Different Circumstances: Part 4A of ?
by Marzee Doats
Rating: PG-13.
Useless Disclaimer: I don't have any rights to anything related to Jericho.
Acknowledgment: Fairly significant chunks of dialogue are borrowed from theJericho episode Walls of Jericho, written by Ellie Herman. Some dialogue has been altered to fit the story line, others portions are intact.
Teaser: What if circumstances were different, and Jake and Heather had met long before the school bus? An alternate version of Jericho, in which Jake and Heather are married and expecting.
Author's Note: I'd hoped to be able to post this chapter in two parts, but I'm having a helluva week, so it's going to have to be in three parts. For some reason, my boss expects me to be productive, and I have to find some time to do my taxes. The way this chapter worked out, it's nine scenes (5 'present day', 4 flashbacks) and I couldn't get the 4th scene written to my satisfaction. Keep your fingers crossed for the weekend. Hopefully, this will tide you all over.
As always, if you are so moved, feedback is appreciated!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sunday, September 24, four days after the bombs
People fleeing, terrified; the sky burning orange over an abandoned freeway interchange; more people running for their lives. The video loop took about twenty seconds to run through, so at this point, Jake estimated he'd seen it a million times, give or take. He just couldn't stop watching, and he wasn't the only one.
"I'm telling you, it's the Midwest," Eric argued from behind Jake, for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. "From the skyline, I'm thinkin' Cincinnati."
For the tenth time, Jake ignored his brother. They were all resorting to talking just to fill up the empty air. Jake concentrated on the TV, though he really didn't need to watch. He could close his eyes and still see everything that was happening. "I wish we could read the license plates," he said, only for the sixth time.
"Well, let's make Cincinnati a question mark," Eric suggested, which was a first. Jake moved to his seat at the bar, watching Mary Bailey pick up a pencil, walk to the map they'd tacked up two days before, and draw a question mark over Cincinnati. At least it was something new.
Jake crossed his arms on top of the bar, laying his head down on top of them. He was tired, and possibly a little obsessed with the video running on the TV, and he knew he should go home, but for some reason he couldn't.
He heard the door open behind him, and turned to see Stanley come in with Bonnie. Two days before Mary had made noises about the State pulling her liquor license when Stanley had brought Bonnie in with him. They'd all stared at her, and Mary had started laughing at the absurdity of it all. Now, as long as no one tried to, in her words, 'turn Bailey's into a day care center', she didn't care who came in.
"Jake," Stanley greeted, clapping his best friend on the back.
"Stanley," Jake returned, raising his hand in welcome. "Hey, Bonnie."
"Anything new?" Stanley inquired. He caught Mary's eye, and motioned for a beer.
Jake shook his head. "Not since yesterday," he admitted.
"Shep and Gray shoulda been back by now," Stanley muttered. Mary handed him his beer, and he nodded his thanks.
Mary placed another bottle in front of Jake, and he picked it up, then pushed it away. He hadn't come to drink, not really, and though it'd be the easy thing to do, Jake knew better than to go down that road. He was getting too little sleep, operating on too much adrenaline, and at times, teetering on the edge of depression; adding alcohol on top of all that would be asking for trouble. "Our radios went silent about fifty miles out," he reminded his friend.
Stanley, who had already forgotten what he'd said, stared at the TV, mesmerized by the horror of it all. "Makes you wonder what happened to whoever shot this."
Robert Hawkins, as Jake had learned was his full name, passed behind them. "I think that mighta been the last thing they ever saw."
Jake buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. He'd been thinking the same thing, but it was still hard to hear out loud. The lights flickered then, the TV turning off for a second, drawing Jake's gaze to the ceiling, distracting him momentarily from the thoughts swirling half-formed in his brain.
"Where's Heather?"
The lights had come back on, prompting a collective sigh of relief from the patrons scattered throughout the bar. Jake looked sideways at his friend, grateful for the distraction. "She fell asleep on the couch, at my parents, after dinner. That left just Dad and me, so I went for a walk."
