Remember WENN and its characters are copyright AMC/Howard Meltzer Productions & Rupert Holmes. No infringement is intended. Mary Ellis is copyright Michele Savage. The story is also mine. :)

This is a story that I've been meaning to write for some time. This is the part of Aftermath that is dreadfully missing--Jeff's story. This takes place, obviously, during the first Aftermath story and, as I had a feeling it would, completely makes the ending of the original aftermath moot. :) I like this ending much better. Enjoy...and please, I love comments.



Aftermath 1/2 : The Nightmares Begin
By Michele Savage (Bizarra)

The explosions started again.

Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to swallow his fear. He was sitting in the underground studio that the BBC had set up in anticipation of possible German bombing raids. It was moments like this that made him dearly wish he was back home, playing Brent Marlowe, Sam Dane, or any of the other characters he played on any given day.

"You going to be all right, Jeff?" Victor Comstock asked. He was sitting at the same table Jeff was and feeling a bit scared himself.

"Uh, yeah." Jeff swallowed again and jumped at the sound of a rather close explosion. "How much longer before we go on the air?"

Victor looked at his watch. "Ten more minutes." He poured a glass of water and handed it to the younger and obviously frightened man.

"Thanks," Jeff acknowledged and took a generous drink, knowing he needed it to keep his throat from closing. He took another deep breath and blew it out. Why was he feeling claustrophobic suddenly? He'd never had any problems with close spaces before.

"I wonder how much longer this raid will be," Jeff asked, mostly to punctuate the eerie atmosphere of whistles, silences, and loud booms.

"I'm really not sure." Victor replied, looking up himself. "The last one seemed to last a half an hour." He noticed that Jeff was gripping the edge of the table quite tightly. "We've still got a little bit of time, Jeff, why don't you get up and walk around for a bit. Loosen up."

Jeff nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea." He pushed away from the table and walked around the corner to the 'green room' area. Or, rather, behind the curtain of the large one room shelter that had been divided into three rooms: the studio, the green room, and the control booth.

Since the bombing had started late last night they had virtually moved down here--Sam Whitehead, the engineer, Sal Markham, the announcer for the BBC, Victor, and Jeff himself. The green room had become their living room.

Jeff walked over to his corner of the room and sat down on his sleeping bag. He leaned against the wall and, not for the first time that day, said a small prayer. He wasn't the most religious person, but it still felt better to say the prayers.

He jumped as an explosion went off close enough to shake the building they were in. Something fell off the shelf next to him, jarred loose by the vibrations. He reached to pick it up and noticed with a slight intake of breath that it was a picture of Hilary and him.

He looked at her face. The smile was so completely honest. He couldn't remember exactly where the picture had been taken. It looked like a dinner party of some sort. They apparently hadn't known the photo was being snapped.

She was smiling up at him and had the most incredible look of love on her face. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He noticed his own face then, and the expression mirrored hers. The reality of it hit him as suddenly as the German's had hit London. "We're in love with each other."

"What?" Victor asked as he rounded the corner to tell his co-worker that it was nearing air time.

Jeff looked up, the stunned expression still on his face, "Hilary and I. We're in love with each other."

Victor looked momentarily confused then smiled when he noted that judging by the look on the other man's face, Jeff had honestly just come to that realization. "Jeff, how long have you been married?"

"About nine years, why?"

Victor crouched down in front of Jeff. "No, I mean really married."

Confusion swept over Jeff's features. "How did you know?"

"Just answer the question," Victor urged.

"Two weeks," Jeff answered a bit sheepishly

Victor chuckled a bit. "And you've stayed together all this time ... because?"

"Of our fans," Jeff replied snappishly.

"Right." Victor stood, "and ... I'm ... the King of France," he said with a hint of a grin. "We should be on the air."

Jeff stood as well, and turned to place the photo back on the shelf. A sixth sense stopped his motion and he decided he wanted the picture with him. With more courage than he'd felt since the bombings started, Jeff walked into the makeshift studio and sat. He laid the picture on the table to his left where he could see it out of the corner of his eye. Briefly, he wondered what Hilary was doing at this moment, but was unable to concentrate fully on that thought, as Sam had signaled that they were on the air.

No sooner had they gone on the air than the bombings had begun again in earnest. Jeff tried as hard as he could to conceal the wavering in his words, but he knew it was there. He hoped Hilary was listening. The thought that she was out there somewhere on the other side of the radio speaker gave him a reason to not give into the crippling fear he was feeling.

On the other hand, if she was listening, could she hear how afraid he was? For her sake, he carefully pronounced every syllable, keeping his voice as even as possible. He was an actor. Surely he could do at least that.

The lights flickered as another bomb hit very closely. Jeff swallowed hard, forgetting for the moment he was on the air. He glanced at Victor and noticed that he too was looking warily at the ceiling.

Jeff heard himself relaying the words that a fireman had told him a couple days ago. As long as he could hear the bombs. He kept that thought in mind.

He turned to Victor and tried to begin a conversation. Anything to get his mind off the damn whistling.

Another nearby explosion. The ground shook so violently under Jeff that he was thrown backwards. Then there was silence. And darkness.

When Jeff regained consciousness more fully he realized that the last explosion hadn't just been nearby. It had been right on top of them. Thank God they were underground.

Underground. Suddenly the pitch darkness closed in on him and he couldn't breathe. "Jeff, get a hold of yourself. A panic attack will not help you right now." The pep talk to himself helped for the time being.

"Victor?" he called. "Sam? Sal?" No one answered. "I can't be the only one alive down here," He muttered aloud.

He started to move, but stopped when a sharp pain shot straight through him. He lay still for a moment, catching his breath. * Please God, let my back be all right.* Slowly, he turned his neck and found he could at least move his head with little pain. That reassured him somewhat that his back wasn't broken. He tried to move his arms next. He clenched his eyes shut as pain ripped through his left arm. *Okay, the left arm is broken.* His right arm proved to be somewhat pain free. Good.
Jeff felt around in the dark trying to assess where he was, and what kind of rubble he was pinned under. Something was laying across his legs. He could tell by the touch that it was the table he'd just been sitting at while talking to the world. His legs hurt like hell. At least one did. The other he couldn't feel at all.
He moved his arm up to feel what injuries there were to his head. He could feel something dripping off his forehead. His hand slammed into something lying just above his neck. "What the..." He felt in the dark to try to identify it. With a sickening recognition , he realized it was a beam that had been holding the large curtain up. Something had stopped it within inches of killing him. Jeff closed his eyes and counted his blessings.
With resolve, Jeff decided his first order of business was getting that beam away from his neck. He felt under it, hoping he could move it without sending too much debris toppling over him. With his left arm basically useless, he had to use his right and hope he could lift it. His ribs protested painfully at the pressure his stomach muscles were putting on them. He strained against it and finally felt it budge. Nothing seemed to be propped up by it, so he pushed it on over his head.
Something fell against his left shoulder. The whatever it was that had apparently saved his life. Jeff reached over and realized what it was. He both laughed and cried at the same time. The picture. How long ago had it been that he was looking at that very picture and realizing that he was in love with the woman in it?
*God. Hilary. What is going through her mind right now? Does she think I'm dead?* "I'm not dead, Mittens," he said into the darkness. "You aren't getting rid of me this easily." He held the picture tightly against him, feeling better knowing it was there.
It was quiet, he noticed. No more bombs. No more planes. Would someone find him this far under the ground? Jeff moved a bit, testing the pain in his ribs to see how broken they probably were. He knew very likely the only way he'd be found was if he crawled out himself. He hoped he wasn't too injured to do that.
"Help!" he yelled, hoping someone was near enough. "Somebody! Anyone help!" He stopped to listen. Nothing. From above, or below with him. "Victor?" Jeff tried moving again, this time with the resolve that he had to, or die in this hole. He refused to do that. He was not going to die and leave Hilary. She needed him too much--even if she was too damn stubborn to admit it.
He tried rolling a bit and propping himself on his right arm. The pain was excruciating, but he ignored it--or tried to, at any rate. He sat enough to try to push the table off his legs, closing his eyes against the pain. "C'mon Jeff. You can do this. You need to do this." He talked himself through the worst of it. His senses were beginning to dull the pain. At least he hoped that was what it was, and that he wasn't going into shock.
He finally worked his way out from under the table and made an assessment of his legs. One of his legs was completely numb; the other felt as though it were broken. He waited until the blood flow could work its way back through what he'd started to refer as his good leg.
Okay. He was free. He let himself relax again, as the pain was threatening to knock him out. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. He didn't want to be passed over as dead because he'd merely been unconscious.
When he was able to clear his head and catch his breath, he tried to make his way through the debris. Maybe he could find the other fellas. He inched over, his good arm still clutching the picture, to where he thought Victor would have been. "Victor?" He felt around in the darkness, hopeful yet afraid of what he might find. Nothing. Just pieces of building.
"Sam? Sal?" He tried to find them, too. He lay the picture against his stomach where he knew he could easily find it again, and tried to feel through the muck. He felt a hand. "Victor?" He realized quickly that the hand was lifeless and recoiled, the darkness suddenly stifling him.
"Somebody help!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'm alive down here!" He grabbed his picture and clutched it to his heart tightly. "I'm alive," he said more quietly, more to reassure himself. He lay on his side, almost in a fetal position. It eased the pain in his ribs somewhat. "I'm alive." He repeated it over and over until blissfully he lost consciousness.

The first thing he noticed when he came to was the blinding light. He squinted, the light hurting his eyes. He could hear voices and smell antiseptics. He looked around and realized he was in a hospital. He'd been found!
"Well, look who's awake." Jeff turned at the sound of the gentle female voice. It belonged to a middle-aged, plump-faced Englishwoman.
"Where am I?" Jeff found his voice to ask.
"You're at Charing Cross Hospital, dear," she explained while checking his pulse.
"How am I?" Jeff asked.
"Oh, you'll survive." She smiled and patted him gently on the shoulder. "You've got a couple of broken ribs, your left arm was broken, your leg was badly strained and you had a nasty bump on the noggin that looks like it's clearing itself right up," she explained Jeff's injuries to him. "Now can you do something for me?" she asked. Not waiting for Jeff to respond, she continued, "Can you tell me your name and where you are from?"
"You don't know?" Jeff asked, confused.
"Oh, I know." She smiled, "I just want to make sure you know."
"Jeff Singer," he answered. "I'm from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in the United States."
"Very good!" she told him. "I knew that bump on the head wasn't too severe."
"That's good." Jeff smiled. The nurse smiled back and moved to his other side to check the bandages on his arm and stomach.
"My wife. Has someone called her?" Jeff asked, needing to know that Hilary knew he was all right.
"I'm not sure," she answered honestly, "but you can believe I'll find that answer for you." She started to leave.
"Wait." Jeff stopped her, suddenly missing his picture. "I had a picture with me. Is it here?"
She smiled assuredly and walked back around to a small table behind Jeff. "You were clutching this as if it were your last possession on this earth." She handed it to him. Jeff noticed it was in a new frame, and turned a questioning gaze to her. "Oh, I gathered it was special to you, so I found a new frame and cleaned it up."
Jeff was touched, "Thank you, Miss--?" he hesitated, not knowing her name.
"Oh, it's Mrs. Mary Ellis," she supplied for him. "But please just call me Mary." She glanced at the photograph. "Your wife?" At Jeff's nod, she added, "She's a beautiful woman."
"Yes. She is." Jeff agreed, looking at the picture.
"Well, let me go find out of she's been notified." Mary said and walked off leaving Jeff alone.
He lay back and thought about Hilary. He hoped she knew he was alive. If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could almost feel her with him. He thought about the realization that he'd come to, just before the bomb.
Probably he knew it in the back of his mind, that he loved her. He'd probably been in love with her all along. Why then didn't he see it? Maybe, he thought, he'd been too close to the source. He suddenly felt a need to talk to her, to tell her how he felt. He'd nearly died last...or, wait. How long ago had it been? He resolved to ask Mary when she returned. At any rate, he wanted Hilary to know how he felt.
Jeff started to get a bit drowsy again, and closed his eyes to rest.

He woke when Mary returned.
"Sorry, dear. I didn't meant to wake you." She apologized and walked to his bedside, giving his sheets a motherly tuck. She took the picture from him. "I'll just set this right here where you can reach it." She placed it on a small table near Jeff's uninjured arm.
"Were you ..." he started.
"Yes, love." Mary knew what his question would be before he asked it. "Your wife knows you've survived. She was sent a telegram soon after your arrival here."
Jeff breathed a visible sigh of relief. Just knowing that Hilary knew he was alive lifted the heavy burden he'd been feeling. "Mary, when did I arrive here?"
"Yesterday morning." She answered, laying her arm across the top of Jeff's partially raised bed. "I was with the medical team that found you," Mary explained. "You were all curled up like a babe, holdin' onto that picture for dear life and mumbling that you were alive." She looked wistfully for a moment outside the window behind the bed at the still smoking horizon. "After seein' so much death, finding you alive was like a god sent gift."
Jeff lay a hand softly on the woman's arm resting nearest him, "Thank you ... for finding me."
She took a deep breath and smiled, as if she were hiding something. "I decided to make it my business to help keep you alive," she glanced toward the table, "for the woman in the picture."
She blinked quickly, but Jeff had noticed her eyes watering up. He realized then, why her mood had turned melancholy. "Mary...Your husband ..."
"Wasn't as fortunate as you were," she finished quietly. "I guess, if I hadn't already been working, I would have been with him when our home was..." she trailed off.
Jeff gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook off the mood. "Well, I think you need to be resting."
"Yes, probably," he agreed. Sensing she didn't want to talk further, he changed the subject. "Mary, is there any way I could call my wife? I'd like to hear her voice."
"I'll see if I can get you a working phone line out of here," she patted him gently on the shoulder, "but for now, you rest." She smiled and reminded him, "I do have other patients to see."
"I understand." He returned her smile.
She saw that he was comfortable and left him to sleep.

She returned two hours later to find him tossing in his sleep. Worried that he'd do more damage to his ribs, she gently tried to ease him out of the nightmare. "Mr. Singer...Jeffrey... " She took his unbandaged hand and rubbed it gently between hers. Slowly and reassuringly she pulled him from the disturbing dream. "It's Mary, dear, I have you here safe."
"Mary?" Jeff became aware of his surroundings. "It's so dark." The sun had set while he slept, darkening the room.
"We'll fix that right up for you." She turned on a light near him on the wall. "There."
He smiled and thanked her. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."
"Oh, you are no trouble at all." Mary responded, "You want trouble? The man three rooms from here has been complaining about our service. As if being in one of the few undamaged hospitals in this city and full to the brim with casualties still gives him the right to bellyache," she clucked.
Jeff laughed, then groaned as he remembered his ribs. "I'm no trouble at all, huh? Tell that to Hilary."
"Why don't you tell her?" Mary smiled, then set a telephone next to him on the bed. "I can't guarantee the line is very stable, but they were able to restore some of the service. All of London is probably trying to phone relatives."
"Thank you!" Jeff said as he picked up the receiver.
"I'll leave you to your call," she told him and left the room.

Gertie picked the phone up on the second ring. "WENN, how may I help you?"
Jeff smiled at the familiar voice, but noticed a hint of sadness in it as well. "Hello, Gertie."
"Jeff!" she said happily. "How are you?"
"I'll live. Can I talk to Hilary?" he asked, practically in one breath.
"Yes, I think I just saw her walk into the green room. I'll go and get her." She set her receiver down and walked quickly to the green room doors and opened it enough to speak, "Hilary, Jeff's on the phone."
Hilary set her coffee cup down quickly and rushed past Gertie to the phone. "Jeffrey. Darling, are you all right?" She sank into Gertie's empty chair as she listened to him recount his injuries.
"I'm being very well treated by a nurse named Mary. And don't get jealous, she's old enough to be my mother," he explained with a smile. "Oh, speaking of ..."
"I sent your mother a telegram as soon as I received the news." Hilary told him.
"Thank you," he acknowledged. "Hilary, I can't stay on here very long. The line isn't stable and I can barely hear you at times."
She leaned against the wall. "It's all right, just hearing that you are okay is enough."
"It's good to hear you, too." His smile faded with his next words. "Hilary, I need for you to know something. In case...well, in case the Germans come again and something happens...I need for you to know."
"Jeffrey, don't talk like that. You'll be home before you know it," Hilary said, worry creeping into her voice before she could stop it.
"Hilary, please. I need to say this." He hesitated a moment, but the static grew more insistent and he knew if he didn't say it then, it wouldn't get said. "Hilary, I love you."
It was the last thing she'd expected him to say. But it had been the first thought she had when she thought he'd been killed. "I love you, too, Pump--" She heard the line click dead and hoped that he was able to hear her words. She slowly took the phone receiver from her ear. "--kin. And I miss you," she whispered softly before hanging it back up.

*Hilary, I love you.* She ran those four words over in her mind as she walked back to the green room in somewhat of a daze. She wasn't sure exactly what emotion she was feeling at the moment. She was ecstatic to have heard his voice, to know that he was all right. She was worried because he still was in danger and would be until he could leave that wretched city. She was afraid because he was afraid. He tried to keep his voice strong, but she'd known him long enough to know that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, his voice picked up every emotional state he was in. Above all else, she was elated to know that he loved her, and it was those four words that carried her through the rest of the conflicting feelings.

She pushed through the doors and sat again at the table, oblivious to her surroundings. She saw Gertie leave the room, but didn't really register it.

"How is Jeff doing?"

"He loves me," she muttered automatically, then jumped as she suddenly realized someone had spoken to her. "Oh, Mackie. I'm sorry. I was a million miles away."

"His injuries aren't life threatening," she answered his question, "but the situation he's in is ... or potentially could be."

Mackie moved to the table, sitting next to her. He could see that her usually tightly wound control was starting to waver. "Hilary, are you okay?"

"Yes," she said quickly, then amended, "no." She closed her eyes and tried desperately to regain control. "I don't know." Everything that had happened in the last couple days had started crashing in on her. This was the last place she needed for that to happen. "Mackie, can I talk to you?" She needed to talk to someone, and other than Jeffrey, Mackie was the only person here she felt she could open up with.

"Sure you can," he assured her. "Do you want to go to someplace more private or is this ok?"

"Maybe someplace more private."

"Hold on a minute," Mackie said as he stood. "Let me go chase Sherwood out of his office.

Mackie left the room and returned moments later assuring Hilary they had the privacy. They relocated to the business office and Hilary made sure to close the door behind them. "Promise me that nothing that happens here will go past these four walls." Hilary asked, more for her own reassurance than from a distrust in Mackie.

"Of course not, Hilary. You know me better than that." Mackie leaned against the desk and watched her sit in a chair against the wall. He waited for her to gather her thoughts and speak.

After several long moments, she did finally speak. When she did, it was a barely audible whisper filled with emotion. "Mackie, I'm scared."

He pulled a chair close to her and sat. "What are you afraid of?" he asked

"I look at Betty, sitting alone in her office drowning in her grief, and I can' t help but think that I could so easily have been there too." Once Hilary started speaking, the words came easily and more assuredly. "They were probably sitting only inches apart. Inches, Mackie. Maybe no further apart than we are now. What made the difference?"

Mackie took her hand in his reassuringly. "Don't worry yourself over that thought. The fact is that Jeff did survive. The how or the why, that's not for you to worry about."

"He survived this time. There is still the danger of the German's bombing London." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes against the sudden rush of feelings, again in her mind she heard those four words. * Hilary, I love you.* . "Mackie, I can't lose him now. I just found him," she whispered softly.

Mackie squeezed her hand and then considered. "Hilary, I just volunteered Celia do the rest of your shows tonight. Go on home."

Jeff lay back and replayed the conversation in his mind. She'd said that she loved him just before the line went dead. Was it just a response to his words, or did she truly mean it? Something in the sound of her voice, though, told him that she had indeed meant it.

Then and there he made a vow that when --not if, he refused to think in terms of 'if'-- when he got back to Pittsburgh things would be very different. He planned to show Hilary daily, in some way, that he loved her. This brush with death had made him realize just how much he did take for granted. Never again.

He also thought again about the sadness he heard in Gertie's voice. Had Victor been killed? He made a mental note to ask Mary the next time he saw her.

An involuntary shiver moved down his spine, when he remembered how closely they'd been sitting together. Then he recalled with frightening clarity that beam that had come so close to, at the very least, breaking his neck. At the most, well, he didn't want to think of that. He reached for the picture, brought it closer to him and looked at it. He traced Hilary's outline with his index finger. What he wanted right now more than anything was to feel her arms around him, comforting him. He found himself crying softly because the need for her was almost overwhelming.

The next weeks went by in a crawl for Jeff. He was determined to get himself as mobile as possible and healed enough to go home. He'd only been able to talk to Hilary a couple more times, and those calls had also been short. More than anything, just the sound of her voice kept him eager to get home.

His prognosis from the doctors was that his ribs were healing quite well, and that he'd be able to leave the hospital and for that matter the country in little more than a few days.

He spent a good part of his time alone now both thinking about Hilary and walking around his small room, making sure he would be able to walk out of there and get home before the rumored air attacks started again. He walked slowly back to his bed and sat on the edge. His ribs were aching again, and he wanted to rest them.

Mary walked through his door looking quite tired. He'd become rather attached to her during his time here. She had, it seemed, made a personal project out of him. And because she had very likely been the one to save his life, he had taken a personal interest in her. He was worried about her. He hadn't once seen her slow down and grieve for her husband. He wondered where she was staying, but assumed that since she was always there for him, she was living here at the hospital for the time being. That probably meant she wasn't getting enough sleep.

"Mary, have you slept at all in the last couple days?" he asked her.

"I've been getting my sleep in when I can," she answered him, while checking his bandages.

"That didn't answer my question."

"Jeffrey, I have a hospital full--"

"--of patients who aren't going to have you if you don't get some rest," he finished for her.

"You know you remind me of my Raymond. A stifling worrier." She sighed, feeling again her loss. "Does your wife know how lucky she is?" She smiled again, shaking herself out of the fog of memory, "And how bloody frustrating you types can be?"

Jeff laughed lightly favoring his healing but still very sore ribs, "Oh, she knows the frustrating part, believe me." He pointed a finger at Mary then, "Now you go and get some rest."

She laughed and saluted, "Yes sir."

Jeff watched Mary leave the room with the promise that she'd slow down. He stood again, using his cane for balance, and walked to the window. The sun was brightly shining and the clean-up from the bombing was going well, it seemed. This section of town had been relatively untouched, but there was some scattered damage. The Londoners were walking among the streets going on about their lives as if nothing had happened. More and more every day, Jeff was impressed with the resilience of these people.

Mary walked into the nurses' quarters where she'd been living since the bombing. A few of the other nurses were milling about, going on with their daily duties. She explained to one of her juniors that she was taking a few hours off to get some much needed rest.

She lay down, but found she couldn't get any sleep. Everytime she closed her eyes, she'd see some facet of her life with Raymond. The day they met, their wedding day. She remembered worrying terribly when he'd gone off to fight in the first great war. The irony was not lost on her, that he'd battled the Germans hand to hand in combat on their territory and lived, only to be killed years later by a German bomb in his own home.

She sat up. This wasn't working. Sleep would not come easily for her. She probably should take a sleeping pill, but no, if she were needed she wanted to be fully awake. She decided to bide her time by making the phone call she knew she needed to make.

She dialed the phone number that she'd found in Jeffrey's file, and waited for someone to answer.

"WENN, how may I help you?" A woman who sounded like she'd rather be anywhere but there answered the phone.

"Yes, I am calling long distance from London. I'd like to speak with Hilary Booth, please." For once the phone line sounded clear. Mary hoped it would last.

"She's on the air at the moment." The woman informed her.

"Well, I should think she'd want to speak with me. I'm calling in reference to her husband." Mary explained.

"Hold on a minute, I'll see if I can get her."

Mary waited while the woman went to find Hilary. She hadn't told Jeff yet, but she'd heard that he was being released from the hospital day after tomorrow and on his way back to America the following day. As part of an American citizen evacuation program, the military was arranging for Jeff to be flown back home. Before he got home, there were some things Mary wanted to explain to his wife.

"This is Hilary Booth."

"Miss Booth, this is Mary Ellis. To put your mind at ease, Jeffrey is doing quite well." Mary explained, hoping she hadn't worried the woman needlessly by saying the call was regarding her husband.

"Mary. Jeffrey's told me so much about you, and please, it's Hilary."

"Hilary, then. Is there a place there where you could speak in private?" Mary asked. "I'd like to talk to you a bit about Jeffrey's recovery."

"Oh, yes of course. Hold on a moment."

Hilary asked Scott if she could please borrow his office for the phone call and had Gertie transfer it to his phone.

"Ok, we may speak freely now." Hilary picked up the phone as the call transferred. "What is it you need to tell me?"

"Well, I wanted to let you know that his recovery is going quite well. So much so that he will be discharged from here in two days time," Mary explained. "And then the following day he should be on his way home to you."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Hilary said happily.

Mary smiled, "Well, I thought you would be." But there are some things that you need to know."

"Oh?" Hilary asked, confused.

"He has powerful bad nightmares. I'm not sure if he remembers all of them, but he tosses all night, and has since we brought him here."

Hilary sat in Scott's chair and listened as Mary recounted some of what she thought Jeff's nightmares were about. She propped her elbow on the desk and lay her head against her hand as she listened. She never wanted something like this to happen, not to her Jeffrey. There was something about him, an innocence for lack of a better term, that she always tried to protect. Then something like this happened. Why did she feel like she'd let him down? Well, she wasn't there for him then, but she sure as hell was going to be there now.

"All right." Hilary answered, "I'll do everything I can to ... help him sleep better."

"You might get a small light or even a hallway light in case your bedroom is pitch dark at night,"
Mary explained. "He's very frightened of totally dark places now. And, I wouldn't be surprised, closed in places with no obvious exit. He feels trapped in them."

"I'll remember that." Hilary said.

"I think that's about it. I'm sure there will be others to creep up, but those are the most obvious things that you needed to be aware of."

"I'll take good care of him," Hilary reassured the woman. "And Mary, thank you ... for all your kindness where Jeffrey's concerned. It's been much easier on my mind to know that someone is there with him."

"No thanks are necessary, dear. I've got him well enough to send home to you. That is all the thanks I need," Mary told Hilary.

Jeff walked about the hallway for a while, stretching his legs. It felt so good to get out of that room. He'd begun to feel a bit restless. He'd seen a few people walking the hallways like himself, many of them missing an arm or a leg. He was thankful that he still had all ten fingers and all ten toes. He knew that he was very lucky. He could have been much more hurt than he was. Jeff turned and headed back to his room. He was getting a bit tired and didn't want to overdo things before he could get out of here.

"Exactly what do you think you are doing?" Mary spoke up, joining him at his side.

He turned to her. "Taking a walk. I needed to get some fresh scenery."

"Well, I guess I can understand that."

"I thought I told you to get some rest," Jeff admonished her.

"I couldn't." She added quickly, "Besides, I have some good news to tell you."

"Oh?"

She opened the door to his room, and waited till he walked through it. "Yes. You've gotten your walking papers. In three days, you will be on your merry way to Pittsburgh."

He sat on his bed, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Really?"

She smiled, "Yes, really."

His jubilant smile faded. "Mary. I've been thinking. Rumor has it that this city is going to become a battlefield. You've already lost so much. Why don't you come with me?"

"To Pittsburgh?" she asked, surprised. "But Jeff, I have my work here."

"Mary, you and I both know there are plenty of nurses here. I know a friend who owes me for a favor I did him. He works at the hospital in Pittsburgh. I can call in that debt," Jeff told her. "And I know of a place where you can live."

"I don't know," she objected lightly.

"You can start over, Mary, a fresh new life. In a safer place."

"But, I'd need to get a visa ..."

"You're my nurse. You ..." he paused, thinking. "You need to stay with me because I...uh... still need to be under observation."

She raised her eyebrows, considering it. "That's good."

"Please, Mary." Jeff asked. "Let this be my thanks for everything."

"Well," she gave in, "I never could turn down a puppy dog expression like that. I'll see that everything is arranged, for both of us."

"Good!" Jeff said, gladly. "Now go rest."

Mary glared and pointed to him. "Who is the sick person here?"

"I'll rest too," Jeff offered. "Deal?"

She smiled and shook her head as she left the room.

Everything was arranged and three days later, both Jeff and Mary were in a cab on their way to the military base where the planes were leaving.

"How long until our plane leaves?" Jeff asked.

Mary looked at her watch. "A couple hours."

"I want to go ... I want to see where you found me." he asked hesitantly.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Mary objected.

"Please. The three men who were with me--they were my friends," Jeff said sadly. "I want to pay my respects."

She nodded, and leaned up to ask the cab driver to stop by what had been the BBC's remote building.

The farther they drove through the damaged parts of town, the more knots Jeff got in his stomach. They stopped in front of a now fairly neatly piled mountain of rubble. Mary and Jeff both stepped out of the taxi.

Jeff looked around, remembering the tall structures that had once stood proud here and had now been reduced to rocks and ashes. He walked closer to the building he'd once worked in. There was nothing left of it, save a few charred ruins. "I can't believe I was the only one who lived through this."

Mary stepped up behind him and lay a comforting hand on his arm. "The Lord works in mysterious ways," she said quietly, feeling as though she was in a large graveyard.

"They never found Victor Comstock's body?" Jeff asked, still not believing he was ... gone.

"No," Mary said. "This building was combed through and through. We found you, and the other two bodies, but not him."

"He should be buried in Pittsburgh. Where he can hear his... radio station." Jeff closed his eyes as a fresh wave of sorrow hit him.

"Come on. Let's get you back to Pittsburgh, okay?" Mary pulled slightly on his arm, urging him to leave. He nodded and walked back with her to the cab.

The plane ride was uneventful. Jeff was able to fight off the claustrophobic feelings of being trapped by extolling to Mary the many stories of WENN and of his and Hilary's theatrical high points. Mary was very glad to have him babbling at her because she was no fonder of flying than he was at that moment.

No one was at the airport to meet them because, as it had been explained to all the passengers before boarding, the arrival times were kept only to them and a select few who needed to know to combat sabotage. What little luggage they both had was put into a taxi and soon they were on their way to WENN. Mary noticed with a smile that the closer they got to 'home' for Jeff, the more excited he got, and the more talkative.

Jeff asked the cab driver if he would please turn the radio station to WENN. The driver complied and soon Jeff was merrily explaining to Mary who each voice was. One voice stopped him. He closed his eyes and smiled softly as he listened to her voice. "Mittens," he whispered lovingly.

Mary smiled as he was lost in his own world. She thought of her Raymond then and knew that he would be glad she'd gotten out of London when she did. She felt bad to have to leave the city of her birth, but she knew that this had been the right decision for her. She would start anew here, and with her nursing skills, she knew that in some way she could help out with the war effort. Even from here.

The cab pulled up in front of the building that housed WENN. Jeff stepped out of the cab and stared up at the building. It looked so good. He'd never really looked at it before; had never really cared. But today, it was the most beautiful building he'd ever seen. He slowly walked up to it, to the WENN logo prominently displayed on its wall. He leaned his cane against the wall and reached out his hand, carefully balancing himself on his good leg, to trace the letters, as if by touching them he'd know they were real.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there staring at the letters with tears straying down his cheeks, and he didn't know how long Hilary had been standing there watching him. He felt more than saw her and turned. She was there, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and blinking away her own tears.

She walked silently to him and pulled him into her embrace. It was at that moment that Jeff completely broke down. Hilary held him and murmured comforting words to him until he was ready to speak.

Mary stepped outside the cab and watched their reunion with a smile. She quickly wiped away a tear or two and waited, giving them all the time and space they needed.

When she felt him stop crying, Hilary pulled away slightly. She visually assessed his injuries, cringing slightly. "Looks like you'll live," she said with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

He smiled, and then pulled her to him and into a deep, hungry kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, relishing the feel of him against her again.

"Now I'll live." He whispered against her lips, and smiled as she giggled happily.

Hilary finally pulled away from Jeff to acknowledge the woman who had accompanied him.

"You're Mary," she said in a still emotional voice.

Mary nodded, and stepped closer. From what Jeff had told her about Hilary Booth, she gathered that she was getting a rare glimpse at the heart of the woman.

Both women hugged tightly. "It's wonderful to be able to meet you." Hilary said against Mary's shoulder.

"I agree." Mary replied. "I've heard so many things about you."

Hilary pulled away and Mary could tell she was fighting to find the right words to say. She took a breath. "Thank you ... for Jeffrey." Hilary said. "I don't know what else to say."

"There is nothing else to say, my dear." Mary smiled and hugged Hilary again. "Now you take care of my patient."

Jeff walked up behind Hilary and set his hand on her shoulder. She leaned slightly, careful not to hurt him, and reached up to take his hand. "Oh, I will. Don't you worry," Hilary told Mary with a smile.

"I will leave you to yourselves then. I want to check into this hotel for women that you've kindly arranged for me," Mary told them and turned to get back into the waiting taxi.

"Oh, Mary," Hilary spoke up, stopping her. "You'll come by for dinner tonight?"

"You're cooking?" Jeff asked, surprised.

"Well, you are home." Hilary said seriously.

"Hilary."

She turned and kissed him lightly. "I'm teasing Pumpkin, of course I'm cooking."

Mary laughed. "I thank you for the offer, but no. The two of you need to be alone. Maybe in a few days, though, I will take you up on the offer."

"Okay," Hilary replied. "But know that you are more than welcome anytime."

Mary stepped into the cab. "Thank you. I will talk to you tomorrow, Jeffrey, to see how you are doing."

He walked to the cab and bent to place a kiss on Mary's cheek. He took her hand in his. "I keep saying thanks to you."

"Well, then stop, and just say you'll take care of yourself and that we'll stay in touch," she told him giving his hand a squeeze. "Now you go on...you get on with your life." She looked at the address on the paper she held. "While I go and try to re-start mine."

Jeff stood back and draped his arm across Hilary's shoulders and they waved as the taxi drove off. "Well," he said to Hilary, "Lets go on upstairs." He kissed the top of her head. "I'd like to see everyone.

She held the door open for him as they walked into the lobby, "Now, don't you get used to me holding doors for you."

He laughed. "I promise. Just let me enjoy -you- waiting on me for a change."

She grinned and retorted, "Don't enjoy it too much darling, It won't be too long and I'll be back to slamming doors in your face."

He laughed and as they walked through the lobby, a few people who'd heard the gossip stopped and welcomed Jeff back to the states. He smiled and thanked them, but was eager to get upstairs and away from the bustle.

They stopped at the elevator and waited until it arrived. A knot began to form in Jeff's stomach. He knew there was nothing to fear, but that didn't stop him from remembering.

Hilary noticed his sudden tightening. "Maybe we should just go on home. You look tired and you can see everyone anytime," she offered, diplomatically allowing him to back out of the fear without harming his pride.

"No," he said tersely. "I can do this. I want to do this." The elevator door slid open and after taking a deep breath, Jeff stepped tentatively into it. He walked to the back corner of the car and leaned against the solidity of the wall.

Hilary followed him and when the doors shut pressed the button to the thirteenth floor. She walked back to stand next to him, and held his hand when the car started it's upward climb.

"You know," Jeff stared at the needle over the door showing their progress and started rambling, "I never really noticed how far up we are. I mean, it's a long way to our floor. What was that?" He looked around, having heard something but unable to place where he'd heard it from.

"What was what?" Hilary asked, not hearing anything out of the ordinary.

"That hum...where is it coming from?" He looked around almost frantically. "It sounds like..." He stopped, not wanting to verbalize what he thought it had sounded like.

She listened, trying to hear what he was describing. When she did hear it she recognized it instantly. "It's the mechanics of the elevator. The engine."

He visibly relaxed. "Oh."

"Jeffrey, look at me." She gently reached to his face, and turned him to face her. "Just concentrate on me. Forget where you are for now." The haunting look of fear in his usually teasing eyes threatened to bring a lump to her throat, but she shook it off not wanting to show him that she'd noticed.

"I hate this," he whispered.

"I hate elevators, too," she spoke. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to magically go to where you need to go?"

He smiled and laughed a bit, "Yeah. Like in some of the science fiction comics."

"I could snap my fingers and be on a Broadway stage one afternoon, and snap them again and be home in Pittsburgh that evening." She added, knowing that he'd get a laugh out of her comment.

The elevator jerked slightly as it always had near the top floors and slowed to a stop. When the car jerked, Jeff grabbed the side railing tightly. Hilary lay her hand gently over his. "We're here."

They walked out of the elevator after the doors slid open. Jeff stopped in the wideness of the hall and took several breaths. He felt free again. Together, he and Hilary walked down the hall and into the front door of the WENN suite. The familiarity hit him as soon as they walked in. It was then, more than at any time so far this day, that he realized with clarity that he was home.

Gertie was at her desk as usual and rushed over to hug him. They moved into the green room and made small talk, awkward at best. No one spoke of it, but there was a somberness among the people and in the air. It was almost as if they were afraid to mention Victor's name in front of him. Secretly he was a bit glad--he didn't want to think about how closely he came to also being in Victor's shoes.

Jeff decided he'd had enough rest and felt he should talk to Betty. Hilary said she'd go with him, but he said no. He knew what she was doing, but also knew that he needed to do things on his own and not learn to depend on her. He gave her a smile that conveyed, he hoped, that he'd be all right.

Hilary watched him walk out of the room and tried her best to keep her feelings in check. Mackie walked to her and lay a supportive hand on her shoulder. She glanced to him and smiled.

"He looks good," Mackie observed.

Hilary just nodded silently, knowing that if she spoke her voice would be shakier than she cared for the others to hear.

Mackie gave her shoulder a slight squeeze, and turned to Mr. Eldridge and Gertie. Behind Hilary's back he pointed to the door and gestured for them to leave her alone. They caught the message and with excuses of getting back to work, followed Mackie out of the room.

Hilary moved from the arm of the couch to sit on the soft cushions and finally allowed herself a few tearful moments. It hurt her to watch her usually overzealous husband afraid of the most common of things. She hoped that some of the early fears would give way to everyday living--but the deeper haunts ,she knew, he would be much longer in forgetting.

She straightened quickly when Mackie leaned into the room to tell her that they were going back on the air to finish The Hands of Time. She found her purse and checked her make-up in the small pocket mirror she kept. She powdered away the evidence of her recent tears and, standing tall, joined the others in the studio.

Once finished with the show, she insisted on taking Jeff home. She had arranged with Scott to stay home with Jeff the first week. She'd see how he was doing for the second week before talking with Scott about taking that week off for herself.

Throughout the taxi ride to their house, Jeff was eagerly looking over the unblemished skyline of Pittsburgh. Hilary let herself get caught up in his excitement and soon they were both pointing out different styles of buildings that they hadn't noticed before. She decided to heck with needing to get home, and told the driver to drive around for a while. Soon even he was enjoying a new look at the city he'd grown up in as the three of them laughed at some of the oddly shaped sights they saw.

Finally after nearly an hour of aimless driving, the cabby let them out in their driveway. Hilary paid their fare and started to hand him a tip, but he stopped her, explaining that he'd enjoyed getting a new appreciation for Pittsburgh and that was plenty tip enough.

She helped him up the porch stairs and, after unlocking the door, followed him into the house. "That was fun," she told him with a smile. "Are you hungry at all?"

"I am a little, now that you bring it up," he answered, following her into the kitchen. He sat at the table and watched as she set about fixing dinner for the two of them.

"Should I have a camera here?" he asked jokingly. She turned, laughed sarcastically and flicked a piece of lettuce his way. Not content to let the teasing stop at one jab, he added, "Exactly how many months of making it up to you will I have to do for all this?"

"Oh, lots and lots," she walked toward him and leaned on her elbows on the table in front of him, "and lots and lots." She kissed him, and then added with a grin, "and then some."

He laughed, "So basically, the rest of my life."

She smiled. "You said it, pumpkin." She winked and then went back to fixing the dinner.

Dinner consisted of a large salad with ham strips for each of them. Once they'd eaten, Jeff insisted on helping to clear the table and put the newly washed dishes away. Once the kitchen was satisfactorily cleaned, they moved into the living room.

"What would you like to do this evening?" Hilary asked. "It's unusual that we have a whole week of evenings free. I hardly know what to do." She smiled.

"Well, if I was in better condition we could go out." Jeff replied. "But then if I was in better condition, we'd be at work," he added, slightly melancholic.

She smiled, trying to cheer him up, "I have an idea. Why don't we just turn on the radio, listen to it and keep each other company?" She moved to turn on the radio. "Would you like to listen to WENN or maybe some music?"

"WENN is fine." He said and stretched out on the couch. The twinges of pain he was starting to feel served as a reminder that his ribs were still not completely healed.

"Are you all right?" Hilary asked, having noticed a bit of pain in his voice. She sat on the edge of the couch.

"My side is starting to hurt a bit," he told her. "I think all the activity today was a bit much."

"Do you have anything to take for the pain?" she asked.

"Yes, some painkillers. They should be in my suitcase." He started to get up, but Hilary stopped him.

"No, you stay put." She walked to his suitcase, which was sitting on the floor under the archway that led into the dining room. She pulled open the case and felt in the top pocket for the pills. A glint of gold caught her eye. She moved aside the shirt it lay under and saw that it was a picture of her and Jeff.

She remembered the dinner party where it had been taken. Too many people there with their noses in the air. Too many press agents and too many gossips. She hated parties like that. Feeding frenzies for the papers and magazines.

But looking at the picture, you'd never know that they were a couple that the gossips would have given their souls to have uncovered the truth about. They looked every bit the married couple they had pretended for years to be. She wondered then, when they had stopped pretending. And why the bloody hell had it taken a bomb to make them realize it?

"Did you find the pills?" Jeff asked, shaking her from the thoughts.

"Oh." She set the picture back into the case and closed it. "Yes darling, they're right here." She handed him the bottle and said she'd go get a glass of water to help wash down the medicine.

After taking the pill, Jeff started to try to unbutton the pale yellow sweater he was wearing. It was bunching up behind his back and getting uncomfortable.

Hilary sat on the edge of the couch, facing him, and moved his hand to finish the job for him. He brushed her hands away sharply. "I can do it! I'm not an invalid."

She held her arms up in front of her and replied, "Okay. Go ahead." She smiled then and leaned across him, propping herself on the back of the couch with her elbow. "But you've never complained about me undressing you before."

"I never had a reason to complain." He said offhandedly.

"Well, thank you." Hilary replied haughtily with a teasing glint in her eyes.

He realized with her answer the double meaning of his statement and gave her a slow grin. "All right. I guess I could use your help."

Half an hour later, after a trip upstairs by Hilary for some nightclothes, a couple of giggling fits and an uncooperative sling, Jeff was finally lying comfortably on the couch in his pajamas. Hilary bunched up the dirty clothes now lying in her lap and chuckled. "I don't think I've ever had this much fun getting you out of your clothes."

"Gee, thanks." Jeff tossed his shirt at her and commented, "I take it you don't remember our wedding night."

She added the shirt to the clothes and reminded him, "No. What you're thinking of was in Denver, a month after our divorce."

"Oh," Jeff thought back then smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I remember that. It would have been a much more memorable evening had the night manager of that theatre not shown up when he did."

Hilary burst into laughter at the memory his comment conjured up. The look on the man's face when he'd walked in on them in the darkened back stage area was something she would remember for a long time.

She took the dirty clothes upstairs and put on her own nightclothes before returning downstairs. She moved the throw pillow Jeff was lying on and slid onto the couch, letting him lay his head on her lap. She propped her legs on the footstool and lay back, absently drifting her fingers through the hair at his forehead. They listened in easy silence to the radio.

When Jeff jerked suddenly she realized she'd dozed off. She rubbed his forehead gently, assuring him with the gesture that he was safe. "Why don't we go on upstairs to bed?" she asked softly.

"No. I'd rather stay down here," he said sleepily.

"Darling, it's nearly midnight and you've had a long day," she reminded, easing herself out from under him. She helped him to slowly sit and then walked to the radio. She wanted to turn it off before WENN went off the air. The sound of static still sent chills through her. It probably would for a good long time.

Hilary handed Jeff his cane but he refused to take it. "I'm not tired, Hilary," he said, stifling an inopportune yawn.

She gave him a knowing look and then suggested, "You can stay on the couch then and I'll just sleep on the floor here next to you."

"I don't," he started harshly, then finished with a quiet confession, "want to go to sleep."

Hilary crouched down in front of him between his legs and took his hands in hers. "Pumpkin, what are you afraid of?" she asked softly.

He lay his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling for a while. "You know, the saying is right," he spoke finally. "You really don't hear the one that gets you."

Hilary sighed quietly, and moved to sit close to him on the couch. She put her arm around him and pulled him gently into her arms. When he faced her, she said in a gentle voice, "You didn't hear me, did you? Any more than I heard you." She smiled when he did and continued, "Not everything that you can't hear coming is bad."

He leaned more comfortably into her embrace and agreed, "No, it isn't."

She gave him a light kiss on the forehead and then suggested, "Why don't we go on upstairs? It will be more comfortable if we can stretch out on the bed. If you want, we can stay up all night."

"All right," he relented. He sat up and let Hilary help him to his feet. He leaned against her as they made their way slowly up the stairs. Once at the top of the stairs, Hilary clicked on the hall light as if she'd always done it, and helped walk him into the bedroom. After sitting him on the bed she ran downstairs to get the cane that they found they'd forgotten. She handed him the cane and he walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

While he was in there, she took the time to sit and re-collect herself. Thanks to Mary, she'd been prepared for Jeff's insecurities, but she hadn't been ready for the reality of them. That spark of 'her Jeffrey' was still there, but it was hidden beneath all the fears. She looked toward the closed bathroom door and wondered why innocent people had to get caught up in idiotic and useless fighting between countries.

She knew this was only the beginning of this war--the beginning of it for them. Judging from news reports she'd read or gossip she'd heard it was inevitable that the United States would be involved. It was just a matter of when.

Jeff finished in the bathroom, walked to the bed, and lay down. Hilary helped him prop himself comfortably against the headboard so he wasn't lying flat. She'd gone to get the throw pillows from the couch, knowing they'd probably need them.

"There," she said. "What would you like to do?" She sat herself against the headboard, and ticked off ideas. "We could play cards, listen to music -- I think there's a board game or two in the closet. You name it."

He thought for a moment. "Maybe we could play cards."

"I'll go get the cards." She stood. "While I'm downstairs, do you want a snack or something to drink?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, is there some cola in the refrigerator? And some chips if there are some."

She nodded and began to walk out of the room. She stopped and leaned against the door frame, turning towards Jeff. She watched him until he caught her and smiled. "I'm glad you're home."

He returned her smile. "Me, too."
She turned and left the room to retrieve the cards and Jeff's snack.

When she returned, she found that he'd fallen asleep while reading a magazine that had been lying on the nightstand next to him. A sympathetic expression passed across her face as she quietly sat the glass, bag, and cards she was carrying down on the nearest dressing table. Softly, she crept to his side and slowly pulled the magazine from his sleep-loosened hold. She put it down and gently tucked him into the covers a bit more warmly. She left the lamp next to him on and walked around to her own side of the bed.

Hilary slid gingerly into bed so as not to wake him and snapped off her light. She moved to sit back against the cushioned wall of pillows she'd propped against the headboard and carefully pulled Jeff into her embrace. He stirred but only to settle comfortably against her, his head nestled in the crook of her neck. She cradled his head with her arm and watched over him as he slept.

She caressed his arm gently, letting him know that she was there. Every so often he would jump or groan at a fleeting dream or memory. When he did, she whispered softly that he was safe and she wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Two hours into his sleep he had a powerful nightmare. He mumbled Victor's name and screamed for help every so often. Hilary held him tighter, not wanting him to hurt himself. "Jeffrey, darling, you're all right." He thrashed his arm wildly, nearly hitting her. She grabbed his hand with hers to stop him from hitting her face.

It must have brought something in the dream into focus, because when she grabbed his hand, he sat straight up. "No, not you! Hilary!"

She moved quickly to sit in front of him and saw that he was awake, but confused about where he was.

"I'm here," she softly told him. "You're safe, Pumpkin."

"You're safe," he said, not noticing she'd just spoken the same words. He touched her face with his hand.

She creased her eyebrows in confusion. "Of course I'm safe, darling."

She tried to ease him back against the pillows, worried about his ribs. She resumed her place behind him, one leg on either side of his body, and let Jeff lie back against her.

"Please hold me, Mittens," he whispered, emotion heavy in his voice.

Hilary held him tighter in her arms. "I haven't let you go yet, Pumpkin." She blinked away the threatening tears. She'd never expected it to hurt this badly watching him suffer.

He started sobbing softly, then more openly as finally the dam burst and he let out the pent up feelings he'd bottled inside him since the explosion. Hilary clung to him protectively as he cried against her.

He quieted after some time and started talking. He told her about waking up in the dark, about searching in vain for Victor, about finding the body. She stopped fighting her own tears and quietly cried as he related the nightmare he'd just lived through in London. Finally he told her about the picture and how it had saved his life. How he'd realized before the broadcast that he was in love with her.

"Do you know when I realized it?" she said, wiping away her tears.

"When?" he asked.

"About a half an hour after you left for London," she told him and laughed lightly. "I was sitting in the green room and without even catching it, I started a conversation with you. When you didn't answer a question, I looked up and remembered I was alone, and you were gone." She brushed her hand through his hair and was glad to notice a smile on his face. "I realized I missed you."

"Then I thought, why would I possibly miss you? You drive me crazy." She smiled and drifted her hand along his neck and collar bone, "You make me feel angry, miserable, jealous..." she hesitated, "happy, excited, adventurous...young." She scooted down slightly so she was closer to his level and tilted his chin slightly toward her so she could see his face clearly. "I realized then that all of those emotions could be summed up on one word. Love." She smiled and brushed her thumb across his lips. "You make me feel love. And I don't think I've ever felt it quite like this before."

For the first time since his return from London, Hilary caught that mischievous glint in his eyes that she...loved so much as he replied, "Is that a good thing?"

And she laughed. "Yes, my darling, it's a very good thing."

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

Jeff walked through the house, finally without all the aches and pains. He glanced at the fireplace mantel as he passed through the dining room and saw his...their picture prominently displayed in the center. He smiled and continued his trek to the kitchen.

Hilary was rushing around in the kitchen trying to find a quick breakfast for the already late for work pair. "Jeffrey, the taxi should be here any minute," she told him, gulping down a small glass of orange juice. "You know we have absolutely nothing in this house that's quick and easy to fix. Especially when we're late."

He grinned amusedly. "Hilary, we've been late every day this week. Quick and easy to fix was fixed earlier in the week."

"True," she agreed, then heard the honk of the taxi. "There's our ride." She started to rush past Jeff, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "Relax, darling, we still have an hour before we are actually late for a broadcast." She smiled suggestively, wrapping her arms around his neck, and passionately kissed him. "You know, I've rather enjoyed being late all week."

Jeff turned, lay her back in a deep dip, and pressed a kiss at the hollow of her neck. "I've rather enjoyed the -reason- we've been late all week." He straightened, much to Hilary's chagrin. "But the taxi is waiting, so we must go."

"Well, all right, "She pouted, then gave him a salacious look. "I wonder how many times we can drive around the block in an hour?" She turned and walked out the door, not catching the smile on Jeff's face.

He walked to the mantle and reached behind the picture to get the tickets he'd hidden there. Tickets to Matamoros, Mexico. Today he was going to ask Hilary to re-marry him. It was high time Mr. and Mrs. Singer really were Mr. and Mrs. Singer. With a smile at the picture that had come to mean a great deal to both of them, he put the tickets in his pocket and joined Hilary in the taxi.

THE END.

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