Be My Bizarro Valentine by Marzee Doats
Summary:

Jake and Heather celebrate the first Valentine's Day after the bombs.


Categories: Jake/Heather, Holidays > Valentines Day Characters: April Green, Heather Lisinski, Jake Green
Episode/Spoilers For: 1.16 - Winter's End, 1.17 - One Man's Terrorist, 1.18 - A.K.A.
Genres: Alternate Universe, Romance
Challenges: None
Series: Bizarro World
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 8125 Read: 15566 Published: 14 Feb 2009 Updated: 14 Feb 2009

1. Be My Bizarro Valentine by Marzee Doats

Be My Bizarro Valentine by Marzee Doats

Be My Bizarro Valentine by Marzee Doats

Acknowledgments: Much thanks to my beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their assistance and encouragement.  Also, thank you to Penny Lane for help with recalling the characters, plot and pacing of a certain television show that's not Jericho. :-)

Author's Note: Bizarro World becomes an alternate universe sometime during or after Crossroads and is most definitely alternate by Vox Populi, which did happen - think the election and the arrival of the refugees - but didn't happen exactly the same - so no Jake/Emily flirting, dancing or almost kissing.  Be My Bizarro Valentine is set between A.K.A. and Casus Belli, and contains spoilers for Winter's End, One Man's Terrorist, and A.K.A.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jake had moved out of his parents' home and into Heather's apartment on New Year's Eve.  It hadn't taken him long to pack - he didn't have much in Jericho - and all of his things had fit easily into one bag.  April had sat on his bed, watching him throw his clothes in randomly.  She'd told him everything would be wrinkled, and that she hated him.  And that she loved him.  And that she couldn't believe he was abandoning her here - alone - with his parents.  Not that she didn't love them, but when had this become her life?

He hadn't had an answer for her and he'd felt guilty for it.  Not enough to stay, of course, but still he'd muttered an apology at his closet door, shutting it after checking one last time to make sure he hadn't left anything behind.  April had laughed at him though, telling Jake that she was happy for him, and for Heather.  "Just don't break her heart, please," she'd sighed, "Don't turn into some bastard I'll be honor bound to hate."  Then she'd tossed something into his duffle bag, calling it a housewarming present. 

April and his mother had walked him out to his car, both acting like he was moving much farther than the ten blocks to Heather's apartment above the Hotchkiss's garage.  Gail had given him a small cardboard box full of food, explaining that it was his portion of their family's rations.  Jake had tried to make her take it back, staring pointedly at April and arguing that he didn't need it, that she should keep it, and that he and Heather were coming to dinner in three days anyway, remember?  But she had insisted, and he'd given in, if only to get the two women to go inside where it was a little bit warmer.

Heather had cleared out space for him in her closet and dresser and, clutching his hand, had led him into the bathroom where she'd shown him his shelf in the medicine cabinet.  Together, they had put away the food his mother had sent and then had repacked the box with food for the New Year's party out at Stanley's.  Their host had butchered a chicken for the occasion, and after dinner they'd popped corn over the fire.  They'd drunk eggnog and hot chocolate with marshmallows and had played card games - Oh, hell and Hearts - until midnight. 

Bonnie had decided to spend the night in town at a friend's so she could - as Stanley had explained, rolling his eyes - attend a real party, and this had left just the four of them to count down the last few seconds of the year.  Heather has kissed Jake as the antique clock on the mantle had struck twelve, and then had exchanged giggling, somewhat self-conscious hugs with Mimi and Stanley.  The four of them had expressed their hopes for a better year, though as Jake had snorted, that wasn't really hoping for much.  Finally, yawning and groaning about needing to be up early in the morning, they had all called it a night.

Rather than risk the road back to town at night, Jake and Heather had stayed over.  Lying together in the Richmonds' guest room, snuggled under a quilt that had undoubtedly been pieced together by Stanley's and Bonnie's grandmother, they had exchanged kisses, chuckling about spending their first night living together in someone else's house.  She'd fallen asleep before him, and as he lay there, listening to Heather's even breathing, it had occurred to him that he couldn't remember being so happy.

Four days later, April had died.  Jake had tried to be strong for his parents and brother, fighting his own overwhelming sense of loss.  But it was hard.  He and April had become friends of a sort, like siblings, and he'd been getting used to the idea of being an uncle.  Jake had gripped Heather's hand throughout the short funeral, grateful for her comforting presence beside him.  The next morning, Eric - numb with grief - and Stanley had departed for New Bern along with eight other men from Jericho, a human guarantee that the town would eventually pay up on its debts. 

Three weeks later, the truth about the Marines had come out when some kids had stumbled across the tank in Stanley's barn.  Challenged about the lie by Roger Hammond - the refugees having been put on half rations until the Marines returned - Gray had ordered the church's shelter closed and everyone residing there transported to the nearest FEMA camp.  The situation had quickly spiraled out of control, so badly in fact, that Jake hadn't really been able to explain what had happened to Heather hours later when they'd eaten dinner together in front of the woodstove.  She'd spent the day out with a work crew - including three refugees - harvesting materials for the town's biodiesel manufacturing efforts and had missed all the excitement.  Roger had already been exiled from Jericho by the time Heather, her cheeks ruddy from having worked outside all day in the cold air, had appeared at town hall looking for Jake. 

"Poor Emily," Heather had sighed, tucking herself under Jake's arm after he'd finished catching her up.  "I'd go see if she'd needs anything, but...."  She had trailed off shrugging. 

He'd nodded, knowing that the two women had become rather awkward with one another, and that it bothered Heather.  "I - I told him to go to New Bern," Jake had explained, "Find Eric or Stanley."

"Good," Heather had agreed, and then, by unspoken agreement, they had changed the subject.

Heather had fixed the fake Marines 'broken' radio easily enough, and after they'd been banished from town without their equipment, the unit had wound up in the basement of the Green family home where Johnston, Gail, Jake and even occasionally Heather had all tried to take turns monitoring it.  Doing so had proven to be - as Jake put it - a major annoyance and they were all so busy that there had been long stretches when no one had been available to listen.  So, the day after the tank had been found, he'd hauled the entire thing over to Bailey's, telling Mary to give discounts to anyone willing to fiddle with the damn thing for an hour or two.  He'd been surprised two days later when Jimmy had dragged him over to the tavern - they'd picked up an actual broadcast - to find that Heather was operating the radio.

The crowd, stunned silent, had parted to let him through, and he'd threaded his way to her, ending up behind her chair, both hands on her shoulders.  He'd stood there with everyone else - over a hundred people - holding their collective breath as they'd strained to listen to the news, hungry for any and every scrap.  Too soon, the broadcaster had signed off, admonishing, "Take care of each other, Kansas."

Snapping off the radio, Heather had let her head fall back against Jake's stomach.  "Well..." she'd sighed, forcing a smile.  Around them, the noise level had risen immediately as everyone began, all at once, to discuss what they'd heard in hushed and not so hushed tones.

"Yeah," Jake had agreed, squatting down next to her chair.  He'd taken her hand into both of his, clearing his throat.  "I didn't know you were over here," he'd told her.

"Radio's interesting at least," she'd shrugged.  "Plus, I am the one who put it back together," Heather had reminded, brushing the hair off his face with her free hand.  "Besides, I've just been so tired this week.  An inside, sit-down job seemed like the way to go for an afternoon."

Jake had frowned, playing absently with her fingers.  "What d'ya say we get you home, Kansas?" he'd teased gently though there was a genuine note of concern in his tone.  "So I can take care of you."

"So I'm Kansas now?" Heather had giggled, allowing Jake to pull her to her feet after he'd stood up himself.

"Yep.  It's your cowgirl name," he'd joked in return.  "Kansas Lisinski, wrangler of third graders, solver of problems big and small, purveyor of the best biodiesel this side of Rogue River, et cetera, et cetera."  Still laughing, she'd shaken her head at him, smiling.  "Now c'mon," he'd ordered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  It had taken them a while to reach the door as they were stopped every few feet by their anxious fellow citizens, all of whom wanted to ask a question or solicit an opinion on what it all meant.  Finally though, they'd made it out of the tavern and, with Heather resting her head on his shoulder more often than not, had slowly wended their way home.

A week later, Jimmy had come to Jake with his concerns about Robert Hawkins.  Once he'd convinced Jake to come with him, the deputy had hurriedly explained that Hawkins had an FBI badge, and the radio announcer had mentioned fake FBI badges in each of the three broadcasts they'd picked up so far.  Somebody needed to check Hawkins out, and he didn't want to involve Bill or Gray, and would Jake please just come with?

Jake had agreed reluctantly, arguing with Jimmy the whole way as they'd walked to the old Thompson place.  It wasn't that he trusted Hawkins, but if he was FBI, Jake had thought, then that would explain a lot, and it was certainly a better explanation than any of the alternatives he could come up with.  In the end, the truth had turned out to be even more fantastical than Jake would have ever imagined.  Worse, in order to protect Jimmy, their families, Heather, and the entire town, Jake had ended up as part of Hawkins' cover up.  He had done what he'd had to, but that hadn't meant he'd liked it or that it had set well with him.

That night and the next, he'd been unable to sleep, unable to keep his mind from racing as he'd contemplated from every angle the secret he now carried.  Heather had slumbered unaware beside him, curled into his side and wheezing softly as she fought the remnants of the head cold that they'd all been trading around for most of the winter.  Jake had been grateful for her presence in those long, dark, interminable hours when he hadn't been able to sleep.  Grateful for her presence, for the weight of her arm flung across his chest, and for the good feeling it had given him to watch her wake up in the morning.  He could keep Hawkins' secret, he'd decided, as long as doing so kept her safe. 

Now, a week and a half later, he could sleep again.   And, he could go whole hours - sometimes more - without even thinking of the bomb underneath Hawkins' garage.  In a weird way, things were starting to look up.  It had warmed up this week, and though they hadn't received the forecast from Punxsutawney - a fact that Heather had mourned deeply - they were all starting to think that maybe the worst of winter was over.  People were starting to argue about whether or not it was time to plant sweet potatoes, peas, squash.  Spring was coming.

But first, there was Valentine's Day to celebrate.  That morning, Heather had made him promise he'd come home early, implying that she had a romantic evening planned.  "I'm going to wear a dress," she'd told him, pressing a teasingly chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.  "I'm pretty sure you've never seen me in a dress," she'd continued, and Jake had nodded his confirmation.  "I'm even gonna shave my legs," she'd declared, giggling, "So now you know for sure, this is a special occasion!"

By four thirty, as promised, Jake was headed home.  He'd filled in for a half shift out at the Tacoma bridge checkpoint to start the day, before spending an unproductive hour in the sheriff department's sworn deputies' weekly meeting with Gray Anderson, the first since the mayor had returned to work after being shot.  If Gray, Bill and the three new (uniformed) deputies had noticed the tension simmering between Robert Hawkins, Jimmy and Jake, they hadn't said anything. 

Mid-afternoon, Jake had headed over to his parents' to check on them.  Privately, he'd been worried about how they'd been handling April's death and Eric's sudden absence, and so he tried to make it over to see them a couple of times a week.  They both were rarely seen about town these days, and in the previous month, Gail had only invited Jake and Heather to dinner twice.  His father hadn't been home - out hunting, his mother had said - but she'd been glad to see him, if somewhat distracted.  She'd hugged him, exclaiming over his too long hair and too thin frame, thanking him for the Valentine's gift of two somewhat mushy tomatoes he'd acquired through barter.  But the sorrow that haunted the house, the still overwhelming grief that held his mother in its grip, was oppressive, and it left Jake struggling to breathe.  He hadn't been able to bring himself to stay for very long, escaping at the first opportunity.

Climbing the stairs to Heather's - their - apartment, he could already feel his mood lightening.  He hummed happily to himself as he fitted his key into the lock, calling, "Babe, I'm home," as the door opened. 

"Bedroom!" she shouted back and, depositing the two tomatoes he'd brought for her on the coffee table, he crossed the apartment, meeting Heather at the bedroom door. 

"Wow!" Jake grinned, looking her up and down.  Her dress was a sleeveless v-neck with a full, knee length skirt and a sash tied on one side.  "Lady in red," he teased.  "You look great."

"Thank you!" Heather smiled, moving out of the doorway.  Barefoot, she padded the last two steps to him, offering him a quick kiss 'hello'.  "But, oh!  Hold on, I need to put the shoes on for the full effect," she laughed, catching his hand in hers and starting to pull him toward the door.  "But I haven't worn heels in a while and I kinda fell over earlier," she admitted.  There was a pair of strappy silver sandals lying on the floor.  Heather scooped them up with her free hand and, balancing herself on Jake's arm, slipped them on.  "There!" she declared, stepping back so he could take in her whole look.

"Gorgeous," he told her, "Happy Valentine's."  He waited a beat and then smirking softly, added, "To me."

Heather allowed a throaty chuckle, obviously pleased with his response.  Blushing prettily, she moved toward him slowly, tracing her toe along an imaginary line.  Jake couldn't help but drag her into his arms as soon as she was within his reach.  "Well, hello!" she laughed, twining her hands around his neck.  His mouth descended upon hers and, kissing her thoroughly, he backed her up to the bed.  "Happy Valentine's, Jake," she sighed happily, finally pulling away and dropping to a seat on the end of the mattress.

"What's with the bag?" he asked, frowning, as he seated himself next to her.  Heather's backpack was propped against a pillow.  It was stuffed full, and he could see a sweatshirt and the book she was currently reading sticking out of the top.  He hadn't noticed it until they'd sat down and, although she always took a pack along when she went outside of town with a work crew, he couldn't imagine what she'd be packing reading material for. "You going somewhere?" Jake questioned, a cautious note coloring his tone.

"Uh, I'm going to New Bern," she admitted.  Her expression was ... guilty, Jake decided, his jaw clenching involuntarily.  "Tomorrow."

"Why?  Who's going with you?" he questioned, forcing himself to not overreact. 

"Harry Carmichael," Heather replied, flashing him a nervous smile.  "Kevin Philpot - he was one of my students this year.  He was on the bus that night, actually," she explained, twisting her hands together nervously in her lap.  "Anyway Kevin fell out of a tree he was climbing yesterday, broke his leg.  His father's one of the ones in New Bern and his mother's pregnant - just found out - and just with everything..." she shrugged, "She needs him.   We're gonna go down so he can come back to be with his family."

"Okay," Jake acknowledged tersely.  Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  "But why do you need to go?  Harry can take someone from the border patrol," he suggested, "Someone who can actually ride shotgun."  He'd suggested more than once that Heather learn how to use a gun, just in case, but she'd resisted and he hadn't pushed the issue.

"Well, I was gonna ask if there was anyone you could spare," she told him, offering a tentative smile.  "But actually," she continued, exhaling deeply and reaching for his hand which she then held tightly between both of hers, "I'm going along to switch out with Nick Philpot.  I mean, the deal is ten from Jer -"

"What?" he demanded, shaking his head 'no' emphatically, his vow to not react, forgotten.  He pulled his hand loose from hers and jumped to his feet, glaring down at her.  "No.  No!  That's - that's crazy!  You can't just go to New Bern."

"Of course I can, Jake," she argued.  Heather had known from the moment she'd agreed to go - offered, really - that Jake wouldn't like the idea, and that she'd have to be careful how she presented the situation.  That was, she thought ruefully, if he'd let her explain.  "I'll be fine.  I grew up there," Heather reminded, standing and moving to press herself against him.  "Besides it's just for a few days," she reasoned, smiling and twining her arms around his neck.  "Laura Philpot's brother can go down next week.  I'm just the sub for the week in between."

He closed his eyes, grinding his fist against his leg and fighting the urge to get heavy handed and forbid her to go.  She'd never listen anyway, and the most likely outcome was that she'd go to New Bern and be angry with him.  Still he couldn't keep himself from asking.  He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with hers.  "Heather, please don't go," he sighed, resting his hands on her waist.

"It's a week, Jake," she countered quietly, "That's all.  I need to do this.  And, I'll be fine.  It's my hometown," she reminded, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.  "Plus, I'll be with Eric and Stanley and the whole Jericho crew."  Heather risked a smile, hoping he'd return it, though she was happy to settle for the softening of his frown. 

"So, why can't Harry fill in if it's just a week?" he demanded.  Jake reached back, disentangling her hands and, holding onto them, slowly put her away from him, just enough that they could really see one another - just enough that she could see the worry and determination in his expression.  "Or anyone else?" he added, grasping at straws as his grip tightened around her fingers.  "Hell, if somebody needs to go, I'll go."

Her lips pressed tightly together, Heather didn't respond immediately, instead considering her options.  "Jake," she murmured, pulling one hand loose.  She reached up cupping his cheek and then combing her fingers through his bangs.  "Harry's got a family.  He doesn't want to go.  But I do," she admitted.  "The windmills were my idea.  I just want - I want to go help build one.  And, really, I swear, it's just for a few days.  In fact, I'll be back a week from tonight."

"I just - I -"  He shook his head, clearly frustrated.  "I don't know," he grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Jake," Heather protested, frowning at him momentarily.  In the next instance, though, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.  Jake stood motionless, unresponsive.  "Please..." she requested, nipping at his lower lip.  He still didn't move, but Heather could tell that he was fighting hard to not react, and so she persevered.   "Don't be..." she continued, her voice a husky whisper.  "Mad," Heather finished with another kiss. 

"I'm not mad," Jake insisted, though the irritated noise he made belied his claim.  He knew he couldn't stop her.  It wasn't his right, and besides Heather's enthusiasm, her willingness to always pitch in whenever and wherever something needed to be done was one of the many reasons he loved her.  "But I still don't want you to go," he told her.  "I'll miss you too much, babe," he confessed, his tone and expression so morose that Heather couldn't help but chuckle in sympathy.  "And I'll worry about you, and I won't be able to sleep while you're gone."

"I'll miss you, too," she assured, placing a soft kiss on his mouth.  "But think how much fun it will be to celebrate when I get back," she whispered.

It was a tense few seconds before he finally gave in, returning her kiss.  "Got a better idea," Jake murmured against her mouth.  "Why don't we celebrate you deciding to not go to New Bern?" he suggested, nipping at the corner of her mouth.  "Right now."

"Tell you what," Heather said, hooking her thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans.  "If you want, you could come pick me up.  Bring Randy Durston down with you, and then get me, bring me home."

"Okay," Jake nodded, letting out a deep breath.  He pulled her into a hug, needing to hold on to something, needing to hold onto her.  "And you've got date," he assured, gruffly.  He pressed his face into her hair, kissing the top of her head.  "I'll pick you up at ten in the morning next Thursday, 'kay?"  They all tried to avoid being out on the road before sunrise or after dark, but if Jake got his way, he and Randy would be on the highway at first light.  "Home in time for lunch," he decided.

"Definitely a date," she nodded.  "Home, lunch, and then we celebrate," Heather declared, dislodging him as she tilted her head up, her lips puckered in an invitation he was more than happy to accept.  "Thank you.  I mean, I know you don't like this, so thank you."

"Sure," he mumbled.

"It'll be fine, Jake," she promised, clutching his shirt with one hand.  "I promise.  Now," she drawled, taking a step back and reaching for both of his hands, lacing their fingers together. "Can we have Valentine's?" she requested.

"Why not?" he shrugged.

"Jake," she sighed, biting her lip for a second.  "Be my Valentine?" Heather requested, cocking her head to the side and offering him a hesitant smile.  She leaned into him, brushing her lips over his.  "Pretty please?"

"Yeah," he agreed, cracking the slightest of grins.  If she was leaving in the morning - and he had to accept that she was - he wasn't going to spend their last evening together for a week fighting.  "But you have to be mine, too," he informed her.  With that, Jake took a deep breath, backed up into the bed and sat down, pulling Heather down onto his lap.  "So, where were we?" he teased, kissing her again.

* * * * *

A half hour later, after giving Heather one last kiss, Jake left her contemplating her tomatoes while he headed downstairs to the garage for firewood.  She'd been thrilled with the present - giddy almost - and he was feeling pretty good about his gift giving abilities all of a sudden.  He'd learned early the power of flowers, and he'd certainly used that knowledge to his advantage over the years, but now he was finding that (mostly) fresh produce, given both his mother's and Heather's responses - though only Heather had kissed him quite so enthusiastically - was the way to go, post apocalyptically speaking.  She'd decided immediately to incorporate the tomatoes into their dinner, arguing aloud with herself about the best thing to do with them and, laughing softly, he'd left her to it.

"Okay, I'm doing the tomatoes in vinegar and oil," Heather announced loudly as he stepped into the tiny kitchen.  Smiling, she turned around, almost slashing him with her knife.  "Jake!" she screeched as he took a step back, brushing tomato juice off his coat.  "You're not supposed to be there," she complained.  "Don't sneak up on me like that."

He held his hand up in mock surrender.  "You got it.  And you know," he continued a beat later, "Last time a woman threatened me with a knife, she was Iraqi and thought I was trying to steal her goat," he chuckled. 

"Well, were you?" she inquired, smiling as she turned back to her task.  She'd heard him come back into the apartment, but as ridiculous as it sounded, she'd been enjoying slicing the tomato, touching the plump flesh of the vegetable, smelling it!  So absorbed, she hadn't realized that he'd joined her in the kitchen.  "Stealing the goat?"

"What would I do with a goat?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes.  "What I was tryin' to do was to get it off the road so the stupid thing wouldn't get run over," Jake said, moving toward her.  "Especially by me.  Okay, I'm right here," he announced, stepping behind her and resting his hands lightly on her hips, "So don't stab me."

Heather leaned back against him, letting her head fall back on his shoulder.  She turned her head, pressing a series of quick kisses to the side of his neck.  "Is it crazy to say that I'm in love with a tomato?  They're so beautiful," she sighed, raising her head and pointing her knife toward the one she was slicing.  "Look at it," she instructed.  "I - I could just look at it - and smell it - for the next hour.  But I also just really want to eat it," Heather admitted with a laugh.  She dropped the knife on the cutting board and then twisted around, Jake's arms coming up around her automatically.  "Thank you," she smiled.

"Well, you're welcome," Jake told her, clearing his throat softly.  "And, hey!  Dig in," he urged, rubbing her bare arm with one hand.  "They're for you."

""And you," she reminded, "Two tomatoes, one for each of us. It's only fair."  Heather rotated around and resumed slicing the tomato.  "So, did your Mom like hers?" she asked.

"She seemed happy," he answered, moving to lean against the counter next to her.  "Did want to know what I'd traded Mrs. Dalton to get 'em."  The Daltons, along with a few other families in Jericho, had kept a greenhouse for years, growing their own vegetables, and were now making a tidy profit, bartering hothouse tomatoes and other produce for goods or services.

"What'd you trade?" Heather inquired, glancing sideways at him.  "Though, whatever it was, it was worth it.  Four tomatoes?  I'd totally give up a day's rations, for both of us."

"Wasn't quite that expensive, and don't worry about it," he instructed, not bothering to explain that, as with long stemmed roses in the past, the price of tomatoes had doubled in honor of the holiday.  "I've got it covered," Jake assured, picking up a spoon that was sitting on the countertop and playing with it absently.  "You know, Mom invited us both to dinner on Sunday...."

"That's nice of her," she replied with a smile.  "And you should go," Heather said, giving him a quick kiss as she stepped around him so she could get into the corner cupboard.  She'd abandoned her high heeled sandals in favor of a pair of thick, fuzzy socks, and she had to stand on tiptoe in order to reach the vinegar.  "Then, get your Mom to invite us over the week after, when I'll be home," she suggested, stretching for the bottle.

"So, Gail's Mystery Goulash isn't enough to tempt you to stay, huh?" Jake asked, emitting a sigh.  He moved behind Heather, snaking one arm around her waist to steady her and reaching for the vinegar with his free hand.  "Somehow, I didn't think so," he admitted, giving her the almost empty bottle and pressing a kiss to the back of her head.  "There you go."

"Thank you, sir," Heather laughed softly as she twisted around in the tight circle of Jake's arms.  She brushed her mouth across his, saying, "And, you know, I'll probably get some mystery goulash in New Bern, which'll just make me that much more appreciative for your Mom's.  So there," she declared, giving him a peck of a kiss before pulling free from his embrace.

She went to work then, arranging tomato slices on two plates before dousing them in oil and vinegar, and sprinkling them with seasoning salt and pepper.  Heather had taken a lesson from his mother, often doctoring their monotonous meals of mostly rice with spices, and so they were quickly working their way through her spice rack.  Living in Jericho, they would always have salt of course, but Jake knew he'd miss the curry and the cumin and the paprika when they were all gone. 

"Okay!" Heather declared, handing both plates to Jake.  "Now we don't have to worry about scurvy either.  Plenty of vitamin C in tomatoes."

"And, I've been really worrying about getting scurvy, too," he teased.  "This it?"

"We've got some rice and a little bit of the rabbit from your Dad," she answered, glancing at the spice rack.  "How does ... saffron rice and rabbit sound?"

Jake, taking care not to spill either plate, gave her a quick kiss.  "Sounds great," he assured.

Heather wouldn't let Jake help as she prepared the rest of their dinner, reheating on the wood stove some cooked rice and the rabbit which she mixed together and then sprinkled with the saffron.  They ate sitting on the sofa in front of the fire and when they were done, Jake insisted on washing the dishes, sending Heather to get a sweater after he noticed her shiver more than once in her sleeveless dress.

"Wednesday night," she reminded him when he rejoined her on the couch ten minutes later.  With care, Heather tucked a quilt around them both, snuggling into Jake's side and smiling at him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  "What do you want to watch on TV?" she teased, "LostLaw and Order?"

"Not Lost," he snorted, rolling his eyes.  Heather had invented this game, and while he had fun with it, coming up with plots for Lost required too much brain power.  "But we can do Law and Order," Jake shrugged.  "Something ripped from the headlines?" he drawled.

"Me first," Heather decided, pointing an imaginary remote at the stove.  "Okay, first, the intro: 'In the criminal justice system the people are represented by two separate but equally important groups,'" she recited from memory, affecting a deep voice.  "'The police, who investigate crimes, and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders.  These are their stories.'"  She paused for a moment before continuing, her expression serious.  "So, we open on a dark street... No!" she decided with a shake of her head, "It's a parking garage, but still dark.  Uh, Steve and Kristen ... Smith are arguing about what to get little Debbie -"

"Little Debbie?" Jake snickered.

Blushing softly, Heather smacked him on the arm.  "Hey I get first scene," she protested.  "And little Tommy.  They're arguing about what to get little Tommy as a reward for a week of no accidents at school.  Trust me, this happens."

Jake made a face. "Okay, little Tommy didn't pee his pants, so Mom and Dad wanted to get him some Matchbox cars."

"Oooh!  Very good," Heather complimented, "We'll use it.  Dad wants to get him Matchbox cars, but Mom thinks a paint-by-numbers set would be better.  So they're arguing and then Dad stops and says, 'hey, didn't we park on the fourth floor?' and Mom says, 'no, we parked right over there...' doing a hundred and fifty degree turn in the middle of the garage. Then she screams.  Bloody body of a woman - curiously wearing a mink coat - slumped against the door of a Buick."

"Okay, so Detective Munch arrives," Jake declared, picking up with the next scene.  About the only rule they had was that they had to take turns.  That, and ridiculous plot twists were encouraged.  "He ducks under the police tape -"

"And joins Briscoe and Green, who are already there, looking over the body," she interjected.  "Though, why we always have to do a crossover episode, I don't know," Heather teased, squealing when Jake tickled her side.

"Because Briscoe's dead, but I still let you have him in every episode," he reminded. 

"These are reruns," she argued, "And you have to have Lenny for the all important one-liner at the end of the scene.  Hello!"

"Right," he acknowledged, smirking.  "So Munch joins the other two saying, 'you called?'  And, Green tells him that their victim is a forty two year old recent divorcee from?" Jake glanced sideways at Heather, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Uh, Tribeca?  Upper west side?" she offered with a shrug.

"Sounds good," Jake agreed.  "She was shot through the heart at close range, probably dead before she hit the ground.  Munch says 'too bad her mink's not Kevlar' -"

"Oooh!  And Lenny says, 'talk about my bloody valentine'," Heather interjected.

He groaned softly, then said, "Dund dun.  Roll opening credits."


"Back at the station house," she decided, picking up the story.  "Briscoe and Munch have the ex-husband in the interrogation room and are playing good cop/bad cop."

"And Green's watchin' through the window with Lieutenant Van Buren and Claire Kincaid," Jake offered.

Chuckling softly, Heather twisted around so she could wrap her arms around his neck.  "Not Serena Southerland?  I mean, Claire got killed back when Benjamin Bratt was still around.  Way before Green," she reminded.  "And Lenny was feelin' all guilty."

"Well, you know," Jake shrugged, "This is the crossover episode, and Green's got a little crush on Kincaid," he joked, winding a lock of her hair around his finger.  "She reminds him of someone," he teased.

"She does, huh?" she murmured, smiling gently.  "Well, I guess we can bring her back then."  Heather let go of Jake, rotating around again until she could lean back against him, safely ensconced in his arms.  "So they're watching through the one way mirror, and of course the ex-husband isn't being helpful.  Munch busts a chair or something, and Briscoe calms him down.  Claire is concerned," she declared, turning her head so that Jake could see her 'concerned' frown and wrinkled forehead.  "There's a knock on the door, and nameless, extra police officer hands a note to Van Buren.  She reads it and tells Green to call them off.  The ex has lawyered up."

"Yeah, it's about that time," Jake agreed.  "So the three detectives go off to the medical examiner's.  Rodgers gives them the results of the autopsy.  It's pretty much what they expected - died of a gunshot to the heart - but then she drops the surprise.  Mrs. Mink was pregnant."

"Okay," Heather laughed almost self-consciously.  "Interesting.  Didn't see that one coming," she admitted, letting her head fall back against Jake's shoulder. 

"Really?" he questioned, absently rubbing her arm with his hand.  "Every, I dunno, fifth episode, somebody's unexpectedly pregnant.  The nanny or the teenage daughter or whoever."

"Right," she nodded against his arm.  This time, there was no mistaking the nervousness of her laugh.  Jake felt his own anxiety level starting to rise.  They had discussed the issue of course - how to avoid it, really - and then once April had died, the subject had become almost taboo.  "Well, it - it happens, so that makes sense," Heather giggled, sitting up and looking back over her shoulder, eyes wide.  "On the show," she clarified in a rush of breath, "It happens more than you'd expect."

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.  "Heather -"

"Emily's pregnant," she informed him, whispering. 

"I know," he returned, expelling a relieved breath.  "Mom - Mom told me when I took her the tomatoes," he explained.  "I guess Emily's looking for some help and naturally thought this would be a great way to get Mom's mind off April."  He rolled his eyes.  If it worked, Jake would be the first to thank Emily, but he didn't think substituting another pregnant woman for his sister-in-law would assuage his mother's grief; just the opposite.   He worried her period of mourning would be prolonged as she experienced those things with Emily that she'd been looking forward to sharing with April.  "Anyway, Mom told me today."

"Emily told me," Heather sighed, allowing Jake to pull her back against his chest so that they were snuggled together.  "This morning.  I went to get our rations for the week and ran into her.  She seemed..." she began before breaking off, shaking her head.  "I dunno.  I don't know if it's hit her yet.  But it's gonna be really tough without Roger here to help."

"It'd still be tough if he were here," Jake argued, "Way things are right now."  He let out an uneasy chuckle.  "I have to admit, I was - I was worried there for a minute.  That you were going to tell me something else."  He laughed again, still somewhat nervously, tightening his hold on her.  "But, then again, you wouldn't be going to New Bern if .... Anyway."

Heather waited a long, awkward ten seconds before responding, speaking so quietly at first that Jake had to strain to hear her.  "I'm not, I swear.  But - but I did think...wonder," she giggled shakily, "For - for a few days there."  Feeling antsy, she pulled away from Jake again, sliding forward to sit on the very edge of the couch.  She looked back at him, her smile guarded, reminding, "I mean, we weren't exactly careful the - the first time."

Jake nodded, staring past her.  They had taken a risk - a big one - on Christmas Eve, and he'd known it then as well as he did now.  At the time he hadn't cared, giving himself over to the moment and damning the consequences.  Tonight though, looking back, he couldn't believe they'd been so irresponsible.  "Well, luckily we dodged the bullet this time," he decided, meeting her gaze.

"Right," she agreed almost too quickly, clearing her throat.  Her eyes looked suspiciously bright in the low light given off by the stove, and she blinked rapidly, swiping her arm across her face.  "Absolutely.  It's nowhere near the right time to even be thinking....  Way too early," she insisted, turning away, her gaze concentrated on her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Babe," he murmured, laying a hand on her shoulder, "It really isn't a good time.  For lots of reasons."  He scooted forward on the couch, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, and pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear.  "Hell," he chuckled softly, "Do you know what my mother would do to me if I got a woman I wasn't married to pregnant at my age?"

He was quoting April.  "You know, your mother'll kill you if you get her pregnant before you marry her," she'd said, tossing a box of condoms into his duffle bag.  "Heather was on the pill, back before, but her prescription has to be out by now.  The curse of my job," she'd groaned, offering a wry smile.  "I know the birth control methods of half the town.  And, I so just violated doctor/patient confidentiality," she'd finished, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, I promise not to tell," Jake had answered, staring at the box.  "Thanks."

"Consider it a housewarming present," she'd told him, gesturing at her gift and giggling knowingly.  "Enjoy."

"Married?" Heather asked, startling him out of the pleasant, if slightly embarrassing, memory.  He missed his sister-in-law, as much as he tried to pretend that he hadn't been keenly affected by her death.  Heather, her eyebrows arching close to her hairline, stared at him over her shoulder, her expression unfathomable.  "Married?" she repeated.

"Well...eventually, yeah," he shrugged.  She turned toward him, bumping his knee with her own.  They both laughed nervously, and Jake reached for her hand.  "This is - Jericho is - my home.  Never thought I'd say that," he admitted, "But even if everything went magically back to the way they were before.... I'm where I want to be.  I'm with the person I want to be with."

Beaming, she quickly wiped her eyes and then leaned toward him, brushing her lips over his.  "Me too," she sighed happily, laying her hand over his when he brought it up to cup her cheek, deepening their kiss. 

They continued to exchange caresses and kisses until, laughing, they were forced to separate, having become hopelessly tangled in the quilt meant to keep them warm.  Jake stood up, yanking the old bedspread loose.  "I'm cold," Heather complained, laughing softly at herself. 

"Think we need to get you out of that dress," Jake informed her with an affectionate leer.

"Yeah," she grinned, teasing, "But if I take this off I'm puttin' on my flannel pajamas.  The red ones," she promised, "So at least they're Valentine-y."

"Hey, I can work with flannel," he reminded.  "But let's see what we can do in the mean time," he continued, pulling the quilt around himself and then reseating himself next to her.  "C'm'ere," he smiled, and it was all the invitation Heather needed; he held the bedspread open and she moved into his lap, kissing him on the chin as he wrapped the quilt around her, hugging her.  "So where were we?"

"We were worrying about reasons why your Mom might kill you," she reminded, stroking the back of his hand with her own.

"Right," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Though I'm still thinking about those red pajamas," he joked, settling back against the couch and drawing her with him.

"Yeah," she acknowledged absently before falling silent for a few seconds.  "I'm - I'm not pregnant," Heather told him then, resting her head on Jake's shoulder.  "But I thought that I might've been," she confessed.  "A couple of weeks ago, just for a day or two."

"You should have told me," he muttered, though there was no rebuke in his tone, only concern.

"I know," she shrugged.  "And I know that it's a good thing that I'm not.  I mean, not only would it be ridiculously, embarrassingly cliché...."  Groaning she shook her head.  "I should be glad.  Relieved," Heather listed, shifting uncomfortably in Jake's lap.  "Which I am.  Just not one hundred percent, I don't think."
 
"Well I am," Jake said, tightening his hold on her when he felt her stiffen.  "But wait a minute," he continued, cutting off her protest.  "I'm not - I'm not saying that I don't ever want that.  I think - maybe - with you, I do," he told her, kissing her temple.  "But right now?  Heather, things are too...they're too precarious," Jake decided.  "And, you and me, we can make it through winter on these starvation rations, but a baby?  I don't wanna hafta - hafta watch our kid go hungry, or ... something worse," he finished, unable, in the end, to say the word.  Die.  But they couldn't pretend it wasn't happening around them every day.  Out of everyone in Jericho, the children, even more than the elderly, fared the worst.

"Oh."  Her voice was so small that, with his cheek pressed to hers, he felt as much as heard her utter the single syllable.  "And I don't want - I don't want that either," she insisted.  "But it's not always going to be like it is now.  We're figuring some of this stuff out," Heather reminded, and that was certainly true.  She, especially, was helping to figure out how to do the things they would need to do, both as individuals and as a town to ensure their own survival and more.  "But someday?" Heather asked, scooting around so that she sat sideways across his legs.  The bedspread fell from around her shoulders and she smoothed it out over her lap, her expression hopeful as she glanced up at him and then back down.

"Definitely," he assured, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  The slightest of smiles touched his lips as he allowed himself, just for a moment, to consider what it would be like to be a father, everything he could teach a child of his - their - own: how to ride, and to hunt, and maybe even one day, how to fly.  The things he'd learned from his own father and grandfather.  Things he wanted to one day pass down.  "Definitely someday, babe," Jake grinned softly, tilting her chin up with one finger before placing a kiss on her lips.  "Just when everything's a little bit better, more stable."

Heather nodded, staring at him - studying him - intently for a long, charged moment.  He was right of course about the insecurity of the world they lived in now.  It was not a place to bring children into, not if you could prevent it.  But one day it could be again - would be - as long as they worked together.  She loved him; for his honesty with her, for his care and concern, for letting her make her own choices even when he didn't agree with them, for loving her in return.  Heather couldn't imagine her life without Jake now, and she didn't want to.  Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she continued to watch him - and came to a decision.  Licking her lips, she offered him the slightest of smiles.  "Will you - will you marry me, Jake?" she asked.

"Get married?" he repeated, "Right now?  I thought you were goin' to New Bern tomorrow," Jake chuckled.  "But, hey," he added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "If you want to get married instead, that's fine with me."

"I'm being serious," Heather protested, doubt flickering across her face.

"So 'm I," Jake returned with a smile.   Taking a deep breath, he found her hand, lacing their fingers together.  She'd surprised him with her question, but he had no qualms about his answer.  "And yes, I'll marry you.  Just tell me when and where.  I love you," he finished, squeezing her hand.

"How 'bout when I get back from New Bern?" she proposed, cradling his hand in her lap.  "'Cause you know, we definitely want to make sure that things all happen in the right order so you don't get in trouble with your Mom.   Wouldn't want her to have to kill you or anything," she clarified, flashing a teasing grin.

"Right," he acknowledged with a soft snort.  "So...when you get back from New Bern, we'll get married."

"You better believe it," Heather declared emphatically.  "That very day," she suggested on impulse.  "Though, maybe we should give your parents some warning and wait 'til Eric and Stanley get back," she added, frowning as she considered the matter.  Her expression turning sheepish, she admitted, "But, I'm not sure I want to wait that long."

"Me either," he said, playing with her fingers. "So how about we wait 'til that Saturday and call it good?" he grinned.

"Perfect!" she giggled, smiling in return.

They both took deep breaths, chuckling softly at their synchronicity as the momentous nature of their decision settled over them.  But neither could regret it.  Jake lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm, requesting quietly, "Be my Valentine?  For the rest of our lives?"

Heather nodded.  "For the rest of our lives," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him until she was sprawled atop him on the couch.  "Forever," she whispered against his lips, kissing him hungrily.  "Forever."


* * * * * * * * * *

To be (eventually) continued....


For the record:

Punxsutawney Phil is perhaps the most famous ground hog in the US.  This year (2009) he has predicted 6 more weeks of winter.  In 2007 (when this story takes place) he predicted an early spring, which would be a good thing indeed, for the residents of Jericho.

Lost is produced by ABC Studios, Touchstone Television and Bad Robot.

The Law and Order franchise was created by Dick Wolf and is produced by Studios USA .

This story archived at http://www.thegreensofjericho.net/eFiction34/viewstory.php?sid=46