Different Circumstances: Part 11A of ?
by Marzee Doats
Author's Note: One of the many things I take issue with when it comes to Jericho is the very screwy timeline the producers and writers have given us. For example, I object to the fact that the episodes Heart of Winter and Winter's End don't really appear to take place in winter, although there is plenty of time between Thanksgiving at the war with New Bern for them to do so. Since Different Circumstances is VERY alternate universe at this point, I'm stepping away some from what appears to be the official timeline. I figure if you're still with me, then that's a very minor detail that shouldn't bother you too much. I'm a purist who happens to think that elections should always be held on Tuesdays, and it suits my purposes better to have a long weekend between the end of Red Flag and the beginning of Vox Populi, so that's the first (small) timeline change I'm making. Rather than Gracie being murdered on Thanksgiving night, she was murdered on Sunday night, and our story opens on Monday morning....
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, November 27, two months after the bombs
"Hey," Emily Sullivan called out, climbing onto the small rise of balding lawn and overgrown ivy that ran along the entrance to Jericho's town hall. She walked toward Jake and squatted down beside him, offering a friendly smile when he looked up at her a few seconds later.
Jake returned the smile, though his was distracted, disappearing in an instant. "Putting a hand pump on this well so we don't have to waste generator power for water," he explained. He continued to turn his screw driver, loosening a brass plaque that was bolted down over a small patch of concrete.
Emily's grin also faded, and she inquired, surprised, "There's really a well under there?"
Shifting over, Jake started to work on the next bolt, laying his screw driver aside in favor of a plumber's wrench he'd liberated ten minutes earlier from the tool shop in the basement of town hall. "First well in Jericho, according to the sign," he confirmed, making a quiet chuffing sound. "Gramps was president of the historical society for five, six years. Think he'll forgive me for desecrating this official historical marker?"
"Probably," Emily shrugged, obviously not at all interested in whether or not EJ Green would have approved of his grandson's current activities. "You know, I remember the first that happened right there," she declared, pointing across the way at the small ornamental fountain, no longer in operation, that had been installed on the town square in honor of the one hundredth anniversary of Jericho's founding. She looked back at Jake, catching his eye and grinning.
"Oh-ho-ho," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You shouldn't have dared me," he told her. Jake paused in his efforts, taking a moment to study the woman next to him. He hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving night, four days before, when he and Heather had announced after dinner that they were walking downtown. Emily had been a little tipsy by that point, and his mother had insisted that she stay for a bit and chat, but she'd been gone by the time they'd come home two hours later. "So, what's up?"
She ignored his question, and instead refuted his earlier claim. "No one had to dare you," Emily laughed.
Grunting softly, Jake shook his head. He wasn't embarrassed, exactly, over that incident - one of the milder indiscretions of his youth - but he also had to acknowledge that he was grateful not to be sixteen anymore. Even with all of the challenges they now faced, Jake was coming to realize, as his mother had kept insisting all weekend, they had plenty to be thankful for still. He was happy with his life now, with Heather. He glanced at Emily again, finding himself a little annoyed by her amused, knowing grin. "Yeah, well I remember one of your finer moments," he challenged, putting his wrench down and picking up the screwdriver, which he used to point down the street. "Right over there behind Bailey's."
"Yeah," Emily groaned, making a face, "Let's not talk about that. I could get sick right here," she admitted.
"Well, some people can't hold their apple wine coolers," Jake teased, relieved to have the upper hand for the moment.
"Yeah, well...." She protested lamely.
Grinning at his memory of that night, Jake couldn't help but rub it in a little more. "You kept singing that depressing song by that uh ... bald girl," he decided.
"Sinead O'Connor," Emily supplied, wrapping her arms around herself. "And - And that was our song."
"Our song?" Jake snorted, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "I never got a vote."
Emily didn't respond immediately, instead sitting back on her heels, still hugging herself, to study Jake. If he was aware of her scrutiny then he hid it well, returning to work on his project, tackling the fourth and final bolt. "You and Heather have a song?" she inquired, affecting a nonchalant tone that didn't quite ring true.
"Yeah," he nodded, setting his wrench down. "It's kind of a requirement to get married after all," Jake joked, shrugging. "Band has to have somethin' to play for that first dance. And, I don't know that there was ever a vote, but at least I understood the selection process," he told her, retrieving his screwdriver. "And it's not depressing."
"What's the song?" Emil asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.
"The first song we ever danced to," Jake returned. "Before we got married, I mean."
"But do you know the name of the song?" she demanded, her tone exasperated.
Jake snorted. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, "And, Stanley's been givin' me grief about it for four years," he told her, meeting her gaze long enough to roll his eyes. "You didn't come to our wedding, you don't get to know."
"Wasn't invited to your wedding," Emily reminded. Jake raised his head again, throwing her a pointed look, and she looked away, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "So," she began a long moment later, watching with genuine interest as he finally forced the last bolt loose and then pried the plaque up to reveal a four-inch in diameter wellbore. "What was it? Eighties power love ballad?"
"Worse," Jake chuckled. He grinned at her, but there was a far off look in his eyes which Emily knew meant that he was thinking about Heather even as he was facing her. "Late nineties - country - power love ballad."
"You?" Emily asked, her tone incredulous. She giggled softly, repeating, "You? Seriously? A country song?"
"Yep," Jake confirmed, holding his screwdriver and wrench out to her. "Put these over there," he ordered, gesturing to a scrubby patch of grass that was out of the way of his project. "This too," he added, handing her the bolts, tied up together in a rag. "Maybe we'll get to put this all back the way it was before too long," Jake suggested, wiping the plaque off with his hand before placing it safely off to the side.
"So you're not gonna tell me, huh?" Emily realized. She sat back on her heels, her lips pressed tightly together, to study Jake. "You know, I can always ask Stanley," she threatened a few seconds later, though her heart obviously wasn't in it.
"I'll take my chances," Jake returned, shrugging. He stood up then, moving around Emily to retrieve the body of the hand pump. "So -"
"You - you two, you really do work, somehow," Emily murmured, looking up at him. She frowned softly, continuing, "I - It doesn't make sense, but you do."
"We do," Jake agreed, checking the fit of the hand pump in the well casing. "Not bad," he said softly to himself, pleased. "We fit," he added, looking at Emily. "Heather and I, we fit," Jake declared, pulling the pump out of the wellbore. "And it makes perfect sense."
He turned then, laying the pump body down before moving over to look through the toolbox he'd brought with him. Jake found a ball of twine and placed it behind him, continuing to look through the case, finally selecting a lightweight washer. "So, were you on your way somewhere?" he asked, tearing a strip off a rag he found in the bottom of the toolbox. He knotted the piece of rag around the washer and then reached for the string, tying the end to the washer as well. "'Cause if you're not, I'm thinkin' this is really a two person job."
"Oh," she returned, looking both surprised and disappointed at the same time, "Sure. I don't have anywhere to be really," Emily admitted. "I was just - just out walking."