The power flickered again, and then the lights went out. Everyone groaned and waited, hoping the lights would come back. They didn't, and Mary finally called out, "Sorry folks, we're closin' early tonight! Take a flashlight, it's dark out there," she advised.
"What? It's only nine-thirty," Stanley protested.
"Nine-thirty?" Jake repeated, grabbing his jacket and flashlight off the barstool next to him. "Damn, I gotta go."
He hurried out of the bar, a wave of guilt assailing him. He'd left Heather asleep on his parents' couch more than two hours before. His mother has insisted on observing the long-standing tradition of the Green Family Sunday Night Dinner, and none of them had been willing to disappoint her, especially not Jake since it had been so long since he'd been able to attend a dinner. So, they had all ignored the fact that they were eating canned beef stew that had been heated over an ancient camp stove, and had acted like it was any other Sunday. April had only been able to come for the actual meal, and she had asked his mother to go back to the clinic with her, desperate for another set of capable hands. Eric had driven them over, and Heather had volunteered Jake and herself for KP. Once they'd cleaned up, they'd joined Jake's father in the den, where Heather had promptly fallen asleep on the couch. Jake and his father had never been very good at being alone together, and he'd bailed after ten minutes of stilted conversation, ostensibly to check on the satellite feed at Bailey's, promising to come right back. Somehow his quick trip had turned into two hours.
Outside Bailey's, Jake made it about ten steps before he spotted the familiar form of his wife loping toward him. She'd abandoned her crutch halfway through the second day, and was now doing pretty well with just the walking cast, moving almost as fast as normal. "Hey!" he called out, pointing his flashlight at her to get her attention.
"Hey," she returned, smiling at him widely. The patrons of Bailey's were streaming out now, moving around them both as they headed to their cars and homes. Heather came to a stop before him, aiming the beam of her own flashlight at his feet. "Is the generator out?"
"Naw," Jake shook his head, grinning tiredly. "Outta booze."
She laughed, the sound a balm to his ragged nerves. "Any more images?" Heather asked, cocking her head.
An SUV passed them, and Jake pulled Heather close, out of the way of the car. "Naw, just the same loop," he told her, transferring his flashlight to his other hand so he could lace their fingers together. "Sorry I abandoned you," he apologized softly. "Lost track of time," Jake admitted.
"Sorry I conked out on you," Heather countered. "I don't know, I'm fine one second, and absolutely exhausted the next," she told him, stifling a yawn.
"How'd you get here?" he asked.
"Your Dad walked me over," she replied. "He's sneaking into town hall for something as we speak," Heather explained, pointing at the darkened building across the street with her flashlight. "Jake, it's only eight blocks," she argued, recognizing his disapproving look. "I can walk eight blocks. I can walk the eight blocks back, too."
Jake conceded her point with a nod, letting go of her hand so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. "So then, get the car, head home?"
"Works for me," she agreed with a grin, leaning into his embrace.
They started down the street. "Still can't get used to Bailey's without the mechanical bull," Jake told Heather, kissing the top of her head, both of them chuckling. "Stanley musta cried when they took that out."
"Ah, but you didn't see Mary when she got her first insurance bill after he broke his arm," she interjected. "That was definitely not crying!"
He chuckled in acknowledgment. "Doesn't sound pretty," Jake agreed. "Hey, when did the Pizza Garden become the Cyberjolt Café?" he demanded, stopping to point his flashlight at the unlit storefront.
"Ah, when the Health Department shut down the Pizza Garden," Heather reported, wrinkling her nose.
"What?"
Heather looked up at him, her expression sympathetic. "Hon, the Pizza Garden hasn't been any good since Mags sold it and moved to Florida," she reminded. "And, the Cyberjolt has really good coffee."
"I used to work there –"
"Washing dishes for gas money," Heather interrupted. "Yeah, I've heard that story," she laughed. "Of course, we both know your Mom would have given you gas money, so that means you were really working for beer money," she teased. "But it is sweet how you try to protect my tender sensibilities."
He kissed her on the mouth then, lightly, murmuring, "Your tender sensibilities are important to me.” He sighed, tightening the arm he had around her. “Our first date was at the Pizza Garden,” Jake reminded. “I’d think you’d at least be a little sentimental about that."
Before she could respond, they were both startled by the soft sound of breaking glass somewhere nearby. Jake looked around, directing his flashlight over the buildings along the pitch black street. “That came from the alley,” he declared, letting go of Heather and moving quietly in the direction of the side street.
She followed Jake into the alley, though she knew he didn’t want her to. When he realized she was there he didn’t say anything, just shook his head at her, then grabbed her hand, holding it tightly, forcing her to remain, shielded, behind him. They proceeded quickly and quietly between the buildings, shining their flashlights in every direction, searching for the source of the noise.
“It’s the pharmacy,” she whispered to Jake, spotting a broken window in the back of the building as they came around the corner.
Jake turned his flashlight on the window, examining it quickly. “Why don’t you go get some help?” he said, looking back at Heather.
She nodded, and he let go of her hand. Heather hurried back up the alley, grateful that she’d learned to maneuver reasonably well with her cast. Back on Main Street, she headed for the sheriff's station inside town hall, where she roused Jimmy and Bill, demanding that they come with her. Leading the way, back out on the street, she ran into Stanley and Bonnie, who had finally given up on the generator at Bailey’s. Heather explained the situation to Stanley, and he and Bonnie joined their hastily assembled posse.
Jimmy and Bill jogged ahead, reaching the pharmacy first. Forcing the door open, Jimmy cast his flashlight around the dark room, spotting Jake who was performing a cursory examination of a man, covered in red sores, passed out on the floor. "Jake! Who is he?"
"I don't know," Jake answered tersely, watching as Bill, Heather, Stanley and Bonnie all piled through the door. "Help me get him outta here."
"Not without gloves or a hazmat suit," Bill objected.
Bonnie, held back by Heather, stared, horrified, at the man on the floor. "Is that radiation sickness?" she asked, obviously upset.
"I think it might be," Jake confirmed reluctantly. "Oh God," he swore a second later. "Get out, Heather," he ordered, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. "Get out. You're pregnant," he reminded, forestalling her objection. Jake glanced at Stanley then, who nodded at his sister. "Take Bonnie, too," he added, watching, his heart in his throat, as Heather finally began to back out the door.
"Okay, let's go," Heather muttered, apprehension lacing her tone. Still holding onto Bonnie's arm, she pulled the teenager along with her.
Jimmy was also inching toward the exit. "C'mon Bill," he urged.
"Help us pick him up," Jake demanded, standing up to glare at the two deputies.
"I'm not touching him, no way," Bill argued, holding his hands up. "Not me. He could be contagious."
Jake watched his wife and Bonnie leave, shaking his head, not quite able to believe this was all happening. "God," he murmured under his breath.
Stanley moved to help Jake, fixing Bill with an angry stare. "He's not contagious, Bill."
"You seem to think he's contagious to Heather and Bonnie," Bill argued, his expression obstinate. "I'm sorry, Stanley," he mumbled, "But no way."
Jake shook his head, disgusted. "That's a completely different situation, Bill."
"What if it was me lying here, Bill?" Stanley demanded. He and Jake stooped down, then lifted the stranger between them. "Wouldja walk away then?"
"It's not like with you, Stanley," Jimmy objected. "We don't – we don't even know who this guy is."
Both Jake and Stanley ignored the deputies' protestations as they carried their burden back up the alley to Main Street. "We can get him in my truck, and to the clinic," Stanley offered, but otherwise they didn't speak.
Back on Main Street, Jake spotted his father waiting with Heather and Bonnie, a protective hand on each of their shoulders. "Stay back," he called to them, as they drew close to Stanley's truck.
"Headed for the clinic?" Johnston asked, dragging the two women with him as he backed away from the street, onto the sidewalk and then the lawn.
