Remember WENN and it's characters are copyright AMC, Howard Meltzer Prods & Rupert Homes. No infringement is implied. The story is mine. ?
This is a sequel to "Headaches". It just kinda decided it wanted to be written. I don't question these things. ?
It's A Start
by Michele Savage
Hilary stood outside the hotel door and wondered again what she was doing there. It was after midnight, and he was probably asleep. She'd woken up nearly two hours ago and could not get back to sleep no matter what she did. Warm milk, a warm bath, nothing helped. She barely remembered calling the cab. But here she was.
He had told her when he left that Saturday, two weeks ago, that if she wanted to see him, or to talk, he wouldn't mind. No matter what time it was. She lifted a hand and started to knock, but hesitated. She knew how precious his sleep was, especially since the bombing. She hated to wake him up. She turned and started to walk away, but something stopped her. She really wanted to see him.
Her request of Betty, that either Jeff went or she did, had not been addressed. Not that she blamed her. A marital squabble is considerably less important that having the man you love come back from the dead and try to kill not only you, but the man who loves you. Hilary sighed. And she thought -she- had problems.
Jeff had graciously volunteered to take a leave of absence from WENN until things could be worked out. She saw that he was doing a local Shakespeare production in the meantime. She'd gone last weekend to see the play. He was wonderful as usual. She never told him often enough how good his acting is. She snuck out before the last curtain call because she didn't want him to know she had been there. It was cowardly, she knew , but she just wasn't ready yet to see him.
Finally getting the courage, she knocked. Softly at first, but then louder. Briefly she wondered whether or not he was alone. But shook the thought away-- of course he's alone. She hoped. She knocked again, starting to feel a bit idiotic for dragging Jeff out of bed, when she couldn't sleep. He opened the door mid-yawn and shrugging more comfortably into the robe he'd just thrown on. He took her breath away. But then he always had.
"Mitten ... Hilary." he said, genuinely surprised to see her.
"I ... couldn't sleep. I hope you don't mind." She blurted. "I just found myself here."
"No, of course not darl ... um ... come in." He moved so she could enter the room. He shut the door behind her and turned on the light. He moved around her, and picked the scattered clothes off the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I ... don't exactly have a lot of visitors." He threw the clothes onto a chair and then tossed the bedspread sloppily over the unmade bed he'd just been sleeping in.
Hilary crossed her arms and watched with amusement as he straightened. "It's all right, Jeffrey. It isn't as if I've never seen your messy half of the room before."
He stopped and looked at her. With a chuckle he agreed. "True." He tossed the handful of clothes he held over his head and behind him, and shrugged.
She laughed and sat on the corner of the bed. Jeff followed suit, sitting on the opposite corner. An uncomfortable silence settled. Neither suddenly sure what to say or do next.
"Well," Hilary started, "here we are."
"Yeah." Jeff thought for a second, "Are you hungry?"
"I suppose I could be." Hilary answered.
Jeff crawled across the bed to get the room service menu out of the nightstand table, "The room service in this place is open till one thirty." He automatically looked at his wrist for the time, but since he had already been in bed, he wasn't wearing his watch. "What time is it?"
Hilary looked at the small watch on her wrist, "It's quarter till one."
"Oh, great! Here ..." he tossed the menu her way.
She threw her hand up to block the menu from hitting her, "Ahh, Jeff!"
"Sorry." He scooted closer so he could read over her shoulder. "Since it's so late, why don't we just get a bunch of appetizers." He pointed around her arm to that section of the menu.
Hilary changed her position slightly. She could feel his breath on her neck and it was ... distracting. She wasn't exactly prepared for the way his nearness was affecting her. She turned and handed him the menu, "Why," she cleared her throat and moved over putting a bit more distance between them, "why don't you pick something for us."
"Okay." Jeff noticed how nervous she'd suddenly gotten. He'd squelched the feeling that the smell of soap and her freshly shampooed hair had brought to the surface. Well, not really. Maybe distance right now is good. He moved back up to the top of the bed, and set the phone on the bed. "What about a couple orders of deep-fried mushrooms and a big fruit and vegetable plate?"
"See if there's strawberr ..." she started
"Strawberries on the fruit plate and I've got myself a deal." he finished. They'd had this combination of appetizers many times.
She laughed, "Yes." She watched as he picked up the phone and ordered the food. She was starting to feel more comfortable, and was glad she came. She was reminded of those years they spent on the road. Living in one hotel after another. Sometimes she missed that.
Jeff hung up the phone, set it back on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard. "It'll be about half an hour."
Hilary kicked her shoes off and sat farther into the bed, crossing her legs. "Do you remember that rat-trap hotel we stayed in during Razzle Dazzle? Where was that?"
He thought for a moment, "I think that was in St. Louis."
"Right. It was on the riverfront." She recalled, "The food in that place was horrid."
"That was the night we wandered down to the riverfront looking for some real food. We found a really nice little Italian restaurant."
She smiled, "Mmnn, the spaghetti was incredible."
He laughed, "Yeah ... not a bit of catsup in that recipe."
She returned his laugh and smacked him on the leg with her hand. "Hey, I could only do so much."
"I remember the walk we took after dinner." He said, seriousness returning. "There was a full moon that night."
"The Mississippi was so calm. It was beautiful in the moonlight." She added with a smile.
"You were beautiful in the moonlight." He said softly, desire plainly written in his eyes.
She lowered her gaze to her lap, afraid she'd give in too easily. She felt him move closer and looked up to find his face inches from hers. "No ...," her words were cut off when he kissed her. She tried to pull away, but gave up. It felt too good --too right; his lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around him and lay into his embrace.
Neither of them heard the knock from room service.
As rays of the morning sun shone through the closed curtains, Hilary lay on her side watching Jeff sleep. This isn't exactly what she'd wanted to happen when she came here last night. But it had. So what now? Was she ready for him to come back home? Was she ready to trust him again?
She thought about what he'd done. She forced herself to look at it objectively, through the hurt. On some level she was proud of him. He'd helped to bring war criminals to justice. He went, despite his fear and did a lot of good. On another level she wanted to shake him for putting himself in that kind of danger. He could have been killed. Could he possibly know what -that- would have done to her. She shook off the feeling, and thanked God, again, for bringing him back to her --alive and in one piece. She would never tell him, but while he was in London --even after Pavla, she'd never prayed so much in her life.
He did what he did for her. Because he loved her. He sacrificed his happiness, and any possible future, to keep her safe. And she was punishing him for it. It's time to stop being selfish; to stop thinking about how hurt she was and to start thinking about how hurt he had to have been.
She leaned close and kissed him, softly. Jeff responded, waking at her touch. He snaked his arms around her holding her tightly. "I could get used to waking up like this."
She smiled, and kicked his ankle, "You -are- used to waking up like this," she reminded.
"Oh, yeah." He said with smugness in his voice, and smiled.
She brushed her thumb across his temple and said tenderly, "Pumpkin, I want you to come home. I miss you. Everyone at WENN misses you. It's time I stop thinking about myself for a change."
"Are you sure, darling?" He asked, not wanting to get his hopes up too soon.
She nodded silently. "Come home. Come back to work. Get Scotty off the air."
He laughed, "He's not that bad."
"If does that idiotic 'Brent's amnesia' bit one more time, I'll kill him."
"Oh, come on Hilary it's not that bad." Jeff told her between laughs, "though I do want to talk to him about that Simmons routine."
"What the matter," Hilary smiled suggestively, "are you jealous?"
"Of course I am! You're -my- wife." Jeff said with emphasis.
Hilary lay back and pulled Jeff over into her arms. "Say that again."
"Say what again?" He asked hiding a grin.
"The wife part," she prodded, "Say it again."
He brushed his fingers through her hair, and kissed her, "You are my wife."
"Again." She giggled, when he laughed in her ear.
"You are my wife." He said again emphasizing each word clearly.
"Don't stop saying that." She whispered, needing the assurance.
"Never." He kissed her again, a kiss that held the promise that she so desperately needed.
The End