"What do you do most days?" Jake asked, glancing at her for just a second before he squatted down next to the well. "I mean, there's no school," he reminded, unrolling a foot of string, threading the washer into the hole. "So, what do you do?"
Emily watched as he let the twine play out, no more that an inch or two at a time, keeping it taut as it ran through his hands. "I - I've got lots to do," she argued, "Like everybody. We're all just trying to survive, right?"
"Yep," he agreed, nodding.
"What're you doing?" she demanded, desperate for a change of subject.
"Gotta find water," he explained, obviously preoccupied with the string he continued to let down the well. "And, I think we've got it," Jake announced, smiling. Quickly, he fished the twine back up, checking the rag to confirm that it was wet. "Okay," he muttered, "This'll work. So, hey," Jake said his gaze focusing on Emily for a moment. "Do you still have keys to the high school?"
"The high school?" Emily questioned, her expression puzzled. "Sure. I mean I wasn't fired, we just never - never resumed. What in the world do you need keys to the high school for?" she chuckled.
"Heather needs to do some research in the 4-H office," he explained. "We went over yesterday, tried her keys - just in case the JISD was cheap enough to use the same master key at both schools - but no dice."
"Well, why didn't you just break in?" she asked, "It's not like you don't know how. And the 4-H office," Emily smirked. "Now I know the world's comin' to an end," she teased, "Jake Green tryin' to get into the 4-H office."
"Not the end of the world," he argued, shrugging. "Heather's just trying to figure how to raise more chickens. Where do you think Thanksgiving dinner came from?" Jake inquired rhetorically, stepping around her. "I don't have enough pipe," he told Emily, "But there's more in the basement. Stay here and make sure nobody falls down the well," Jake ordered. "We really don't need a Baby Jessica incident around here."
Thirty minutes later, with Emily's assistance, Jake had a drop pipe installed in the well and the hand pump mounted over the top of it. She'd helped, but he couldn't keep himself from thinking that he should have let her continue on her walk and gone to get Heather, who was working upstairs with her team, instead. Emily had had no real interest in the project, and while she was good for handing him tools or following orders like 'hold this' and 'stand there', she didn't throw herself into their task with the enthusiasm he was accustomed to when he worked with his wife. Even when he pumped the well's new handle and the first water spilled out, Emily didn't do anything more than smile politely.
"Hey! It works!" Jake turned around to find Heather standing behind them on the sidewalk, grinning at him. "I knew it would," she laughed, delighted with his accomplishment. "We've got water."
"We've got water," Jake agreed, jumping down off the hill to join her. "Hey," he greeted, wrapping one arm around Heather and quickly brushing his lips over hers.
"I've been monitoring your progress from upstairs," she admitted, pointing to a window in the far corner of the building that he knew was in the conference room she'd acquired for her team. "Waiting for you to be all done so I could make my entrance," Heather teased, kissing him in return. "I brought cups, if we want to test," she announced, holding up a set of four or five nested plastic cups. Finally, glancing over at the other woman, she acknowledged her with a perfunctory nod. "Emily."
"Hello," Emily replied. "You're out and about early this morning," she observed, attempting a smile.
Handing her stack of cups to Jake, Heather smoothed her maternity blouse over her stomach, rubbing her hand in circles over the baby she carried. They had run into the Taylor family on Thanksgiving night, and Margaret had clucked over the fact that Heather had been reduced to stealing clothes from Jake. She and two other women had shown up at the house on Saturday morning with three bags of maternity clothes, earning Heather's undying gratitude - and April's too, as she'd confessed her own pregnancy to the visitors.
"Well, I'm pretty much out and about by this time every day," Heather said. "I'm working with a group of the guys from the mine, trying to find a way to build a windmill," she explained, shaking her head. "But, uuhhhh!" she groaned, "They're driving me batty today. Six middle-aged men who've spent their whole careers underground," Heather laughed, rolling her eyes. "I was really glad to see the pump go in. Gave me an excuse to leave, and now I think I'm gonna keep going straight to the clinic. There's some equipment I've been meaning to check out in the basement."
"I'll walk you over," Jake offered immediately. "But first, we need a taste test. Wait here," he instructed, kissing the tip of Heather's nose before climbing back up onto the hill, moving past Emily to get to the pump.
"I think I'm gonna get going," Emily decided, stepping down onto the sidewalk. "But first," she murmured, pulling a set of keys out of her coat pocket, "I hear you're looking to get into the 4-H office," she told Heather, working to pull two keys off the ring. "This one gets you in the building," Emily said, holding the key out to Heather. "And this is the passkey, should get you into any room, just not the individual offices."
Surprised, Heather could only nod at first. "Tha - thank you," she stammered out a few seconds later, her hand closing around the keys. "I'll go over today, and get 'em back to you tomorrow."
Emily shook her head. "No rush."
"So it tastes safe," Jake announced, joining the two women on the sidewalk. He handed a cup to Emily and then took a sip from a second before handing it to Heather. "Careful, it's really cold."
Heather took a drink, nodding in agreement. "That is cold," she confirmed, grimacing softly. "Makes my teeth hurt," she giggled. "But - still - good job," Heather declared, threading her arm through Jake's.
"Yeah," Emily concurred, handing her cup back to Jake. "Think I'll stick to the water at home. It's a little closer to room temperature. So I'm gonna go," she repeated, already backing away.
"Okay," Jake acknowledged. "Thanks for your help." He smiled at Heather, requesting, "Gimme a sec," before moving over to a neglected flowerbed to pour out the water remaining in the two cups.
Staring at down at the keys in her hand, Heather shook her head. She looked up at Jake when he returned to her side, brushing her arm with his own. "What's gotten into Emily all of a sudden?" she asked, her expression truly puzzled.
"No idea," Jake shrugged, holding out his hand. "Ready?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Friday, November 23, five years before the bomb
"Hey," Heather greeted, opening her front door just as Jake's finger touched the doorbell. Waiting in the living room, everything ready to go, she'd heard a motor in the driveway and had rushed to the door, almost beating him there. "Come in," she invited as the bell's final note dissipated.
Jake reached out, catching her hand in his own before she could move away. "Hey," he returned, pulling her against himself and brushing his mouth over hers.
"Good morning," she giggled a few seconds later, wrapping her arms around Jake's waist. She stepped back into the house, dragging him along.
"Ready to go?" he asked, twisting away to shut the door against the pre-dawn chill. He followed Heather, who walked backwards holding onto both of his hands, into the living room. "Something smells good," he added, pulling her against him so he could press a kiss to her forehead.
Heather grinned. She hadn't really ever gone to bed, having finished her packing after midnight and then setting her alarm for two AM so she'd have time to brew coffee and bake a surprise for their breakfast on the road. "I made a little something," she admitted, her gaze locking with his.
Never one to sleep well the night before a trip, Heather had procrastinated both packing and going to bed, finding a recipe in the cookbook of family favorites Renate Lisinski had put together for her daughter, painstakingly copying out two generations worth of recipe cards onto the pages of a new book. She'd completed the project the first summer she was on dialysis, and although Heather had hated walking into the treatment center to find her mother working at that particular task, convinced that it was a sign that she'd given up hope, Heather certainly treasured the gift now. She'd sat at the kitchen table after Jake had left her house at ten, mixing up muffin batter to be baked in the morning and reading the recipes - most far beyond her abilities as a cook - enjoying the chance to look at and trace her finger over her mother's handwriting.
