The following story is a Remember WENN fan fiction by Dana Sherman. E-Mail
address ALMACKS@aol.com. I did not create, nor do I own, these characters.
The specific story and dialogue are entirely my own.

THE LEGACY

Betty arrived at the studio at 7:00 in the morning. She smoothed her hair
down, arranged her face in a smile and walked purposefully in the door. She
hadn’t slept most of the night and had spent a good deal of it crying. She
knew she didn’t look as good as she would have liked, but she refused to let
her personal concerns interfere with her work. She would not let herself
become emotional at her job. Too many people had told her that she would
never succeed in the man's world of broadcasting for her to let that happen.
She only hoped no one had noticed how tired and upset she really was.

Mr. Foley looked at Betty as she walked into the studio. Good God, he
thought to himself, she looks terrible. She was obviously exhausted. Her face
was drawn and she looked like she had recently been crying. She caught his
gaze and looked away. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, whatever it
was. Mr. Foley decided to be discreet, smiled, and turned back to his work.
If she wanted to talk, she would. He never pushed for a confidence.

Scott took one look at Betty as she passed him in the hall and was instantly
sorry he had done so. He was sorry for a lot of things lately. He was sorry
he had conned that job out of Victor. He was sorry he had been caught
embezzling the funds for Victors memorial. He was sorry he had ever come to
Pittsburgh, but mostly he was sorry he had ever met Betty Roberts. He was
sorry he had made her cry.

Regret was a strange feeling for Scott. He had made girls cry before,
plenty of times, but this was the first time he had ever been sorry.
He didn’t like this feeling. It was too inconvenient. He took a cup of water
from the cooler in the hall and went into the studio to again play Hilary’s gardener
on Bedside Manor. He loved doing that. Having Jeff away did have certain advantages.

Betty went to the ladies room to splash some water on her face. After so
little sleep, some cold water might be just the thing to perk her up. She
met Maple at the mirror touching up her makeup.

"Gosh, honey. You look like death warmed over" Maple said as she patted her
powder over her nose. "Everything all right?"

Betty dashed some water onto her face and smiled wanly at Maple.
"Yeah, thanks Maple, but I’m fine. Just a little insomnia last night. I’ve
been a little worried lately. Nothing a good cup of coffee won’t cure."

Maple glanced at her watch. It was nearly seven thirty. She grinned at
Betty and said comfortingly, "Don’t worry Betty. There’s only two things
that can go wrong in this world. One is your job and the other is a man. If its
your job, you have nothing to worry about. You’re a natural wonder around here.
And if its a man, you’ve got even less to worry about. There’s not one on this earth worth losing a nights sleep over. At least none that live in Pittsburgh"

Betty smiled back at her as Maple left the ladies room and headed toward the studio.
Betty smiled to herself as Maples bright red hair retreated out the ladies
room door. What would she think, Betty wondered, if she knew that my problem
was my job and two men. Maybe she’d think I was "that kind of girl" instead
of her.

She went to the Green Room and sat, sipping her coffee quietly. At five to
eight she heard Hilary Booth came in the reception area and exchange a quick
banter with Gertie. Just on time, as usual, Betty said to herself. Some
things at least will never change. She might have to keep the terrible
secret that Victor Comstock was alive and broadcasting Nazi propaganda. She
might have to work every day with Scott Sherwood, who was commanding far more
of her thoughts than she liked.

But somehow Hilary breezing in the door, barely on time for the show, made her feel better. Despite it all, Hilary was still the same diva she had always been. By the time Betty had the
chance to think about scolding her, she was in the studio reading her lines
with the skill of long practice. Hilary really was a professional, Betty
thought, in spite of everything.

She knew how much Hilary really missed Jeff. She was furious at him for what he had done of course, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss him. Hilary loved Jeff. Betty was as sure of that as she was of anything these days. Naturally, she was angry, absolutely furious,
but she loved him.

Suddenly, Betty was angry with Jeff too. How dare he do this to Hilary. How
dare he do it to all of them. And for what, so he could marry that vicious little tart
Pavla. He had betrayed the station. He was a traitor. As much a traitor to
WENN as Jonathan Arnold was to America.

But Jonathan Arnold wasn’t a traitor to America. He was Victor. Over in Berlin risking his life so he could…….so he could what? What did Victor hope to accomplish by this charade?
Make the whole country hate him.

She heard Maple and Eugenia’s disgusted comments when he was on the radio and
she loathed every minute that he was broadcasting. They were only typical of
what was being said every day in living rooms and offices across America.

Jonathan Arnold was a traitor, a cowardly turncoat, an evil man who should
be stopped. What the devil had Victor been thinking. He had just been in a
bombing. He had been badly injured. The government was using him. He was
just a pawn to them.

Hearing Jonathan Arnold’s broadcasts had comforted Betty at first. They were
her only indication that Victor was alive. But she had been feeling uneasy
lately when she listened to them. They were too good. She couldn’t detect
any of Victor’s voice in the silly Western voice of the character. If it
were Mackie, she would expect not to be able to detect his real voice.

Mackie was the man of a thousand voices. He could do a Texas accent
perfectly. Victor never did voices. Maybe it wasn’t Victor at all. Maybe
the Nazi’s had found out his secret. Maybe they had killed him and put on an
substitute in his place. Or maybe they had brainwashed him, tortured him
even. She had heard stories about what the Nazi’s did to people, and Victor
was alone with them these past several months. God only knows what they had
done to him. She suddenly hated Victor. He was doing this deliberately. He
was teasing her. Didn’t he realize what this was putting her through?

My God, she thought. Am I in love with him? I must be. You don’t hate
someone this much if you don’t love them a little. Or maybe you do. Maybe
the whole idea that love and hate were the same thing was a silly convention
of soap operas. Fit for The Hands of Time or Valiant Journey, but a foolish
conceit in the real world.

She looked in at Hilary glaring at Scott, but reading her lines perfectly.
Betty remembered the night of the bombing. For hours they had not known who
was alive. Jeff was back in London now, back in danger. Perhaps he had
done it on purpose too, Betty thought. Perhaps Jeff had realized how much
Hilary would miss him and had married Pavla to give her an excuse to hate him
so she would not grieve if he were killed. Would Jeff do that? Who knows.

Betty didn’t know what to think of anyone anymore. No one was as they
seemed. Only she was. She was still Betty Roberts of Elkheart, Indiana. She
knew her reputation all too well. Professional radio writer and all around
perky girl. She didn’t know how long she could keep up that illusion either.
She felt about as perky as a wet rag at the bottom of the sink.

She missed Elkheart. More than that, she missed feeling as if all the answers
were there. Elkheart was a lovely town filled with kind people, but it had
never prepared her to learn to be deceptive or hide her emotions. It
certainly had never taught her how to handle the problems she was facing now.

The slightest slip from her could jeopardize Victor’s life. Surely, that was
far more important than any romantic problems that came out of the whole
thing.

But there were romantic problems. Betty left the Green Room and stood next
to C.J. in the control room. She looked at Scott through the glass as he did
his absurdly passionate portrayal of Simmons the gardener. She had to admit
it had brought some needed life to a rather dull morning show. Hilary had
gotten used to it and from staring at him in shocked horror, she had gone to
her own brand of banter with him. Hilary wouldn’t let Scott intimidate her
for very long. Hilary wouldn’t let anyone intimidate her for very long.

Betty felt woefully inadequate to the whole situation. From considering
Victor, she drifted over to considering Scott. She remembered that evening
Scott had kissed her. It was hardly her first kiss, but it was the first one
she had ever received without her own express or implied consent. The boys
in Elkheart had been so proper and polite. She was a nice girl who never
kissed before the third date. They all knew it and behaved accordingly.

Victor had kissed her, of course, but that was different. He was going away
for a good long time. Maybe going away to die. He had known she wouldn’t
mind. Scott had known she would mind. That was the difference.

She respected Victor as a brilliant radio man. He had the same fire and love for
this business that she had. He had been right about radio all the time.

Bringing creations to life and making people believe in them was almost like
being God. She wouldn’t have expressed it that way, perhaps, but Betty knew
Victor had been right. She also respected Victor as a great and brave man.

He was in a war zone right now. Risking his life at the complete mercy of
the Nazis. He had trusted her enough to come home for the express purpose of
telling her the truth. He had committed treason to tell her. More than
anything else, she respected Victor because she knew Victor respected her.
She cared about Victor because she knew they both cared about the same
things.

Scott was different. She knew Scott respected her as a bright girl, as a
writer, as a friend. But not as a woman. Scott had probably never respected
any woman as a woman. She didn’t like the way he looked at her sometimes. It
made her nervous. Yet, Scott did have certain things going for him. He was
here, for one thing. He wasn’t in Elkheart or in Berlin. He could be
unbelievably charming when he put him mind to it, and he did know how to
kiss. That was certain. He definitely knew how to kiss. Well, Victor knew
how to kiss too, but that didn’t change the fact that Victor was in Berlin.

Scott was standing a few feet away from her.

She had to do something. She had spent too much time writing fiction to live
her life according to its rules. In fiction, people could afford to behave
romantically. They could allow themselves to be swept off their feet and act
stupidly and recklessly. She couldn’t let herself do that. Her own
happiness, and possibly Victors life depended on her being intelligent and
mature about the whole thing.

What did she really know about Scott Sherwood. Three things for certain.
First, he was a brilliant businessman who had taken WENN from the brink of
disaster many times. Not always entirely honestly, but always effectively.
He had said when he first came that he wanted to take the station out of the
red and put it in the black, and darned if he hadn’t done exactly that.

Second, she knew he was a liar and a scoundrel. He had conned Victor, he had
conned her, he had conned the whole station. But he could have run out at any
time. What made him stay? He had no reason to care whether WENN lived or
died, but even after Pruitt fired him he came back, took a pay cut, and
worked as an actor just to be there. Why would he do that? A man without
ties or cares, refusing to leave the station no matter what he had to do to
stay. That was the kind of thing she could see Victor doing, but why Scott?

Third, she knew he was a very good kisser. Betty knew that more certainly
than she knew the other two. She thought about it and shivered, hoping C.J
was too intent on his equipment and Scott and Hilary too busy with their
acting to notice her sudden change of expression.

One way or the other, she decided at that moment, I’ve got to find out. If
there is anything worthwhile about Scott at all. Any reason for me to care
for him. If he is anything beyond a worthless guy in a bar who conned Victor
out of a job. Is he conning me too, or is there something there. If he
isn’t I’ll give myself a firm shake and a good scolding, but at least I’ll
know. Hardly a day goes by that he doesn’t ask me on some kind of a date.
OK, Betty Roberts, the next date he asks you on, you’re going.

Three evenings later, Betty sat opposite Scott at a table at Bellas, the
Italian restaurant in Monroeville. She was eating eggplant parmagiana with
great gusto. She was very hungry but had deliberately ordered something
fairly inexpensive. She had decided to be very nice to Scott since she knew
he was not earning much as an actor. If he were still station manager, she
would have gone for the veal. Congratulating herself on her ladylike
subtlety and consideration, she looked straight at Scott without flinching.

She was here for a reason, she had to remember, and it wasn’t Italian food.
They chatted aimlessly for awhile. Mutual smiles over Hilary’s prima donna
behavior, Mr. Eldridges continual confusion, and Maples rather silly new hat.
But the conversation soon dwindled and they ate for awhile in silence.

"Betty", Scott finally said, twirling his spaghetti around his fork with
practiced aplomb. "I’d be the last one on earth to question my good
fortune, but why, after turning me down about ten thousand times for a date,
did you finally say yes tonight?" Scott looked truly baffled.

"Just to see what kind of look I would get to see on your face, Scotty",
Betty told him, only half lying. The whole date would be worth it just for
the look on his face when she finally said yes after months of rejections.
"If I blew on you at that moment, you would have fallen on the floor".

"Yes, but I would have enjoyed the fall"

"You should have a meeting with C.J. You want me to blow on you. He wants to
pat my head and rub my tummy". Scott burst into laughter, choked, and sent
minestrone soup across the tablecloth, and Betty out of her seat to slap him
on the back.

"What the hell goes on in that station when I’m not looking?" he asked, his
eyes registering his laughter.

"Oh, its a den of iniquity if you but knew". She looked down at her food,
suddenly embarrassed. She was flirting with Scott Sherwood. God, what had she
become in three years in Pittsburgh. Her parents would be horrified. Back in
Indiana, she wouldn’t even be allowed to meet a man like Scott, much less go
out with him.

"No really, Betty. I honestly was about to give up trying?" he said. "You
were an iceberg. I thought there was no way you would ever cast your lovely
smile upon my unworthy countenance again."

"I figured I had to give you some credit for persistence", Betty answered.
"When most men are turned down seventy three times, they don’t try a seventy
fourth. Besides, I started thinking maybe I saw some changes in you. Not an
extraordinary amount, mind you, but a little."

"You were right. I have changed since I came to Pittsburgh. I know that."
Scott looked thoughtful.

Betty eyes automatically opened wide in surprise, than narrowed with suspicion. She knew all of Scott Sherwood’s looks. She even knew his thoughtful look. But this one wasn’t his standard thoughtful look. This one was different. He really was being thoughtful, not just
creating a masterful illusion of it. Betty had never seen that before.

"You know I could have left town anytime after Victor died, Betty. I had no
ties to Pittsburgh. There were other jobs in other towns I could have found.
Station manager at WENN doesn’t pay enough to keep me there just for the
money, and when Pruitt fired me, I could easily have left town and found
another job. If I conned my way into one job, I would not have been much of a
problem to con my way into another. But I came back. I became an actor and I
took a very big pay cut just so I wouldn’t have to stay away. Tell me,
Betty. Why did I do that?"

"If you tell me its because you were entranced by my beautiful eyes, I’ll
throw what’s left of your soup at you.", Betty answered quietly.

"I don’t deny your beautiful eyes were an attraction, but they were merely a
bonus. I stayed because I had gained something I didn’t know I could have. I
don’t say it was a sense of morality. I may never have that. But I will
call it a sense of connection with people other than myself. Whatever it is,
I actually started caring about the station, about all you guys. With Victor
gone, you grief stricken, the station in an uproar, Pruitt would have come in
with an ax and gotten rid of the lot of you. Do you think he’d have cared how
sick with grief you were? He would have seen what you were doing to the
ratings of the station and fired you without a second thought. Without
Victor the station had a chance, if the quality of the writing stayed as high
as he had established as a standard, but without your writing, Betty, the
actors would have nothing to say. The station would have gone under. You all
would be out of work eventually. I stayed to help you guys save your jobs and
to keep Victor’s dreams for WENN alive."

"I can buy that Scott. You got to know us and you started caring about what
happened to us. You were with us for several weeks before Victor was killed.
But why would you care about Victor’s hopes and dreams. You only met him
once. You never really knew him."

"Now that I will blame on you, Betty. I saw you after Victor died. You were
in shock. Not sleeping, hardly eating, working yourself into a frenzy,
practically hysterical with grief. Do you think I didn’t wonder what it
would be like to have a sweet, pretty girl react like that to my death. If I
were killed by a bomb, do you think anyone would have lost a meal or a
minutes sleep about it?"

"Well, maybe not when you first came. But now we would. All of us at the
station. Gertie, Maple, Mr. Eldridge, all of us."

"Hilary?"

"Well, maybe not Hilary." Betty laughed. "No, I take that back. Even Hilary."

"Victor’s death affected me a lot Betty. More than you know. Maybe even
more than it affected you in some ways. He cared for you very much. He may
even have been in love with you. I could tell that just from how much you
cared about him. The only thing he cared for as much as he cared for you was
his station. The station was my job now. I had to care about it for his
sake. The same reason I had to care for you. When Victor died, I did more
than just take over his station. I took over his feelings for you. When
Victor died, he gave you to me."

"I’m sorry, Scott, but you never knew him."

"I never knew him, but I knew you. They say you can tell a lot about a person
by what kind of a person cares for him. Victor must have been one hell of a
human being, to make you care so much. You and WENN were the only important
things in his life, and he gave you both up because he saw there was
something more important out there. He would have wanted both you and WENN
cared for and protected. Without me, both of you would have disappeared in
his wake. I intend to protect both of you from harm. I am never leaving
WENN until you do.

If you had taken that job in New York, I would have come with you. I was ready to buy the train ticket. Only when you show you no longer care about WENN more than anything else on earth will I stop caring for it. I think Victor would have wanted someone to look after the two of you. Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted someone like me, but I’m what there is
and I will stay until you can find someone more qualified to do it."

Scott stopped, his fork in midair above his spaghetti, suddenly aware he was
confiding too much, letting his guard down, being more honest than he had
ever meant to be. He looked at Betty’s eyes, trying to gauge what her
reaction would be before she spoke.

Betty looked down at her food and stabbed an olive with her fork. She didn’t
know what to say or even to think. It was unbelievable really. Victor had
instilled in Scott the same love of the station he had given her, and Victor
had never even really known Scott. Victor certainly had managed to change a
lot of peoples life with his death, especially for a man who wasn’t really
dead. If Victor ever comes back, Betty thought savagely, I’m either going to
kiss him or kill him.

If Victor ever did come back, she would have a different problem. She would
have to choose, but for right now, WENN was more important than anything
else. More important than her feelings for Victor. Victor was dead as far as
the world was concerned and Betty knew she had to behave as if her were dead
to her too. Someday, Scott would learn the truth. Someday they all would,
and Victor would be known as the hero he was. Until then, he was dead, and a
small radio station in Pittsburgh was his shrine.

"Victor really was something, wasn’t he?" she said softly. "He may have done
more for WENN dead then he did alive. All right Scott. I’ll take you at your
word. You care for this station and for me, and I care for the station an
for you. But remember one thing though, as far as I’m concerned, the station
comes first. If I ever have to choose between you, my choice won’t be you."

"I know that Betty, and I wouldn’t have any other way. The station is your
life. Without it you wouldn’t be Betty Roberts ,and I wouldn’t want you."

"If you run out, Scott. If you do what Jeff did, betraying the station like
that, If you betray me like Jeff betrayed Hilary, I’ll never forgive you."

"Then you do care for me a little? Not just because I care for WENN. Not
just because I have appointed myself guardian of the dreams of Victor
Comstock. You really do care for me?"

"A little, Scott. You’ll never be Victor, but you make a pretty good Scott.
That’s all I can say right now"

"That’s enough. I know I am not of your class. I never will be. You grew up
learning concepts like honesty and morality from the cradle. I never learned
them. But I did learn loyalty, and I know when I’ve found something good.
I’ve got the best life I’ve ever had right now. I’ll stay as long as you
want me too. WENN isn’t really Pruitt’s station, you know. It’s ours."

Betty finished the last of her eggplant and looked up at him. Her eyes had
been watering, but whether from Scott’s speech or from the spices she
honestly did not know. It didn’t really matter anyway. What mattered was
that Scott was on her side. They were partners in crime, manipulating
sponsors, deceiving Pruitt, appeasing the rivalries and egos of the actors
and the staff, all for WENN. All for the dreams of Victor Comstock was their
link to one another. WENN was their cause. That was what was important.

Anything else they felt for each other, be it love or hate or anything in
between, was merely secondary.

"Pruitt will destroy the station, Scott. You do realize that, don’t you?"

Betty didn’t have to answer what he had said to her. Her answer was in her
eyes and her manner.

"Without a doubt. He’ll shovel our grave with the way he runs the station.
WENN will be lucky to be around in five years if we don’t get rid of him
somehow"

"We have to get rid of him. I know if we can come up with some way to get him
and Miss Cosgrave out of our hair for good, the rest of the staff will do
whatever we want. They all detest Pruitt as much as we do. There must be
something we can do, Scott. There must be something."

Scott thought silently for a moment. Then he gazed at her and gave her a
conspiratorial smile.

"Piece of cake"

The End

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