Fic: Jericho - A Little Divided - Part Three of Three

[tanaquiljall]

Title: A Little Divided
Fandom: Jericho
Rating: General
Pairings: Jake/Heather, with references to Freddy/Anna, Hawkins/Darcy, Eric/April and Eric/Mary
Warnings: None
Words: 29,580 words
Summary: A sequel to (Follows You) Back Home. Sent back in time, Jake Green has successfully prevented the September attacks—at the cost of his relationship with the woman he loves, Heather Lisinski. While he has been working to rebuild his life and his relationships with his family in this changed world, fate has thrown him back into Heather’s path and he has been able to rescue her for a second time. Having won her admiration, he now has the opportunity to win back her heart. As their relationship develops, however, he finds it increasingly hard not to mix up the past he shared with the Heather in that other life with the history he’s creating with the Heather in this one. How can he build a successful relationship with this Heather while concealing the truth of who he is and what he’s done?
Author's Note: Part of the Timetravel!verse being written by Scribbler (scribblesinink) and Tanaqui (tanaquific) and a sequel to (Follows You) Back Home Thank you to susanmarier for creating the beautiful banner and cover art for the story. Thanks also, as always, to Scribbler (scribblesinink) for the cheerleading and beta.
Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Junction Entertainment/Fixed Mark Productions/CBS Paramount Television series Jericho. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.

Part One (1) of "A Little Divided" | Part One (2) of "A Little Divided" | Part Two of "A Little Divided"

Part Three

Jake thrummed with impatience as he waited for an answer to his knock. The early August evening air was sultry after the chill of his air-conditioned hire car, but it wasn’t a desire to be out of the heat that was making the delay seem to last an eternity. The whole four hours’ drive from Denver, the half an hour he’d spent dropping his bags at his parents’ house and saying hello to his mom—and ignoring the slight look of disappointment on her face as he’d dashed out of the door again—and the five minutes it had taken to drive across town, he’d been anticipating this moment.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if there was anyone home, he heard the sound of the lock being turned, before the door swung open.

“Oh. Hey.” Heather blinked uncertainly at him, her hand still resting on the door.

“Hey.” Jake grinned back at her, drinking in the sight of her face. He reckoned she was even more beautiful than his memory had told him she was, though he seemed to have caught her in a moment of disarray. Her hair was pulled back in an untidy ponytail, escaped strands forming curls on her flushed cheeks that he longed to brush back with his fingertips. She was wearing a frayed T-shirt and jeans and, he realized, holding a dishtowel in her other hand. He brought his gaze back up to her face and saw her expression was a little wary. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Oh God. I’ve come at a bad time, haven’t I?”

She looked at him for a moment longer, as if unsure what to say and then shook her head. “No. Not at all. I was just doing some chores.” She gestured with the cloth as evidence and chuckled softly. “I just wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Thought you’d be spending the evening with your family. You know, seeing the baby and….” She trailed off, her expression growing more unsure.

He became aware that he’d been staring at her intently, still taking in the fact they were together again. Feeling her presence in every fiber of his being, aware of the warm, living, breathing reality of her—not just her letters and her emails, but her—so close at last. Suddenly, it wasn’t close enough. “Couldn’t wait,” he managed, his voice hoarse. He took a step nearer and caught her face in his hand, relishing the feel of her where he touched her, the electricity that sparked between them under his fingertips. She let out a slight gasp, her lips parting, and he pulled her toward him, bending his head to kiss her.

Then he stopped, his lips an inch from hers, suddenly unsure, sensing the tension in her as he gathered her into his arms. He drew back a little, seeking out her gaze, wondering if he had her permission. Wondering if—Oh, God!—she wanted this at all. She looked back at him, her eyes seeming very blue as they searched his. Then she was flinging an arm around his neck and pulling his mouth down on to hers for a long, deep, hungry kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, feeling the heat of her body against him while he kissed her back just as greedily.

At last they pulled apart, both breathing deeply. She lifted her gaze to his, shyly. “Uh. Hi, there.” She chuckled softly and he felt the laugh shake her body as he still held her close.

“Hi, there, yourself.” He grinned down at her, brushing the hair back off her cheek with his fingertips. “God, it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah.” She smiled back at him, before she glanced over his shoulder. Her cheeks colored. “Umm. You wanna come in for a while? Before we embarrass the whole neighborhood, or the cops stop by and slap us with a public order violation?”

“Sure.” He let her step out of his embrace, catching her hand as she turned away and twining his fingers in hers. She smiled back over her shoulder as she drew him inside.

oOo

Jake didn’t spend long at Heather’s. “I do need to get back to see the family,” he admitted, once he got inside. “Just wanted to see you first.” But they made plans, before he left, to meet again the next day for a picnic, once Heather had finished supervising summer camp activities and running errands, and after Jake had spent some time at the airfield working on the cropduster.

Now, the following afternoon, he regarded the cropduster with satisfaction. He’d made good progress, even if his back protested as he straightened and took a pace away to admire the plane. Breathing in the baked air—the hangar had grown hot as the sun beat down on it—he decided to call it a day. It was time to go home and grab a shower before heading back out to pick up Heather.

Tidying up and locking up the hangar took a little longer than he expected and it was another half hour before he hurried into his parents’ home. His mother bobbed out of the kitchen as he closed the door and headed for the stairs.

“Oh, there you are!” She beamed happily at him.

“Hey, Mom.” He paused, his hand on the end of the stairs.

“Everything going well with the cropduster?” She began to fold the dishtowel.

“Uh-huh. I just came back to grab a shower before I head out to….” He trailed off, recognizing the signs as his mother folded and refolded the dishtowel, apparently not entirely satisfied with how neatly matched together the edges were. But he knew it wasn’t the dishtowel she was unhappy with. “Meet Heather,” he finished a little lamely.

“That’s nice.” His mother was straightening the corners of the dishtowel, giving him half-glances from under her eyelashes. “We haven’t really seen very much of you so far….”

Jake bit down on the urge to remind her that, once he’d returned from his visit to Heather the previous evening, he’d spent several hours with the family admiring his new nephew and catching up with the news. He supposed he had disappeared pretty early this morning: grabbing coffee and breakfast and fixing himself a sandwich for lunch before his mother had even come downstairs. “I know.” He shrugged. “It’s just… I came home to see Heather as well.”

His mother’s hands stilled on the dishtowel and she clasped it in front of her. She raised her gaze to meet Jake’s directly. “You’re serious about her?”

Jake nodded. “Very. I… I think we’re supposed to be together.”

His mother went on looking at him intently, her gaze sharp and questioning. Jack looked back at her steadily, enduring her scrutiny without embarrassment, because he was sure of this. More sure than about almost anything in his life so far. Only flying meant more to him. And there was the same feeling of ‘rightness’ to both of them. At last his mother gave a dip of the head, perhaps reading all of that in his expression and accepting it. “You’d better hurry up and get ready then,” she said, patting his arm gently. “Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Moved by a sudden impulse of gratitude—for what, he wasn’t quite sure—Jake put his arm around her shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, Mom.” Turning away, he hurried away up the stairs. It was only a few minutes later, when he was sluicing away the dirt of the day under the shower, that he understood she’d given him her blessing, taking a step back in his life so that he could take a step forward, with another woman who’d likely supersede her in importance in his life.

Not long after that, he was standing on Heather’s stoop again. This time when she answered the door, she was ready for him, smartly dressed in a pretty, strappy sundress patterned with yellow sunflowers that showed off her shoulders. He stepped forward and kissed her lightly, still feeling a shiver of desire as he slid his arm around her waist but none of the desperation he’d felt yesterday when he’d first seen her. “Hi. Ready to go?”

“Uh-huh.” She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “I’ll just get the picnic.”

She disappeared inside for a moment, before returning with an insulated bag in one hand and a large tote bag slung over her other shoulder. He took the bags to the car while she locked up and then followed him down the path.

“So where do you want to go?” he asked as she settled into the passenger seat and he started the engine.

“Oh….” She frowned a little, apparently not having expected to be consulted on the venue. “Umm… Bass Lake? It should be cool down by the water.”

Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as an image flashed before his eyes of the last time he'd been out to Bass Lake with Heather: the sight of the bodies of Victor Miller’s friends and family strewn around the lake shore and under the trees, dead from radiation sickness from Denver.

All of whom were likely alive and well right now, he reminded himself sharply. And he had asked Heather to choose the venue for their date, so he could hardly blame her for picking the place.

Drawing in a deep breath, he loosened his grip on the wheel. “Sure.” He pulled away from the curb. Aware that Heather was giving him a curious look, he flashed her a reassuring glance. “That sounds like a great idea.”

They made polite conversation about the weather on the drive out, still a little uncertain of each other despite the passionate kiss they’d shared the day before. Jake was glad of the neutral topic, a chance to regain his equilibrium before he was confronted with the reality of the lake. He was careful, though, to drive down the track and park further along from where they’d stopped the previous time. And as he and Heather walked down toward the lakeshore, her hand in his feeling so very right, the normality of the scene spread before him reassured him. Children were splashing around at the water’s edge, shrieking with laughter; much further out, two fishermen were casting their lines from small boats that bobbed quietly on the slightly rippled surface.

Heather spread out the rug she’d stuffed into her tote bag and they sat down. “Are you hungry?” She placed her hands on the insulated bag that Jake had set down between them.

He shook his head. “Not just yet.” Reaching out, he caught one of her hands and twined his fingers in hers, relishing the touch of her. She smiled shyly at him before turning to watch the children. He went on looking at her, not wanting to waste a moment of his time with her.

She glanced at him again, catching his eye for a moment, before she shifted a little, settling her hand more comfortably in his, giving his fingers a squeeze to reassure him she wasn’t about to pull away. “So how did things go with the cropduster today? Get much done?”

“Uh-huh. She’s still in pretty good shape, considering.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, enjoying the spark of electricity that fizzed between them. He saw the color rise in her cheeks as she dipped her head, and an answering thrill tugged deep inside him as he received confirmation of the effect he was having on her—and she on him. Taking a deep breath, he carried on answering her question, even as his gaze slid over her, taking in the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Grandpa did a good job of laying her up for the winter, the last time.”

She turned to look at him and drew in a breath herself as she met his gaze, her blush deepening. He supposed some of what he felt for her, what he longed to do with her, could be read in his gaze. He saw her swallow and he bent his own head, realizing it was probably too much, too quickly. That he needed to give her time to grow into this, the way Heather in that other life had done. But she gave his hand another quick, reassuring squeeze, and a brief glance upwards showed that now she was watching him, her expression suggesting she was liking what she saw.

“So you should be able to sell her soon and then you can start thinking seriously about the flight school?”

“Yeah.” He’d already told her all this in letters and emails, but he guessed she was looking to hear him say it. To hear how he said it. How much it really mattered to him. He lifted his free hand and scrubbed it across the back of his neck. “Just need to find the right opportunity.” He hesitated and then added carefully, “Been looking at some places in Wichita. That’s not so far away….” He peered up from under his lashes to see how she’d react.

She looked at him seriously for a moment and then her lips twitched into a half smile. “No. No, it’s not.”

Dropping his gaze again, he cleared his throat. “So how did the summer camp thing go this morning?”

“Good.” She chuckled and he felt a little of the tension leaving her hand. He realized they were both like coiled springs, nervous and excited, and he forced himself to relax a little as well. She shrugged her shoulder. “The kids seem to enjoy themselves.”

“You want to go on teaching?” Another quick glance to judge her response while he waited for her reply.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded to emphasize her answer.

“In Jericho?”

“For now.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Though I guess I could teach third grade pretty much anywhere, couldn’t I?”

Jake lifted his head quickly, meeting her gaze and holding it. “In Wichita?” he asked softly.

She gave a slight shrug. “I suppose so.” Then she shook herself, pulling her hand out of his. “Why don’t we have some of this food.” Pulling the picnic bag toward her, she began to fumble with the zip.

“Sorry,” Jake said, drawing his hand back and wrapping his arms around himself. “Sorry. I’m going too fast again, aren’t I?”

Heather looked back up at him, meeting his gaze steadily. His breath caught in his throat as he looked backed at her, because, God, he loved that about her: the way she faced things head on. “A little,” she admitted. She lifted her hands helplessly. “You just seem to be making plans and… and kinda including me in them….”

“I’d like to include you.” Jake’s voice was hoarse in his own ears as he went on looking at her.

“Yeah, I got that.” She tilted her head and smiled at him. “Let’s just see how the next few days go, shall we?”

Jake nodded, accepting that was fair.

Heather had clearly put a lot of effort into making the picnic as nice as possible: crisp bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, potato salad cleverly packed into halved and hollowed-out tomatoes, home-made fruit salad, a large flask of iced tea that had been stashed in her tote bag. Last of all, she brought out cupcakes. Jake grinned when he saw they were decorated with smiley faces picked out in small silver balls. “Like the socks,” he murmured to himself, remembering that one of the other reasons he’d fallen in love with Heather was her quiet sense of fun.

“Hmm?” She was giving him another quizzical look and Jake realized she had no idea what he was talking about. This Heather had never darned a smiley face onto a sock for him.

“Uh, I like the faces,” he offered.

She gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. “They were left over from the craft this morning. Too silly?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re fun.” Picking up one of the cupcakes, he began peeling back the paper case. “Not chocolate?” he asked in surprise as he saw they seemed to be plain sponge inside.

“Umm, no.” Heather sounded a little worried. “Would you have preferred chocolate?”

“No, this is fine,” Jake reassured her, as he went on peeling back the paper. “I just thought you liked chocolate cake best.” Glancing up, he saw she was wearing a frown now. It took him a moment to remember he only knew about her preference for chocolate because the other Heather had told him: when he’d fetched dessert for her during the cook-out on Main Street just after the bombs fell. “You mentioned it in one of your letters,” he said quickly.

“Huh. I don’t remember that.” She gave a shrug, accepting the lie happily enough and tackling the paper on her own cupcake.

Jake breathed a silent sigh of relief and made a note to pay better attention to what he was saying. It was far easier to keep the lies straight in emails or on paper, when he had a chance to read back what he’d written.

oOo


Jake managed to stay out of further trouble for the rest of the evening. Once they’d finished eating and Heather had packed away the picnic things, she settled next to him, coming into the circle of his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. Mostly they were silent, Jake simply enjoying the feel of her leaning against him, turning his head from time to time to press his face into her hair and breathe in her scent. When they did talk, it was largely of small things: what Jake had made of his nephew, and whether Eric and April had liked the baby presents Heather had helped him decide on; something silly one of the children had said at summer camp that morning; a funny incident Jake had witnessed at the airport in Denver.

At last, when the light was almost gone and the children had long ago piled into their parents’ cars, muddy and hungry and ready for home, and the fishermen had rowed back to shore, they made their way back to the car and he took her home. Reaching her house, he walked her to her door. She hesitated on the stoop, clearly unsure whether to ask him in. Aware he shouldn’t rush her again, he suggested he should head home himself, spend some time with his parents. “Or they might forget who I am again.” That raised a giggle from her. Then he stepped forward and kissed her, gently and quite sedately. The desperation of the previous evening had faded as he grew more secure in the knowledge that he’d see her again, kiss her again, though his heart was still beating faster as he stepped back.

They’d already made plans for the next day, as they drove back from the lake, when Heather had cautiously asked him what he’d been doing and told him she had the day free. He’d suggested she bring Charlotte out to the airfield and work on her while he carried on with the maintenance work on the cropduster. But it was mid-morning, and Jake had already been hard at work for a couple of hours, by the time he heard the once-familiar rattle of the Dodge approaching the hangar. Carefully finishing up with the control pushrod he’d been checking, he wiped his hands on a rag and strolled out to meet her.

She smiled through the open car window as he walked up to the driver’s door. “Where should I put her?”

“Why don’t you pull into the hangar a bit? Get yourself in the shade while you’re working?” It was going to be another baking hot day. She nodded and did as he suggested. He followed her in, opening the car door as she turned off the engine and helping her out. She gave him an amused smile, but he didn’t care. Keeping hold of her hand, he drew her to him for a welcoming kiss. “Hi there,” he whispered, still holding her close.

She chuckled. “Missed me?”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned down at her, thinking that right now, things couldn’t be more perfect: the start of a long day working alongside each other, just like they’d done back in that other Jericho.

“So….” She pushed her hair back off her face with one hand. “I should probably let Charlotte cool down a bit. Show me what you’re doing on the plane?”

“Sure.” Stepping back but keeping hold of her hand, he led her over to the cropduster. “Started on the control systems this morning. See, these cables link the pedals to the rudder and those go to the elevator on the tail.” He pointed to where the wires ran along the length of the plane. At his side, she was nodding. Letting go of her hand, he leaned forward and grasped the cable connected to the pushrod that he’d been checking just before she arrived. “Just need to make sure everything’s connected properly, moves the way it should, isn’t showing any signs of corrosion, doesn’t need tensioning….” He pulled gently on the cable, turning his head to look down the plane’s body so he could see the elevator moving up and down the way it should. He was aware of Heather leaning forward as well, peering over his shoulder at what he was doing.

“So I guess it’s not really much different from an old car?” He sensed her nodding as he went on running his hand down the cable, twisting it gently to check visually for signs of wear. “Except the aerodynamics matter a bit more.” She chuckled. “Probably just as well I don’t have to worry about those with Charlotte. Not sure I could get my head around that stuff.”

Jake had both hands on the cable now, leaning down closer. Was the loop where the cable connected to the turnbuckle looking a little worn? “You seemed to manage okay with the wind turbines,” he said absently. “Or was that Ted? Don’t get me wrong, I liked the guy, but he never seemed bright that way—.”

He was suddenly aware that Heather had gone rigid, and his brain abruptly caught up with what his mouth had been saying. An icy finger of cold ran down his spine and coiled itself around his insides. There was a long moment of silence when neither of them moved. He could hear the quiet tick of Charlotte’s engine still cooling and, beyond that, a car driving along the road that skirted the airfield. Then she said carefully, “What are you talking about?”

He straightened and turned to look at her. She looked back at him, her expression not puzzled or surprised or worried but—frightened. It was the same look she’d gotten when she caught sight of the shooter from New Bern in the Sheriff’s office. Except this time it was directed at him.

“I—.” He spread his hands helplessly, desperately trying to think of a lie that would cover the truth he’d blurted out. But what he’d said couldn’t be explained away as a slip of the tongue or something she’d forgotten that she’d told him. It was something that had never happened to this Heather. He licked his lips. “I must be thinking of someone else.”

She went on looking at him steadily and he tried to hold his own gaze steady, to convince her of the lie, while the silence stretched out again. At last, she shook her head slightly, the movement small but sure. “No. No, you’re not,” she said. “I do have a friend called Ted. And we used to mess about with cars together. And yes, he’s a nice guy, but not that smart. Not with book stuff. Barely graduated High School. But I’ve never built a wind turbine with him… and I’m pretty sure you’ve never met him.”

Jake stared back at her wordlessly, his mind racing, trying to find an explanation she’d accept. Yet none came. Because the only explanation that would make any sense was so fantastical that it would surely simply make things worse.

“What’s going on, Jake?” Heather took her hand away from where she’d rested it on the edge of the cockpit earlier and wrapped her arms around herself. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said something… weird. Known things about me you couldn’t possibly know. Acted like you already knew me. Like we have this whole history together.”

He swallowed hard, seeing no way out but the truth now, because everything was all smashed to pieces anyway. “We do,” he croaked.

“No.” She shook her head firmly. “We don’t, Jake. I’d remember.” She took a step back, a shiver running through her. “I think… I’m going to go home. I think…. I think that’s best.” She took another step back, still facing him, and another, watching him warily for any sign he wasn’t going to let her go, while she dug in her jeans pocket for the keys. She only turned her back on him when she reached the car, hastily climbing inside and starting the engine. She gave him another look through the windshield as she reversed out, her face taut with misery, like she was trying not to cry.

The whole time, Jake stood unmoving, not even following her outside to watch her drive away once she’d backed out the car and turned it around. Because there was nothing he could do or say that would make a lick of difference now.

Only when Charlotte’s rumble had died away completely did he move, dropping to the floor and leaning back against the nearest wheel, gasping to draw breath against the feeling that his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

oOo

Jake wasn’t sure how long he sat like that. Eventually, he dragged himself back to his feet and went back to working on the plane. She still needed fixing up ready to sell. He could still have that flight school one day. But the prospect of running his own business seemed dreary and joyless now. Now he wouldn’t have Heather to share it with.

He kept running the conversation over in his mind as he worked, wishing he’d been paying attention to what he’d been saying. Wishing he’d been able to come up with a lie to cover up his mistake. Wishing, above all, that he hadn’t made her afraid. He might have hurt her in a half dozen different ways in that other life, but he reckoned he’d never scared her before.

At last, when the sun was dropping close to the horizon and his fingers were growing too tired to be sure of what they were doing, and he’d long ago emptied his water bottle and was getting dry-mouthed, he forced himself to go home. He’d gotten a lot done today, but he felt no sense of achievement.

Stepping inside the front door, he found his mom sitting in one of the easy chairs, reading a magazine. He guessed he’d missed dinner and that his father and brother were now out somewhere, probably at some civic event. His mom looked up at him as he came in, her appearance homey and reassuring, with the lamp casting its soft circle of light around her.

“Oh there you are, honey. Did you and—.” She stopped, apparently taking in something in his expression. Then she said quietly, closing the magazine and setting it aside, “What happened?”

Jake turned and closed the door behind him, resting his hand on the familiar, warm wood for a moment, wondering whether to shrug off the question or plead tiredness. Then, with a sigh, he turned and made his way over to the couch. He’d been turning the thing over and over in his mind all day—and gotten nowhere. He doubted his mom could fix things for him either: apply a bandaid and distract him with a cookie like when he’d been six. But maybe talking about it would help him figure it out.

oOo

He thought about that conversation with his mom again the next day, while he carried on working on the cropduster and tried to figure out what to do. He’d dropped on to the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his temples with his fingers. “I screwed up,” he admitted. “I said something stupid. Really stupid. And… and now I think I’ve scared her off.”

“Oh, honey.” His mom got up and settled herself on the couch next to him, putting a hand on his back. Oddly enough, it was comforting. “Did you try saying you were sorry?”

“Didn’t really get a chance.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “She was so spooked, she left before I could say anything.”

“Hmm.” Glancing over at his mom, he saw her expression had turned thoughtful. When she saw him looking, her expression turned a little sterner. “Well, maybe you should start there? Now she’s had a chance to calm down.”

Jake huffed a wry laugh. “Not sure that’s gonna work. Not after—.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, trying to work out how to explain to his mom without telling her the unbelievable truth. “There’s been stuff I haven’t been telling her and I… let slip something about it I shouldn’t have.”

His mother gave a slight sniff and sat back, folding her hands together in her lap. He could sense her disapproval and he couldn’t really disagree that he deserved it. Except this was something he couldn’t tell anyone. The only reason Hawkins had believed him was because he knew too much about the bombs for it not to be true. His mother still sounded like she was trying to be sympathetic though, when she asked, “About your time away? With that company?” She jerked her head toward the television and he guessed she was referring to the news coverage of J&R. “In Iraq?”

“Something like that.” Jake dropped his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t press him about exactly what he’d been concealing.

Thinking about it the next day, Jake reckoned that talking to Heather about J&R—the topic had never really come up—and even what he’d done in Saffa would have been easy in comparison. At least that was normal and human and understandable. Not something which sounded like the plot of a science fiction movie or the ravings of a town eccentric like old Oliver Adams.

His mother had stayed silent, though Jake could sense she was watching him. He shifted nervously, running a hand over his hair. At last, she spoke. “You said, yesterday, that the two of you were—how did you put it?—meant to be together. You really mean that? I mean, I know you’ve been writing each other for six months, but you haven’t spent much time together….”

Jake nodded, looking up at her. “I’m sure of it.” He spread his hands. “There’s only one thing I’ve ever been more sure of, and that’s wanting to fly. She makes me…right.”

He hadn’t been able to explain it any more clearly at the time, but he worked it out as he overhauled the cropduster’s engine the next day. Being with Heather in that other life had made him feel like who he was supposed to be. Not because she let him get away with being the “stupid little punk” he’d once been. But because she seemed to see who he really was when he was being his best self, and to like it—the bad and the good. She didn’t heap expectations on him, like his parents had at times, to be someone fundamentally other than who he was: to not have a taste for adventure and danger and the wide open skies, as well as to be kind and caring and responsible when that was needed. And that made him want to be that best self, his true self, when he was around her. And he thought—he hoped—he’d made her feel the same way too.

Maybe his mother had understood him, though. She gave him an exasperated look. “And how right do you think things are going to be if you’re hiding things from her?”

He snorted. “Not very,” he conceded.

His mother had put her hand back on his shoulder, then, giving it a squeeze. “I know you’re scared of telling her whatever it is you’ve been hiding. You’re afraid you’ll lose her. But you can’t build a relationship around a lie. You just can’t. It doesn’t work.”

As he fitted the engine cowling back in place, Jake realized he’d given much the same advice to Eric and Hawkins, months earlier. He’d told himself this was different, because it wasn’t an ordinary lie or an ordinary secret. But he wasn’t sure now how he’d ever thought he’d get away with pretending that his other life had never happened.

Maybe when he told her, Heather would think he was as crazy as old Oliver. Likely she would. But even if he somehow managed to patch things up with her without telling her, he’d spend his whole life watching his every word and action, trying not to slip up. And he’d still slip up, because the truth always has a way of coming out.

Cleaning off his hands, he knew he had only one option now.

oOo

This time, Jake didn’t have to wait long for Heather to answer the door. Though when she did, she simply stood there looking at him, a wary expression on her face. There were dark smudges under her eyes; she looked like she hadn’t slept well.

Jake swallowed, glad he’d taken a pace back after he’d knocked, so she wouldn’t feel he was crowding her or trying to intimidate her. “Can we talk?” When she still didn’t answer, her gaze raking over him, clearly trying to decide whether or not she still trusted him enough, he gestured at the bench on the porch. “We can stay out here. In public. I just want to say I’m sorry. And explain, if I can? Please?”

At last, she gave a silent nod and gestured toward the bench. He sat down at the far end, so he wouldn’t be blocking her in if she wanted to leave, to go back inside. She perched at the other end of the bench, sitting up straight, her hands folded in her lap.

Jake took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I upset you. Frightened you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

To his surprise, as he searched for his next words, she nodded her head and said softly, “I know.”

His chest tightened a little as he was reminded again of her quiet strength and her capacity to forgive. Dropping his gaze, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and linking his fingers together. “What I’m going to say is going to sound… fantastic. Unbelievable. I’m still not quite sure I believe it myself. But I promise you, it’s true.”

He stole a look up at her and saw she had her head tilted, listening, her face neutral. Taking another deep breath, he began talking again. “You said I was acting like we had a whole history together. We do.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her begin to shake her head again and he stopped her with a shake of his own head. “But only one of us remembers it.”

She gave a small, disbelieving snort. “You’re saying we knew each other in another life?”

“Not exactly.” He guessed she was talking about some kind of reincarnation. “More like… in another universe?” He twisted his head so could meet her gaze again. “A universe in which the CIA didn’t manage to stop those terrorists who wanted to set of bombs in 25 American cities.”

She blinked, her expression growing more disbelieving, but he saw her hands tighten on each other in her lap and he reckoned she was imagining what the world might have been like if the bombs had gone off.

He carried on, because at least she was still listening to him, prepared to hear him out, even if she didn’t yet believe him. “A lot of things happened after that. Bad things and good things. And one of the things that happened was that you and I fell in love. And then another thing that happened was this… creature—.” He huffed a laugh. “Pretending to be Bill Kohler, if you can believe it? Anyway, this creature said it could send me back in time so I could help the CIA to stop the attacks. And it did. And I did.” He gestured around at the peaceful street in front of them, with the occasional car swishing past and the sound of children playing a few houses along.

He waited for her to say something, giving her time to think about it. At last she quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re from the future?” She sounded like she was quoting something, a faint edge of sarcasm to her voice, but he didn’t get the reference until she added, “And there’s this unstoppable cyborg killing machine after me, right?”

He choked out a laugh, half caught between the seriousness of the situation and realizing how ridiculous he must sound. He shook his head. “No. No Terminators. Just me. With a year of life that I lived and nobody else has now.”

She sat looking at him, biting her lower lip. He was suddenly reminded strongly of Hawkins telling that other Heather about the bomb plot in his parents’ living room. There was the same uncertain, fierce expression on her face that the other version of her had worn as she’d tried to decide whether to believe him. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when she asked, “Why should I believe you? Why should I believe any of it?”

Jake gave a slight shrug. “Because I know things about you I couldn’t know any other way? Like those things I said about Ted.”

She tilted her chin up a little, challenging him. “So what else do you know about Ted?”

He gave a slight nod, accepting the test. “That the two of you grew up together over in New Bern. His surname’s Lewis. He lives in a trailer on the East Side.” Jake racked his brains, trying to remember the rest of the address scribbled on the piece of paper Ted had shoved into his hand in the brake factory. “Lot… 24. He’s a bit shorter than me, dark hair.” He quirked his mouth in a rueful grin. “Still carrying a torch for you….”

A blush colored Heather’s cheeks. She pushed up from the bench and crossed to the railing, staring out into the street for a moment before she turned an leaned against the rail, arms folded across her chest. “You could have found all that out by asking around,” she pointed out quietly.

“I guess.” Jake looked at her unhappily, wondering just what he could say to convince her.

Seemed she was wondering that too, eyeing him with a thoughtful expression. “So tell me about what happened. After the bombs went off.”

He blinked at her. “All of it?”

She lifted one shoulder. “You said Ted and I were building wind turbines?”

“Uh-huh.” He looked back down at his hands, trying to marshal his thoughts, figure out how to tell her the story. “We went to Black Jack Fairgrounds to try and buy a governor. You and me and Dad and Dale. There was a kind of trading post operating there. Ran into Ted and a couple of other guys from New Bern while we were there. We didn’t manage to buy a governor, but you and Ted talked and reckoned you could build one. At the brake plant in New Bern. So you went back to New Bern with him. And—.” He lifted his head and looked at her, unsure how much to tell her of what came next.

She raised her eyebrows. “And what?”

Jake took a deep breath, realizing that it was pointless to hide the truth from her. To go on hiding the truth. If he managed to persuade her he was sincere and win her back, there could be no more lies, no more pretense. He knew there’d probably be plenty of things he’d only get round to telling her when he said something that made her ask, but at least she’d know he wasn’t intentionally holding anything back.

“Phil Constantino had gotten himself put in charge in New Bern. Mayor as well as Sheriff. New Bern was in a pretty bad way—worse than Jericho. They got turned over by some contractors from Ravenwood who cleaned them out of a load of food and fuel. Constantino got it into his head that Jericho was to blame for that, because we’d managed to scare them off a few days before. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse. Anyway, he started planning an invasion.”

Heather’s eyebrows shot up, but Jake went on talking, explaining how Constantino had made mortars and that Eric had found out and gone to Heather for help. Explained, too, why Eric was in New Bern—she murmured a quiet “Oh God”, hugging herself more tightly, when he told her how April had died—before he went back to talking about the mortars. “You wanted to sabotage the production line. Blow up the stockpile.” Jake smiled to himself, because it was so very Heather: to see what needed to be done and to act. Then his smiled slipped as he remembered what came next. “You got caught. Constantino ordered one of his deputies to take you out and execute you….”

He looked at her, thinking about how nearly they didn’t have even the little time together that they’d had. Remembering how hard it had been to breathe when Eric had told him she was dead. How he’d carried his grief for her around like a stone in his chest, among all the other griefs, scarcely aware of how very much it had hurt—until that marvelous, miraculous moment when he’d seen her alive in the Sheriff’s Office and the weight had lifted.

“Execute me?” She’d gone pale now.

He nodded. “You were lucky. The deputy refused to do it. Helped you escape. You got picked up by the Army. They were trying to restore order by then, finally getting to places like Nebraska and Kansas that had been cut off and had to take care of themselves for a while. Anyway, you told the Army we were in trouble and they came to intervene. Stopped the fighting.” He gave a wry snort. “Just in time, too. We wouldn’t have held out much longer.”

“People died?” She hugged herself a little tighter.

“In the fighting?” Jake straightened and stretched his back, discovering he’d grown stiff while he talked. “Yes. And before then. And after.”

“After?” She gave him a surprised look.

He nodded. “The Army guys who came to Jericho were Tomarchio’s troops—.” He stopped, realizing that was unfair to both Beck and the soldiers he’d brought with him. Beck had mostly just been trying to do his job, however misguidedly, and follow what he thought was his chain of command. “Well, they were under Tomarchio’s control, after he set himself up as President. Which meant they brought Ravenwood. There were… incidents.” He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about Bonnie yet: the sight of her body was still as vivid in his mind as the night he’d seen it. Pushing the memory away, he said hastily, “And before that, we didn’t have enough food or fuel—that’s why you were trying to build wind turbines—or medicine. The country was in a real mess. People got sick… froze to death.”

He saw her shiver, though she didn’t say anything. Instead, her expression turned thoughtful, her gaze fixed somewhere to one side of him but, he guessed, not seeing what she was looking at. He stayed silent, letting her think through what he’d said. It was a lot to take in, all at once like that. In a strange way, he would have been happy to sit there watching her forever: she was so beautiful to him that it was a pleasure just to look at her. Yet all the while he was aware of how he was poised on the edge of a cliff. A word the wrong way and all his hopes and dreams for a life with her would go crashing down to smash to pieces on the rock below.

At last she looked back at him. “Why did you say we took Dale with us to… to… uh, when we went to buy the governor?” He guessed she couldn’t remember where he’d said the trading post was. She lifted one shoulder a little. “I mean, you and me and your dad I can understand, but why Dale? Assuming we’re talking about the kid that works in Gracie’s market….”

Jake took in a deep breath. “Oh God, yeah. Gracie.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He’d almost forgotten Gracie’s murder. It had happened so early on and so much had happened afterward. “She was murdered. At Thanksgiving. We think it was Mitch Cafferty, one of the guys who works for Jonah Prowse out at Quaker Freight. You know?” He raised his eyebrows and she nodded to show she knew who he meant. “Gracie was selling stuff that Jonah was trucking in, and then she wasn’t going to any more. Mitch and some of the other guys didn’t like the way Jonah was running things all round. We think Mitch killed Gracie and then tried to blame it on Jonah. Anyway, Dale’s mom had died in the blast in Atlanta and Gracie sort of adopted him, and she’d left the store to him in her will. So he came to Black Jack with us to try and trade for stuff to sell in the store.”

Heather had been shaking her head slightly at him as he spoke, as if not quite believing him, though when he finished speaking, she didn’t challenge what he’d said. Instead, she asked, “Did anything good happen?”

He huffed a laugh. “Not much. Oh, that IRS woman who audited Stanley’s farm got stuck here and she and Stanley fell in love. Even got engaged. Which—” He shook his head. “—was possibly one of the less likely things that happened.”

“So what else happened?” To his surprise, Heather came and sat back down at the other end of the bench from him, this time leaning forward a little, though her expression suggested she still wasn’t ready to believe everything he might say. “What happened to Constantino after the Army came? And when the attacks happened? How did we find out?”

“In Jericho? You could see the mushroom cloud from Denver. So we knew something bad had happened.” He sidestepped her question about Constantino. He couldn’t hide that from her forever, either, but he reckoned she’d already had enough shocks for now. “We lost main power pretty early on, but we sent some guys out the next day to see if we could get news….”

He went on talking. She asked more questions and he answered. Sometimes he had to stop for a moment and think who she meant. Sometimes the things he said meant more to her than he’d thought they would and hurt her far more than he’d imagined.

Like when he told her about how some people had tried to avoid the radiation fallout by sheltering in the mine. “Everybody made it through okay. Oh, except there was a guy who had a heart attack. I think he was claustrophobic? Rennie, I think his name was.” It was only when she put her hand to her mouth, closing her eyes and grimacing, that he remembered. “Oh God, he was a teacher, wasn’t he?”

She nodded, not opening her eyes. “He teaches second grade.” She spoke quietly, her hand still to her mouth, and Jake had to strain to hear her. “ He has the classroom next to mine.”

Jake spread his hands, apologetically, though she wasn’t looking at him. “I’m sorry. If I’d remembered, I wouldn’t have told you like that.”

“It’s okay.” She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in. And I guess it’s a lot for you to remember. And Mr Rennie’s not really dead, is he?”

“No. No, he’s not.” He smiled reassuringly at her.

While he waited for her next question, he licked his lips, realizing his mouth was dry. He’d been talking for a couple of hours now, and he’d barely scratched the surface, but he’d go on answering her questions as long as she wanted to ask them. She must have noticed he was losing his voice a little, because she offered to make them some iced tea. He guessed she might need a little time to regroup herself.

When she came back out with the drinks, she asked him how they’d met in that other life. He told her about the bus—this time he was more careful about telling her about the driver who’d died; he’d never even learned his name—and her broken leg and Stacey. “That was how I knew,” he added. “When the scaffolding collapsed. The universe keeps trying to… put itself back in the same patterns, I guess? So I knew Stacey would be in trouble again.”

“And we’re part of the pattern?” She quirked her eyebrows at him.

“I hope so.” He so wanted to take her hands in his, to touch her again, but he stayed where he was at the other end of the bench, holding himself in check. Maybe she understood that, too, because she looked at him thoughtfully, her gaze running over him from head to toe and back again, before she gave a quick dip of her head.

They went on talking after that, long into the evening. At last, when it had been dark for more than an hour and he could see by the dim porch light that she was growing tired, he said, “It’s late. I should go. Let you think about things.”

She nodded and got to her feet, backing toward the door to let him past. He turned to face her, aware of the few feet of empty air between them, longing to bridge it, but staying where he was. “Thank you for listening to me. If there’s anything else you want to ask….”

She nodded again silently and he swung away, aware of her watching him as he walked away down the path. Wondering if he’d ever walk up that path and knock on her door again.

oOo

Jake heard the familiar rattle of Charlotte’s engine when the old truck was still some distance from the hangar. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still, frozen between one second and the next. Then he tamped down on the hope that was flaring up inside him. He knew Heather well enough to know she’d have the courage and courtesy to come tell him if she wanted to end things, not just leave him hanging. That he couldn’t assume anything about her visit just yet.

Carefully putting down the tire he’d been about to switch in for one that had gone flat while the cropduster stood idle, he wiped off his hands and walked to the door.

Heather had drawn the truck up on the apron next to his hire car. She climbed out and, resting one hand on the open car door, put up the other to shade her eyes, squinting against the sun that was bouncing off the tarmac until her gaze found him where he stood in the dark doorway. “Hi.” She sounded a little nervous. “I called by the house and your mom said I’d find you here.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He took a step sideways and gestured, inviting her to join him in the shade of the building. With a nod of acknowledgment, she pushed the car door closed and walked toward him. The lump in his throat grew worse, making it hard to breathe, as he realized there was no hesitation in the way she moved in his direction and no unease in how she held herself when she stopped, close enough for him to reach out and touch her if he wanted. Hope leaped up in him again, burning even more brightly as he looked down at her and saw there was uncertainty in her face but none of the mistrust that had been there yesterday. Yet he made no move toward her, afraid he was reading too much in her expression.

“So….” She twisted her hands together. “What you told me yesterday still sounds pretty crazy, but….” She hesitated.

“But…?” he prompted, the word a croak.

She gave a soft chuckle. “Not crazy like old Oliver Adams and his aliens crazy.”

Jake choked out a half-laugh. “Well, that’s something….”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Her expression turned a little more serious. “I reckon if you were going to make up some crazy conspiracy story, you….” She gave a small shrug. “It wouldn’t be like that.”

To his surprise, she held her hands out to him, shyly. Half-fearful, he reached out and took them, holding them lightly, reveling in the feel of them in his own as she went on speaking. “You’ve been a little… odd sometimes. And a little intense. And I guess I understand a bit why now. But you’ve never made me feel I can’t trust you. Not deep down. And I reckon that, you know, this is a small enough town that, when everyone was telling me to stay away from you because of this or that, they’d have mentioned if it was because you were a crazy axe-murdering fantasist….”

Jake huffed, imagining well enough what they had said. “Right.”

She gave his hands a small squeeze. “So I guess we still have a lot to talk about… but I’d like to go on seeing you….” She trailed off, peering up at him with a worried expression, apparently unnerved by his lack of his response. Because all he could do was stare back down at her, not quite trusting that any of this was real, while he felt like his heart would burst in his chest. He saw her lick her lips, “You know, if you want….”

“I want,” he managed at last, still barely able to breathe. He tugged her toward him, gently, and she came into his arms. Bending his head, he captured her lips with his, the kiss a little clumsy at first, before she began to return it, her mouth seeking his with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness. Pulling her closer, he went on kissing her. He knew they still had a long way to go before he’d truly won her back; for the moment, he had everything he could hope for.