The Greens of Jericho

Different Circumstances Interludes: Long Distance Relationship, Part 11

by Marzee Doats

Author's Note:

We have almost reached the end of this first Different Circumstances Interlude.  (I really though we were there, but Heather and Jake were enjoying themselves so much, they added a twelfth part to this story.)  Thank you for sticking with me as I indulged in this chance to tell you about Jake and Heather just before the story we all know and love (with the Different Circumstances twist).

I am still working on the first of these Interludes (I looks like there will be five of them, but you never know where my muse will take me).  Once this Interlude concludes (somewhere north of 500 pages and 12 parts) I will get back to Different Circumstances proper (still working on Part 15).  I'm hankering to get back to that story, and it is always in the back of my brain, bubbling away.

Many thanks to my two fabulous beta readers, Skyrose and Sherry for their feedback and encouragement. 

Warnings:

Not necessarily a warning in the content sense, but about how this chapter is structured.

This story is all about how our favorite couple is living and coping during a time when they are in a long-distance relationship.  Keep in mind that Iraq is eight hours ahead of Jericho Kansas, so they are always having to consider what the other person is probably doing during a substantially different part of his or her day. (And okay, this is a single scene, and what they are doing is talking to each other.  But that eight hour time difference is still there.)

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

Tuesday June 6, 7:57 pm (Jericho KS)/Wednesday June 7, 3:57 am (Baghdad Iraq)

3 and a half months before the bombs

"You know, your dad does not approve of you being on the bed," Heather informed Baron, who had curled himself up on the end of the mattress, his head on his paws, watching her.  "But he's not here, is he?  And it's my birthday," she reminded the Labrador.  "So, we can do whatever we want, right?" 

Baron, for his part, cocked his head to the side while maintaining eye contact, seeming to smile at his beloved mistress.

She leaned toward the dog, pressing a quick kiss to his snout.  "You are my good, good boy," she declared, returning his grin.  "But I hafta tell you, Mister, that you have peanut butter breath.  Just like your dad.  Sometimes.  But I like peanut butter breath, so that's okay." 

The dog emitted a soft whimper, one that Heather recognized was more about getting – or keeping – her attention than anything else.  She patted his head, again leaning her face close to his and he panted happily, breathing on her once more. 

Giggling, she pulled back.  "Ack!  That – my friend – was dog breath, not peanut butter breath," she told him.  "And I definitely prefer peanut butter breath to dog breath.  But," she continued, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the air, "I still love you."

"You miss him too, huh?" Heather asked a moment later, scratching Baron behind the ear.  "Me too.  But he's gonna call, any minute now," she assured, touching first her cell phone – sitting on her left knee – and then the house phone – resting against her right thigh.  "And you get to talk to him too, this time.  Well, listen to him," she amended.  "I'm gonna make him say 'Hi!' to you, promise."

"C'mon Jake," she mumbled, glancing down at her list. 

FLIRT SHAMELESSLY!

Things to talk about….

1. which panties?

2. rose color choices – meaning?

3. Great Dad – not just ok – AMAZING!

4. Hawaii -> Buffalo -> Jericho

5. Sweet Talk!!

6. Jake's choice

7.everything happening at school (if there's time)

It was a good list, she decided.  'Agenda', she corrected silently, remembering Mandy's accusation and directing a soundless 'thank you' toward her sister-in-law for her advice.  'Flirt Shamelessly', was an excellent suggestion. 

She missed him; she missed her husband.  She missed his presence: the simple pleasure of watching him go about his day; of catching his eye – and his inevitable grin when their gazes connected – from across the room; of touching him – even for just a second – whenever they were in range of one another.  She missed his scent: that ordinary and wonderful combination of soap, sweat, the great outdoors and something that she couldn't quite name.  It was masculine, yes, but also uniquely and quintessentially Jake.  She missed his kisses.  She missed the sense of strength and security that she drew from him whenever he held her in his arms. 

But at least they could still communicate, much as Father Reynaldo had reminded Heather the other evening.  It wasn't in any way near as satisfying as when Jake was home, but she could – she would – make do.  They could still talk, even with more than seven thousand miles separating them.  She could – she did – still have the sound of his voice in her ear: encouraging her, teasing her, making her laugh.  Debating and discussing a thousand different topics with her.  Expressing his love and desire for her.

She missed him; she missed him so much that there were times it seemed to press on her chest, a heavy, aching weight on her heart – in her very core.  But she was secure in the knowledge that they loved one another, and that they both were committed to maintaining their relationship.  Their connection.  So, she would flirt shamelessly.  And it didn't matter whether or not they got to anything else on her agenda; 'Flirt Shamelessly' was more than enough of an agenda, all on its own.

"Jake," she breathed, frowning to herself.  "Please just call."    

Given her singular focus on willing him to call her, it should not have been quite so startling when her cell phone rang not even five seconds later, but it was.  Heather jerked in surprise and the phone fell off her knee.  She scrambled to retrieve it, glancing at the screen to see the number, but all it said was 'Restricted Caller'.  "Hello?" she answered, her tone cautious.

"Hey, Babe.  Happy Birthday."

Heather exhaled a relieved sigh.  "Jake!  I wasn't – it just said: 'Restricted Caller' and I didn’t want to say too much in case it wasn't you.  I'm so glad it's you."

"Thanks," he acknowledged.  "I'm glad it's you too.  And I'm on the sat phone this morning.  Tonight.  Whatever.  But that's why I'm a 'Restricted Caller'," he reminded.

She caught herself nodding as she assimilated this bit of information.  For security reasons, he'd never shared the satellite phone's number with her, telling her it was a complicated number and that only a few people – all DEA – knew the number because the last thing he needed was an incoming call at the wrong time.  Actually, he'd continued, no one who knew the number ever called him; he always called them – or her – instead.  That had been more than enough to convince her that she absolutely didn't want to know its number.  However, what she did know was that Jake never used the satellite phone unless it was safe to do so.  "You're in a good place to talk?"

"Yeah," he returned.  "Definitely in a good place to talk.  How 'bout you?  Where are you?"

"Home," she told him, "Bedroom, to be precise."

"Well, see?  That'd be an even better place to talk," Jake teased.  "Wish I was there with you."

"Me too," she murmured.  "In fact, this is the perfect place to do quite a number of things, only one of which is talking."

Jake emitted an appreciative groan.  "Babe…. Can you go get your laptop?" he requested a beat later.  "It's in the office, right?"

"Okay…."

"Heather, I'm in a good place to talk," he reminded.  "Turns out, it's also a good place to Skype, if you're int—"

"Really?" she interrupted, delight ringing in her tone.  She was already up and off the bed, halfway across the room.  "Of course, I'm interested.  I'm – this is an amazing surprise," she declared, pushing the folding door aside (Jake had insisted on some separation between her work life and their personal life) and jogging into the office.

"I should've thought of it last week when I was here, and we talked," he confessed, "But – I just didn't."

"It's okay," she soothed, pressing the phone to her ear with her left hand, while with her right, she disconnected her laptop from its power cord before picking it up and tucking it – along with the extra-long network cable he'd given her – under her arm.  "I'm just really glad we can do this tonight.  Two Skype sessions for my birthday.  On top of everything else.  This is a great surprise, Hon."

"Didn't know for sure that I could manage it," Jake admitted.  "Figured it was better to surprise you than disappoint you."

"Thank you," she said, pausing just outside the office alcove to plug the network cable into the jack located there in the wall.  "And I'm almost ready…" she informed him, moving quickly back to the bed.  She plopped down on the edge, opening the laptop and tapping impatiently on the mousepad to "wake" the computer.  "Okay, go ahead and call me, I'm ready."

"Do we hang up the phone?"

"Not until we're on Skype," Heather answered, just as the video call started to ring through.  She moved her cursor to the "Accept" button and clicked it, announcing as his image materialized on her screen, "Okay, now we hang up."  They both did.

"Hey, Babe," Jake greeted, a grin easing the tired lines and shadows in his expression.  "Happy Birthday!"

"Hey, you," she returned, drinking in the sight of him.  "I love you, Jake."

"Love you too.  Love you more.  And you hafta let me say that," he continued, anticipating her argument, "At least for today."

"Okay," she pretended to huff.

"Actually, I love you times infinity," he decided, gesturing into the camera.  "And I like how your necklace turned out, too.  Looks really good with that dress.  Course, it'd prob'ly look good with anything you were wearin'."

"Or maybe if I was wearing nothing?" she suggested, smirking – actually smirking! – at him.  For the most part, Heather wasn't a smirker – he was – but, yes, Jake decided, that was definitely a smirk his wife was sporting.  "You know.  If I was in my birthday suit," she joked, allowing a knowing giggle.  "I'm sure you would enjoy that too."

"I know I'd enjoy that," he agreed, smirking in return, "And it is your birthday."

"If only you were here, Jake," she said, shaking her head and allowing an exaggerated sigh.  "But we have rules…."

"I'm good with the rules, Babe," he assured her.  "Long as the rules allow for me to ponder some of my past experiences with that dress.  'Cause you know how I've always loved that dress."

"The rules allow," she conceded.  "And I am aware of your particular fondness for this dress, yes," she chuckled, glancing down at the bodice for a moment.  She looked up, their gazes locking once more.  "Both when I'm wearing it – and when I'm not."

* * *

"When you get to be my age," EJ Green had announced, having finished off the last bite of the grilled cheese sandwich Heather had made for his lunch, "One of the perks is that no one minds if you take a nap on Sunday afternoon.  Or any afternoon, really."  He'd stood up then, stepping behind his granddaughter-in-law so he could press a kiss to the top of her head.  "Thank you, Darlin'.  That was delicious.  And the tomato was a nice touch," he'd added, throwing his grandson a knowing look.  "Don' know what it is that Jake has against it."

"You're welcome," Heather had smiled, while her husband had settled for rolling his eyes. 

"I'll be ready to leave at five," EJ had promised, looking back at them over his shoulder as he'd made his way to the door.  "Keep us all in Abigail's good graces that way."

"Thanks for lunch, Babe, that was great," Jake had murmured, climbing to his feet and beginning to gather their dishes.  "And you know," he'd continued, cocking his head toward the doorway his grandfather had exited through, "Sorry 'bout that."

"You are very welcome," his wife had smiled.  "And what exactly is it that you're sorry for?" she had joked, guessing, "That you won't let me put tomato in your grilled cheese?"  She had followed him to the sink with a glass in each hand, the third tucked between her elbow and her side.  "Because that just means there's more for Gramps and me," she'd reasoned, smiling at him when he'd relieved her of the glassware, depositing it next to their plates on the drainboard. 

"Sorry that—"

"I love living here," she'd interrupted.  "And I love Gramps.  And most of all – more than anything – I love you," she'd assured him, wrapping both arms around his waist.  "Okay?"

"'Kay," he'd agreed, using one finger to tilt her chin up so he could place a chaste kiss on her lips.

"We can leave the dishes," Heather had told him when he'd started to pull away, her arms finding their way around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.  "But come upstairs with me?" she'd requested, "I need your help with something."

"You got it," he'd agreed, and that time when he'd kissed her, it hadn't been so chaste.

They had made their way upstairs a few minutes later, exchanging flirtatious looks and touches, and shushing one another as they had climbed the staircase to the second floor.  Though, it had been slow-going since they paused on each step to kiss and caress.

"Jake, he's right there," she'd complained, smiling against his lips and twining her arms around his shoulders.  "We need to be quiet."

"I'm bein' quiet," he had insisted, pressing a kiss – and then a second – to the side of her neck.  "And he's not that close."

Gramps had moved downstairs to the guestroom before their wedding – Heather's brothers Andy and Tommy, along with their families, had been invited to stay at the ranch while they were in Jericho for the festivities – and had never moved back upstairs.  He'd issued his invitation for them to live at the ranch, offering them the second floor for their use, the first morning they had been back in Jericho after their honeymoon.

"He's probably snorin' away already," Jake had opined, stopping her on the landing between floors.  He'd pulled her into his arms, wrapping himself around her.  "God, I love you," he'd murmured, burying his face in her hair.

"I love you too," Heather had murmured into his chest, her breath creating a damp spot on his t-shirt, right over his heart.  "But Jake…."

"Fine, I'll be good," he'd decided, reluctantly taking a step back.  He'd caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.  "C'mon," he'd invited, "You can inspect my work."  Heather had been in Lawrence to attend a class as part of her master's program the previous day, and Jake had completed refinishing the floor in his old bedroom in her absence.  "Make sure it's up to your standards, Mrs. Green," he'd teased.

"Not right now," she'd told him as they'd reached the top step.  She'd tugged on his hand, leading him toward their bedroom instead.  "You can show me everything you did later, and I promise to be super impressed," she'd grinned.  "And thank you for taking care of that since I totally bailed on you.  This class was a hard one," she'd admitted.  "The hardest yet."

"Hey, you did great, I know it," he had contradicted, lacing their fingers together and offering her a lopsided smile.  "And thanks for not hating me for bailing on you and being gone for three weeks."

"You were only gone seventeen days – so two and a half weeks – and I am always gonna love you, Jake," she'd reminded.  "Even if you're gone for a month.  Or two.  I'll miss you of course, but I'm not gonna stop loving you," she'd insisted, squeezing his hand affectionately.  "Besides, I'm not sure I would have actually managed to finish that darn paper if you'd been home.  So, thank you? For being gone for seventeen days, I mean," she'd giggled.  "I would have let you distract me otherwise."

"You're welcome, I guess?" he'd laughed softly along with her.  "But," he had continued a moment later, his tone turning serious, "You're not allowed to let me distract you so much that you fail a class.  Or, you know, get a 'B'.  Just tell me to knock it off, Babe.  Okay?"

"Okay," Heather had agreed, exhaling slowly.  "Though I'll be happy if I just get a 'C' in this class," she'd claimed.  "But it's done.  I've given the presentation and submitted the paper."

"Plus, rewrote the whole procedures manual for the After School Club – that needs a better name by the way."

"It really does.  And it wasn't, like, an actual manual," she'd countered, "That was kinda the problem."

He had managed to get away the previous Sunday for most of the afternoon and had checked into a cheap motel just so he could call her.  They'd talked for nearly three and a half hours, and although she'd resisted "wasting" their chance to talk on discussing what she was doing for her master's program, eventually she'd ended up taking him through everything she'd already prepared for her presentation.  He'd understood most of it – had even made a suggestion or two that she'd accepted with enthusiasm – and had hated having to tell her that he had to go, had to stop talking with her about personnel management in the primary school setting of all things.  "Babe, you did great, I know you did," he'd repeated.

"We'll see," she sighed.  "Doesn't matter now.  What happens, happens.  And it's spring break, and I don't hafta worry about either of my schools for a week.  Plus – as you know – today is our nine-month wedding anniversary—"

"That it is."

Jake had landed in Miami just after one in the morning on Friday, crashing in the airport hotel for a few hours before he'd caught the first Denver-bound flight of the day.  His plane had landed just after ten local time, and he’d been on the road to Jericho by eleven.  Heather had arrived home ninety minutes after he had, but unfortunately, she'd only stayed for about an hour as she'd needed to drive to Lawrence that evening for a class that began at eight AM sharp the next morning.  He'd met her on the driveway as she'd been getting out of her car, presenting her with a bouquet of nine red roses, one for each month since their wedding. 

"I love you, Jake, but you hafta stop doing this," she'd insisted, even as he'd traded her the bouquet for her backpack and lunch bag.  "You can't keep getting me roses equal to the number of months we've been married.  What if we really are married for seventy-five years?  You'd be bringing me…."

She'd paused, and he'd recognized that she was doing the math in her head.  "Nine hundred roses," he'd supplied for her, shouldering her backpack and reaching for her hand.  "And whaddya mean 'what if'?"

"Sorry," she had apologized, squeezing his fingers.  "What I should've said is: Jake, I love you.  But when we've been married for seventy-five years, I don't need nine-hundred roses to celebrate that.  Just a dozen," she'd joked.  "Or – maybe – two," she'd amended with a giggle.  "And you, of course."  She'd leaned toward him then, inviting his kiss.  "You most of all."

"That's better," he'd said, brushing his lips across hers.  "I love you too."  They had started to walk toward the house, and Heather, keeping ahold of his hand, had maneuvered herself under his arm.  He'd taken the hint, draping his arm over her shoulder, holding her against his side.  "Missed you, too," he'd murmured pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Reaching the front porch, she'd pulled away from him, but just so she could mount the first step.  Quickly, she had deposited her bouquet and purse on the top step, then had turned around to face him, almost eye-to-eye.  "I missed you more," she'd claimed, twining her arms around his neck.  "You just got home and I'm leaving," Heather had complained, frowning, "And it really sucks.  I'm sorry."

"Well, you gotta go to class, right?" he'd reminded her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.  "Knock 'em dead with your presentation." 

"Yeah," Heather had grumbled before giving into a sigh.  "Sorry I jumped the gun and asked April to go with me this time."

"Hey, it's okay, Babe," he'd countered.  "You didn't know if I was gonna be back in time.  I didn't know if I was gonna be back in time.  And I'm glad April's goin' with you since I couldn't.  That's a lotta driving and it's just safer."

She had nodded, explaining, "And now she's gonna spend tomorrow while I'm in class with Danny and Nicole and Tyler, so I couldn't really dis-invite her after she said she'd go with me and then made plans."

"It's just one more night, right?  And it's not actually our anniversary 'til Sunday."

"Yeah, okay," she'd agreed, offering him a wan smile.  "Wait up for me tomorrow night?"

"Babe," he'd chided, "If you're gonna ask for somethin' at least pick something you don't already know I'm gonna do."

"Well, I still haven't had time to put the stain on the floor in your old room," she'd admitted.  "I've just been so busy."

"'Kay, I'm on it," Jake had promised. 

"Gramps was talking about doing some breeding tomorrow," she’d informed him, her tone doubtful.  "So, if he needs you for that, maybe we can do it together on Sunday?"

"Or I do some of it tonight and get up early tomorrow to finish," he suggested.  "Gramps and I can still get started by ten, ten-thirty.  That way, on Sunday – our actual anniversary—"

"We can do whatever we want," Heather had interrupted him, grinning.  "I like that plan, Hon."

She'd left for Lawrence forty-five minutes later, arriving back at the ranch just after eleven on Saturday night.  He'd planned to surprise her with pancakes, but she'd gotten the jump on him, waking him up at eight-fifteen Sunday morning to let him know that it was Palm Sunday, and she was going to the nine o'clock Mass, and he should sleep in because – remember! – they would be attending Easter services with the rest of the Green family in just a week.  Still in the process of waking up, Jake had stared after her as she'd rushed out of their bedroom, only to be surprised by her again when she'd come back to kiss him goodbye one more time, promising to make grilled cheese for their lunch when she came home.

But now, Jake realized, they were finally both awake, alone, together, and completely free of obligations.  "Happy Anniversary, Babe."

"Happy official, nine-month Anniversary!" she'd returned, teasing, "So, Hon, still feeling good about the whole getting married thing?"

He had held up his hands, pretending to weigh the question, moving a set of imaginary scales back and forth.  "Yeah, I'd say so," he confirmed, chuckling, "You?"

"I've got no complaints," she'd grinned in return.  "So, we should probably just stay married."

"Yeah, let's do that," he had agreed.

"So, what do you think of this dress?" she'd asked, taking a step back and then turning in a full circle to give him the complete view.

Jake hadn't really given much thought at all to her dress, which was fitted on top with a flowing, below the knee skirt and in an emerald green and ivory floral print.  He studied her for a moment, his gaze raking appreciatively over her petite form.  "I like it.  It's pretty, looks great on you."

"Thank you," she'd breathed, offering him an almost shy smile.  "And do you know what's the main feature of this dress?"

He hadn't known exactly what she'd been up to, but he'd decided that he'd liked where she was going.  "I'm guessin' maybe I don't, Babe."  He'd waited a beat, then had added, "So, what's the feature?" 

"Buttons!" she'd proclaimed.  "Head to toe buttons.  Well," she'd continued, holding one hand to her throat, "More like neck to knee."  Heather had gestured with her other hand at the skirt.  "Though really not neck," she'd reasoned, moving her hand down a few inches.  "Shoulder to knee?" she'd suggested even as she'd unfastened the first two buttons, revealing the slightest hint of the cleft between her breasts.  "Chest to knee?" she'd asked rhetorically, before nodding, satisfied, to herself.  "Chest to knee.  I think that's most accurate."

"Seems accurate to me," he'd confirmed, chuckling.

"So, chest to knee buttons.  Forty-two of them.  I counted this morning as I was getting dressed."  She'd glanced down for a second.  "Well, only forty now.  To undo, I mean." 

He'd taken a step closer, so that his body had almost brushed against hers.  "So, this is what you needed help with?" he'd drawled, stilling her hand as it moved down to the third button.  Gently, he pushed her fingers out of the way, substituting his own for the effort.   "Undoing…" he'd murmured, taking his time to push the tiny button through its hole.  "… your buttons?"

"Yeah..." she'd returned softly.  "I mean, they're kinda small, and there really are sooo many of them."

"Thirty-nine," he had agreed, working to unfasten the next one.  "Thirty-eight."  He'd glanced down, noting that he had more than a glimpse of her cleavage now.  Not much more, but more.  "You sure, Babe?"

Jake had hoped that he'd been reading her signals correctly, but he also had to be certain.  He'd promised himself – hell, he'd promised her, in front of God and the nearly three-hundred guests at their wedding – that he would never purposely embarrass her.  Not that it was embarrassing, exactly, to share a house with his grandfather, but it could be awkward at times.  And not that EJ Green imposed himself on them.  In fact, he'd only been upstairs a handful of times since they'd moved in, and then only because Heather had insisted that he had to come see the progress they had made on the renovations of the four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor.  But still, he'd understood that sometimes she was uncomfortable with the possibility that Gramps would somehow know what they had been up to, or more accurately when exactly they had been up to it.

"We don't—"

"I want to," Heather had interrupted him.  "I – Jake, I've missed you, and I love you, and it's our nine-month anniversary, and we're gonna stay married for the next seventy-five years, and I want to be with you," she'd declared.  "I want to make love with you.  Now."

He'd pulled her into his arms then, capturing her mouth for a kiss and had continued to hold her close once they'd reluctantly come up for air.  "You know," he'd started to chuckle, "Well, of course, you know.  But nine months is exactly one percent of seventy-five years.  Three-quarters of a year, three-quarters of a century…."

"Very true," she'd nodded against his shoulder.  "And very nerdy," she'd added, pulling away, but only so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.  "You are trying to seduce me with math," she'd accused, grinning.

"I prefer the term 'geeky'," Jake had countered, brushing his mouth across hers.  "And I like the idea that we have ninety-nine percent of our life together ahead of us."

"Me too," she'd whispered, smiling into his kiss.  He'd grazed her lower lip with his teeth, tugging it gently, before running his tongue over it.  Moaning, Heather had opened her mouth to him as she'd also pressed against him, trying in vain to get closer.

"But really, if anyone is trying to seduce anyone 'round here," he'd claimed a long moment later, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger while he'd silently enjoyed her glazed over expression.  "Clearly it's you trying to seduce me," he'd charged, teasing, "What with your 'Jake, there's just so many buttons'."

Heather had allowed a throaty chuckle.  "Well, that might be true," she'd conceded, before reminding him, "But this is seriously a lot of buttons."  She had glanced down at her dress for a second before catching his eye, her arms snaking around his waist.  "And what I really wanna know is if it's working," she'd grinned, fitting her hands into his jeans' back pockets, squeezing him through the denim.  "Are you seduced, Hon?"

He'd smiled at that, the sweet, gentle grin that had always made her heart skip a beat.  "I am.  But, Babe, you're blushing," he'd informed her, caressing her cheek, "So I—"

"I blush, Jake.  When I'm with you, I blush," she'd shrugged.  "Even when I'm not and I just think about you, I blush.  I bet when we've been married seventy-five years and you look at me like that – and, God, you better still be looking at me like that—"

"Oh, I'm gonna be, Mrs. Green," he'd promised, "Don't you worry about that."

 "Well then, that'll make me blush."

Yeah, okay," he acknowledged, exhaling slowly.  "But I don't want you to be embarrassed later if Gramps—"

"I won't be."  She'd paused for a moment, her expression quirking as she'd tried to decide whether or not to say something.

"Spit it out," he'd ordered, extracting her hand from his pocket so he could press a kiss to her palm and then the inside of her wrist.

"You do realize that Gramps isn't actually taking a three-and-a-half-, four-hour nap, right?"  Heather had giggled at the skeptical look he'd given her, leaning into him, skimming her mouth across his.  "Jake, he was getting out of the way.  If he took a nap that long, he'd never sleep tonight.  But he wanted to give us some space.  He was … he was telling us to not worry about him.  Go spend some time together.  Have some fun."

"He wants us to have some fun, huh?"

"I want us to have fun.  And spend time together.  You were gone for seventeen days, and then I was gone—"

"For one day.  It was just one day, and it was for class," he had argued.  "That's important."

Heather had beamed at him.  "See?  You say things like that, and I'm even more convinced that – in this moment – we are both wearing waaay too many clothes." 

"Well, kinda hard to disagree with that," he'd chuckled.

She'd cupped his face with both hands, kissing him.  And when she'd pulled away, she'd still held his gaze, repeating, "I've missed you.  I've missed this."

Jake had moved his hand to her dress's bodice again, finding the first, still-buttoned, button and slowly freeing it from its hole.  "Thirty-seven," he'd murmured, already reaching for the next.  "Thirty-six."

"I do have a challenge for you, though," she'd told him, before asking sweetly, "Are you up for a challenge, Hon?"

"Thirty-five," he'd announced, smiling as he'd confirmed his suspicion that she'd been wearing his favorite of all her bras.  "Sure.  Lay it on me."

"Well, I was hoping to still wear this dress to your parents' for dinner tonight.  So…."

"Thirty-four.  So, get you outta this dress, and make sure you can still wear it later.  That's the challenge?"

"Exactly."

"Thirty-three," he'd counted down, adding, "Plus, you go to dinner in this dress – thirty-two – Gramps can't really know how we spent our time together," he had reminded, chuckling in appreciation.  "Thirty-one."

"I'm guessing he'll figure it out," she'd laughed, "But plausible deniability, right?"

"God, I love you," Jake had grinned.  She'd been blushing, but for him, it had just highlighted her beauty and vitality.  He'd abandoned his task, burying his hands in her hair, cupping her head, and pulling her to him so he could kiss her, breathing into her mouth, "Challenge accepted."

* * *

"I do love that dress," Jake agreed.  "I really love how, when you wear it, and we're out around other people, they just all think it’s a nice dress – that you look beautiful.  Well, I think that too.  But I also spend the whole time thinkin' about what's gonna happen when we get home…."  He paused, exhaling softly.  "God, I wish I was there with you tonight.  And not just because you're wearin' that dress."

"I wish you were here too," she sighed, her watery grin faltering before it could fully develop.

"Well, yeah," he frowned.  "All those buttons you're gonna hafta undo by yourself.  And no reward to look forward to in the end.  Of course, you miss me."

That earned him the smallest of smiles.  "Exactly," she sighed.  "But, true confession time," Heather announced.  "This dress does have a shortcut.  I can undo the first four or five buttons and then just pull it off over my head."

He shook his head.  "I did not just hear that.  Because I definitely like my way better."

"Me too," she agreed, her smile growing.

"So, maybe, you bring that dress with you to Hawaii," he requested.  "'Cause you know I'm always willing to help with buttons."

"I'm so very aware of that, yes," she giggled.  "Not totally sure this dress is good for a tropical beach vacation but that is a good segue to the first topic on this evening's agenda."

"What's the topic?" he inquired, arching one eyebrow in question.

"It's a carryover from our earlier conversation: which pair of my panties are your favorites, so – you know – I can be wearing them when we meet up in Hawaii," she explained.  "But," she continued, not bothering to pause for a breath, "Before we talk about that, I promised Baron that his dad would talk to him."

"Babe, now that we're gonna have an actual kid, maybe we don't hafta be the dog's parents," Jake suggested, snorting, "And don't think I didn't notice him there, right next to you on the bed."

"This is just so you can talk to him," Heather claimed, moving the laptop so the camera was trained on Baron.  "He misses you, Jake.  Just say 'hi Baron, you're such a good boy'," she commanded.

"His butt is literally on my pillow," Jake grumbled.  "And I'd rather talk about your panties."

"I'll wash the pillowcase, and buy new pillows," she offered, turning the laptop so that she was again looking directly into the camera.  "Heck!  I'll buy all new bedding if you really want me to.  Please, Jake.  For me?"

The truth was, there wasn't much – anything – he wouldn't do for her, especially a dumb, unimportant thing, like talking to the dog.  And it wasn't that he didn't like – love – Baron.  Or that he didn't understand how important the dog was to his wife, especially now, when he'd been gone so long.  Baron was her constant companion – her friend.  But to him, an animal was an animal, no matter how fond he was of it.  And they sure as hell didn't belong on the bed.  "Definitely want a new pillow," he muttered, "Rest is up to you, Babe."

"I'll buy the pillows, promise."

"Okay," he acknowledged, taking a deep breath.  "Hey, Baron, Buddy," he called into the computer's microphone.  His wife frowned at his bland tone, and Jake decided that he needed to do better.  "Baron!" he tried again, forcing some enthusiasm.  "Hey there, Boy.  You're a good boy."  At home, Heather adjusted her laptop again, so the camera was centered on Baron.  The dog whined, his tail thumping against Jake's pillow.  "You takin' care of your mom?" he asked, grinning when he heard Heather's delighted giggle.  "That's what a good boy does."  He waited a beat before inquiring, "That what you were hopin' for, Babe?"

Heather leaned into the camera's shot, pressing a quick kiss to the dog's head before offering her husband a wide grin.  "Yes, thank you, Jake.  I really just thought he'd like to hear your voice.  And look, he's so happy!" she claimed, scratching Baron – who almost looked like he was smiling – behind the ears.  "And you," she continued, running her hand across the back of the animal's head, "You need to get off the bed now, okay?  Dad doesn't like it."

 Amazingly, Baron did exactly as she'd ordered, standing up, his tail wagging, before lumbering off the edge of their bed.  Heather watched as he moved to his dog bed (she'd moved it up from the family room after Jake had departed for Afghanistan) in the corner of the room.

"When did you teach him actual English?" Jake demanded, shaking his head in amazement. 

"He's always been smart, Hon, you know that," she argued.

"Yeah.  And he figured out that he's 'Baron', and he knows 'food' and 'treats' and 'sit', 'stay' and 'fetch'.  'Frisbee' and 'ball', maybe.  'Good boy'," he listed, "But you didn't use any of those words.  Seriously, Heather, how many hours a day have you been working on that?" he joked.

"No hours a day," she insisted, holding both her hands up in a sign of surrender.  "I just – I just talk to him a lot, especially right now, since he's the only other person at home.  And I know—"

"Babe…" he muttered, grimacing.

"He's not a person," she rushed to assure him.  "I know that, Hon.  He's not our kid – not the 'practice kid' like Eric always says – or he used to anyway.  He's our dog – he's your dog—"

"He belongs to both of us."

"I got him for you.  I gave him to you," she reminded him.

"Babe, he's your dog too," Jake declared, "Always has been."

"Your dog, my puppy," she replied.  "That's what your mom said yesterday."

He chuckled at that.  "Sounds right."

They watched one another for a long moment before Heather let out the breath she'd been holding, asking, "So, you wanna talk about my underwear?"

"God, yes."

"Well, I believe we left off at 'glittery writing' and three candidates."

"That's right," he nodded.

"Okay.  So, what's the magic word – or words – Hon?" she questioned, a flirtatious lilt in her voice. 

"Now, see.  I was always told the magic word was 'please'," he joked.  "But for me – for you and me, I think the magic words are: 'right there'," Jake suggested, the timbre of his voice dropping an octave.  "Maybe: 'keep doing that'.  Or my personal favorite: 'Oh God'—"

"—'Jake!'" they exclaimed in unison.

Blushing, she tried to maintain a glare, but it didn't have staying power.  "You know, I don't have any panties that say: 'Oh God, Jake', Jake," she laughed quietly.  "Clearly an oversight."

"Right, forgot what we were talkin' about," he claimed, smirking softly.

"Sure, you did," Heather giggled, shaking her head at him.  "But I think that's something to add to our Hawaii requirements," she decided, leaning in close to her laptop, her tone turning husky.  She inhaled deeply, then said: "You should try and make me say 'Oh God, Jake' as many times as possible.  In Hawaii."

"God, Babe," he groaned, his eyes boring into her across the miles that separated them.  "What you do to me."

"Jake," she murmured, pressing a fist to her mouth.

 "You know, that sounds more like a challenge than a requirement."

"It's both," she shrugged, letting her hand drop.   She formed a small 'o' with her lips, blowing out a long breath, making a soft whistling sound.  "I require you to answer my challenge," she teased.  "So, you up to the challenge, Hon?"

"I'm always up to the challenge," Jake declared though he immediately wanted to take it back.  She was bright red, and this was not simply a vivid stain on her cheeks, but the kind of blush that colored her whole face and ran down her neck.  "How 're you doin', Babe?  You're blushing," he informed her unnecessarily.  "So, good blush? Or ba—"

"I'm fine, Jake.  It's a good blush.  I'm enjoying this conversation," she insisted.  "I can have fun and be blushing at the same time, you know." 

He nodded.  "I know.  I just don't want to … embarrass you."

"I'm not embarrassed.  I'm trying to flirt shamelessly.  You should too," Heather suggested.

"Okay then, challenge accepted."

"Good!   So, what is the glittery writing on the panties of mine that are your favorites?  And yes, that wasn't the best grammar," she conceded, "But we're goin' with it."

"Hey, I'm not the grammar police," he reminded her.

"Right," she returned, sighing.  "Okay, Jake.  What are the words you are looking for?  Besides 'Oh God, Jake' since we've established, I don't own that pair."

"If you don't have 'em, then they don't exist, far as I'm concerned, Babe."

She smiled in acknowledgement, her blush beginning to subside so that he was no longer secretly worried about her blood pressure.  Now her rosy glow just made her look even more gorgeous than normal.  "God, you're beautiful," he murmured.

"And you're biased," she claimed, dipping her head so that she could conceal a rather pleased grin behind her hair.

"Uh uh," he chided gently.  "Don't hide from me, Babe.  You're beautiful, and that's just a fact."

Heather looked back up at him – at the camera – blushing and beaming.  "Thank you, Hon.  And you're still biased," she giggled, "But that's okay.  So, what's the word, Jake?" she demanded, her tone full of affection.

"The word?"

"On my panties!" she reminded him, shaking her head.

"Right!  So, I really like the ones that say 'missus'," he answered, catching her eye and holding it.   "Mrs. Green."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Heather declared, giggling softly.  "But – believe it or not – there are actually still two candidates."  On her screen, Jake leaned back, groaning.  "Sorry, Hon," she apologized.  Jake tilted his head back toward the camera, his gaze pinning her in place.  A delightful tingle ran up her spine as she recognized the smoldering gleam in his eye.  "There's uh – there's one pair that's ivory or maybe cream-colored?" she explained, feeling suddenly flustered.  "That pair has 'M-R-S' and a period on them.  And then there are the pale blue ones that say: 'The Missus', spelled out."

"Those are the ones," he returned immediately.  "'The Missus' – I like those.  Like 'em all, but I really like those."

"I like those, too," she agreed quietly.  "Because I love that I'm married to you.  Even though," she continued half a beat later, "It would be totally weird if you were one of those guys who said things like 'gotta check with the missus'."

"Pretty sure I'll never say that," he chuckled.  "Even if I do check with you most of the time.  And I dunno why I like 'em, I just do." 

"Couldn't have anything to do with the fact that they're practically see-through, huh?" she teased.

"I meant that I don't know why I like 'The Missus' ones specifically."

"Maybe – probably – because they mean I belong to you, just like you belong to me." Heather offered, adding, "We belong to each other – together.  And we did before we got married, but getting married made it official, and technically made me your missus, Mister," she teased.  "That's why I like 'em anyway." 

"Yeah," he acknowledged.  He couldn't always find the words to express how he felt about her, but somehow, she was usually able to figure it out.  "That's pretty much it.  But really, it's more like I'm the mister to Mrs. Green."

"Jake," she groaned.   "How about we just be Mr. and Mrs. Green?"

"That works."

"But just so you know, if I ever hear you tell anyone that you've 'gotta check with the missus' – meaning me – I will make fun of you somewhat mercilessly for the rest of our lives," Heather warned.  "But just on this particular topic."

"That sounds fair," Jake agreed, chuckling.  "As long as I'm allowed to say 'The Missus' when you're wearing those panties.  And I can see them," he clarified.  "Not if I just know you're wearing 'em.  But, yeah, if I can actually see that you're wearing them."

"You want to read my underwear to me, do you?" she giggled.  "Okay."

"Guess so," he returned, winking at her.  "Hey, you aren't wearin' 'em right now, are you?"

"You should be so lucky," she sighed.  "Or unlucky.  Because showing you my underwear in a Skype call really goes against the spirit of my not being hmm-hmm on the internet rule.  But no, I'm not wearing any of my 'honeymoon panties' at the moment."

"But you are wearing panties, right?" he demanded, teasing, "I mean you didn't go to dinner with my mom … without, right?"

Heather was blushing again, but she was also smiling and laughing silently.  "That is a very weird thing for you to be thinkin' about, Hon," she accused.  "I mean, which answer are you hoping for with that one?"

"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, "I realized as soon as I said it….  Really weird."

"You're tired," she diagnosed, frowning in sympathy. 

"Yeah," Jake repeated, "But I'm okay, I'll be fine, Babe," he assured her.  "Promise."  He'd drunk three Cokes in a row, and he'd get coffee later, before he reported in for the day's shift.  Of course, all that did was make him more alert – more on edge – rather than less tired – exhausted – but that was just the way things were going to have to be for a while, he reminded himself.  "I wanna talk to you too.  This is one of those 'present for you/present for me' situations, okay?"

"Okay," she confirmed.  "Because I really wanna talk to you.  And I hope you know," she continued, affecting a mock-affronted tone, "I would never go to dinner with your mother and April not wearing underwear.  I've never even gone to dinner with you not wearing underwear."

"You sure about that?" he challenged, "Because I remem—"

"Jake," she interrupted, exasperated.  "I have never entered a restaurant with you, not wearing underwear, okay?  Now, have I excused myself to the ladies' room and taken my panties off once or twice?  And then told you about it in the car – or on the way to the car – afterwards?  I may—"

"Oh, you have definitely done that," he declared, smirking.  "At least … five times," he calculated, recalling, "And then that one time, you literally snuck 'em into my pocket."

Heather offered him a grin and a shrug.  "Well, I figured you would enjoy that."

"I did enjoy that," he confirmed, grinning in return.  "I almost handed 'em to the valet, too."

"You weren't supposed to do that.  I told you I had the ticket," she reminded him.  "I just didn't tell you what I'd left you in trade."

"I was a little distracted, you know," he complained.  "You'd just put your hand down my pants—"

"It was not down your pants!" she protested, though her indignation was belied by her wide grin and dancing eyes.  "In your pocket is not down your pants," she argued.  "But – that said," she continued, breathing in deeply, "I can still understand how it was you got distracted, so…."

"Well, thank you for jumping in front of me and stopping me from handing your panties to the valet."

"You're welcome," she giggled.  "Though – let's be honest – that was really an act of self-preservation."

"God, I love you."  She smiled at that, a smile that was pure affection and made him want to crawl through the internet and wrap himself around her. 

"I love you, too," Heather murmured.  "But you better love me for a lot more than that one time I shoved my panties in your pocket.  If only because I'm pretty sure that was a one-time event, Mister.  I'm not gonna risk dying of embarrassment by trying that again."

"Doesn't even crack the top ten thousand reasons why I love you, Heather.  And you're not allowed to die of blushing or embarrassment, remember?"

"Right," she laughed, "Which is exactly why that particular move is retired.  Also, now I'm feeling a little bit shallow," she joked, though there was an underlying note of seriousness in her tone.  "Or a lot shallow, really."

"Don't take this the wrong way," he requested, "Because you know I think you can do anything you want.  But no way you could ever be shallow, even on purpose."

"Sure, I can," she argued.  "I mean, I suppose it's not a reason I love you, but definitely in the top ten things I love about you – or us, rather – are those times when we're both not … wearing … underwear."

"That's not shallow, Babe."

"You sure?" she asked, looking oddly displeased by this.

"If I'm remembering how this all works, that's how we're gonna get our kid, so it can't be shallow," he offered, grinning softly.  "Besides, bein' hmm-hmm with you?  Definitely in my top ten too.  Though really?" he asked rhetorically half a beat later, "More like top five.  And if we're being totally honest, then top three – definitely in the top three of my favorite things about loving you and being married to you."

"'Make a baby', Jake," she corrected, "Remember?"

"'Make a baby', Heather," he echoed.  "That's what we're gonna do."

She emitted a contented sigh.  "Me too.  Definitely in my top three too.  But," she continued, "If I'm not being shallow, am I at least flirting shamelessly?  Because I really was going for that, you know."

Jake grinned, pantomiming a batter swinging at a pitch.  He made a clicking noise with his tongue, telling her, "Knockin' it outta the park, Babe."

"Good!"

"And you know, just 'cause you're not gonna 'shove your panties in my pocket' out in public anymore—"

"We weren't in public, Jake!" she protested, giggling.  "I mean, we were technically in public, but we were also alone.  For thirty seconds we were alone, and I took a chance."

"Well, I loved it.  And you can still do it when we're at home," he suggested, "If that's something you might wanna do."

"I'll take that under advisement," she laughed softly, rolling her eyes at him.  "But now, I'm declaring agenda item one closed so that we can move onto agenda item two."  Heather reached off camera, and when she brought her hand back into range, he saw that she was holding a small notebook, the kind that she had at least ten of going at any one time.  "So, number two: 'rose color choices'," she read, "'Meaning?'  And that is a question," she told him.  "Why did you pick half red roses, a quarter yellow, and a quarter white?"

"Can I see this agenda?" he demanded, though his tone was laced with humor.  "I mean, I'm pretty sure that the – what's it called – the Kansas public meetings law requires you to share the agenda ahead of the meeting," he teased.

"It's the Kansas Open Meetings Act, and it only applies to meetings of government bodies such as the town council or the school board, not our marriage," she informed him.  "But yes, you can see our agenda."  She held up the notebook, slowly moving it toward the camera.  "Let me know when you can read it."

"That's ….  Good," he decided a few seconds later.  "But back it up, like half an inch, I can't see the bottom."  She did as he had asked, earning herself a grin and a "That's perfect, Babe.  But hey," he added a few seconds later, "What's goin' on at school?  They didn't renege on vice principal, did they?"

"What's going on at school is now gonna be an email I will send you later.  Tomorrow actually.  There's a school board meeting, probably still in progress, that's gonna tie up the loose ends.  A school board meeting," she added pointedly, "That is actually subject to KOMA."

"Coma?  Did you just call the school board boring?" he joked.

"Kansas.  Open.  Meetings.  Act.  KOMA.  Which I'm pretty sure you figured out," Heather charged, "'Cause you're a very smart guy who knows that KOMA exists, even if you don't remember its name."  Her eyes narrowed.  "You really don't wanna talk about rose colors, do you?"

"We can go back to flirting shamelessly, or talkin' 'bout your panties," he suggested.  "But Babe, they didn't take back the vice prin—"

"No, Jake, they didn't," she assured him.  "So, you don't need to tell off Superintendent Moore at your parents' Christmas party this year.  I mean… I really hope you're gonna be there," she muttered, "But you don't hafta tell him off."

"I'm definitely gonna be there, promise.  And I won't blast him either," he pledged.  "Plus, I told Gretchen about the vice principal thing, and she says 'Congratulations'.  And 'Happy Birthday'," he told her.  "So did Mellie and Ange.  And – you know – Happy Birthday from me too."

"Thank you.  I just wish I'd known you were gonna talk to Ange, I would've told you to tell her 'Hi' from me."

"I always tell her 'Hi' from you," Jake shrugged, "'Cause I know you always wanna say 'Hi' to Ange, so I treat it like a standing order."

"As you should!" she replied, grinning. 

"And it was all-hands on deck in Denver for my strategy session, and Steve's out of town, so Christopher came too."

"Aww!" she intoned, flashing him a bright smile.  "I bet he's gotten so big."

"Babe, he's like two and a half feet tall," he countered, clearly skeptical.

"Probably closer to three.  And I haven't seen him since last August," Heather said.  "So, trust me, he's bigger now."

"He's still got that airplane you gave him."

"You picked it out, Hon," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but you're the one who said we should get him a gift," he dismissed, shaking his head.  "But he's a cute kid and Ange is a really great mom.  And you're gonna be the best mom," he added, grinning at the thought.

"Oh, so now you're tryin' to move on to number three, huh?" Heather teased.  "Not gonna work, Jake," she warned.  "I wanna know why exactly you sent me that exact configuration of roses."

"'Exactly exact', huh?" he joked in return.

"'Exactly exact', 'the part of the part', yep," she agreed.  "And I'll tell you all about why you're going to be an amazing dad, but only after you tell me….  Why. You. Picked. Those. Rose. Colors."

"So, you're gonna go to Buffalo?  Good."

"I am.  And we can talk more about that when we get to that item on the agenda," she informed him cheerfully.

"And my choice is alllll the way down on number six, I see."

"It is.  But only because it's my birthday."  She waited a moment before asking again.  "Why did you pick yellow roses, Hon?"

 "Picked the white ones first," he mumbled, yawning softly.  "Gimme a sec, okay?" he requested, climbing out of his chair before she had nodded her agreement.  He re-seated himself a half minute later, uncapping a bottle of Coke at the same time.  "I ordered three dozen red roses back a month ago, but when I wrote that letter—"

Smiling, Heather held up the envelope that contained his love letter to her. 

"—Yeah, that one," he chuckled, tilting his bottle toward the letter's location on his screen.  "I – you know – I searched for 'rose color that means kids' and white came back because it means 'innocence' and 'purity' and kids are innocent and pure, I guess?"

"So, Jake, did you google 'rose color that means kids' or did you search 'rose color that means baby'?" she questioned.

His sheepish grin was all the answer she needed.

"So at least we know you can type it," she laughed quietly.  "Babies," she emphasized, starting again a few seconds later, "Are pure and innocent, because we're all born pure and innocent and full of promise.  And so are children, but over time…."  She trailed off, shrugging and offering him a somber smile.  "Everybody loses their innocence at some point."

"Yeah, but it's our job to keep that from happening, right?" he reminded her, quoting her back to herself.  "We just hafta make sure our kids can keep their innocence – that promise – for as long as possible.  Just like their joy and wonder."

"We will do that," she affirmed, smiling widely.  "That is definitely our plan.  And also, I'm giving you a lot of agenda item number five credit because that was some pretty sweet talk."

"Thanks," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.  "So, anyway, that's where the white roses came from.  But I didn't want to just send red and white.  I remember April telling me after A Christmas Carol that red and white roses were for engagements, and that wasn't exactly what—"

"So, that's why you sent me red and white roses my first day back at school after we got engaged.  Mrs. Crenshaw was so excited.  Totally beside herself."

"I knew everyone in town already knew," Jake shrugged, "But I figured…."

"Well, you figured right," she giggled. "And red and white roses also mean unity," she told him.  "Which, that's what an engagement is, basically.  What getting married is.  What having a child is."

"Don't you mean 'baby'?"

"Now see, was that so hard?" Heather teased, "You can type it and say it.  And I did mean 'baby' actually," she confirmed.  "Because having a baby is a unifying act.  It should be anyway.  Making one is too." 

"Lookin' forward to it," he assured, grinning at the rosy glow that suffused her cheeks, endowing her with a radiance that made his heart ache – made him ache for her.  "I miss you so much, Babe.  And not just for that.  For everything."

"I miss you too, Hon.  And actually, that is another meaning of white roses," she said, offering him a gentle smile.  "Missing you.  You send them to someone to say that."

"That didn't come up in my googling, but it's what I meant. I love you.  I miss you.  We should have a kid," he declared.  "That's – that's the whole meaning."

"I love that.  And I feel the same."  She paused, letting out a slow breath before admitting, "Still like to know the reason you chose the yellow roses, though.  If you'll tell me."

"I remembered that red and white was for an engagement, and this – this is more, right?"

Heather's lips were pressed tightly together, but he could tell that it was because she was bursting to say something, and not that she was perturbed.  "I think so…" she allowed finally.

"And I was lookin' at the rose color meaning chart on the internet, and it said that yellow means 'new beginnings'.  Seemed appropriate," he chuckled, smiling at her.  Her eyes were suddenly bright, but again he could tell that she was happy – elated.  "Not exactly a new beginning for us.  I mean, we don't need to start over or anything, right?" 

Jake was startled to realize that he needed her to confirm that for him.  He needed to know for sure that they really were okay, that she hadn't floated the idea of having a baby because she thought that they needed to shore up their relationship.  She'd interrogated him to make sure he really was ready to become a father; now he needed to be sure that she didn't see starting their family as a way to save their marriage.

"Hon, this isn't an ultimatum.  It's not: have a baby or get divorced," she promised him.  "You know that.  And I'm still sorry about—"

"It's okay," he muttered, cutting her off.  He fumbled for the bottle's cap, screwing it back on without looking, his gaze instead concentrated intently on the laptop's screen – on his wife.

She nodded.  "Okay.  But Jake, I don't want to have a baby because I'm afraid we don't love each other enough," she declared.  "I think we love each other so much that we maybe need some place else for some of that love to go.  Which is not exactly what I'm trying to say," she said in a rush of breath. "I just – I don't know exactly how to say it."

"Nah, Babe, I get it.  You – you take care of people.  Kids, family.  Me, luckily.  You're like my mom that way."  He frowned, groaning softly.  "Sorry.  That wasn't how I wanted to say it."

"For the record," she informed him, chuckling, "Speculating that I don't wear underwear to dinner with your mom is weird.  Saying I share one of the qualities I admire in your mother is a compliment."

Nodding, Jake laughed along with her.  "Good.  'Cause that's how I meant it.  And you know, Mike says we need to have a kid so you can redirect your maternal instinct away from him."

Heather rolled her eyes at that.  "Yeah, that's what he was bugging me about this afternoon.  To get pregnant and not to nag him so much.  And you're right, I should stop telling him when to go to bed.  So, I won't do that anymore," she promised.

"It's a start.  A good one.  A new beginning, even," he joked, "For you and Mike.  But I still warned him that he's gonna hafta get married if he really wants you to lay off."

"Probably," she agreed, sighing softly.  "And it's a new beginning for you and me, too.  For us," she argued a beat later.  "Not because we need a – a reset.  That's not what I'm saying, Jake," she assured him, spotting the beginnings of his frown.  "But having a baby – having children – kids – things are gonna change some.  They're gonna change a lot, probably."

"I know."

"I'm glad," she acknowledged.  "And I love that you're ready to do this, but it's also really quick, Jake.  So, I just wanted to make sure that you're ready for that – for that change."

"I am, Babe."

They stared at one another for a long moment, both trying to read the other's expression.  For what felt like the first time all call, she wasn't blushing; instead, Jake thought, she looked like she was trying to figure out how to break bad news to him.

"Heather," he chuckled, "You tryin' to warn me we're gonna be havin' less sex in the future?"

"Not exactly how I'd put it," she grumbled.  "I'm just saying… our priorities are gonna shift."

"Oh, so we're gonna be having more sex," he declared, nodding.  "Well, that's good news."

She was fighting a smile, and he wasn't surprised when she shot back, "More than we've had recently, that's for sure."

"Hope so."

"It's how you and I connect, Jake," she sighed. 

"One of the ways," he corrected, "It's one of the ways we connect, Heather.  Not the only way.  It's important, but—"  He paused, running a hand through his hair, expelling a frustrated noise.

"That's what I meant," she assured him quickly.  "That it's one of the ways we connect.  An important one, but not the only way.  I didn't mean it like that."

He reached for his soda bottle and then pushed it away, out of the camera's range.  "How long have I been gone?  How many days?"

"One hundred nineteen," she answered, clearly reluctant to do so.

"You rounding up or down?" he inquired, prompting, "I left in the morning, and it's night there now, so—"

"Technically, one hundred nineteen and a half."

"So, do you know what we were doing a hundred nineteen and … five-sixths days ago?" he asked. 

She nodded.  "I do happen to know exactly what we were doing one hundred nineteen and five-sixths days ago, yes.  That was the last time we made love."

"It was," he agreed, reminding, "At four AM.  You set the alarm.  So, we'd have the time."

"You told me to go to school," she grumbled.  "I could have taken the day off.  That way I could've at least set the alarm for six."

"I needed to get on the road, Babe."  He had insisted that she go to work that day because he'd wanted her to have the distraction of lesson plans and twenty-five kids and the PTA meeting at five.  And it had been easier for him to put her in her car, kiss her one more time – ten more times – and send her off to school than it would have been to leave her behind at the ranch by herself.  That, he hadn't trusted himself, to be able to do.

"I know.  And I wanted….  Really didn't think you'd mind."

"Mind? I loved it.  I love you.  And I needed that – that time together," he admitted.  "But I don't feel any less connected to you now than I did that morning."

"I don't either, Jake," Heather insisted, "I love you, and I know we're connected.  Always."

"Then, can you just trust that I want to have a kid, too?  Our kid?  With you?"

"I do, Jake," she proclaimed in a rush of breath.  "I trust you.  On that, and everything else.  I swear."

"Good," he acknowledged.  "And I don't care if things change.  Things are s'posed to change," he reasoned.  "Long as we're together… we… we'll figure it out, like we always do."

"So – for example – if two, three years from now, 'Sleep-in Saturday' looks a little different," she suggested, worrying her lip absently, "You're okay with that?"

"Whoa!  Wait!  Hold on there!" he protested, holding up both hands.  "You can't just take pancakes outta 'Sleep-in Saturday'," he argued, chuckling.  "That is non-negotiable."

Reluctantly, she cracked the smallest of smiles, murmuring, "Not what I was getting at, Jake."

"I know what you were getting at, Heather," he informed her.  "And here I thought the rule was we don't talk about our sex life on these calls."

"We don't," she insisted.  "Except when we do."

Jake couldn't help but grin at that.  "Thanks for clearing that up, Babe," he teased.

"Well, you're welcome," she declared, rolling her eyes, and pointing out, "Besides, you started it."

"Well, you looked like you had somethin' to say.  I was interpreting your expression."

"And that was a reasonably correct interpretation," she conceded quietly.  Heather took a deep breath before continuing.  "But what I was getting at is that just because we might hafta change 'Sleep-in Saturday' to include kids—"

"Saturday morning cartoons," he interjected.

"Saturday morning cartoons?"

"I'm just sayin'.  If we're giving up 'Sleep-in Saturday' sex for a while, maybe we add Saturday morning cartoons," he explained.  "Kid-friendly ones.  'Cause that'll go great with the pancake smiley faces I bet you talk me into makin'."

"Uh, yeah.  You better believe you'll be makin' 'em now," she joked.  "And that's what I'm trying to say.  If we change 'Sleep-in Saturday' to be family time – with pancakes and cartoons and everything…."  She trailed off biting her lip, her inner turmoil written clearly on her expression.

"We should do that, Heather.  I told you; I want to spend my time with you and our kids. So, we should make sure we have family time."

"Of course," she agreed.  "And I want to be a mom—"

"Good.  'Cause I wanna be a dad," he declared.  "Long as you're the mom."

"Good," she echoed, smiling.  "But I just wanna make sure that we don't lose sight of us – of each other.  Our relationship.  That's just as important to me as having a family with you, Hon."

"Then let's make sure we do that.  Make time for each other."

She nodded.  "So, then, I think maybe we should pre-declare Saturday night to be…."  She paused for a second, pitching her voice so that it was flirtatious and husky, and caused his toes to actually curl inside his work boots when she suggested: "'Kids and Parents Have the Same Bedtime' night."

"That's kinda wordy, Babe," he grinned.

"Well.  If it's too wordy for you…."

"Now, don't be so hasty," he ordered, chuckling.  "I could get used to 'Kids and Parents Have the Same Bedtime' night, long as we can consider observing it a coupl'a nights a week.  Not just on Saturdays."

Heather grinned in return.  "Now that seems highly doable.  Deal, Hon.  Definite deal."

"Good," he agreed.  "Also – sometimes – 'Sleepover at Grandma's' night?  For them, not for us."

"I assumed," she giggled before declaring, "And yes.  Just – just maybe not when they're babies, Jake.  Okay?"

"Okay," he acknowledged, offering her a sweet smile.  "But Megan… baby, right?"

"She's not even seven months old.  Definitely a baby."

"Makes sense.  And how 'bout Christopher Waller…?" he asked.

"Well, like every other two-year-old in the world," she reasoned, "He'd tell you that he's not a baby."

"But what say you, Heather?"

"Not a baby," she decided, lips pursed, a long moment later.  "But just barely," she hastened to add.  "Old enough for one night at Grandma's.  And we definitely pick him up first thing in the morning, at least the first time."  She grimaced gently. "Is that okay?"

"Well, could be a her," he reminded his wife.  "But yeah, you got it, Mrs. Green.  I just wanted to know the parameters."

"Okay."

"Babe…" he began, trailing off right away.  "Look," he started again ten seconds later.  "I know you want to figure everything out.  But we don't hafta figure everything out right now.  I bet there are things about having kids that you can't pre-plan for.  I hope there are," he chuckled, "'Cause that'll even the playing field between you and me.  I'd like to be able to keep up with you."

"Jake, you're gonna be a great dad.  You're not gonna have trouble keeping up with me.  There are probably things you'll be better at than me."

"Uh, maybe.  Like one thing," he teased.  "I bet I'm better at teaching them how to draw," he decided, nodding his head.  "So, yeah, one thing."

"And how to play baseball.  How to ride a horse.  How to take care of people, especially the ones you love," Heather listed.  "And like a million more things."

"Pretty sure it won't be a million things, but thanks, Babe," he smiled.

"You think I'm overthinking this," she frowned.

"I think you're my absolute favorite person in the world.  And what I don't want is you thinking I'm gonna change my mind, 'cause I'm not," he told her.  "Even if you give me some scenario about Christmas break, a blizzard, the flu, and projectile vomiting.  I'm still gonna say we should have a kid."

"A blizzard and projectile vomiting?  That scenario might make me change my mind about having children," she joked.

"No, it won't."

She nodded, smiling at him for a few seconds before she groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"Babe?"

"Sorry," she apologized, looking up at him – at the screen and at the camera – though her nose and mouth were still hidden behind her fingers.

"What is it?" Jake demanded.

"I just remembered what white and yellow roses, given together, symbolize," she confessed.

"Okay," he shrugged.  "But as long as it's not death, destruction and the complete loss of our way of life, it probably doesn't matter."

"Well, it kinda does," she argued.

"Matter? Or mean death and destruction?"

"Matter.  They mean – basically – support and trust in one another, particularly between friends and spouses," Heather explained, her hands falling away from her face.  She grinned at him.  "Which seems pretty perfect actually."

Nodding, he grinned in return.  "Sounds like us."

"Exactly."

"That wasn't on my internet chart," he admitted then.  "It didn't give combos.  But I trust you, Heather, and I hope—"

"Jake, I trust you.  I love you.  I feel supported by you, even though I miss you and….  And I wish you were here," she said finally, frowning.  "But I support you, too.  And I know you're just trying to do the best job you can.  So, I support that.  Besides, I get to see you in a month."

"You're lookin' at me right now, Babe," he reminded her quietly.

"You know what I mean," she chided, forcing a smile.  "I love this.  But in Hawaii, we'll get to be together.  That's what I meant.  And I'll love that even more."

"Me too.  Can't wait."

"So, are we agreed that the roses – and I've got 'em on the dresser right over there," Heather informed him, pointing to the wall opposite the foot of their bed.  "But do we agree that the message of these roses may be interpreted as: togetherness-slash-unity, happiness, excitement and love, plus new beginnings, and last but not least, trust and support?"

"Exactly what I was goin' for, Babe," he assured her with a wink.  "But you forgot kids," he pointed out, offering her a smile that was full of affection and promise and that made her pulse race.  "One to start, then one more for sure, then we talk?"

"I like that plan," she told him, beaming.  "But I'm pretty sure we're gonna be talking all along."  She picked up the envelope again and extracted his love letter.  "And I quote, 'Yes, we should talk about it.  But ten years from now I bet we'll still be talking about it.  Because we like talking to each other'," she read.  "'And we'll have kids that we'll probably need to talk about'."

He groaned.  "You sure that's a love letter, Babe?"

"Very," she confirmed.  "And I can't believe I forgot that the roses also mean babies," she teased.  "Which segues nicely into our next agenda item.  That you – Jake Green – are going to be an amazing dad, and I can't wait to see you with our children."

"I hope so," he murmured.  "And you're gonna help me, right, Babe?"

"Of course.  But Jake.  You're good with kids," she informed him.  "You're great with them."

"I dunno about that."

"Well, I do," Heather insisted.  "You like them.  And you listen to them.  When you talk to them, you listen to them, and you don't talk down to them, which a lot of adults do.  And those aren't even your own kids."

"Our own kids, Babe," he corrected. 

"Exactly," she agreed.  "And I know that you'll be even better with our children than you are with other people's.  And you're already amazing.  Plus, like you always say, 'why have kids if you can't be there for them'.  You mean that, Jake.  I know that you mean it.  I trust that you mean it, and I love you so much for that, too."

"Still love you more.  And I get to say that for the next three hours," he reminded her when she started to protest.  "It's still your birthday.  Happy Birthday, Babe."

"Jake," she sighed, smiling.

"You're gonna be the best mom," he continued.  "Our kids are gonna be so lucky."

"We're supposed to be talking about what an amazing dad you're gonna be."

"Let's just be good at it together," he suggested. 

"Okay," Heather agreed.  "But you're still gonna be amazing."

"And you're still gonna be the best," he repeated, prompting a few seconds later, "So, you're gonna go to Buffalo?"

"Moving to agenda item four already, huh?" she asked, not bothering to wait for his answer.  "Well, we can table item three, but just until Hawaii.  We are going to discuss it there, along with some other stuff."

"Long as we're doin' some other stuff, that's fine with me," Jake teased.

"Oh, we'll be doing other stuff," she flirted in return.  "Other stuff and beach stuff and touristy stuff.  But I will limit myself to six excursions plus the luau, okay?  But I'll pick seven or eight," she decided, "And you can veto the ones you hate the most."

"Yeah, okay," he pretended to grumble.  "That'll work.  But – you know – tell me the one you love the most, so I don't veto it." 

"Oh, you're gonna know the one I love the most without me having to tell you, trust me on that."  She twisted around then, dragging her purse to her so she could extract a pen. 

"Well, I trust you," he reminded, watching as she uncapped the pen with her teeth, and picking up her notebook, flipped to the next page, jotting something down.  "Whatcha writin', Babe?  Things to do in Hawaii?" he guessed.  "Better put down 'make a baby'."

"This list is 'Things to do in Hawaii – Excursions'," she informed him, quickly adding the '– Excursions' to the title.  She looked at her new list:

Things to do in Hawaii – Excursions

Luau

1. coffee farm / plantation

2. Pearl Harbor

3.

"'Make a baby' is gonna hafta go on a whole 'nother 'other stuff' list," she decided.  "You know: 'make pancakes – Jake', 'make peanut butter cookies – Heather', 'make a baby—'"

"—'Heather plus Jake'," he supplied for her.  "And that's a plus sign with a heart drawn around it, okay?"

Grinning, she turned to the next page in her notebook.  "I'm putting all that down.  Exactly like that."

"Good.  And make sure you bring that notebook with you to Hawaii." 

"I will," she promised.

"I'm glad you're goin' to Buffalo after Hawaii," he told her then.  "I want you to, Babe."

"That is the plan," she confirmed.  "So, don't buy my plane tickets, okay?  I'll do that myself.  And actually, I think I'm probably gonna fly home from Connecticut, which'll make it an even crazier ticket—"

"Good.  You're gonna go with your dad and Mike to Yale," he nodded in approval. 

"I am," she said.  "And before that, I'm gonna be 'Auntie Heather' for a week or so.  I'm even gonna take the girls for a few days so Mandy and Tommy can go on a little pre-tenth anniversary getaway.  Their anniversary isn't until the end of September," she explained, shrugging, "But Mandy'll be in grad school, and she doesn't think she will be able to go away for the weekend by then so….  It sounded like they really need some… kid-free time together.  Well, alone time together," she clarified.  "So, I offered."

"I'm glad you're doing that for them," he told her.

"Me too.  And they're kinda the opposite of us.  They got married and Ali was born ten months later exactly," she sighed.  "So, they had kids first, and then Mandy decided to go back to school.  I think, maybe, they've kind of drifted apart," she admitted, frowning.

"Let's keep stayin' the opposite of them then," Jake suggested.  "And hope a couple days away can help them start drifting together again."

"Yeah," she agreed, forcing a smile.  "So, let's always check in with each other, okay?  Even if it's just five minutes a day?"

"Deal, Babe.  But how 'bout we say ten minutes a day?"

"Even better.  But we hafta mean it.  Mandy says she and Tommy still check in every day, but it's just something they do, not something they really mean anymore."

"Well, we're gonna mean it," he declared.  "And you know, while you're in Buffalo, you hafta spend some time with Megan too.  Teach her that I'm her 'Uncle Cowboy Jake'," he instructed.

"Definitely!" she grinned, teasing, "Just need a picture of you in a cowboy hat."

"Nope," Jake returned, chuckling and shaking his head.  "You can basically have anything you want, Babe.  Except for that."

"Fine," she groused though it quickly gave way to a giggle.  "And actually, my plan is to find something to do with each of the kids, so I’m still their favorite aunt.  And of course, hang out with everybody," she told him. 

"Babe, you're in no danger of losing 'favorite aunt' status," he reminded her.  "They all love you."

"Maybe," she hedged.  "But like you said that we should be there for our kids, we hafta be there for the other kids in our family – in our life.  We need to be there for Megan as her godparents, and for all the other nieces and nephews," she argued.  "And when April and Eric have kids, when Stanley has kids…."

"Stanley got a new girlfriend?" he questioned, obviously surprised by the thought.

"No, nobody since Jennifer," she admitted.

"God, she did a number on him," Jake complained.  "He should've married August."

"I think August gets a say in that, Hon," she suggested.  "Though it would be less awkward for your best friend to be married to someone who had you as her first crush than to Jennifer Thompson.  For me anyway.  I get along with August."

"For me too.  She still in town?"

"Nope.  Finished fixing up her parents' house, dumped Stanley – a week before his birthday – put the house up for sale, went back to Minnesota," Heather listed.  "In that order.  House is still on the market, two and a half months later.  I know I told you all this," Heather frowned.  "Maybe not that the house hasn't sold."

"You did," he nodded.  "And it's pretty on brand that she wants too much for the house." 

He couldn't say he'd really ever noticed Jennifer Thompson when she had been growing up in Jericho.  She was three years younger than Stanley and him, and – Jake thought – rather unnoticeable.  Eric had remembered her from the chorus of the spring musical their senior year (and her freshman year) of high school, but not any more than that.  She'd come back to town two years earlier to take care of her mother after her father's death, and (in Jake's opinion) had taken stock of her dating options and decided that Stanley was the best choice.  Which was true, both because there weren't a lot of unmarried men in their age range around and because Stanley was a great guy. 

"Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to hate her guts.  Pretty sure half the reason she went out with him was so that he'd be her free handyman."

"Totally okay," Heather agreed.  "And totally true.  But also, not someone I really want to talk about on my birthday bonus Skype."

"Sorry," he apologized.  "So, you're goin' to Buffalo."

"I am.  And I already talked to your mom and she's fine with keeping Baron longer.  Says she's happy to practice being a grandma to her grandpuppy."

"Thanks, Ma," he snorted, joking, "No pressure there."

"She's just excited, Hon," his wife argued, smiling at him fondly.  "Like we are.  I mean, we are excited, right?"

"Hey!  I'm excited," he insisted.  "Can't wait."  He offered her a broad grin that bordered on a leer, joking, "Do you not recognize my excited face, Babe?"

"It's been a while," Heather reminded.

"Yeah," he acknowledged flatly. 

"It's okay, Jake."

"Not really," he muttered, reaching for his abandoned Coke bottle.  He re-opened it, tossing the cap on the table but didn't bother to take a drink.  "So, when I'm not in a good place to talk, I'm not gonna be excited, okay?  Not as excited as I am, I mean."

"Are you at least excited on the inside?" she asked, explaining a moment later, "Your mom told me about when you were a little boy and you'd pitched the winning, championship game and she was worried because you didn't seem that excited, but then when she asked, you said that you were 'excited on the inside'."

"I remember that game," he nodded, smiling absently.  "So, did Mom tell you how old I was?"

She laughed, throwing her head back for a moment, giving him a tantalizing view of her neck.  "Yes, you were eight," she conceded softly, catching his eye.  "Eight and a half to be exact."

"A month away from the third grade, in fact," he informed her.  "And did you believe her when she said I was eight?"

"I believe her," Heather smiled.  "I believe you too, Hon.  I just think it's cute how you stretch 'I was eight' to cover all of second through fourth grade in your stories."

Chuckling, Jake rolled his eyes.  "I'm excited, Babe.  It just…."

"Doesn't work for your cover story?" she guessed.  "Because we already talked about it on your other phone – is that gonna be okay?"

"Works great for the cover story," he admitted, finally taking a swig of his soda, more to buy himself some time to think than anything else.  He hadn't really wanted to tell her on her birthday about his cover for meeting her in Hawaii, but he realized, it was better to tell her now on Skype than later by email.  It was more honest to tell her his plan in person – or at least face to face.  Sending an email tomorrow was the asshole move, and he tried not to be an asshole to her.   

Jake swallowed, then cleared his throat.  "It's just that the other Jake Green isn't supposed to meet you in Hawaii in a month.  So, he's not thinking 'bout making a baby next month.  It's a … little farther down the road for him."

"But you're still gonna be in Hawaii, right?"

"I'll be there, Babe, don't worry about that," he assured her.  "The other Jake Green is gonna have a family emergency, need to go home for a few weeks."  He paused, coughing once, before adding, "And I am gonna need your help with that."

"So, like, I need to break my leg?  Something like that?" she joked.  "Because I am going to be riding a couple of times a week for the next month, so I'm sure I could arrange that."

"No," he groaned.  "No breaking your leg.  No even pretend-breaking your leg, and especially not riding a horse.  If only 'cause in a few years when we're teaching our kids how to ride, I expect their mom, the teacher, to help me with that.  Even though by then, you're gonna be their mom, the principal."

A smile blossomed on Heather's lips.  "Well, as their mom, the educator – which covers all the possibilities," she reasoned, "I will happily participate in riding instruction, okay?   And I'd also prefer not to break my leg, to be perfectly honest.  So, what is the family emergency?"

"I've, uh, resurrected Gramps for this op," he confessed.  "So, it's gonna be a repeat of his cancer recurring.  The rush to get home in time, the funeral, dealing with the estate.  All that.  Except the estate is mortgaged to the hilt, so the other Jake Green will be desperate to make extra money when he gets back here.  To save the ranch, to pay for the kid he and the other Heather might've made while he was home…."

"Always use as much truth as you can in your cover story, right?" she murmured. 

"Yeah."

"I think he'd approve," she said finally, her lips pursed.  "He used to go outta his way to make sure we could get time alone together.  Now he can help make that happen one more time."

"He did," he agreed, reminding her, "Wanted us to have a kid too.  Come to think of it, those two things might be related," he joked.

"Ya think?" she returned, chuckling.  "But he also got it – got why we weren't in a big hurry about that.  He was just happy that we found one another," she shrugged.  "And that he could take credit for that."

Jake nodded.  "Oh yeah.  His toast at the wedding?  Took all the credit.  Like Jericho's such a big place, no way we'd've ever met without him."

"I like how we met, Hon.  And would you have really preferred having Stanley introduce us?"

"Maybe not," he conceded, winking at her.

"So, let's give Gramps the credit," she requested, "Okay?"

"Okay, he agreed.  "And you know, he was almost as proud of you as I am.  Couldn't wait for the day Principal Green was in charge of the Elementary.  Was really looking forward to being a great-grandfather."

"Baby steps, Hon," she teased.  "And I mean that literally.  "Let's take the baby step first, then worry about the career step – the principal step – later."

"Sounds good."

"And I know he won't get to meet our baby, but – you know my theory on this.  The people who love us aren't ghosts who follow us around the rest of our lives," Heather explained, "But I believe, somehow, in some way, they know about the good things that happen in our lives after they're gone.  Especially the things that they wanted for us.  I hope that's true anyway.  I hope my mom knows on some level that I found the love of my life and married him," she smiled.  "That's you by the way."

"Thanks for confirming," he chuckled.  "And, you know, same."

"Anyway, I believe that Mom and Gramps will both know when we have a baby.  And they'll be happy for us."

"Well, I like your theory," he told her.  "But I like all your theories."

"Not sure you actually like all of them, but thanks," she laughed softly.

"I do," he insisted.  "And I've got one of my own.  I think that when Gramps died, and he got wherever it is that you go, which we're just gonna call heaven, okay?  Well, when he got to heaven, he found Grams and Susie right away.  But then he found your mom too.  And told her all about us.  That's my theory."

She raised her hand, waving it at him.  "Well, I cosign your theory, Hon, because I know that's exactly what happened."  She paused for a second, taking a deep breath.  "So, you're gonna need me to call you or email and say that Gramps's cancer is back, and he's decided to forego treatment and just receive palliative care?  Do you need me talk to your mom and see if she can—"

"No, I don't wanna involve anyone else.  I don't really want to involve you, but I don't see how to avoid it," he conceded, frowning.  "Gotta admit," he continued a beat later, allowing an uncomfortable bark of laughter, "I wasn't expecting to you to … go along with this plan so easily."

"I want to spend time with you, Jake," she reminded him.  "I want to have our anniversary trip, even though I know that's not exactly convenient for you—"

"I want all of that too, Babe.  And my job is the inconvenient thing, not our anniversary," he argued.

"Okay.  So, why wouldn't I go along with this plan?"

"Well, you could probably come up with a better one," he suggested.

"But I don't need to," she reasoned.  "Like I said, Gramps gets to facilitate our having time together one more time, and maybe we make a baby.  He'd be 'tickled pink'.  Literally, I can hear him saying exactly that: 'tickled pink'.  In my head," she joked, tapping her temple with one finger, "I can hear him."

"Yeah, I can too," he agreed, yawning softly.  "He's also sayin': 'Don't mess this up, Jake'," he offered before taking another drink of his Coke.

"Jake, you're not gonna mess anything up," Heather reassured him.  "Not unless you're saying okay because you think that's the way to make me happy, and not because this is something you also want."  He started to protest, but she talked over him.  "And I know – I trust – that that's not what you're doing."  She picked up the love letter, reading from it again.  "'You want a kid.  I want a kid.  Specifically, I want our kid.'  I trust that, Hon."

"And you've got it in writing," he pointed out, gesturing into the camera.

"Which is just a bonus," she declared.  "I know you mean it without it being in writing.  And I know I was a little emotional about it earlier, but…."

"Having kids is important to you."

"Having kids with you is important to me," she corrected gently, "Just like I trust that having kids with me is important to you."

"It is, Heather.  You're the only one I wanna have kids with." 

She smiled at that, a smile that lit up her whole face and which Jake quickly realized was contagious.  "Good!" she declared, "Very good!"  Silently, they stared at one another for nearly a minute, both still grinning, both drinking in the sight of the other.  Her cheeks pinkened and she squeaked out "What?" giving into a nervous giggle.

He leaned back in his chair, showing her his empty hands.  "Nothin'.  I just love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed.  "But, uh, Jake.  How is this gonna work?" she asked.  "Is it gonna work?  I don't know that we've talked about Gramps since you've been there, but if we have – and even if we haven't – isn't it weird to start talking about him now like he's … here?"

"It'll be fine," he promised her.  "I – I've kinda laid the groundwork for this just in case.  I've been talking about him like he's still alive, all along, just in case I needed him to be alive for some reason.  It's kinda my escape plan, Babe."

"But don't you need an escape plan in case you actually need to escape?" Heather worried.  "Like—"

"I am escaping.  I'm escaping so I can be with my wife for our anniversary," he reminded her. "We're going to Hawaii and we're gonna try and make a baby.  It's important."

She nodded.  "It is."

"And I've got other escape plans.  Other escape hatches.  Escape routes.  Whatever you wanna call 'em.  Got a whole team in Denver workin' on this too.  And – you know – I'm pretty good at my job."

"So you're always telling me," she returned, giving into the smile that had been fighting to gain traction on her lips. 

"Well, you're amazing at your job, so I gotta be pretty good at mine, right?" he asked rhetorically.  "But you don't need to worry about me using this particular plan so we can be together, okay?  Like you said, Gramps would've approved."

"Okay.  So, do I call, or do I email?  And when?"

"Whichever is easier," he shrugged.  "And maybe you leave me a voicemail, like it just came up and you want to make sure I know, so you called me even though you knew I wouldn't answer."

"Have you re-recorded your message?  Or am I still gonna get to hear 'Grumpy Jake' when I call you?" she teased.

"I'm not grumpy," he grumped.

"Uh huh," she grinned.  "Of course not."

"Well, maybe I'll record a new one by Thursday or Friday.  Or even Monday," he suggested.  "And you just need to tell me that it's bad news, and Gramps has decided against treatment.  With enough time between when you tell me the cancer's back and July fifth, when you're gonna tell me that the doctors say he only has a week or so left.  Okay?"

"Okay."

"There's a ticket already reserved for me on the first flight outta Baghdad on the sixth," he informed her.  "You call on the fifth, the other Jake officially buys the ticket.  On the seventh, we're in Hawaii."

"That's the plan, then," Heather decided.  "I'll call you on Thursday?  Well, it'll probably be Friday for you.  But I can say the doctor called Gramps, and he had everyone come over so he could tell us his decision." 

"That's good, Babe," he nodded.  "Pretty much how it really happened.  Just a compressed timeframe." 

EJ Green had actually announced the return of his cancer at the first Sunday dinner in November 2003.  He had requested that they all respect his wishes and that they all continue to live their lives, which they had managed to do, right up until the last week of January when the whole family had begun to sit vigil at the ranch.  First though, he'd fooled them all, seeming to rally mid-month, and had felt well enough to attend the thirtieth birthday party that April and Heather had planned for their husbands – then cancelled, then called back on.  EJ had appeared to be in good enough health that Jake had even taken an undercover assignment out of the country, which had meant that he had been the last to reach his grandfather's bedside, arriving home just after midnight on the twenty-ninth.  EJ had passed peacefully in his sleep on the first of February, a little past two in the afternoon. 

"Better change your message on Thursday then," she joked weakly. 

"Yeah, better do that," he echoed, offering her a lopsided grin.  "And I think talkin' all this through counts as my choice, so guess I really owe you some sweet talk now, huh?"

"Technically," Heather agreed, returning his smile.  "But what I don't get….  Why is it good for your cover story that we're gonna try to have a baby, but you can't be excited about it?"

"I'm tryin' to keep things separate, that's all," he told her.  "It is good for the cover story that my wife wants to have a kid, but—"

"You're keeping me air gapped," she surmised.  "And you're compartmentalizing."

"I am," he confirmed.  "Because I love you.  And it's not your job, it's mine.  And, yeah, if you get pregnant, it works for the cover story.  But some things are just between us – are just for us.  This is one of 'em."

"So don't tell you on your regular phone and your regular email if I'm pregnant?" she guessed, frowning.

"No, Heather," he denied immediately.  "If you get pregnant, you tell me," Jake instructed.  "Soon as you know."

"That's what I'm gonna wanna do, I just—"

"I know, Babe," he soothed.  "I'm not saying you wouldn't.  I'm saying that the whole reason I'm gonna – we're gonna – work that into the cover – why we work it in – is because then you can tell me."  He paused a moment rolling the Coke bottle between his two hands.  "But then they're gonna know too.  They might know," he hedged.  "I dunno.  And I hafta live with them knowing that much about us.   But they don't need to know everything about how I think.  How I feel.  About you.  About this – us having a kid."

Heather chewed her lip for a moment, before mumbling, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"It's okay, Jake.  I get it.  You know, I – I told your mom that I didn't think I could handle coming straight home – to Jericho – to our home after finally getting to spend time with you, and I really don't think I can," she admitted, frowning.  "So, I'm gonna go to Buffalo.  But also…."  She paused, lips pursed, eyes suddenly suspiciously bright.

"Babe…" he murmured.

"I really don't wanna be home alone waiting to find out if I'm pregnant.  Because what if I'm not?" she asked, swiping at one eye.  "But you know what?" she asked, continuing before he could even think about how to comfort her.  "That doesn't really make any sense.  I'm not telling any of them.  Even though you'd already said you were ready, I didn't tell Mandy that when she was bugging me – us – to get to baby making—"

"She said that to you?" Jake demanded.  "Wow."

"You know Mandy, Hon.  You've been around her anyway.  Are you really surprised?  That's just Mandy."

"Yeah, no," he acknowledged quietly, "You're right."

"She also asked me if you were still hot," Heather told him.  She forced a smile, adding, "Because apparently she worries about that."

He snorted softly.  "And what'd you tell her?"

"First?  That it was weird that she was worrying about whether or not my husband was maintaining his hotness," she grumbled.  "Second, that I would not be returning the favor and worrying about her husband's hotness at all.  And third, that of course you are.  Because you, Jake Green, are always hot," she flirted halfheartedly.  "I also told her that right now, you're really tired too.  And that's what I worry about."

"I'll be fine, Babe.  Promise."

"You better be, or I'll be very mad at you," she complained before attempting – only somewhat successfully – to tease, "Better stay hot too."

"I'll try," he vowed.  "For you, Babe, you know I will."

"Thanks," she sighed.  "And what I'm – I guess what I'm trying to say about going to Buffalo is….  If I can't be with you, then I wanna be around all of them.  While I wait.  Even though I'm not gonna necessarily say anything.  Maybe to my dad, but I don't know," she shrugged.  "So, I get it.  I get the privacy aspect.  Some things are just between you and me," she echoed.  "Are just for us."

"Yeah, some things are.  And they're your family.  You love all of 'em.  They all love you.  But I don't even like anybody here," he argued, "Except for Freddie."  He took a quick drink from his soda bottle.  "And I don't really want them to know this about us, Babe.  I still wish they didn't know about you at all."

"But Jake….  I need – I at least need to be able to talk to you.  So, you don't hafta be excited," she decided, "And I will try—" 

"I'm excited, Babe.  Inside, outside, everywhere," he insisted.  "I'm – I'm excited." 

"Just not when you're the other Jake," Heather said.  "Which….  I get," she claimed, "But God, this is hard to follow sometimes.  Like Lost hard to follow."

"You always hafta explain Lost to me," he reminded.

"I thought you weren't watching it anymore."

"I'm not," he shrugged.  "I liked – like – watchin' it with you.  On my own, it's too much work.  But I like your recaps, better than the actual show."  She smiled at that, and he let out a relieved breath.  "And – you know – when I'm home, I'll be all set to watch with you again.  But you'll still hafta explain it.  I don't remember every offhand remark that Sawyer or Sayid made fifteen episodes ago.  That's only you."

"I do do that," she agreed, "And I can do that."

"Heather," he began a beat later, "I – you know that I try to keep you air gapped because I want – I need – you to be safe—"

"I know that, Jake," she returned, cutting him off.  "I appreciate that."

"Babe, can you just let me say this?" he requested, "Then we can talk about it, as much as you want."

She nodded, her face reddening.  "Yes, of course, I'm sorry," she apologized in a rush of breath.  "Sorry for 'third grade teacher-ing' you."

"It's okay," he smiled, joking, "It's just that I've got it on really good authority – yours – that I'm not always eight."

"I'm sorry," Heather repeated, grimacing.

"You don't hafta be sorry.  I just – I want to tell you – explain – how I think about this, that's all.  And you don't need to be blushing over this, either.  'Cause I think you know the kinda things I think you should be blushing over," he teased. 

"Pretty sure I do," she giggled.  "Okay, Hon.  You have the floor."

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a deep breath.  He paused for a long moment before beginning slowly, "I hafta … compartmentalize, just so I can do this – this job.  'Cause I need something that's real … something that I don't … let … get mixed in with all this.  That way I can leave it all behind later."  Their gazes met, and she offered him an encouraging smile.  Jake returned the smile before exhaling and continuing.  "It's hard sometimes… to know … to remember where he ends, and I begin.  So, I need that separation.  It's like I draw a line between him and me," he explained, tracing an imaginary line vertically in the air.  "I'm on one side," he added, hooking his thumb to the right, "And he's on the other," he said, pointing to the left.  "Over here," he continued, holding his right hand up, "I'm excited.  Over there, he's just not … as excited."

"I guess that makes sense," she said softly, once it was clear he had stopped.  "I mean, it does make sense," she declared.  She was wearing what he thought of as her 'thinking face': furled brow, wide eyes, pursed lips.  "I just – I don't think of you as being two different people.  I just think of you as my Jake – my husband."

"Hey!  That's who I am," he confirmed, "I'm your Jake.  Your husband.  And the other one?"  He paused for a moment, chuckling quietly to himself as he realized that he was going to tell her.  He'd forbade Ange from even talking to Heather so she couldn't accidentally say these words to his wife, only now Heather was going to hear them from his mouth.  "Babe, he's 'Fake Jake'."

"Uh… I'm sorry?" she returned, her nose wrinkling adorably in confusion.

"'Fake Jake'," he repeated, snorting.  "That's what we call my alter ego at work.  In Denver, not here.  But I'm real Jake, he's 'Fake Jake'.  And real Jake – me – I'm excited, Babe.  I want to have a kid with you.  'Fake Jake'?  His life's a shitshow.  He wants to be excited about havin' a kid.  But he just can't be, okay?  I can't let him be, 'cause I hafta know where he ends, and I begin.  So, I draw that line.  'Fake Jake' over there," he reminded, gesturing to the left; "Me over here," he finished, motioning again to the right.

"Okay," she nodded, "That makes sense.  The line.  I totally get that," she smiled, catching his eye.  "And this line you draw…."  She made a chopping motion with her right hand, cutting the space in front of her in half.  "Any chance it's more of a shape, like a box?" she asked, moving her hand so that she illustrated an invisible square in the air.  "Or – you know," she giggled, "A compartment?"

Jake groaned, but it quickly gave way to a chuckle.  "Yeah, I s'pose you could call it that.  A compartment for me and a compartment for—"

"'Fake Jake'!" she practically crowed.  "How did this never occur to me before?  It rhymes!"

"I have been wondering that for months, honestly," he admitted, grinning at her.  "And you know what?  I bet 'Fake Jake' says things like 'gotta check with the missus' all the time," he joked.

"He totally does," she agreed shaking her head in vigorous confirmation.  "And Fake Heather is just as merciless in her teasing as I would be."

"Never doubted it, Babe," he chuckled.  "So, I'm guessin' that 'Fake Jake' is gonna be a recurring topic of discussion for the next fifty years?"

"Pretty sure we're supposed to be married for seventy more years, Hon," she reminded him.  "'Fake Jake'!" she declared, a trill of laughter escaping her.  She took a deep breath then, and he watched as she seemed to tamp down on her amusement, her expression turning serious, though still affectionate.  "Thank you, Jake.  Believe it or not, that helps."

"It does?"

"It does," she confirmed.  "I – it's sometimes hard for me to know how to think – how to feel – about your job.  And that part – pretending to be someone you're not and still being you – I'm glad to know how you feel about that.  It's hard for me.  Sometimes it's hard," she hedged, "For me anyway."

"It's hard for me too, Babe," he assured her.  "It didn't used to be.  I mean, it was always a little hard, that's why I compartmentalize."  He stopped then, not wanting to tell her what he really worried about – generally feared about his job: that all the people he pretended to be were all people that she'd hate.  That the one thing he feared the most was having to do something that would damage him in her eyes; would damage her love or respect for him, her trust in him.  "But it's harder now."  He could admit that much, he decided.  "And I keep telling Gretchen that, and I told her I'm not doing this anymore," he confessed.  "In the field, under cover."

"How'd she take that?"

"Says she still wants me on the team," he answered, shrugging.  "Wants us to figure out how we could do that.  Maybe I start handling UCs, instead of being one."

"You'd be good at that, right?" Heather asked, offering him an encouraging smile.  "I think you'd be good at that."

"Yeah, I think so," he nodded.  He hadn't meant to talk to her about this today, either.  But he also wanted her to know that he still meant what he'd always said.  When they had kids, he'd be there, for her and for them.  "And I probably can do that mostly from home.  Go to Denver every coupl'a months, for a day or two, call it good.  It's an idea, anyway."

"I love that idea!" she exclaimed, her smile turning radiant. 

Jake nodded, grinning in return.  "Good.  Gretchen seems open to it.  And now Mellie has been accepted for field agent training, leaves for Quantico in September.  She said that I could handle her, but only if I find someone to do both our paperwork."

"Well, she shouldn't be doing your paperwork now," she scolded cheerfully.  "And I say that as the person who does all our joint paperwork.  And tell Mellie 'congrats' from me the next time you talk to her," she requested, grumbling, "Though it better not be because you're making her do your paperwork."

"I'll tell her," he promised.  "And I don't make her fill out dumb forms for me, just like I don't make you handle all our papers and stuff.  If you don't wanna do it, Babe, you don't hafta."

"I don't mind doing it, Jake," she insisted.  "I like knowing where we stand."

"And where do we stand?" he questioned.  His tone was playful but there was a serious undercurrent present as well.  "You and me?"

"Together, like always," she said, smiling at him fondly.  "We're a team, Jake," she reminded him, "You and me against the world, just like always." 

"Good," he smiled in return, confirming, "'Cause we are a team."

"Exactly.  And if I weren't making sure the bills got paid, I'd still be worrying about them getting paid.  It's just easier to leave 'em to me.  I really don't mind, okay?"

"Okay."

"But you still don't get to make the women you work with do your paperwork for you," she told him, pretending to glare at him.

"Got it," he laughed.  "Just don't call Mellie between now and September, 'kay?"

"I can manage that, I think," Heather promised.  "I told your mom at dinner – well, before dinner," she amended a few seconds later, "That I'm really looking forward to when you're 'home most of the time'."

"I'm gonna be, Babe.  I swear."

"I know.  And I think if you can make this work at work, that'd be great," she shrugged.  "Best of both worlds for you."

"Yeah, maybe.  Just as long as it works for you.  'Cause 'Heather's World' is the only world I really care about," he flirted, winking at her.

"Well, 'Heather's World' is looking forward to going into permanent, continuous conjunction and orbit with 'Jake's World'," she told him, giggling.  "And they're gonna take away my amateur astronomer's card for that one."  She let out a sigh.  "Jake, I want a family.  You and me and a couple of babies who grow up and play Little League and then grow up some more and maybe mortify me when they're teenagers," she listed, paraphrasing what she'd said to Gail earlier.  "That's all."       

"That's all, huh?" he chuckled.  "Pretty sure that's everything, Babe."

"It is," she agreed, "For me, it is.  I just hope it's enough for you.  And maybe if you can still have the DEA and be home….  Like I said, best of both worlds."

"That'd be good.  Still only need the one world.  Anywhere with you.  That's enough for me," he assured her.  "More than enough."

"Good.  And you know, me too," she returned, offering him a lopsided smile.  They again fell silent, content to simply observe one another.  "You probably need to go, huh?" she asked finally, gesturing toward the bottom of her laptop's screen, at the clock.  "It's five after nine here.  Five AM for you."

"Yeah," he acknowledged, frowning.  "S'posed to start at six today, probably should get back."  He held up his empty soda bottle, chuckling humorlessly.  "Need to get some coffee."

"Well, you know what I always say: take your vitamin 'C'," she teased.  Her smile faltered.  "I wish you didn't hafta work so hard, Hon.  I wish you weren't so tired."

"I'll be fine, promise," he deflected.  "And sorry, we didn't really get to sweet talk part of the agenda."

"We didn't?" Heather laughed, a gentle, honeyed sound that was a balm to his frayed nerves made all the more ragged by the caffeine he'd consumed over the preceding three hours.  "You said baby at least five times.  That was pretty sweet."

"Baby."

She smiled.  "And you told me you loved me—"

"I love you.  More than anything."

Her smile widened.  "—told me I'm beautiful—"

"You are.  Beautiful.  Gorgeous.  Breathtaking," Jake cataloged.

"So – you know – I think we covered sweet talk," she decided.  "Though maybe I owe you some.  I love you, Jake.  And you are hottest man alive, and I can't wait to see you and kiss you and be with you.  You know.  In a nutshell."

"Can't wait to see you either, Heather," he echoed, offering her a gentle grin.  "Kiss you.  Be with you.  Some other stuff.  In a nutshell."

"You need to go, Jake," she reminded him a long moment later.  "You need to go be Fake Jake and change your voicemail so when I call you on Thursday for me, but Friday for you, you're not grumpy.  Or maybe, you just go ahead and be grumpy—"

"I'm not bein' grumpy to you, you know," he grumbled.  "That's for other people."

"I know," she answered.  "And then, in a month, you need to meet me in Hawaii.  Okay?"

"I'll be there, Babe.  Promise.  And in, like, twenty minutes, I'm gonna call you.  From 'Fake Jake's' cell.  Just so there's a reason why I didn't go to work until six."

"'Fake Jake'," she snickered, "That really is so funny."

"Knew you'd love that."

"I do love that," she confirmed, "But not nearly as much as I love you."

"I love you too, Heather," he returned.  "And I found the picture you sent me a couple weeks back, so I've got my chess move for you too."  He made a face.  "I mean, if you want it."

"So, clearly, I don't want it," she reasoned, groaning softly.  "Sheesh, how badly did I mess up?  And did you figure this out three weeks ago, and just didn't want to tell me?  You're not supposed to pull chess moves, Jake.  All's fair in love and chess, remember?"

"I'll just tell you later," he decided.  "All's fair in love and chess, but there're also Birthday Rules, and it's still your birthday.  Happy Birthday, Babe."

"Thanks," she laughed softly.  "So, gimme your move, Mister," she demanded, reaching for her notebook.

"You sure?" 

"I am."

"Bishop to 'a3'," he told her hesitantly a beat or two later.  "But gimme a day, I can think of a different move."

"All's fair," she repeated, writing it into her notebook.  "And – wow – that sounds like I really messed up."

"Just don't send me your return move yet, okay?  I'm gonna send you that one – or a different one – from 'Fake Jake's' email."

"Send me that one, Jake.  It's only fair."  She offered him a wan smile.  "Thank you for the absolute, best birthday I could ever imagine having without you here."

"You're welcome," he murmured.  "Thanks for still being there."

"I'm not going anywhere, Hon.  You can count on that, okay?"  He nodded, and she giggled self-consciously.  "Well, except, I am gonna go to Hawaii, Buffalo and New Haven, Connecticut.  But then I'm coming straight back here.  Home."

"Acceptable," he teased, "Especially the goin' to Hawaii part.  You better be there."

"I will be," she promised.  "And you better go."

"Yeah," he acknowledged.  "I love you, Heather.  Happy Birthday."  He smiled then; the sweet, adoring grin that always made her heart beat a little faster.  "Bye."

"I love you too.  Bye, Jake."

Their gazes still locked on one another, he reluctantly ended the call.

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

To be concluded in Different Circumstances Interlude: Long Distance Relationship, Part 12.

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

I really am continuing to write this story (both the main storyline and these Interludes), and I have a pretty good outline to get me through the rest of season one and beyond.  But again, I don't know how fast that will be or if there is still any interest in this story.  If there is, and you want me to know that the best way to do so (unless you are a registered user of this site and want to leave a review) is to email me directly at: marzeedoats @ gmail dot com (please format as an email address – I am trying to avoid getting additional junk mail).  I promise I will only use this information as encouragement to write, and potentially to send you pdf copies of later chapters, if and when the site closes (would be late May 2024 at the earliest).  Contacting me directly is the best way to let me know if there is still interest in this story, and if you want to know (eventually) how it ends. 

End Notes:

When Jake refers to the "Kansas public meetings law", Heather tells him it is the Kansas Open Meetings Act or KOMA.  This is sort of true.  There isn't a Kansas state law requiring that a written agenda be available ahead of time, or that there even be an agenda.  However, KOMA notes that an agenda is useful, and that any agenda created for a public meeting is subject to the Kansas Open Records Act or KORA.  Any person may request access to an agenda that has been created under KORA.  And I assume that both the Jericho Town Council and School Board publish their agendas ahead of time, which is what Jake is joking about.

Red roses mean: love; passion; beauty; courage; respect; congratulations.  They are given to express or say: romantic interest/love; sincere love; "I love you"; "job well done".

White roses mean: purity; innocence; silence; secrecy; reverence; humility; youthfulness; heavenly.  They are given to express or say: pure love; remembrance; "I am worthy of you"; "I miss you". 

Yellow roses mean: joy; delight; friendship; gladness; jealousy.  They are given to express or say: the promise of a new beginning; "welcome back"; "remember me"; "I care".

Red and white roses, given together, signify unity.

Red and yellow roses, given together, signify happiness and excitement; jovial and happy feelings.

Yellow and white roses, given together, symbolize the meaning of support and trust in each other, particularly in the relationship of friends and spouses.  They also represent happiness.

When you google "rose color that means children", the results are pretty varied.  Peach, pink, and yellow may all return before white.  However, when you google "rose color that means baby", you will likely get an answer of white roses, in particular for baby showers.  It's not guaranteed, but Heather is making an informed guess when she asks Jake what phrase exactly he googled.

When Jake mentions that April told him about red and white roses being given for an engagement "after A Christmas Carol" he is referring to a scene described in Different Circumstances, Part 12D.

There is a little bit of an Easter egg in this part.  When Jake names Stanley's last girlfriend as Jennifer Thompson, who has overpriced her family home in Jericho so that it hasn't sold, you might have picked up on the fact that Gray Anderson complains to Eric in episode 7 (Long Live the Mayor) that Hawkins showed up "two days before the end of the world, with enough cash to buy the old Thompson house".  (Funnily enough, Allison says to Hawkins earlier in the same episode that their neighbors in Washington DC were also the Thompsons.)  So, yes, in the Different Circumstances universe, Stanley has spent a fair amount of time fixing up the Hawkins house when it was still the Thompson house.  And the house that Hawkins buys has been on the market for about six months.

Lost is an American science fiction adventure drama television series created by Jeffrey Lieber, J. J. Abrams, and Damon Lindelof that aired on ABC from September 22, 2004, to May 23, 2010, over six seasons and 121 episodes. It follows the survivors of a commercial jet airliner flying between Sydney and Los Angeles, after the plane crashes on a mysterious island somewhere in the South Pacific Ocean. Episodes typically feature a primary storyline set on the island, augmented by flashback or flashforward sequences which provide additional insight into the involved characters.  (Clearly, I am also a fan of using flashbacks and flashforwards – they are coming! – to tell this story.)

By this point in the story – June 2006 – the first two seasons of Lost have aired.  Jake, having been overseas since early February 2006, would have only seen season 1 and part of season 2.  Sayid and Sawyer are both characters who were part of the show from the very beginning, so they (as opposed to characters introduced later in the show) seemed like good candidates for making comments that foreshadowed something we would only learn the significance of in a later episode, and for that having happened while Jake and Heather were watching together.