"Peanut butter and banana muffins, just out of the oven," she told him, smiling shyly. "My mother's recipe, slightly adapted," Heather explained, leading him into the kitchen. "Hers was a chocolate and banana recipe, made with melted chocolate chips. But I think it worked."
"Wow," Jake nodded, spotting the slightly steamy plastic bag containing a dozen muffins, two travel mugs and a thermos waiting on the table along with Heather's purse and backpack. "I just figured we'd go through a drive-thru on the way," he admitted, squeezing her hand, "But this is definitely better."
"Couldn't really sleep," Heather yawned loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Excuse me," she sighed. "Usually can't sleep before I fly," she confessed, waving her hand dismissively. "But I'll sleep on the plane."
When she'd finally gone to bed, she'd lain there, staring up at the ceiling, replaying in her mind the day she'd spent with Jake and his family. She'd had a truly wonderful time, Heather had decided, hugging herself and smiling in the dark. Despite the disastrous early end to the annual football game, things had turned out almost perfectly. She'd even had a good time washing dishes of all things! Eric had sat at the table while April, shooing Gail from the kitchen, had put food away and Heather, assisted by Jake, had loaded the dishwasher up before tackling what remained by hand. The four of them had had a great time, joking around, during the almost hour they'd worked together in the kitchen. Jake and Eric, his speech closer to normal after the swelling in his nose had gone down some, had entertained Heather and April with stories of legendary Green family holidays past, and April had shared a few of her more interesting hospital stories. Heather, having apologized to Eric for the umpteenth time had finally accepted his forgiveness, shaking hands on his offer of "Friends?"
She'd even joined the elder Greens for a few minutes in their efforts to complete a jigsaw puzzle before Jake, taking advantage of April's and Eric's departure, had decided it was time for them to leave, too. Heather had gone over all the details in her mind, analyzing the day as she watched ninety minutes go by on her clock radio only managing to doze off for a few minutes before the buzzing of the alarm had dragged her from bed.
"You can sleep in the car," Jake told her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't mind."
"I hafta stay awake so I can keep you awake," Heather argued, trying unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn. "April says it's a long, boring drive."
"I'll stay awake, don't worry," Jake snorted, smiling at Heather. "I'm not gonna get you into some fiery wreck with a narcoleptic truck driver, okay? Besides, the coffee's fully leaded, right?" he asked, pointing at the travel mugs on the table.
"Chock full of caffeine, yes," she confirmed, giggling.
"So, ready?" he asked, glancing over the items on the table again. "Is this all you're taking?"
"My bag's still in the bedroom," Heather admitted, moving around Jake. She turned to head down the hall, throwing him a surprised though not unhappy look when he followed her. Jake caught up with her after three steps, taking her hand in his. Outside the door, Heather suddenly spun around, blocking his path. "Um," she began, her expression turning embarrassed, "I - I didn't make my bed. And - And my clothes are on the floor," she confessed. "I didn't even think -"
Chuckling softly, Jake reached for the doorknob, pulling on it to ensure that it was latched, his eyes never straying from hers. He took a step forward, pressing Heather into the door, pressing himself against her. "I didn't make my bed either," he murmured, brushing his mouth over hers. "It's three in the morning," Jake breathed, starting to nibble at her lower lip while he cupped her neck with both hands. Heather deepened their kiss then, and it was long moment before Jake pulled away, panting softly. "It's okay," he assured her, leaning his forehead against Heather's. "But I can stay out here if you want me to."
Shaking her head, Heather grasped the door's handle, pushing it open. She backed into the room, eyes closed, drawing Jake with her. They stopped two feet into the room, Jake laughing at her silently as he took advantage of his first opportunity to observe Heather's private space. "I like it," he told her quietly a few seconds later, stroking his hand up and down her arm.
Heather opened her eyes, meeting Jake's gentle grin with a shy smile. "You do, huh?" she questioned, watching his face as his gaze drifted across her room.
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, taking in the dresser top, crowded with photographs and a few small knick knacks. He recognized, too, the clothes she'd worn the day before laying on the floor not six inches from the hamper. "Yeah, I like it," he repeated, his eyes settling on the rumpled covers, shoved down to the foot of the bed.
She looked over her shoulder, following the path of Jake's gaze. "Good," she said almost inaudibly, turning back to face him, a soft blush tingeing her cheeks.
Jake lifted her chin with one finger and placed a chaste kiss on her mouth. "We better get goin'," he reminded, dropping his hand. "This it?" he asked, pointing at the compact red suitcase standing in front of the dresser.
"Yep," Heather answered, watching Jake as he moved to pick up the bag. "I'm only gonna be gone for three days," she continued in a rush of breath. "And I want to carry it on the plane so they don't lose it."
"Okay," he acknowledged, lifting the suitcase.
"Uh, Jake," she said, fighting a grin. "It's - It's got wheels," Heather explained, pointing at the bottom of the bag. "It rolls."
"I knew that," he claimed, his expression turning sheepish. He continued to hold the suitcase up and, gesturing for her to lead the way, directed, "After you."
Snickering softly, Heather turned toward the door. "C'mon," she giggled, looking back over her shoulder at him. Jake followed, catching up with her in two strides, still carrying rather than rolling the suitcase. She smiled, continuing to watch him, glancing away whenever their gazes met.
In the kitchen, Heather busied herself with donning her coat and trying to gather up everything else she was taking with her: purse, backpack, and all the parts of their breakfast. After watching her struggle for a few seconds, Jake moved toward her, reaching for the thermos and bag of muffins. "Gimme those."
"But - Okay," she conceded, letting go of the two items. "You can put the suitcase down, you know," Heather told him, slinging her purse and backpack over her shoulder. Then, with keys in one hand, she picked up the travel mugs with the other.
"I'm fine," Jake assured, shaking his head. "Wheels are for wimps," he grinned, winking at her.
"That so?" Heather chuckled as she led the way to the front door. "I suppose I should be impressed by this display of manly strength, huh?"
She looked back at him in time to see his grin widen. "Damn straight," Jake agreed.
Out on the porch, Jake waited while Heather locked the front door and then dropped her keys in her purse. Turning around, she offered him a sweet smile which quickly dissolved into a yawn. "All set," she informed him.
"C'mon," Jake said, tilting his head toward the driveway.
"What's that?" Heather demanded as she stepped off the bottom porch step and onto the walk. Sitting in the driveway behind her own car was EJ Green's tan F-250. "You stole Gramps' truck?" she asked, giggling softly.
"I borrowed it," Jake corrected with a snort. "With his permission," he added, leading her toward the vehicle. "Look, it's got heat that actually works, and it's just a little more comfortable than my car. All things Gramps pointed out when I asked if I could use it."
"Aww," she sighed, offering him a pleased smile. "That's so sweet. Of him, and of you. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jake muttered, finally setting her suitcase down so he could open the front passenger door. He deposited the thermos and bag of muffins on the seat before popping the back door. "If you want, you can sack out back here," he suggested, pointing to the second row bench seat.
Heather shook her head 'no'. "We're not gonna see each other for three days," she reminded, shrugging. "And, I can sleep on the plane."
"Okay," Jake acknowledged, letting a breath out slowly. He picked up her suitcase and turned to stow it between the seats. "D'ya need your backpack?" he asked, facing her again. Shaking her head again, Heather placed her purse and the travel mugs on the front seat and then shrugged out of her backpack, handing it to him. Jake dropped the bag on the back seat and then shut the door. Turning around, he narrowly missed stepping on Heather's foot, surprised to find her standing so close.
"Hey," she grinned, clutching his forearm for a second before she threw her arms around his neck and, standing on tiptoe, surprised him with a kiss. Jake responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Heather, trapping her against himself as his mouth moved hungrily over hers. They broke apart too soon for either of their satisfaction, Jake pressing his lips to her forehead. "I need to go," Heather sighed, "And I know that. I'd hate myself if I didn't, but I really don't wanna," she admitted, pulling back just enough that she could look him in the eye.
"It's only three days," Jake reminded, hugging her tightly. "We'll survive," he chuckled, tucking her head under his chin. He didn't want to let her go, and her admission of her own reluctance didn't help. He just wanted to hold onto her. "Okay," Jake declared, gently putting her away from him a few moments later, "All set?"
"Almost," she agreed, reaching for his hand. She squeezed his fingers and leaned against him once more, tilting her head to place a peck of a kiss on his mouth. Stepping back she exhaled softly. "Now I'm ready."
Jake helped Heather into the truck then, waiting while she rearranged things - putting their mugs in the cup holders and stowing her purse and the thermos at her feet - before he shut the door. Climbing in on the driver's side, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and exchange a quick kiss before starting the truck. "Ready?" he murmured against Heather's lips.
"Ready," Heather confirmed as he pulled away. Still watching her out of the corner of his eye, Jake clicked in his seatbelt and started the engine, backing out of the driveway. Within five minutes they had left the town limits and were on the interstate. "Muffin?" Heather offered as Jake engaged the cruise control.
"Please," he answered, throwing her a quick grin as he reached for his coffee. "I've been wanting one of those ever since I heard 'peanut butter'," he joked.
Heather peeled back half the paper wrapper around a muffin and handed it to Jake before taking one for herself. A few minutes later she handed him a second without needing to be asked, earning herself an appreciative smile. At Jake's suggestion, Heather tried to find something on the radio but couldn't, and she ended up turning it off within ten minutes. "We could play a game," Heather proposed then. "How 'bout 'I went on an airplane'?"
"'I went on an airplane'?" Jake repeated throwing her a funny look.
"It's three-thirty, three-forty in the morning," she reminded, yawning. "There really aren't any other cars, so we can't play the license plate game."
"Right," he acknowledged. "Airplane's promising, at least. So how do we play 'I went on an airplane'?"
She glanced at him sideways, offering him a pleased smile. "Well, for example, if I started, I'd say, 'I went on an airplane' - Oooh! I know. I'd say, 'I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my boyfriend and I brought an apple,'" Heather teased. "And then you'd say, 'I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my' - well, you'd say girlfriend -"
"That I would," Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes. "So, I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my girlfriend and -"
"You'd say I brought and apple and a banana," Heather explained. "And from there we take turns, each adding a word, in alphabetical order, building a list."
"So when you go on a field trip, I guess this game's 'I went on a school bus to the museum', huh?"
"Yeah," Heather shrugged. "Hey, it passes the time, and keeps us awake," she yawned. "Now you go first."
"Love to," Jake snorted. "Okay," he continued a second later. "I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my girlfriend and I brought the airplane."
Heather giggled at that. "Well, it's true, so I'll let it go. Okay. I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my boyfriend and I brought an airplane and a book."
"Also true," Jake reminded, laughing. "So, I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my girlfriend and I brought the airplane, and she brought a book and a camera."
"I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my boyfriend and he brought the airplane and I brought a book, a camera, and ..." She paused, frowning softly. "I didn't bring anything that began with a 'D'," Heather admitted, "So we went to Dolly Doolittle's Diner."
"Okay, I'm pretty sure that's cheating, Miss Lisinski," Jake accused with a smirk. "But I'll let ya get away with it," he decided, winking at her, though he wasn't sure she saw him. "I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my girlfriend and I brought the airplane, and she brought a book and a camera, and we went to Dolly Doolittle's Diner, and I found out she'd packed extra socks."
"This is quite the story we're building," she decided, stifling another yawn. Heather lay her head down on the back of the seat, twisting so she was facing Jake. "Anyway, I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my boyfriend," she said, "And he brought the airplane, I brought a book and a camera, we went to Dolly Doolittle's where he found out I'd packed extra socks, and I used the last of my film."
Jake glanced at Heather, smiling at her and squinting in the dark so he could study her face for a long as he dared to look away from the deserted highway. He swallowed hard. "Your camera's digital," he reminded gruffly. "But I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my girlfriend and I brought the airplane, she brought a book and a camera, we went to Dolly Doolittle's Diner, she had extra socks and used the last of the film in her digital camera," he joked. "And, it was Gramps' airplane."
Beaming at Jake, Heather lifted her head and then reached around to undo her seatbelt. Sliding over on the seat, she pressed a kiss to Jake's cheek, declaring, "I think that's really stretching it, but that's okay." Yawning, she let her head fall against his shoulder for a moment.
She started to pull away just as he moved to wrap his arm around her. "Stay," he muttered thickly, pressing his palm against her hip. "There's - There's a middle seatbelt," he added, anticipating her protest. "Somewhere."
"Okay," Heather smiled tiredly. She sat slightly forward on the seat so she could dig around for the purported seatbelt. "Here it is," she announced quietly, securing it around her waist. "So, I went on an airplane to Wyoming with my boyfriend," she began, settling back and leaning her head on his shoulder again. "And he brought the airplane, and I brought a book and a camera, we went to Dolly Doolittle's, I had extra socks and I used up the film for my digital camera. Plus it was Gramps' plane, and I brought - I brought -"
"I brought Heather," Jake filled in for her, turning blindly to kiss the top of her head and ending up with a mouthful of her hair. "And, I think we may have killed this game."
He felt her nod against his arm. "Yeah, prob'ly," Heather yawned loudly. "Sorry, excuse me," she requested. "But with third graders, I have to tell you, we always get to the end of the alphabet."
"There are more of them," he grumbled. "And what do they say for 'X'?" Jake questioned teasingly. He glanced sideways, trying to catch her eye, but quickly realized that she'd closed hers. "Xylophone, I bet," he answered himself softly. "That's the only 'X' word I knew in the third grade."
"Yeah, pretty much," Heather murmured, not bothering to open her eyes. "On a - On a day camp field trip a couple of years ago," she yawned, sitting up for a moment to adjust her seat. "I had a sixth grader say 'Xanax'," she snorted, before resting her head on his shoulder once more. "But she was one of those kids who -" she broke off, giving into another yawn. "Who liked to shock people," Heather concluded.
"Why don't you lie down?"" Jake suggested a little bit later, kissing the top of her head again. "Take a little snooze," he cajoled. "C'mon. Scoot over and lie down," he said, patting his leg.
"It's not safe," she argued, lifting her head and pulling a few inches away. Jake immediately missed the warmth of her body against his.
"There's no one out here," he contradicted, grabbing the steering wheel with the hand she'd freed up so he could gesture out the window at the empty road with the other. "It'll be fine. C'mon."
Jake risked a glance in Heather's direction, catching her blinking sleepily as she considered the situation. "Well, okay," she agreed, undoing her seatbelt once more. She slid over about eighteen inches, adjusting the belt so that it was still long enough to go around her waist. Turning on her side she lay down, drawing her knees up and carefully resting her head on his leg. Jake could tell that she wasn't letting herself relax completely and he pressed his hand against the side of her head, urging her to do so. "Jus' for a little bit," she sighed, her eyes falling immediately closed again.
Smiling to himself, Jake threaded his hand through her hair, stroking her scalp gently. Heather made a contented sound, burrowing against his leg, and he continued to rub her head, murmuring, "It's okay, babe." Jake risked a glance down then, studying the profile of the woman he loved by the fickle light cast off by the setting moon, the only light there was available out on this barren stretch of interstate. She trusted him, he realized at that moment. Heather had said the words more than once, but now he believed it; she trusted him enough to go to sleep in his lap, and to depend on him to keep her safe and to deliver her to the airport on time. Jake cleared his throat, trying to rid it of the lump that had suddenly formed there. Tracing the shell of her ear with the pad of his thumb, he let out a heavy breath and found himself smiling again. "Go to sleep."
* * * * *
He was forced to wake her up just over an hour later. It was still dark, but there was traffic now, which Jake began to understand when he spotted a Walmart Supercenter, complete with a packed parking lot, just off the interstate. For the first time since they'd gotten on the road he needed to brake, slowly and just pumping the pedal at first, but it was enough to worry him as he pressed his palm down over Heather's head to hold it in its place against his leg.
"Babe," he murmured, shaking her shoulder. He was almost past the exit, and every other vehicle was pulling off, but Jake was still nervous enough to wake her. It had suddenly occurred to him that if he were to brake unexpectedly she'd end up hitting her forehead on the steering wheel. "Heather, babe," he repeated, combing his hand through her hair. "You need to wake up," Jake told her. "Can you wake up for me, sweetheart?"
Heather groaned. "Are we there yet?" she yawned, her hand brushing his leg as she rubbed her eyes.
"Nah, we're maybe ten minutes outside Salina," he answered, "But there's traffic, I'm sorry."
"You're apologizing for traffic?" Heather chuckled as she made herself to sit up. "Ugh," she muttered, pressing the heel of one hand to her eye. "Man," she declared, obviously surprised, a moment later. "There's a lotta traffic. But it's - it's all going the other way," Heather pointed out, her gaze concentrated on the steady stream of cars headed west on the other side of the median.
"I forgot what the Friday after Thanksgiving meant," Jake snorted. "We just passed a Walmart, and apparently that's the place to be."
"Ah, shopping, right," Heather yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "Never underestimate the lure of the twenty-five dollar microwave," she giggled, tightening her seatbelt before letting her head fall back against the seat.
"Think I'd rather sleep in," Jake returned dryly. Realizing how that sounded, he quickly corrected himself. "Not - Not today. Just most Thanksgivings."
Smiling, Heather leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I promise we can sleep in next year," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "No airport run."
"Okay," Jake acknowledged, glancing sideways at her. In the dark, he couldn't tell if she was blushing, but there was something about the set of her mouth that told him she was embarrassed. He smiled at her quickly, reaching up to lay his hand over hers as he returned his eyes to the road. "I'll - I'll take that deal."
"Do you want another muffin?" she asked, affecting an overly chipper tone. Heather pulled away, undoing her seatbelt when she couldn't quite reach the bag of muffins she'd left on the passenger's side floor. She slid over a few inches until she was able to retrieve their breakfast. "Got 'em," she grinned, securing her seatbelt before unzipping the bag. "Here," Heather said, handing him a halfway unwrapped muffin. Peeling the paper off her own, she let her head rest against Jake's arm.
Ninety minutes later, Jake turned the truck into the short term parking at Mid-Continent Airport. Half of the first two rows of parking, those spaces nearest the terminal, had been cordoned off - a security measure enacted after the terrorist attacks two months prior - reducing the parking by about twenty percent. The lot was nearly full, too, despite the early hour, and Jake finally settled for a spot in the corner at the back. "We're here," he announced unnecessarily, turning off the engine and glancing sideways at Heather.
"That we are," Heather grinned in return. "Thank you, kind sir." She'd stayed up after he'd awoken her, and they'd passed the time talking about a number of things, none of which were very important, none of which Heather would have thought to talk about with anyone else. Jake had listened to her, contributing to the conversation without judging her, even when their opinions didn't completely coincide. Heather had enjoyed herself, as she always did when she was alone with Jake, but this time together had been ... special, she decided. Still smiling, she leaned over, closing the four inches that separated them, and kissed him. "You taste like coffee," she told him, giggling softly, when she pulled away a long moment later.
"So do you," he informed her, chuckling, his hand finding its way into her hair. "And peanut butter," Jake added, pressing his mouth to hers again. "We better get going," he decided, taking a ragged breath as they drew apart.
"Okay," Heather agreed, undoing her seatbelt and sliding across the seat to the passenger door. She held up the bag of muffins so Jake could see it. He'd eaten four to her three, and there were still five left. "These are yours," she told him, "Though you might want to share with Gramps," Heather suggested, "Since he loaned you the truck and all."
"Fat chance of that," Jake replied, grinning at her. "I'm not sharin' this time. Besides, that's my snack for the trip home." He winked at her and then opened the door, climbing out of the cab. Coming around the back of the truck, he met Heather on the passenger's side, and took advantage of the opportunity for another kiss before getting her suitcase and backpack out of the backseat.
Heather took the backpack from him, pulling it on before fitting her purse diagonally across her torso. Jake set the suitcase down on the asphalt and surprised her by pulling out the handle. Holding onto it with one hand, he offered her the other. "You're gonna use the wheels, huh?" she joked.
"Makes it easier to hold onto my girl," he said, a hint of huskiness deepening his voice. With that, Jake tugged her toward him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He pressed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply, before sighing, "Let's go."
They made their way across the parking lot toward the terminal without speaking. Heather, enjoying the warm and comfortable feeling she got from being in Jake's embrace, glanced up at him, and was startled by the serious expression he was now wearing. The sun hadn't yet risen, but it was light out now, and she could clearly see each wrinkle on his forehead, and the way the corners of his mouth curled just slightly downward. "Hey, I'm only gonna be gone for three days," she reminded, smiling at him and reaching up to lay her hand over his. "Just long enough to miss me," she teased, eliciting a distracted and obviously forced smile from Jake. "Or did you just realize that now you have drive home three and a half hours, only to do it all again on Monday?" Heather guessed.
"I'll be here on Monday," Jake assured, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. They paused at the curb, waiting for a taxi to pass before they crossed the street. "Don't worry," he told her.
"I'm not worried," she responded, a little puzzled by his answer.
In the terminal, Heather was relieved to see that the line for ticketing wasn't too awful, and she decided that she had time to use the restroom before getting in line for her boarding pass. Handing Jake her backpack, she left him waiting for her outside the restroom's entrance. She looked over her shoulder, waving at him just before she went in, laughing softly to herself at the slightly incongruous picture he made, standing there with her bright red luggage.
Exiting a few minutes later, Heather was startled to see three National Guardsmen, all carrying submachine guns, one with a police dog, walk past on patrol. "Hey, it's the Wichita airport," Jake argued, finding her hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "There's a grand total of, I think, twelve gates. Nothin' to worry about."
"It's just weird," she replied. "I knew about it from the news and everything," Heather admitted, taking her backpack from Jake and threading her arm through his. "But it's different to actually - actually to see it," she decided, looking up at him.
His only answer was to smile reassuringly at her, dropping a quick kiss on her mouth before leading her back toward the ticket counter, where he insisted on waiting in line with her for her boarding passes. Jake held her hand in his own, playing with her fingers and shuffling from foot to foot. Heather could feel his intent stare on her, but whenever she caught his eye, he smiled at her, further confusing the situation. There was no way around it; he was making her nervous. "Uh, Jake?" she prompted, looking up at him.
"Yeah, babe?" he answered with yet another smile, tightening his grip on her hand. The ticket agent called the next customer up and they moved forward with the rest of the line. "Something wrong?" he asked his brow furrowing slightly.
"Not with me," she sighed, still studying him closely.
Jake smiled at her gently. "Good," he murmured, brushing his lips across hers.
Heather extracted her hand from Jake's rather clammy one, reaching up to cup his cheek. "You okay?" she asked him, her expression betraying both her confusion and concern.
"Me?" Jake laughed, snaking his arm around Heather and pulling her to him so they stood chest to chest. "I'm fine," he insisted, though there was a strange, quivering note in his voice that did nothing to quell Heather's worry.
Before she could respond, the ticket agent called her up, and holding onto Jake's hand, Heather led the way to the counter. "Picture ID, please," the woman requested, flashing them a distracted smile. "Where are you going today?"
"Buffalo, New York by way of Chicago," Heather replied as she handed the agent her brand new Kansas driver's license and her e-ticket print out.
"Just you?" the agent grumbled, looking over Heather's itinerary. "With the new security restrictions, you know you can't go up to the gate, right?" she questioned Jake, exasperation bleeding into her tone.
"Well, am I still allowed to walk her over to security?" Jake asked forcing himself to be - mostly - pleasant.
"Sure," the agent dismissed with one hand. "How many bags are you checking, Ms. Lisinski? And have your bags been in your control since you packed them?" she recited by rote. "Has anyone given you anything unknown to you to pack or carry on?"
"No bags, completely in my control, and nothing I don't know about," Heather responded. The woman peered over the counter at Heather's suitcase. "I'm gonna take it on board with me," she explained quickly.
"And, you've checked to make sure it meets the size requirements?" the agent asked, glancing in the direction of the display that invited them to 'Make Sure It Fits!'
Jake picked up Heather's bag and walked over to the display, inserting the suitcase into the box without any problems. He looked back to make sure the ticket agent was watching. "Just be careful putting this in the overhead," he told Heather when he rejoined her at the counter, pulling her into a sideways hug. "It's heavy."
"What, I haven't impressed you with my displays of womanly strength?" she teased, kissing him quickly.
The ticket agent cleared her throat loudly, drawing Heather's attention away from Jake. "You're at Gate Seven on the East Concourse," she said, handing Heather her boarding passes. "You'll need to check the monitors in Chicago for your connecting flight. Anything else?"
"No, thank you," Heather answered, gathering up her things. She looked sideways at Jake, smiling and accepting the hand he held out to her. "And, thank you," she told him, squeezing his hand.
"My pleasure," Jake snorted. They walked, still holding hands, toward the security line. The airport, while reasonably busy, wasn't overly crowded and there wasn't much of a line. Jake stopped Heather, pulling her to the side. "So, I'll meet you right here on Monday, okay?" he said with a gentle grin.
"You better," Heather replied, leaning into him.
"Hey, it's only three days," he reminded, his tone suddenly gruff, brushing a wisp of hair off her face. "Now, you've taken the nail clippers out of your purse, right?" Jake teased. "No scissors, pocket knife, nail file, anything like that?"
Heather socked him on the arm. "Stop!" she complained, giggling. "You're gonna curse me with getting my suitcase searched. And - Oh..." she groaned, starting to dig through her purse. She extracted her keys from the bottom of her bag, showing Jake the two inch mini-Swiss Army knife he was already quite aware she carried with her. "Here," Heather groaned, finding and then working one key off the ring. "This one I need," she told him, "But the rest only work back in Jericho."
"Okay," Jake acknowledged, smiling at her softly. Looking down at the keychain she'd deposited in his hand, he laughed. "Do you have a key to everything in Jericho? Seriously, there are twenty keys here," he guessed, going through them.
"There are not," she argued, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Two keys for my house, firebox, a car key, school keys ..."
"Well, I'll keep these safe," Jake promised, tucking the key ring into the inside pocket of his coat. "Give 'em back on Monday," he added, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I better get in line," Heather said a few moments later, taking a half step away.
"Yeah," Jake agreed, his voice suddenly gruff. "C'm'ere," he demanded, holding his arms open to her. He hugged her tightly, kissing the top of Heather's head and then cupping her chin, tilted her head up so he could bring his lips down on top of hers. "Monday," he reminded, breathing into her mouth.
"Two-fifteen," she confirmed, combing her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. "Meet ya right here."
"Right here," Jake echoed, frowning at Heather when she squared her shoulders and stepped backwards, out of his embrace. She tried to reach for her suitcase, but Jake steered it out of her range. "I'll walk you over," he told her.
Heather smiled at him, nodding. "Okay," she said, holding her hand out to him. Twenty seconds later they were standing next to the starting point of the roped off security line, though this morning it could hardly be called a line; there were only eight people ahead of her, and they were all in the process of being screened. "I think I should take that now," she sighed, reaching for her bag which, this time, Jake surrendered to her.
They faced one another, their gazes locking. Jake found her hand, squeezing it quickly before letting it go so he could instead cup her cheek. "Heather," he began, flashing an anxious smile, "I - I love you." The words left his mouth in a nervous rush of breath and then, before she could respond, he'd pulled her back into his arms, crushing his mouth to hers.
Reeling from the glorious shock of Jake's announcement - he loved her! - as well as the delightful sensation of his kiss, Heather gave herself up to the moment, only to be rudely jarred out of it a few seconds later when someone - something - caught against her hip and then dragged across her rear end. Instinctively, she pulled away from Jake, protesting this assault on her person. "Hey!" she complained, glancing back over her shoulder.
A portly and balding middle-aged man stared back. "Out of the way, girlie," he practically shouted, hefting his overstuffed bag, knocking it into Heather once again.
"Hey, watch it," Jake growled, taking a step toward the man, one hand clenched into a fist.
"You watch it!" the man yelled in return. "And - And get a room! This is an airport for Christ's sake."
Jake, about to take another step toward the man, stopped when a hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder. Something brushed his leg, and he looked down, recognizing the German Shepherd that had been patrolling with the National Guard. "I would suggest not, sir," the man standing behind Jake warned.
"Hey, no trouble here," Jake claimed, holding up his hands. He caught Heather's eye, forcing a reassuring smile. "I'm just sayin' good-bye."
"I think you've pretty much covered good-bye," the soldier told Jake. The other traveler snorted in agreement before finally shoving past Heather and stalking toward the security checkpoint. "Ma'am, you're ticketed?" the guardsman asked, looking at Heather. She nodded. "Please proceed to security," he ordered.
"It's okay, babe," Jake added. "I'll see you Monday."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Monday, November 27, two months after the bombs
Not quite two hours after he'd kissed Heather goodbye in the clinic's basement, Jake found himself striding back into the building, hoping to locate Dhuwalia before the full ramifications of what he was doing hit him. After leaving Heather, already wholly involved in her inventory of cast-off equipment, Jake had returned to town hall, running into Jimmy Taylor on the street outside. Jimmy had informed him of Gracie Leigh's murder, adding that - no real surprise - Jonah Prowse was the prime suspect. Jake had hurried into the sheriff's station, and ended up in a debate over the election as much as the murder with his father and brother. Dale Turner had been there as well, insistent on joining the hunt for Jonah, though Gail wouldn't allow it, and had finally forced the boy from the room. Facing his sons, Johnston had suggested reluctantly that their best option was to beard the lion in his own den, and the three Green men had agreed that, again, they would need to make the trip out to the armed camp that was West Kansas Shipping and Freight.
Agreeing to meet up with the other two a quarter mile from the compound as soon as possible, Jake had gone to collect Robert Hawkins, who'd seemed almost relieved by the summons, and hadn't even bothered to ask what was up until they were in the car and on their way. Hawkins had asked, too, if there was anywhere else that Jonah might be, if he had family or friends in town, and Jake had hit the steering wheel with his hand, quickly executing a U-turn. From there, he'd driven straight to Emily's.
At Emily's, they'd run into a group of armed men led by Gray Anderson, who'd insisted on the right to search Emily's home for her father. Bill Kilroy, in uniform, had come around from the back of the house then, facing Jake's hard stare with a defiant look of his own. Somehow, Hawkins had managed to get them to back off, suggesting that they patrol together. Once they'd left, Jake had turned on Emily, demanding that she tell him where Jonah was. Emily had feigned ignorance at first, but he'd pushed his way past her and in the front door, only to find himself facing the business end of Jonah Prowse's gun.
Jonah had argued with Jake, holding the gun on him until he'd collapsed from loss of blood. Jake had tried to convince Jonah to surrender and come into town with him where he'd be in protective custody at town hall, but Jonah hadn't trusted that his own men wouldn't break in just to kill him. Emily had gotten hysterical at that point, demanding that Jake get a doctor, which is why he was here, back at the clinic and beginning to get a very bad feeling about how everything was going down.
"Jake!" he heard his wife call out, surprised, before he'd made it ten feet in the door. She hurried toward him, leaving April and Drake with whom she'd been speaking, back at the desk. "Are you all right?" Heather demanded as she reached his side. She grabbed the arm of his jacket, raising it up and examining it closely.
"I'm - I'm fine," Jake assured quickly, spotting for the first time the long, dark streak of blood - Jonah's - on his sleeve. He pulled his arm out of her grasp and then cupped her face with both hands. "It's -It's not my blood," he told her, crooning softly. "It's not my blood. I'm okay, promise," Jake added, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.
"Gracie Leigh?" April guessed, joining them. She folded her arms over her chest, throwing Jake a grim look. "We just had Gray Anderson and Bill Kilroy come through here, demanding to search the building for Jonah Prowse."
"What?" Jake growled, dropping his hands from Heather's face, clenching them both into fists. "Where are they?"
"Gone already," Heather explained, shaking her head. "I asked him if he really thought we'd hide Jonah Prowse, but -"
"Gray's an idiot," April interjected with a snort. "And so's Bill. They were only here for about ten minutes," she continued, sighing, "But we heard about what happened to Gracie, and everyone's freaked."
Jake nodded. "Yeah, it's a mess out there, too," he confirmed, drawing Heather into a sideways hug. "You should just hang out here until it's all died -" He stopped, flashing an annoyed smile. "Until it's quieted down," he corrected. "I'm lookin' for Kenchy," Jake added, "I need him to help with - with the investigation."
"You're doing an autopsy?" Drake asked, his expression confused. "Those other guys said she was stabbed and bled out on the floor."
"He's at his other office," April said, saving Jake from having to answer Drake's question. "And it's about noon now, so there's pretty much no chance he's sober," she warned, rolling her eyes. "Not that I should complain," April sighed, pressing the back of one hand to her forehead. "He let me have the whole weekend off, and he's a good doctor when he's not bellied up to the bar."
"April," Jake frowned, "You don't - you don't know what it was like for him in Rogue River. It - it was bad. You should cut him some slack." Heather caught his hand in her own, squeezing his fingers in what Jake correctly interpreted to be a warning not to say anymore. April had turned pale and she held herself stiffly, covering her mouth with her hand as she fought for control. "Look," Jake began, "I'm -"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head and closing her eyes. "You're right. I have no idea what he's been through," April agreed. "But couldn't - couldn't he at least find somewhere else to drink?" she demanded, sucking a shaky breath in through her teeth. Drake, surprising them all, reached over to pat her on the arm, smiling at April shyly. A grin fought its way onto her face, and she leaned over, giving him a one-armed hug. "Thank you," she sighed.
"Doctor Green!" a nurse shouted down the hallway.
Taking a calming breath, April forced a smile. "C'mon, Drake," she mumbled, tugging on the young man's arm. "Let's go do our job."
"He's good to be here?" Jake questioned quietly, as soon as he was sure the pair were out of earshot.
Catching his eye, Heather shrugged. "He says he's better, and he's tired of sleeping all the time. April's keepin' an eye on him, and so are Mikey and Jeff. What do you do?" she sighed. "Can't lock him in the basement forever."
"Right," Jake snorted in agreement. "Look, I better go find Kenchy," he said a few seconds later, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But stay here, okay? For the afternoon."
"I've got things I can do here," Heather allowed, offering him a smile. "B.G. and I will be fine, don't worry," she added, resting her hand over her pregnant belly.
"B.G.?" he grinned in return, guessing, "Baby Green?"
"Yep," she confirmed with a soft giggle. "It's a nice, gender neutral nickname. Keeps everybody happy."
"That kid just better not come out singing Stayin' Alive," Jake joked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Definitely no disco for this B.G.," Heather agreed.
He kissed her then, murmuring "I better go," against her lips. Heather nodded. "I'll see you and B.G. later," he added, and squeezing her hand one more time, Jake turned, heading back toward the main entrance. He needed to get Dhuwalia and get him to Emily's before Jonah did anything stupid - like leaving - or inconvenient - like dying in her living room. Behind him, he heard someone ask Heather a question, and he checked over his shoulder to see that she now had her back to him. Stopping five feet from the exit, Jake glanced right. There was a supply closet down the corridor, he knew, and Dhuwalia was going to need something to work with. Looking back one last time, Jake ducked into the hallway.
"Jake," Michael and Jeff greeted in unison, turning the corner at the other end of the passage. "You come to join all the fun and excitement too?" his brother-in-law drawled, rolling his eyes.
Holding up a hand to quiet them, Jake jerked his head toward the supply closet. Jeff nodded, pushing the door open and gesturing for them to precede him. "Fun and excitement?" Jake questioned, facing the two younger men. Like April and Drake, they were both dressed in scrubs, each with a stethoscope hanging around his neck; it took Jake a moment to recall that they'd been in Jericho exactly six days.
"Yeah," Jeff confirmed. "Apparently Jack the Ripper's on the loose, and Graybald Anderson and Deputy Kill Joy are going to subdue him." He glanced sideways at Michael, who settled for smirking in agreement.
"Graybald?" Jake repeated, his lips twitching.
"Hey, I just don't get how a guy with that little hair gets the nickname 'Gray'," Jeff muttered. "How can you tell?"
"April was spittin' mad," Michael reported. "Heather too. I didn't remember, really, who Jonah Prowse was until she called them both imbeciles." He waited a beat before adding, "But he's supposed to be injured, so they thought he might be here."
"Right," Jake acknowledged with a grunt. "Look, guys, I need a suture kit and whatever else I need to fix up an arm that someone took a steak knife to."
Michael and Jeff exchanged a look. Clearing his throat, Michael faced his brother-in-law with an incredulous stare. "You know where Jonah Prowse is? And, you're helping him? Didn't he try to kill you?"
"I'm just trying to bring him in," Jake argued, his jaw clenched. "He's injured, and there're idiots with guns running around out there who'll kill him if they see him. He says he didn't do it, and -" He broke off, taking a moment to consider the situation. "I don't know if he killed Gracie. I don't know if he didn't. I don't care," he snapped, frustrated. "But I have to make sure this gets done right."
"Frontier justice," Jeff muttered, grimacing. "Everybody thinks they're John Wayne."
"We've seen it," Michael admitted, looking down at his feet for a second. "Too much." He raised his head, facing his brother-in-law with a serious expression. "Trust me, when it comes down to it, nobody's John Wayne but John Wayne."
Jeff turned around and began searching the shelves. "Here," he said handing Jake a sealed package. "Everything you need to stitch him up. Plus..." he looked around, bending over to pull gauze and alcohol off another shelf. "This and this. But if it's as bad as you say, he's gonna need some serious painkillers," Jeff reminded, "And we can't get you that."
"April's got the only key to the drug cabinet," Michael filled in. "About all we can give you Tylenol."
"As long as it won't kill him, I can live with Jonah Prowse in pain," Jake grumbled as he shoved supplies into a plastic sack marked 'Jericho Medical'.
"Okay then," Jeff nodded. "You need one of us to come along?" he offered. "I mean, can you really stitch him up yourself?"
"No, I'm gonna go by Bailey's and get Kenchy," Jake explained. "And as long as Gray Anderson's runnin' around town with a shotgun, it's better you're here, with Heather and April," he told them, yanking the door open, "Just in case."
Jake stepped out into the hallway, turning left toward the exit, and found himself face to face with his wife. "Babe," he greeted, stopping short so that Jeff and Michael both narrowly missed running into him as they also exited the supply closet.
"Sis!" Michael practically squeaked, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights.
Jeff grabbed his arm, pulling him around Jake. "Heather," he mumbled as they scurried past her.
Heather glanced back over her shoulder, watching her brother and his friend until they disappeared, hurrying around the corner. "Okay," she said, turning around to face Jake. "What's with them? And, what's going on?" she demanded, hands on her hips, her tone betraying genuine confusion as well as a touch of amusement. "What's all that?" Heather added, gesturing at the bag Jake carried. "I thought you were leaving."
"I am," he admitted, frowning softly. "I'm on my way out." Jake allowed the bag to fall to the floor as he reached for Heather's hand. "Medical supplies," he explained, looking down for a second before meeting her gaze. "I - I located Jonah Prowse -"
"Jonah Prowse," Heather choked out, her eyes widening. "Jake -"
"Babe, he's injured, and unless I can get him patched up -" He stopped, shaking his head. "I've gotta bring him in somehow. Without Gray Anderson shooting him first."
"Jake, this is crazy," she protested, her voice cracking. "It's dangerous, and - and he tried to kill you."
"I know," he acknowledged, letting out a frustrated breath. "But he says he didn't do it, that Mitch Cafferty set him up. I don't know what to believe. Hell, they both could've done it together - that I could believe." Pressing his lips together in a grim line, Jake looked up and down the hall, verifying that they were alone. He stepped toward her, lowering his voice. "But I can't - I have to try. I can't just let the vigilantes running around out there kill him."
Her eyes flooded with tears, and Jake couldn't help but close his own against the sight. "You're - you're gonna risk -"
"No," Jake contradicted emphatically, pulling her against him, the bulge of their baby nestled between them. "I will not put myself between Jonah Prowse and any gun. Trust me," he ground out, pressing his face into her hair. "But if we get him stitched up, and then we can get 'im to the jail, maybe we can still do this right - the right way. Figure out if he did it before we execute him."
"You promise?" Heather demanded, taking a half-step back so she could look him in the eye. "Promise me."
He cupped her face with both hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I promise you - you and B.G., okay?" Jake said, smiling at her gently. "This'll all be over in a few hours, one way or the other, and we'll be fine. Promise," he repeated. With that, Jake let go of her, stooping slightly to retrieve the dropped supplies. "I need to go," he reminded, standing.
Heather nodded, fighting for a moment her trembling lower lip. "I love you," she declared, taking a step toward Jake. "And, thank you," she added with a sigh, attempting a smile. "For telling me."
Jake pressed a quick but unrestrained kiss to her mouth, his hand splayed almost possessively over Heather's smaller one, resting atop her rounded belly. Drawing away, he squeezed her hand and then stepped back, breaking all contact between them. "I love you, too," he croaked out.
He moved past her, already at a jog. Heather closed her eyes, concentrating on the sound of the hard soles of his boots striking the linoleum, until - too soon - the echo dissipated, leaving her standing alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *