, and she didn't answer when he banged on the door. Jimmy came out of his sister's house then - Heather rented the apartment over her garage -and told Jake that Heather had left on foot at about four. They'd asked her to join them for dinner, but she'd assured them she already had plans.

The panic had risen in his chest at that point, sure that she was lying in a ditch somewhere, but Jimmy's sister had joined them in the driveway, and when Jake expressed his concern she had told him that Heather had a standing invitation to spend all holidays with Principal McVeigh's family, and she was undoubtedly there.

Jake had had no choice but to apologize for disturbing their evening, and head home. He drove by Bailey's on the off chance she'd gone there, but it was dark as well, despite the fact that the generator was up and running, and lights were suddenly blazing on Main Street once more. He turned his car around, driving the route slowly, so he could scan the roadside, looking for her.

When he got home his father was already in bed, and April had disappeared into her room right after dinner, but his mother was still up. Jake, who even in his worst years, had rarely exchanged a cross word with her, found himself snapping at her when she began asking questions about Emily and him like it was ten years before, and they were still a couple. Gail was obviously hurt by his reaction, which only made things worse. Finally though, Jake was able to extract the promise that she would stay out of anything to do with him and Emily, or for that matter, any romantic interest he might have, though Emily, he stressed, was not a romantic interest anymore, and that was just the way it was.

It came out then that he'd invited Heather to Thanksgiving, which only served to confuse Gail. After all, she reminded him, he'd been complaining about her attempts to maintain traditions all day, so why would he invite Heather to a dinner he didn't even want to attend, and not tell anyone? Jake had grudgingly admitted that was all true, but he'd also argued that inviting Heather to dinner wasn't anything like playing the traditional Green Family football game as if the world hadn't been flipped on its head two months before; as if Dad hadn't almost died of the flu; as if Eric hadn't moved in with his mistress; as if he hadn't missed the last five Thanksgivings with the family.

Bemused, Gail had allowed Jake to win the argument, even though his reasoning didn't really make sense. Her spirits, which had taken quite a beating recently, were rising with the certain knowledge that her son had found someone to care about again, even if that someone wasn't Emily.

Truly, their disagreements were rare, and while Jake and Johnston had always had trouble forgiving each other their grievances, Gail and her son did not suffer for past hurts and wrongs. She'd hugged him fiercely, while he was still seated at the table, glad to once again have the advantage of height she'd lost just about the time he turned thirteen. She told him that she loved him, and that she was happy for him, and that surely Heather was safe, and whatever had prevented her from coming was unimportant, a miscommunication, or a mistake. Jake had groaned then, but only protested half-heartedly that she'd promised to stay out of it.

Gail left him, sitting in the dark kitchen with only a single, nearly burned out candle for light. Jake waited, listening as his mother climbed the stairs, then puttered around overhead as she prepared for bed. He decided that his only option was to wait for morning, then find Heather, and find out what had happened. He extinguished the candle with his fingers, then made his way upstairs by memory, and fell into bed.

The next morning Gracie Leigh was found dead.

It was Jimmy who found her, on his early morning foot patrol of the downtown district, and Jimmy who came out to the Green house to inform the mayor. Before the bombs, the only deaths Jimmy had ever investigated were car wrecks on the highway. He'd had an education over the previous two months, between the bodies they had found at Bass Lake, and the suicides he'd been called out for during the past few weeks, but those weren't anything like this. Gracie had been gutted, gutted like a fish, he'd reported to the mayor, his voice shaking, looking decidedly green.

Gail gave Jimmy crackers and tea, while Johnston fixed his stare on Jake, asking his son if he'd ever investigated a murder. Jake met his father's gaze evenly, only admitting to nothing official. Johnston still knew hardly anything about Jake's five years away from Jericho, but he was finding it surprisingly easy to read Jake now; he was no longer the punk kid who could lie to his father just as easily as he breathed.

Johnston told Jake that they would need his help on this, and Jake agreed reluctantly. He'd only wanted to find Heather this morning, make sure she was okay, and Jimmy's news had made him even more worried for her safety. He remembered to ask Jimmy then if he'd seen Heather, and was relieved when Jimmy reported that she'd come home about a half hour after Jake had left, and had even come into the house to have dessert with the family.

Jake had sucked down a deep breath, nodding his thanks to Jimmy, then suggested that they find Robert Hawkins, who had undoubtedly investigated a murder or two while he was with the St. Louis PD. Jimmy was dispatched to find Hawkins, while Johnston and Jake scarfed down a meager breakfast before heading downtown.

Hawkins didn't appear until nearly three in the afternoon, and Jake found himself alternately arguing with and defending himself to Eric, Gray, and any number of other people who insinuated themselves into the investigation. Even Johnston was convinced from the start that Jonah was involved in Gracie's murder, but he at least accepted the obvious: they didn't have any evidence linking Jonah to the killing, and that Jake wasn't going to invent evidence just to satisfy their need for answers. The others were suspicious of Jake's connections to his former employer, and Gray even accused Jake of covering up for Jonah, which caused Johnston to toss his mayoral rival out of town hall for the day.

A steady stream of gawkers lined the sidewalk outside of Gracie's market, and Jake went out to scan the crowd occasionally, hoping to spot Heather, but if she came by it was never when he was looking for her, and if she was ever there, she didn't come looking for him. By the time Hawkins showed, Jake was ready to drop the whole investigation in his lap, and wash his hands of it, but Hawkins wouldn't let him get away with that, although he was willing to take the lead. Jake didn't trust Hawkins farther than he could throw him, and he was sure the other man felt the same way about him, but at least they worked reasonably well together.

They wrapped things up, documenting the scene as best they could without photographs, interviewing the last two witnesses they could find - Dale Turner and Johnston Green - and even bagging, logging, and filing away evidence on the off chance that one day they would be able to perform forensic testing again. It was nine o'clock in the evening by the time they were done, and all Jake could do was curse whoever had killed Gracie Leigh for wasting his day, and head home for a bowl of his mother's vegetable soup before throwing himself in bed, vowing again to find Heather in the morning.

And that was how Jake Green found himself pounding on Heather Lisinski's apartment door at nine thirty in the morning two days after Thanksgiving.

* * * * * * * * * *

She looked surprised to see him, and even a little annoyed. "Jake! What are you doing here?" she demanded, stepping out of her apartment, forcing him to move back. She pulled the door closed behind her and crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.

"I'm looking for you," Jake hedged, suddenly feeling very unsure. "I was worried. What happened to you on Thanksgiving? Why did you miss dinner?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"Worried?" Heather's expression was incredulous. "That was two days ago. If I'd slipped in the shower and hit my head, I'd probably be dead by now."

"I knew from Jimmy that you were okay," Jake explained, reaching for her hand. "I came by Thanksgiving night," he added as she carefully disentangled her fingers from his, folding her hands together behind her back. "Didn't anyone tell you that? Why didn't you come to dinner? I thought we had plans."

Heather's tight-lipped, painfully neutral mask slipped some, anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. "Me too," she mumbled, turning suddenly and shoving her apartment door open.

"Stop. Heather, just stop," Jake demanded. He placed one hand gently on her shoulder to halt her retreat. She tensed, but didn't shake him off. "Did we have a fight that I somehow forgot about, or maybe missed completely?" He tried to keep the building dread out of his voice, but was less than successful.

"Let's not do this out here," Heather said softly a few seconds - an eternity - later. She pulled his hand off her shoulder, and held it loosely, almost distastefully, within her own. "I don't think everyone in the neighborhood needs to - needs to hear."

The main room of Heather's apartment was, simply put, a mess. Jake had only been in her apartment three times in the almost month since she'd kissed him for the first time; since they had started this - this thing that they rarely talked about or even acknowledged. They weren't dating exactly. Theirs was a tentative relationship, made up of stolen moments somehow fit in between the crises that seemed to occur at a rate of ten a week. "What happened in here?" The words escaped him before he could stop them.

Heather looked around, seeing the piles of books and other belongings, the out-of-place furniture, as if for the first time. She shrugged and swiped her forearm across her eyes. "Fall cleaning," she offered finally. "And, I know it doesn't make any sense. End of the world and all that, but I -" She paused, trying to smile but only managing a frown. "I needed a mental health day. There's no school 'cause of the break, and if I want to put all my books into better categories, what does that matter to anyone else?" Heather turned to face him finally, hands on her hips, the set of her chin defiant.

"Hey, knock yourself out." Jake found that he couldn't help but grin. It just seemed so Heather-ish for her to rearrange her whole living room when she didn't know what else to do; slightly obsessive and definitely adorable. He caught her watching him warily then, and sighed. "Heather, have you talked to anyone since Thanksgiving night? Do you know what happened?"

"Since Thanksgiving?" Heather echoed. She busied herself clearing a pile of books and magazines off of one end of the couch. She motioned Jake to the other end, and didn't protest as he gingerly gathered up the picture frames that were there and placed them, one at a time on the coffee table. "I didn't go anywhere yesterday. Stayed inside the whole day," she admitted dully. "What happened now?"

"Gracie Leigh was murdered Thanksgiving night," Jake told Heather, not looking at her, but at a photograph of her in cap and gown, arms linked with her parents, who stood on either side of her, all three smiling proudly. "Jimmy found her yesterday morning, and I was drafted as a homicide investigator." He turned sideways to look at her, and found her staring back at him, wide-eyed, stunned, scared. "When you didn't come to dinner, I came looking for you, and then I was going to come back yesterday morning, only Gracie was murdered, and I couldn't."

"Who?" Heather's voice was muffled behind her hands which she'd clasped over her mouth. "Who would kill Gracie?" she sniffled. "She could be... crusty, I guess, but...."

Jake wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he didn't think Heather was likely to accept that from him at the moment. He could read her signs, and while she'd offered him a seat on the couch, she'd also left a pile of photo albums between them. "Everyone assumes it was Jonah Prowse," He explained, settling back in his seat. "They'd had a run-in earlier in the day. My dad even walked in on it, but it's not like we have any evidence we can use. Fingerprints." Jake shook his head at the thought. "Jimmy and Bill dusted for fingerprints. In a damn store. So, even if we could find a way to process them here - eyeballing 'em, or using a junior high microscope - instead of sending them to the State Crime Lab, we only have, I don't know, a hundred, two hundred sets to sift through."

He hadn't realized until just that moment how much it had bothered him that they hadn't been able to solve Gracie's murder; that half the town -his own idiot brother - still thought he was loyal to Jonah Prowse, and would cover up for him; or that somehow he'd apparently screwed things up with Heather, and in less than a month. A new record for Jake Green.

"Why did you invite Emily to Thanksgiving?"

Heather's question startled Jake. He stared at her over the stack of albums. "I didn't."

She looked away, through the doorway leading to the tiny galley kitchen. "Look, Jake, I really do get it, okay? It's not like this - you and me - would have happened before Bizarro World, especially when you throw in Emily." Heather's voice pitched higher, and he could tell that she was fighting a sob. "I understand that. I know you two have a history -"

"Heather, I didn't invite Emily to Thanksgiving," Jake interrupted. He got up from his seat, and pushed the coffee table away until it came up against the rocking chair and stopped. Then, he scooped up the photo albums and deposited them on the table, knocking over Heather's graduation picture. "Sorry," he murmured, re-seating himself next to her so that weren't touching, but would be if either of them moved even a little. "Look, I didn't invite Emily, and I don't know why she'd say I did." Jake reached for Heather's hand, and for the first time that morning she didn't resist him. "Did she actually say I'd invited her?"

"Yeah," she answered softly. "Wait -" Heather inhaled deeply, chewing her lip while she thought back. "I ran into Emily Thanksgiving afternoon. She warned me not to go downtown because it was a mess, because everyone was fighting over the air-drop supplies," Heather recalled. "And, then she said that she had to go get ready. 'I've been invited to Jake's for Thanksgiving.'"

"Not 'Jake invited me to Thanksgiving,'" he prompted. "Because I didn't. My mom invited her, not me. I didn't even know she was coming until she showed up."

Heather blushed, the magnitude of her mistaken assumption hitting her. "Oh, God, Jake." She leaned sideways into him, and his arm instinctively went around her. "I am such a girl. A stupid, jealous girl," Heather moaned. She was red to the tips of her ears.

Chuckling, Jake tightened his hold, then forced her to raise her ducked head so he could press a tentative, testing kiss to her mouth. "I happen to like the fact that you're a girl," he murmured, running the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.

"Yeah, idiot girl," she muttered, making a sound that was something between a groan and a laugh. "I'm sorry, Jake," she continued a moment later. "I'm just so not good at any of this." Heather leaned her forehead against his, and sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, and you should kiss me more, if you haven't decided I'm completely insane."

"You're sorry, okay," Jake repeated, lifting Heather halfway into his lap. "You're not an idiot, or insane, and I need to kiss you more?"

She wound her arms around his neck. "Okay, well, I'm really not kidding when I say I'm not very good with any of this," she told him, blushing again, prettily. "But, really, in the last month, I've kissed you at least ten times, and you've kissed me three -"

"Four," Jake corrected, "Or, are we not counting just now?" He leered at her playfully, then covered her mouth with his own once more. "Five," he counted when they finally pulled apart.

"Okay, five," Heather granted, rolling her eyes, but smiling. "To my ten! Plus another, what, eight, that were too mutual to call."

Jake nodded. "Agreed."

"So, obviously, what's happening here is that I'm kissing you at twice the frequency that you're kissing me." Heather looked up at the ceiling. "And, I'm obviously a little insecure," she continued in a breathy rush, "As the whole Emily and Thanksgiving thing proves. Which all leads to the question: why don't you kiss me more?"

He kissed her then, an obvious delaying tactic that didn't appease her, and Jake knew it. Finally, he answered her question.

"Outside of Bizarro World, you and I never meet," he began softly, seriously. "We never meet," Jake continued quickly, forestalling her protest by cupping her cheek with his hand, "Because you're on a field trip while I'm in Jericho, and when you get back to Jericho, I'm halfway to Denver. And, I have to get to Denver because my train leaves at eight the next morning, and it's a day and a half to Sacramento, and then six or seven horrendous hours to Bakersfield, and last but not least, a bus to San Diego."

"But it's at least ten times harder for anyone to track the fact that I'm travelling by train rather than by plane, especially when I accidentally type my name as 'JJ Geren' when I make the reservation over the internet." Jake looked Heather in the eye, and their gazes locked. He exhaled and resumed. "'JJ Geren' is close enough to my ID that the guy at Amtrak doesn't feel like fixing it in the computer. He'd have to void out my previous ticket completely, and there's a line, and I'm paying cash, so who cares? And, that's the reason I take the train, which is nearly a week out of my life, and I don't really have a week to give, because two weeks ago - if this weren't Bizarro World - I was testifying before a Congressional Committee. Not the kind that they show on C SPAN, either. This is the closed door kind, the no staff in the room kind, the no transcript kind. And it could go a few different ways, but none of them are really all that great for me."

Jake paused and took a deep breath. He searched Heather's face for some sign of repulsion, or even confusion - not that it was easy to confuse Heather - but the only emotion he spotted there was concern. "So, the reason I don't kiss you as much as you kiss me is that you don't know who I was before that school bus, and -"

"Shhh," Heather murmured, interrupting him. She pulled away, turning on the couch so that only their knees were touching, then pressed two fingers to his mouth. "Shhh," she repeated, licking her lips. She waited another moment, marshalling her thoughts before speaking. "Congress doesn't exist anymore. We know that Washington DC is gone, and they were very conveniently holding a joint session of Congress at the time, which means that the Federal Government is pretty much Mimi."

"Don't tell that to Stanley," Jake quipped before frowning. "Heather, I'm really not worried about the Contempt of Congress citation."

"Were you - whatever you were doing - were you generally working on our side? The side of truth, justice, baseball, apple pie and mom?" Jake expression wasn't exactly readable, but Heather thought she recognized surprise. "Jericho's a small, gossip-ridden place," she told him. "I heard about the Army, Navy, Park Ranger, and minor league baseball the first week I knew you."

"I have - had - Federal Health and Retirement, and three weeks of vacation that I never bothered to use," Jake told her, his voice low and gravelly. "And, a million frequent flier miles, last I checked. I can't recall ever doing anything anti baseball or apple pie, and I'd guess I only did something that would have disappointed my mother 'bout once a week." Jake blew out a nervous breath. "Truth and justice weren't nearly as compatible with my job description as you'd expect. I had to settle for legal and sanctioned."

Heather had settled herself against him, within the loose circle of his arms, her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her then, and was actually amused at the blasé, completely accepting expression he found there. "Do you need to know more?" he asked, dipping his head in order to kiss her ear.

"I didn't need to know that much," Heather sighed. "We're in Bizarro World, after all. But, thank you," she murmured, stretching against him. "And, don't think you can leave all the initiating of kissing up to me anymore, mister," she teased, poking him lightly in the side. "I don't actually care all that much about what you did before. Kinesthetic learner," Heather said, pointing to herself. "I learn by direct experience and experimentation," she explained. "I know you, all I need to know, from experience. And experimentation."

"You have to love Bizarro World," Jake said, laying back on the couch and pulling Heather down on top of him. "The world in which the overall smartest person I know teaches third grade," he told her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But, of course, in Bizarro World you want the smartest person you know teaching third grade."

For that, Heather rewarded Jake with a kiss of the passionate variety, and it was awhile before either felt the need to speak again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jake awoke with a groan, Heather's hair tickling his nose. Observing the sunlight through the window in the opposite wall he judged the time to be an hour or so past noon. They had indulged in a good old-fashioned make-out session for awhile, but the adrenaline they had both been operating under had started wearing off, and soon they were both yawning, both admitting that they had hardly slept over the preceding two days. Heather had suggested a nap, curling up against his side, and it had sounded like the best idea he'd heard in days. Now though, Jake knew that, regrettably, he was late.

"Heather," he whispered against her hair. "Heather, babe, it's time to wake up."

"Unh-uh," she muttered, scrunching her eyes more tightly closed.

"But, I have to go," he told her. "Duty calls," Jake explained, kissing her on the forehead. "I'm taking two farmers, a miner, and a lawyer out on patrol. Training mission. So you understand, I really don't want to go. I have to."

Heather opened her eyes, and glared up at him half-heartedly. "That sucks," she pronounced sympathetically. With a sigh, she sat up and stretched both arms over her head. "I'm sorry you have to go."

Jake reached under the coffee table for his boots, and began loosening the laces on one so that he could put it on. "Probably not as sorry as me," he opined, standing up and stomping the boot onto his foot. Heather side-stepped in front of him, and eyed him expectantly. "Heather," he grumbled futilely. "I really need to go."

"Here's the deal," she announced. "You kiss me, just one more time - a good kiss - and I will allow you to proceed, completely unimpeded."

He laughed soundlessly, reaching around her to cup her head softly. He pulled her to him, and brushed a kiss across the corner of her mouth. "One kiss, and then completely unimpeded," Jake repeated.

"A good one," Heather reminded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Jake kissed her as ordered, and when they finally separated they were both panting. "Come to dinner tomorrow night," he invited, reaching for his other boot. "Sunday supper. Dinner with the parents, the pregnant sister-in-law," he added, shoving his foot into the shoe.

Heather's eyes widened in surprise. "April's pregnant?" she squeaked. "Wow. Really?"

"Yeah," Jake confirmed, stooping to tie his laces. "But, don't - don't spread that around. I'm pretty sure you're the first person not named Green to know that. Hell, I only know because she and I are currently sharing a bathroom." Jake stood up and grasped Heather by the shoulders. "And, I know you're friends with Mary, so I really shouldn't have told you, but knowing my brother....I doubt he's told her yet, so -"

"Got it," Heather nodded. "April, who? Pregnant, who?"

"Thanks," he murmured. "And, about my job, the Congressional hearing -"

"What? Your somewhat murky Federal employment status?" she joked weakly. "Look, as far as I know you were in either the Army or Navy, or you worked for the Park Service, or - does the Federal Government have anything to do with Minor League baseball?"

Jake smiled. "Not much," he answered, playing with a strand of her hair. "Look, my mom knows some of it - not about the hearing, not really -but all Eric and my dad know is that I was in Iraq -"

Heather stopped his hand, questioning, "You were in Iraq?"

"Yeah," Jake confirmed. "That's how I know all about Ravenwood."

"Wow," she breathed, gripping his hand tightly. "Okay, Army, Navy, Park Service - do they need game wardens in Iraq?"

"They need pretty much everything in Iraq. They did." Jake pulled Heather into his arms, holding her to his chest. "Thank you," he whispered against her hair. He cleared his throat. "So, will you come to dinner? Betcha anything it's rice crackers and dried fish, as long as Gray isn't dead."

"Sounds tasty," Heather quipped.

"Okay. This isn't working," Jake complained. Gently, he pushed Heather away from him. "You are too tempting," he told her seriously, "And, I really do have to leave. So," he continued, carefully forcing her to take a step back, "You stand here, and I'm going to walk to the door, 'cause that's the only way I'm getting -"

A long, loud, grumbly, growling sound emitted from the vicinity of Heather's stomach.

Jake stared at her, affecting a look that was somewhere between horrified and astonished. "Have you eaten anything today?" he demanded. "Did you eat anything yesterday?"

"Actually, no, not today," Heather confessed. "But," she said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder to point into the kitchen, "I have a can of fruit cocktail in there with my name on it."

"Heather," he sighed, shaking his head. "Okay. You stand right there, so I can go," he instructed. "Eat something. Come to dinner tomorrow."

Dutifully, Heather remained where he'd asked, grinning at Jake as he backed away, and into the door. "Eat something," he repeated, pulling the door open. "Come to dinner," he added, stepping through the door. "I love you," she heard, as the door snicked closed behind him.

He was halfway down the stairs when she made it onto the landing. "Me too," Heather called, grinning down at him. "Me, too."

Jake smiled back, over his shoulder. "Eat something! Dinner!" he called, loping down the last three steps. Then, he was around the side of the garage, out of her sight.

Heather went inside and enjoyed her fruit cocktail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

This story archived at http://www.thegreensofjericho.net/eFiction34/viewstory.php?sid=10