"Yeah," Stanley answered distractedly, helping Jake load the stranger into the bed of his truck.
"We're right behind you," Johnston assured, collaring Jimmy, who looked relieved to be drafted for the simple duty of ferrying the other three to the clinic. The group started down the street to where Jimmy's squad car was parked.
"I'll stay back here with him," Jake decided, loosening the stranger's shirt. The man's breathing was labored, and Jake wasn't even sure he'd make it to the clinic. "Just go."
Stanley nodded, and closed the truck's tailgate. "Heather's pregnant?" he asked, looking Jake in the eye.
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, his expression inscrutable.
"Wow," Stanley murmured.
"Yeah," Jake agreed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Saturday, October 13, five years before the bombs
Jake Green had looked good in a suit, better in a t-shirt and jeans, and Heather couldn't help think, overwhelmingly handsome in the slacks, open-necked shirt, and sports jacket he was now wearing. "Hey," she greeted softly, opening her front door to admit him to her house, all the while trying to remember to breathe and to not stare too obviously. The butterflies she'd been suffering almost constantly since they'd parted company at the Richmonds five hours earlier returned with a vengeance. "Come – Come in," she invited, stumbling over her words.
"Hey," he replied in turn, smiling gently. "You look great, lovely," he said, suddenly plagued by his own set of nerves. "Um, these are for you," Jake added, presenting her with a small bouquet of mixed flowers. Then he leaned in, kissing her quickly on the cheek.
Heather, wide-eyed with surprise, accepted the bouquet with one hand, taking Jake's hand with the other. "Thank you," she said shyly, leading him into her living room. Somehow, she managed to keep herself from blurting out that she'd never before received flowers from anyone she didn't share a close, genetic relationship with. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked next, mainly to have something to say.
"No thanks," Jake answered. "I'm good."
"Okay," Heather nodded, letting go of his hand because her own was starting to sweat, and that was about the last thing she wanted him to know at that moment. "Wait here, have a seat," she invited. "I'm gonna find a vase."
Jake nodded, admiring Heather as she walked across the room and into the kitchen. He'd told her she looked lovely, but Jake didn't think that covered the half of it. She was wearing what he could only classify as a 'flirty' dress, not exactly revealing in the traditional sense, though it did accentuate her petite figure, showing her legs off nicely, and dipping in a V at the neck that, while not immodest, was certainly tantalizing. She'd curled her hair, and was wearing a berry-colored lip gloss that he couldn't help but want to kiss off.
Shaking his head to clear it, Jake forced himself to move around her living room, idly examining her bookshelves. Heather had an eclectic collection of books, everything from college texts with the 'used' stickers still on their spines, to classic novels he remembered being required to read in high school, not to mention every book written by John Grisham or Michael Crichton.
He heard Heather come back into the room, and glanced over his shoulder in time to see her place the vase of flowers on the coffee table. She smiled at him, and after rearranging a few blooms to her satisfaction, crossed to his side. "You have a lot of books," he observed, glancing at her as their arms brushed together.
"I do," Heather agreed, "And this isn't even all of them," she chuckled self-consciously. "According to my brother, I had twenty-two boxes when I moved here. He's still complaining about having to carry all of them in," Heather continued, and Jake could actually see her getting nervous as she started to babble. "But, I do have other interests, other things I –"
"Heather," he interrupted, "All I said is that you have a lot of books." The grin he offered took out any sting she might have felt at his words. "And believe it or not, I do read on occasion myself."
She gave him a relieved smile, which he returned, and then, in the next second, she was kissing him, softly, quickly, surprising the hell out of Jake. Almost before he realized what was happening, Heather pulled away, blushing and stammering, "I – I'm sorry. I – I don' – don't know –"
"You're sorry?" Jake echoed. He reached for her hand, stopping her from backing off farther, wanting nothing more than to drag her into his arms and try it again.
"Well, yes. No. I don't know," she confessed, her voice strangled. "I don't know what – I've never done that."
"You've never done what?" he asked, hoping to God that she wasn't about to say 'kiss a guy', but also unable to think of anything else it could be.
Heather expelled a deep breath. "Kissed somebody first," she told him, looking down. "I've never kissed anybody who hadn't kissed me, already, first."
"Thank God," Jake muttered. He still had a firm grip on her hand, and he pulled her close, forcing her to look up at him. He caressed her cheek with his free hand, finally pressing his mouth to hers. They kissed leisurely, Jake cupping the back of Heather's neck in order to gain traction as he nipped at her lower lip. She pushed against him, opening her mouth slightly, but he didn't deepen their kiss, content for the moment to simply feel her flesh against his.
When they separated it was slowly, Jake studying Heather, waiting for her to open her eyes. She looked dazed, and he couldn't help but smile at that, feeling strangely powerful from the knowledge that he'd induced her befuddled expression. "Okay?" Jake murmured.
"Okay," Heather agreed, her eyes fluttering.
She touched her bottom lip with her tongue, and it took all of Jake's willpower to keep himself from sweeping Heather back into his arms and finishing what they'd started by kissing her senseless. He did allow himself to pull her into a loose embrace, holding her against his chest, her face buried against his shoulder. "I did kiss you first," Jake told her, chuckling, resting his chin on top of her head. "I kissed you when I got here."
Jake felt Heather tense against him for a second, but then she started to giggle. "On the cheek," she complained against his shoulder. "My brothers kiss me 'hello' on the cheek."
He groaned. "Just so we're clear," Jake said, "Do I remind you at all of any of your brothers?"
Heather looked up at him, their eyes locking. "You remind me of my brothers the least of anyone I've ever met," she told him somewhat incoherently. She licked her lips, drawing another groan from Jake, and then smiled at him, chuckling soundlessly. "Who's Megan?" she asked.
"I told Stanley you'd heard him," he laughed, shaking his head. "Megan is Stanley's cousin."
"And, kissing me is like kissing Megan?"
"I've never kissed Megan, never wanted to," Jake responded quietly. He let go of Heather finally, stepping back, still watching her closely. He wanted to tell her that kissing her was wonderful, that she reminded him of no one else, and that he couldn't wait to do it again. But, Jake couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound cheesy, or that wasn’t likely to scare the hell out of her. He settled for smiling at her lopsidedly. "You ready to go?"
"Okay," she nodded. "Gimme a sec." Jake waited while Heather retrieved her purse and sweater, and then, taking her hand, escorted her out of the house and to his car. He opened the car door and handed her in, eliciting a giggle from Heather. "Thank you," she murmured, smiling at him. "I could get used to this."
Jake leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. "Feel free," he told her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. They watched one another for a long moment, and then, clearing his throat, Jake stepped back and closed the door.
Heather sighed, leaning back in the seat, her hand against her mouth. She'd already known that she was falling for Jake, and hard, but the previous ten minutes had left her giddy and happily confused. She had never responded to anyone, never connected with anyone, never wanted to be with anyone, the way she did with Jake. It was scary and exhilarating, all at once. Forcing herself to concentrate, Heather followed Jake with her eyes as he crossed in front of the car, and then came around to the driver's side.
He opened the door, and slid in. "Hey," he said, glancing at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Jake knew how to read people; in essence that was one of the more important aspects of his job: the ability to size someone else up without the other person really being aware that they were even on his radar. Heather, in all her openness, all her honesty, was easier for him to read than almost anyone else he'd ever met, and Jake appreciated both the excitement and uncertainty pictured on her face. "Hey," he repeated, reaching out to push a curled strand of her hair behind her ear, preventing her from hiding behind it. He smiled at her. "Ready?"
"Sure," she agreed, nodding, a grin blossoming on her face. Jake watched, fascinated, as she took a deep breath, forcing all traces of insecurity out of her expression. Heather's smile grew, and she turned it on him, asking teasingly, "Is it shallow if I admit that I really love your car?"
Jake laughed. "Is it shallow if I admit that I really love my car?" he countered. "My sixteenth birthday present," he explained. "My brother got a Mustang that he wrecked years ago, but I campaigned for this."
"A Mustang's rather predictable for a sixteen year old," Heather dismissed, prompting a nod and chuckle of agreement from Jake. He started the car then, neither of them speaking as he pulled away from the curb and drove to the first intersection. "So," she continued, "Do you work on it yourself? I mean, it runs great, it's beautiful, so obviously someone's putting some effort in."
"I do most things myself," Jake agreed, executing a left hand turn. "But, I also know when I'm in over my head, and I'm friendly with a good mechanic in Rogue River."
"Well, the next time you're doing anything, even if it's just changing the oil, let me know," Heather requested. "I'd love to get a look under the hood. I mean, just as an assistant," she assured him quickly. "If you don't mind. I'm a tinkerer by nature, but I'll promise to keep my hands to myself."
They'd reached another stop sign, and Jake glanced at her sideways. "Please don't," he told her. Heather blushed prettily, and Jake realized that their words sounded more suggestive than either of them had truly intended. "You fixed Stanley's tractor, right?" he continued, trying to follow her lead in this conversation, and back off from some of the intimacy they had fallen into earlier. "If you managed that, you must be a master mechanic."
"I'd never worked on a tractor before," Heather admitted, "But an engine is an engine." She shrugged. "Cars are more fun."
They'd reached Jericho's small business district, and Jake pulled the car into a parking spot on the street, around the corner and half a block from The Jericho Grille. He climbed out, moving around to the passenger's side to open the door for Heather who had, surprisingly, waited for him. Grinning at this, Jake held out his hand to her, helping her out. He held fast to her hand as they walked to the restaurant, still chatting about his car. Both distracted by the other, they didn't notice the crowd milling in the street outside of The Jericho Grille until they were almost upon it.
A fire truck, its lights still flashing, was parked at the curb, and the restaurant's staff and patrons mingled together, talking anxiously and watching the door. Jake spotted someone he knew, and asked, "What happened?"
"Kitchen fire," the other man explained, just as a firefighter and the restaurant's manager came out the door.
"Everything's fine, folks," the firefighter announced to the crowd. "Fire's out, no one's hurt, but that's it for the night."
"I apologize for the inconvenience," the manager added. "No charge, obviously, for anyone. If I have your credit card, please come see me."
Jake and Heather moved a few feet down the sidewalk, away from the disappointed and disgruntled crowd. "Wasn't expecting this," Jake said, running his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."
"I'm pretty sure you didn't come over here earlier and start the fire," Heather joked. "No reason for you to be sorry."
He nodded. "Yeah," he acknowledged, exhaling. They were both silent for a moment, and then Jake hesitantly offered, "Look, why don't we just go over to Roma Italia."
"I think that's where everyone else is headed," Heather told him, pointing at the now dispersing crowd. "Besides, didn't Stanley tell you that we went there?"
"There's no way you could have heard that," Jake argued, sounding just a little unsure of himself.
Heather laughed, shaking her head. "The only thing I heard was Stanley say that kissing me would be like kissing Megan," she explained. "But, I know you weren't talking about crop rotation this morning. And, besides," she continued, cringing slightly, "You obviously know that I told Stanley he reminded me of my brother. On our one and only, not to mention extremely short date," she emphasized.
"Yeah," Jake confirmed, his expression somewhat sheepish. "I wanted to make sure I wasn’t, I don't know –"
"Going after your best friend's girlfriend?" Heather suggested. "Jake," she sighed, "Trust me, if Stanley and I were anything like an item, I would not have been ogling you at the side of the road yesterday."
It was dark now, but they were standing under a street lamp, and Jake could see clearly that she was blushing again. He reached out, playing with her hair for a moment before tilting her chin up so that their eyes met. "You were ogling me?" he teased.
Heather giggled unwillingly, shaking her head. "You so knew that," she complained. She took a step toward Jake then, surprising him again by kissing him softly. "I didn't come out with you tonight because of what restaurant you'd take me to," she murmured. "I came because you asked, and I want to spend time with you. We can go anywhere. We can go to the Pizza Garden, for all I care," she finished, throwing her hands up in the air for emphasis.
"The Pizza Garden?" Jake repeated, laughing. "We're a little overdressed for The Pizza Garden."
"The pizza's reasonable, and it's almost Italian," Heather offered, shrugging. "We are overdressed," she agreed. "But, we'd get to eat. Spend time together. That's really all I wanted, anyway."
He studied her for a moment, recognizing, once again, the honesty in Heather's expression, in the way she conducted herself. "You're sure?" he asked one last time, already knowing the answer. She nodded. "Okay," Jake said, holding his hand out to her, "The Pizza Garden it is."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sunday, September 24, four days after the bombs
"Whoa, there!" Stanley declared, catching Heather by both arms before she could smack into him. She'd come around the corner, not watching where she was going, at as close to a running speed as she could currently manage.
"Sorry," she responded breathlessly. "Sorry, Stanley, I wasn't looking where I was going."
He pulled her to the side of the hallway, out of the way of traffic, not that there was anyone else in that part of the clinic at the moment. "No problem," he told her, grinning. "Congratulations, by the way, Mama," Stanley teased.
Heather exhaled deeply, pressing her lips together, obviously self-conscious. "Thanks," she said finally, attempting, but not quite achieving, a smile.
"What's wrong?" Stanley demanded as her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Nothing, really," she denied, wiping her eyes. "I'm pregnant, so I keep crying for no reason, and falling asleep everywhere I go, and I can't stop peeing!"
Stanley made a face. "Too much information, Green," he told her, trying not to laugh.
"The peeing?" she asked, giggling and frowning simultaneously.
"Yeah," Stanley agreed, "That. Look," he continued, throwing his arm around her shoulders, "This is good news – great news. And, good news is exactly what we all need right now."
Heather shook her head. "Stanley, there are a million things that could go wrong, especially now, with the uncertainty, the radiation, there's no electricity – April says they may not be able to keep the clinic running – and there's just no way to tell how any of this is going to work out."
"No, you can't think like that," he contradicted. "You and Jake, you two have good luck, right? I mean, he's supposed to be on the other side of the planet right now, but somehow he manages to come home right before the world goes to hell? What's more lucky than that?" Stanley demanded, shaking Heather a little as he hugged her, trying to cajole a smile. "This is gonna work out," he assured her. "And, the best part is, I get to be an uncle," he declared, beaming. "I do get to be an uncle, right?"
She smiled at him, laughing softly. "Yes," Heather agreed, taking a calming breath, "You definitely get to be an uncle."
"Sweet!" Stanley proclaimed. "I've always wanted to be an uncle, and this is a really good way to be one, 'cause it doesn't involve my little sister having sex."
Heather laughed out loud at that, wiping her eyes again. "Thanks, Stanley," she murmured.
"Any time, Mama," he told her, pressing a sloppy kiss to her forehead.
"You're gonna call me that for the next seven months, aren't you?" Heather asked, groaning.
"You better believe it," Stanley grinned.
She chuckled along with him, shaking her head. "I'm actually looking for Jake," she said finally.
Stanley let go of Heather, turning around to point at a door about fifteen feet down the hall. "Locker room," he directed. "Bonnie's around here somewhere?"
"Yeah," Heather confirmed, already moving toward the locker room door. "I got caught up talking with April, and she wandered off." Stanley nodded in acknowledgment, and then headed in the opposite direction.
Heather walked to the door Stanley had indicated, and knocked, calling out "Jake!" as she let herself in. She made it four steps in before she spotted her husband, standing in the middle of the room, a towel wrapped low around his waist. "Oh," she murmured, eyes wide.
"Had to take a shower," Jake told her, their gazes locking.
"Go ahead," Heather replied, clearing her suddenly dry throat.
Jake grinned, amused. "No, babe, I did," he said, pointing to the shower stall behind him. "I just took a shower."
"Oh, right," she agreed, turning red.
"God," he declared, blown away as he always was by the passion for him that was so evident in Heather's expression. "You have no idea what you do to me," he sighed, stepping toward her. "We've been together nearly five years, and you still blush," Jake said hoarsely, cupping her face in both his hands and kissing her.
"It's been awhile," Heather whispered, wrapping her arms around Jake so that her hands were splayed across his bare, damp back.
He leaned his forehead against Heather's. "Three months," he breathed, brushing his mouth across hers again.
"Ten weeks, actually," she corrected, giggling softly and opening her mouth to him.
It was Jake who pulled away first, groaning in frustration. "We really can't do this here," he told Heather, holding her at arm's length. "I'm pretty sure April'd kill us if we did," he completed, breathing hard.
Heather's laugh was shaky. "No doubt," she agreed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Not exactly comfortable, either."
"That too," he acknowledged, allowing an exasperated chuckle.
"I'll probably just fall asleep later," Heather warned with a wry grin.
Jake groaned once more, and stepped toward her, grasping her by the shoulders. "That's a chance I'll have to take," he said, kissing her softly, chastely, twice before pulling back. "Okay," Jake declared, having put three feet between them, "You go over there, please," he ordered, pointing to the bench that ran between the two banks of lockers.
Heather did as he asked, perching herself on the end of the bench, watching Jake while he wiped his face dry with his arm, then grabbed a pair of scrubs off a shelf. "So, what's up?" he asked, pulling on the top.
"Oh, uh, April said the clinic was running low on gasoline for the generator," Heather answered, rather surprised that she could recall the original reason she'd come looking for him. She took a deep breath, and continued. "It occurred to me that if we had a length of hose and a funnel we could siphon gas out of our cars. Then it occurred to me that there's all that gas in the tanks at Murthy's gas station, and if we could get enough suction, then we could get all the gas we wanted."
Jake slipped on the pants and tossed his towel at a hamper. "Would a water pump do it?" he asked.
"Should," Heather nodded.
He crossed to where she sat, holding out his hand to help her up. "Well then, we'll find one." Jake kissed Heather on the forehead, then turned her around, putting both hands on her shoulders to steer her out of the locker room. In the hall he took her hand. "C'mon."
Jake wanted to check in on the stranger, and so he led Heather back to room three. Outside the room they found Bonnie, watching the man through the observation window. Jake let go of Heather's hand, and moved next to Bonnie, touching her arm to get her attention. "Bonnie," he greeted softly when she looked at him.
She was frowning, and he thought, trying valiantly not to cry. "This could be my brother," she told Jake. "Is this how they die?"
"Stanley didn't get it this bad," Jake assured her.
Bonnie shook her head. "He could still get cancer," she protested.
Heather moved to the other side of Bonnie, putting her arm around the teenager. "We don't know that," she comforted.
Stanley came through the fire door in time to hear Bonnie's last statement. He called out to them, gaining Jake's and Heather's attention, who in turn urged Bonnie to look at her brother. "Don't worry about me," Stanley told her, signing simultaneously. "I'll be fine."
"Take care of him," Bonnie said, looking at Jake. Then, she pulled loose from Heather, hurrying into her brother's embrace.
Jake and Heather moved instinctively together, his arm going around her as they watched their friends. "I need to go in there," he murmured, pointing to the stranger through the window. "I'll talk to April about the gas," he promised, letting go of her.
"Hey, Heather, where's your car?" Stanley asked.
"Um, Jake's parents'," she answered, her eyes darting back and forth between her husband's departing form and Stanley.
"Want a lift over?" he offered. "Then you can come back for Jake, or not."
Jake, halfway through the door, turned to glare at his friend.
Heather laughed, promising him, "I'll come back for you. Gimme half an hour."
"Thanks," Jake answered. "Tell Stanley your plan," he suggested. "See if he's in."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *