Remember WENN and the characters are copyright The Entertainment Group/Howard Meltzer Prod, Rupert Holmes & AMC. No infringment is intended. The story is mine.

This story takes place immediately following the loss of the London feed that Jeff & Victor were broadcasting on.
*indicates thoughts
~indicates italics.

Aftermath
A Remember WENN fanfic by Michele Savage

Part 1

The moment she heard his voice, Hilary was afraid. She could hear the fear in his voice; the brave fear that he was doing his best to hide. But she heard it.

Even after the static.

Hilary could feel Betty's hand on her shoulder, but the numbness quickly overtook her.

*Jeffrey*

She stood quickly. She had to get away from the damning sound of that static.
Bursting through the green-room doors she ran blindly to the ladies room. She clutched at the cool ivory of the sink and willed the strength that was Hilary Booth to return. But it failed. She looked up at her emotion blushed reflection. With a start she realized that half of Hilary Booth's strength was Jeffrey Singer. She closed her eyes and stopped fighting the tears. "Jeffrey, you can't leave me." *I need you.*

She opened her eyes aware of the significance of admitting she needed him. Up until then she'd always taken his presence in her life, infuriating or not, for granted. She blinked and saw his image in the mirror standing behind her. His hands on her shoulders supporting her.

He'd always been supporting her, she realized. Her career seemed to always come before his. The whirlwind marriage; her idea. The divorce two weeks later; also her idea. Keeping up the charade of being married because it seemed so popular with their fans, had been his idea. His idea. He gave up his freedom for her, and what had she done in return? Taken him for granted.

She looked at the image of him in the mirror. As it faded away she whispered without thinking, "I love you, Jeffrey." Her hand went to her lips. Had she just said . . . admitted?

The door swung open. Betty slowly walked into the restroom, looking as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She was wiping her eyes.

*Victor. I was so worried about Jeff, I forgot about Victor!* "Has there been any word?" Hilary managed to say. The strength of her voice surprised her.

Betty shook her head silently.

Wordlessly the two women embraced. Both worried about their loved ones, each drawing strength from the other.

Scott left the green room and walked into the studio. Going to the closest mike, he took a deep breath and told WENN's Pittsburgh listeners, "Folks, we are waiting just as you are for the word from London. As you know, Jeffrey Singer, along with the former station manager of WENN, Victor Comstock were both, um, both on the air when contact was lost. You will know as soon as we know about the well being of both men. We will monitor the radio and as soon as contact is re-established we'll break into programming. But for right now, please enjoy these past few episodes of The Hands of Time."

Once the programming had been seen to, Scott set about to shooing his troop of actors home.

***********

Hilary opened the front door of her house and halfheartedly waved Mackie on. He was a dear, but she had the devil of a time making him understand that she needed to be alone just now. She closed and locked the door and threw her hat onto the nearest chair. Kicking her shoes off she flipped the radio on. Turning the dial, she found the station that had been broadcasting Jeff and Victor's program.

~Ladies and gentlemen we still have no word from London. The phone lines are down
and no radio signals are getting through. Rest assured we will let you know as soon
as we hear any sign of life from London.~

"Any sign of life." Hilary repeated.

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. No, a glass of brandy. That's what she needed. She pulled out an afghan and made herself comfortable on the couch; preparing for a long night in front of the radio.

Tired of listening to pointless music, she turned the dial back to the comfort of WENN. The first voice she heard was Jeffrey's. A ray of hope leapt into her heart, but was quickly extinguished when she realized, of course, Scott was running recordings of old shows.

She downed the rest of her brandy in one gulp and lay down. Beginning to get drowsy, but not wanting to sleep, Hilary listened to Jeff's voice and let the rich baritone sooth her nerves, at least for the moment.

She thought back to the conversation they'd had when he told her he was going to London. Something told her then, not to let him go. But he'd calmed her fears and assured her he would come back safe and sound. Hilary closed her eyes tightly to fight against a fresh onslaught of tears. "Please come back." she whispered into the darkness.

She sat abruptly, suddenly bursting with energy. "Oh stop whining." She stood, pacing the length of the living room. "You're Hilary Booth, not some simpering . . .woman."

Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Jeff admonishing her. * Hilary, you're being ridiculous. You -are- a woman. You're worried, and you're scared.*

"Jeffrey, stop arguing with me." she automatically snapped. And stopped. "No," she said quietly, "don't stop arguing with me."

She sat hard again on the couch. "Arrghh . . ." she growled out the frustration. "If I could only hear something!"

The phone suddenly sprang to life, causing Hilary to nearly jump out of her skin. She dashed across the room, and picked up the reciever. "Jeff?" she said, hope in her heart.

"No Hilary, it's Scott." he said apologetically.

"Oh." She sank into the nearest easy chair. "Have . . . have you heard anything?" She asked trying to add strength to her voice.

"No, not yet. I just wanted to call to make sure you were okay."

"I'm . . . fine." His concern surprised her. "I'm just going crazy here waiting for some kind of word . . . anything . . . just to make sure Jeff' . . .and Victor are okay."

"Hilary, get some sleep. I'll call you if I hear so much as a peep from London."

"I will." she answered. "And Scott. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Goodnight."

Hilary hung up the phone. She was tired after all. It was nearing midnight, WENN would be going off the air soon. She clicked off the radio. The last thing she wanted to hear was static. The thought made her shiver. She burrowed herself into the warmth of the couch.

The silent darkness weighed heavily on her shoulders. In that silence Hilary replayed over and over in her mind the last words she heard Jeff say:

~You can hear the bombs whistling in the distance. A British fireman told me that if you can hear the whistling, well , you're alright. It's the one that's right above you that you can't hear. . .~

~It seems we've had a moment of silence . . .~

Silence.

Probably the last thing he heard.

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

Hilary woke suddenly.

The dawn had just begun to break. She walked to the bay window, still wrapped in the blanket and watched the sunrise. Never in her life has she been so glad to see it. She hoped with all her heart that Jeff was seeing this, too.

She could hear the church bells ringing the hour. Six o'clock.

Work. That's what she needed most right now. She needed to go to work and be among her co-workers. No, her friends. *I need to be with friends.*

Hilary walked upstairs and readied herself for the day. She bathed, dressed and put on her makeup. While dressing she'd turned on the radio in the bedroom hoping by now there would be news.

Mackie was reading the morning teletype. Local stuff. Not important to her at the moment. She continued with her makeup.

The shuffling of paper caught her attention.

~Um, ladies and gentlemen, this has just been handed to me. We have news from London.~

Hilary burst out of the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, near the radio.

The hesitation in Mackie's voice frightened her.

~The, uh, the city is devastated. There are numerous casualties. To many to mention, but there are Americans also involved. If you have a loved one that you are worried about, please go to city hall. They will be posting a list of . . . of dead and wounded.~

"Get to the point, Mackie." Hilary snapped at the radio in frustration.

~On a personal note, you'll recall that WENN had two of our own broadcasting at the time of the bombing. Jeffrey Singer and Victor Comstock.~

Mackie hestated again. Hilary could hear him take a deep breath. He had bad news. She closed her eyes and steeled herself against his next words.

~Former WENN Manager Victor Comstock . . . did not . . . survive the explosion.~

Hilary clutched the edges of the bed tightly, crumpling the bedspread within her tight grip. Her heart already expecting the worst. "What about Jeffrey." She could hear Mackie fighting to stay composed.

~Jeffrey Singer was seriously injured and taken to a nearby medical facility.~

He's alive. "Thank you god. He's alive." Hilary let herself cry for joy, for sadness. For the resolution of the frustration and the pent up emotion.

She didn't know how long she'd cried, but now that the fear was gone she felt like she had a new lease on life. And Jeff is alive. But injured. Suddenly she was worried again. How badly injured?

"Don't think about that." She quickly stopped the train of thought before it could build up steam. Rising, she returned to the bathroom to freshen up. "Get to work, get through the day. Then Jeffrey will come home and I can wring his neck for putting me through this." She appraised her appearance in the mirror. *Jeffrey, just come home safely.*

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

Hilary walked into the front door of the station and noticed how quiet it was. It was then she realized in her joy of hearing Jeff was alive, she'd forgotten Victor had not survived. She closed her eyes and gave a silent moment to Victor.

Entering the green room, Hilary sat on the couch. She leaned forward, resting her head on her hands and wondered how she should react to the other folks, or how they were going to react to her. She wasn't exactly easy to approach, and it wasn't easy for her to let the rest of the gang to see her vulnerable side.

The door swung open and Hilary lifted her head to see who it was.

"Hello Hilary, how are you feeling this morning?"

She smiled weakly. Mr Eldridge. "Come sit with me please, Mr Eldridge." She patted the couch next to her.

He sat, understanding that she wanted to talk. "You've heard the good news about Jeff?"

She smiled wider. "Yes." Her smile faded. "But I also heard about Victor."

"You don't know whether to be happy or sad."

"No, I don't." She answered, fiddling with her hand. "I'm afraid that my joy at hearing Jeffrey is alive will give the impression that I don't care about Victor. But I do. I feel his loss just as much as everyone."

"You're used to not showing emotion in front of these people and when it becomes necessary you're afraid of showing the wrong one. Forget Hilary Booth today. Just be yourself." The older man gave her a fatherly pat on the knee. "Understood?"

Hilary smiled and hugged him. "Completely."

He got up to leave the room, and Hilary followed. "Thank you, Tom."

He winked at her and walked down the hall toward Gertie's phone station.

Hilary went to Scott's office door and knocked lightly.

"Yeah. Come in."

She opened the door and eased into the room. "I wanted to ask if you'd heard anything else about Jeff's injuries."

"No, Hilary, I'm sorry." He gestured for her to sit. "I am glad you're here though."

"Oh?"

"Betty's locked herself in her office. She's typing like a madwoman. I was hoping you could talk to her."

"Me? Why me? I'd think under the circumstances, I'd be the last person she'd want to see."

"Well, could you at least try?"

Hilary nodded. She moved to leave the room, but turned, "You'll let me know the minute you have news?"

"Sure."

Hilary knocked on the closed office door. "Betty. It's me. I'd like to talk to you." She heard footsteps and the door unlatch. Then she heard the typewriter again. Taking the unlocking as an invitation, she opened the door.

"Working hard, I see."

No answer

"I know how you felt about Victor. I'm sorry."

The typing stopped, but only for a moment.

Hilary bent over the paper filled desk. "Betty stop . . . stop typing, please."

"I need to get these scripts done. I'm a day behind because of the World's Fair program."

Hilary pulled up an extra chair and sat. "The scripts can wait."

Betty stopped and gave the other woman her attention. "I heard Jeff will be okay."

"I haven't heard anything other than he'd been injured. Hopefully he'll call soon."

"I'm happy for you both, really. Now I have some scripts to finish."

"Scott is worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"Betty, you're not fine. I imagine you just went through a night very similar to the one I did." Hilary silently added, *but your news was different.*

"Actually, I slept like a baby." Betty lied. "Now really, I need to work."

Hilary stood, realizing she couldn't do anything. "Anytime you want to talk. I'm here."

Betty went back to her typing, not acknowledging the offer.

Hilary shut the door behind her and shrugged to Mackie who looked her way.

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

The days progressed into weeks, a little more subdued than normal. It seemed as if the heart had gone out of WENN. The radio plays went on as usual, but without the fervor they were usually given. The news was the highlight of the day, and it disappointed nearly everytime. And in the background the incessant tapping of a typewriter.

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

Midnight, a week and a half later, Hilary unlocked her front door. These days she was glad to get home. She could let herself be happy here. Jeff was alive, and with luck would be coming home soon. Yes, she felt the loss of Victor just as deeply as the others, but right now she focussed on Jeffrey. Once she knew for certain he was okay, she'd let herself mourn Victor.

She went upstairs, as had become her nightly routine, and dressed for bed.

The phone rang. Hilary rushed downstairs to answer it.

"Hilary!"

She'd never been so glad to hear that voice.

"Jeffrey, thank god!" She curled into the chair, "How are you doing?"

"I've been better."

She smiled. He's joking. He'll be alright.

"When are you coming home?"

"I'm not quite sure yet, but soon. I can't stay on long. I just wanted to let you know I'm . . .alive."

The silent moment was tangeble. Neither suddenly knew what to say.

Hilary broke the silence softly, "I miss you, Pumpkin."

"I miss you too, Mittens."

Hilary slept peacefully that night. The first since the bombing.

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

Part 2

"Victor!"

The shout woke Hilary out of a deep sleep.

"I can't find you!" Jeff was tossing violently, in his sleep. "Where are you?"

Hilary scrambled out of her side of the bed and rushed around to his. "Jeffrey, honey, shh . . ." She rubbed his face gently, so as not to wake him.

"Victor . . .where . . ." he mumbled, softer now. Hilary's gentle touch was beginning to soothe him.

"You're okay," she assured him, taking his uninjured hand into hers. She pressed a small kiss on his palm. "you're home now."

"Home." he whispered quietly and drifted off into a dreamless, she hoped, slumber.

She leaned forward and kissed his brow. "Home."

She watched him sleep, for several minutes, making sure the dream would not return tonight as it had every night since he'd come home last week.
************

Hilary sat at the kitchen table sipping her coffee and reading the morning paper.

"Morning, dearest." Jeff limped into the kitchen. He smiled and opened his arms, one still in a cast. "Look , no cane!"

Hilary smiled widely "Wonderful darling!" She stood and hugged him, mindfull of his ribs. She pulled out a chair for him to ease into, then went to the counter and poured him a cup of coffee.

She stood behind him and handed him the coffee. She lay her hands on his shoulders, lightly massaging the aches.

"Thanks." He acknowledged. "Are you going in to work today?"

"I'd planned on it." She leaned over him and grinned conspiratorially, " You want me to play hookey?"

He reached over with his good arm and pulled her onto his lap. "That's exactly what I want you to do," he said suggestively. "Ow."

"Oh, sorry." She moved slightly, off his still sore leg.

Jeff pulled her close and kissed her. "Hilary, I . . . I did some thinking . . . when I was . . . when I -thought- I was . . . dying."

"Jeffrey, I . . . let me call Betty, so she can re-write today's scripts. Then we can talk." She kissed him lightly again, "We have a lot to talk about." She eased off his lap, went to the living room and phoned the station.

While Hilary was on the phone to WENN, Jeffrey moved to the living room couch, where they could be more comfortable talking. She hung up the phone and helped him pull the foot stool over to prop his legs on. "Well, Betty's not thrilled about losing her star for today, but she'll live."

Hilary sat in the corner of the couch and rested her legs across Jeff's lap. She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "So where were we, Pumpkin?" She lay her head against his shoulder, and lazily let her hand drift along his arm.

He began speaking quietly, "It was so sudden. One minute I talking to Victor, to the world, and the next . . . it was dark. I . . . I looked for Victor, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there."
Hilary lifted his hand to her lips, comforting him as best she could.

"I don't know how long it was . . . but I finally stopped . . . searching for him." Jeff continued, emotion heavy in his voice. "I hurt all over. It's the only way I knew I was still alive."

A silent tear crept it's way down Hilary's face. She wished she could take the pain away from him.

"And suddenly, as I lay there, buried under god knows what, I saw your face." He turned to her, and squeezed her hand in his. He smiled, "I concentrated on you. I knew I had to survive, for you."

She bit back a sob, "Jeffrey. Darling, I realized something, too, that night." She caressed his face as she spoke, "When I heard the broadcast, I could hear the bombs falling in the background. I heard the fear in your voice. You hid it well, but I know you. I was so scared for you."

"Then the signal was cut. I felt like . . . my life had just ended . . . as abruptly as that broadcast." Tears tracked down her cheeks, unchecked.

Hilary nestled in the crook of Jeff's arm, "I hadn't admitted before that night, but I realized just how much I needed you in my life."

She looked up at his face, seeing that he, too, had tears in his eyes, She smiled softly, "And, how much, I . . . love you."

Jeff smiled, "I love you too, Hilary."

He drew her face to his and kissed her. She responded, deepening the kiss. Letting him lay her back, she gave in to the passion that they both were feeling at the moment. The passion of being in love again, and most importantly, being alive.

The End.

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