Moving On (Power Rangers Time Force)
Mar. 16th, 2011 03:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estinoseSummary: Wes is trying to get over Jen. But will he be able to do so when he meets Rachel, who could almost be her identical twin? (Moving On storyline)
Disclaimer: I own Gremlin, but the rest belong to Saban.
Rating: PG (Maybe PG-13 later)
Spoilers: End of Time
Author's notes: While I have written quite a few Wes/Jen fics, I am not really a Wes/Jen 'shipper. Still, their relationship, especially in light of the end of "End of Time" is fascinating, and I really wanted to deal with how Wes dealt with a possible life without Jen. This fic uses some of the semi-official names given to the TF Rangers.
This was originally posted in two chapters on fanfiction.net and is posted in the same two here.
Moving On
by Estirose
copyright 2002
It was a sunny, warm day in the middle of winter, and Wesley Collins, along with the rest of Silver Hills, was enjoying the break from the cold weather. It had been over a year since his friends had left for the last time in their ship, and he had been busy structuring and gathering funds for the free public incarnation of the Silver Guardians.
While he and Eric still trained together, he noticed more and more that he was being pushed towards administrative functions. Part of it, he suspected, was because his father's bootlickers still trusted him over Eric, never mind that Eric was educated and intelligent. That frustrated both of them to no end; it was the same kind of snobbiness that punctuated their time at prep school.
The last year had been... interesting, to say the least. Being a Ranger had left him little time to deal with relationships outside dealing with his father and the Rangers, and little time even for his father. Not that it had been a big deal during that time, as he'd believed his father had disowned him.
Now he knew that his father had been extremely proud of him, and continued to praise him for his work with the Silver Guardians. Sometimes he wished that he could continue to have his cake and eat it too, have his teammates with him, but he knew all things had to come to an end.
In particular, he missed Jen. He'd been *so* mature about letting her go, realizing that there was no time to start the relationship that he'd known would have been possible if he'd just spoken about his feelings. But he didn't want to feel foolish, not in front of her and not in front of the others. Besides, he was sure that Time Force had a rule about fraternization, and he'd sworn the loyalty oath.
But that didn't mean he wished there had been one, or that he'd not been so shy about things.
Still, the past was the past and he doubted that anyone was going to invent a time machine by the time he died. In fact, it would probably be a thousand years until humanity traveled in time on purpose. So he had to get on with his life. At some point in the future, no doubt, he would run Bio-Lab. He had to let go and find someone else to love, or at least someone else to marry.
But he doubted he'd ever fall in love again. Not with Jen fresh in his mind. Not besotted like a teen on a woman that he could never have because he was born ten centuries too early.
"Oof!" he pronounced as someone he wasn't paying attention to ran straight into him. He looked into the face of someone... someone female.
She had a pleasant face which reminded him of Jen's. In fact, on closer examination, she looked a lot like his former teammate, except for short red hair which was definitely not dyed. There was no way the woman had had a dye job.
"Oh, sorry! Did I hurt you?" she asked, and he could have sworn that she also sounded exactly like his team leader. Of course, that was impossible. Jen's task was done and she was living in the thirtieth century as far as he knew.
"No, I'm okay," he responded. She continued checking him out in concern, the way that Jen might have.
"Hey, I'm Rachel. Coming to the fair?"
That's right, there was a fair. A celebration of the history of Silver Hills. He'd initially decided not to go because he didn't feel he could handle seeing pictures of the Rangers again.
But at the moment, it couldn't hurt to remind himself that this woman was not Jen coming to the past to be back with him. She'd come straight up, get onto the grounds, and resume their relationship. Not bump right into him and invite him out. That had not been Jen's way.
"Sure, I'll go," he said, smiling as she took his hand and pulled him along. Definitely not Jen.
* * *
"So, have you ever gone out with someone before?"
Wes shook his head. "I was in love with someone once before. But we didn't realize it until she had to move away."
Smooth lie. There was no way that Rachel could know that the last time he'd seen the love of his life was as she was beamed up to the ship that would take her back to her time. Rachel would probably react to it like he'd reacted to Jen's initial tale.
"Oh. I'm sorry," she said, sounding and looking like she meant it. "To know you love someone and not be able to be close to them. Where'd she'd move to?"
"Somewhere that it's really hard to get in contact with her."
He couldn't say for certain, but he felt that Rachel was one of those people who wore their emotions on their sleeve. "I'm sorry," she responded. "I didn't mean to cause pain. Me and my big mouth."
"It's not your fault," he reassured her. It wasn't her fault, after all. She had brought up the subject, and it was his own fault if it had brought him pain, just as her uncanny resemblance did.
Rachel smiled at that, in a way that reminded him of Jen, but Jen had never been so open until she had gotten to know him and had relaxed a little. "Anyway, I was thinking if you were single, we could go out on a date?"
He returned her smile, wondering if it was a wise idea to do even that. Should he pretend an imaginary girlfriend? No, he'd just said that he'd hadn't had a date since Jen, and not even then. And he didn't want to offend her.
But maybe, maybe...
"I know this is going to sound weird, but you look and sound like the girl that moved away," he said. "You're pretty, and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you, but I want to get to know you as you, and I don't think I could do that right now."
Rachel's face dropped, and then a smile began to warm her face again. "An honest guy. Oh, she must have been so lucky! I don't want to be looked at and reacted to like I was somebody else, either."
If she only knew, he thought. If she had only knew that her almost-physical-double had done exactly that to him the first time they had met.
But he didn't want to tell her about Jen. He didn't want to involve her in his life if he wasn't going to treat her right.
As they stepped into the cloth-walled exhibit, he responded, "That's why I wouldn't want to go out on a date until I was sure I could tell the difference. It's going to take me a long time to get over her. Maybe not ever."
"Oh, why didn't I meet you months earlier?" Rachel said, her face clearly in a pout. "Why couldn't I have met you before her?"
"If you had known me before I knew her, I'm not sure that you'd like me," he said honestly. "I got to know her... and a lot changed."
Rachel smiled again. "I guess that I'm lucky to have met you now."
"Yeah, lucky," Wes echoed, as they looked at the exhibits. The exhibit was a short one, and he could see a picture of the Rangers coming up. He knew without looking that this was probably something Bio-Lab had probably quietly contributed to, since there was a picture of the Silver Guardians. Why hadn't someone told him, if that was the case?
It didn't really matter. He hadn't intended on seeing this, especially with a girl he had just met and who reminded him of Jen but wasn't. And, as he reminded himself, he couldn't let his guard down. This was not Jen, and she had no idea about her history with the Rangers, nor that the features under that helmet were the same as hers.
Somehow they got out of the exhibit and Wes blinked his eyes at the sunlight after the cool dimness of the exhibit hall. "That was interesting," Rachel was saying. "I had no idea of the history here. Not native to Silver Hills, y'see."
Knowing that the small talk would help him regain his composure, he responded, "You aren't?"
Rachel shook her head. "Nope. Came to do a customer service job in the billing department for Alexis Communications."
"The wireless carrier," he acknowledged.
"Umhum. I've been three months. I wanted a change of scenery, so here I came."
Wes had to smile at that. "We're still rebuilding."
She returned his smile. "Yeah, I've heard about that. You know, I was afraid to go to Silver Hills? But Alexis pays well enough, and it's a good new start. Me and the city can rebuild together."
Wes nodded. The Silver Guardians had had a hand at that.
"Anyway, want something to eat? I'll pay," Rachel offered. "After all, I'm the one that ran into you."
"Thanks, but I need to go," Wes said, trying to find a way out. He'd probably never see Rachel again, and that was a good thing. She didn't drive him off, personality-wise, but he really didn't want to hurt this girl.
"Hey, that's fine," she said, reaching in to her purse. She seemed to be sorting through about forty zillion pieces of paper before finally coming up with a pen and a small notebook, tearing a piece of paper from it. "Look, I know from the way you act that you're someone that I'd like to associate with. I know you don't want to be false to me. But, maybe, call me sometime? I think I'd enjoy being friends with you, if nothing else. I know this sounds forward, but...."
She scribbled something on the little piece of paper and thrust it at him. He knew without looking at it that it was either her phone number or her email address, or probably both. "See ya!" she said before striding off, stopping to look at him after a half dozen steps as if she should say something more.
He looked at the messy handwriting and made out an email address. That was fine by him. He had a free email account, after all, to use as a throwaway just in case things went bad. She didn't know his last name, so there was no reason for her to question why he was using such an address.
So he would write her back. As long as he kept to his first name, there would be no problem. They would be friends, and as long as they kept to email. No problem there. He wouldn't be looking at her and reacting to her like she was Jen.
Wes squinted at a smaller squiggle that seemed to be a phone number, but he couldn't tell. Rachel had probably the worst handwriting he'd ever seen. Odd, most lefties had better handwriting than that, and most right-handed folk didn't bother to learn how to write left-handed, or so he had heard two of the Bio-Lab secretaries saying.
He could envision the first sentence of his email to her: "Hi, this is the guy from the fair. I intended to call you, but I couldn't decipher your phone number."
That was, of course, if he could be sure he was reading her email address clearly. Of course. He could say that he never got in touch with her because he couldn't read her handwriting. And it would be mostly the truth.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
Shaking his head, Wes headed off to look for his bike. It was clear that he had some thinking to do on the subject.
* * *
He was off, he was sure, as he kept colliding on the floor during his daily sparring sessions with Eric. Even his business partner and sometime friend must have noticed it, as he reached a hand out to help Wes out.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" Eric demanded.
"I've had something on my mind, that's all," Wes answered defensively.
"LIke what?" came the challenge.
Knowing that he'd never hear the end of it unless he told, he answered, "I met a girl."
"You met a girl," Eric repeated. "Since when does that shake you?"
"Since she looked just like Jen," Wes told him. "I mean, just like Jen, except that she had short red hair. She asked me to go out with her."
"And did you?" Eric asked. "Let me guess, no."
Wes shook his head. "How could I? I'd look at her and think of Jen, just like Jen looked at me and thought of Alex."
"For some reason, she still fell in love with you, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. Why don't you go and invite her out so at least the Silver Guardians won't have to suffer you going through another pity party."
He opened his mouth to answer Eric, but realized his co-commander was right. It had taken him a while to adjust after his teammates had left, and it was fortunate that Eric could handle things. He was, after all, very intelligent and sharp.
"You're right," he told Eric, catching the surprise that flashed momentarily over his teammate's face. "I'll go write her back."
* * *
Wes pondered the email that had arrived in the mailbox on the free provider.
"Wes!!
Hi, I wasn't sure you'd reply. Wow.
Yes, I'm the girl who knocked you over at the History Fair. I'm sorry you couldn't read my numbers - I know, my handwriting's atrocious sometimes. Anyway, I wrote my number at the end of this email. Give me a call, okay? I'd love to get to know you better.
Rachel Whannel"
Well, now he had a name, an email address and a number. But despite everything, should he call?
Looking again at the telephone, he picked it up and dialed. A slightly breathless voice answered the line.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Rachel?"
"Yeah. Wes? Is that you? Wow."
He could hear the amazed smile in her voice and answered, "It's me. So, you want to have lunch sometime?"
"I'd love to! Have to be weekends though."
"No problem. The Morrison on Saturday at noon?"
"Love to. Bye!"
Wes smiled as he put the phone down. He couldn't help it; something about Rachel made him smile.
* * *
Rachel was waiting for him at the Morrison, relaxed against a bench. She stood up as he approached her, smiling all the way. "Hey there, stranger," she said. "I haven't reserved us a table yet, ready to go?"
"Sure," he responded.
At lunch, Rachel chatted about anything and everything. When she was so talkative, she was easy to differentiate from Jen. If it hadn't been for Jen, he would probably have fallen in love with her. She was clearly bright and friendly, easygoing and relaxed. "You really haven't seen me at my best, really." she told him.
But she was definitely not Jen. An interesting person to listen to and to talk to, but she wasn't Jen.
"And I don't want to be a rebound relationship, either," Rachel told him. "Take your time. Friendship is worth a lot; don't forget that."
He didn't.
* * *
Eventually, every Saturday Wes found himself having lunch with Rachel. He had let a few things slip, but he was rather reserved telling her about himself. She knew what he did do for a living, and once she connected his surname, she had realized who he was.
But, much to Wes' relief, she never pressed him for a date. "I don't want to give you the impression that I want to be with you for your money. That's not my style."
And, as time passed, he noticed she became more serious, more quiet. It was as if she had some inner demons that she would not tell him about. Sometimes, he imagined he saw some mannerism of Jen's in Rachel, and then he had to shake his head and remind himself that Jen was happily back in her own time, and her ethics and honor wouldn't allow her to dress up as a twenty-first century civilian, even for him.
No, Rachel was just some kind of ancestor for Jen, which probably meant that the two would never marry.
So the two of them settled down for a friendship, and Wes was relieved that there was nothing more than a nice girl there who wanted to know him for himself rather than his connections. Rachel was happy with her job, and with her salary, and desired little more out of life than some good friends and an apartment building that allowed cats.
And as long as she didn't do anything that reminded him of Jen, that was fine by him. It was harder, though, nowadays. She was too calm and sweet to be Jen, but sometimes, when she was serious, and when she was quiet, he could look at her and swear he saw Jen looking back at him.
He didn't want Rachel to turn into Jen. Not in reality, and not in his imagination. So, one fine Saturday, at four in the afternoon on the one weekend she'd begged off lunch, he took a car and drove to her apartment.
Knocking softly on her door, he clutched the casserole dish containing the lasagna. It was one of her favorites, and he was able to convince his father's chef to make some for her. The chef, being a romantic at heart, had readily agreed.
"Who is it? Oh," Rachel said, her hair in disarray as if she'd just woken up. "Hi, Wes, what're you doing here?"
"I just wanted to cheer you up," he said, offering the lasagna in its dish to her.
Taking the casserole, she opened the lid and breathed in deeply. "It smells so good. Thanks for making it."
Wes blushed. "Brought it, actually. I was talking to the family chef and he's the one who made it for you."
Rachel smiled, putting the lid back on. "Homemade, still. That was really, really sweet of you, Wes. Hey, want to come in while I put this down? I feel I owe you something for coming all the way out here to give me my favorite."
"Hey, I'd do it for any friend that wasn't feeling well."
She brightened. "Thanks, Wes, I really mean it."
Wes followed her in and shut the door behind him as she carefully carried the dish into her small kitchen. Gremlin, her cat, greeted the two of them with his odd meow, jumping onto the counter as she put the dish down. Rachel deftly lifted him up and put him down and he stalked off, apparently unhappy at her action.
Opening her refrigerator, she picked up a container and put it down in disgust. "Hey, if you want to stay here, we can share it. I just have to pick up something at the store. Sit down and I'll be right back."
Picking up one of several hairbrushes that seemed to be scattered around the house, she quickly brushed her hair, put on some shoes, and grabbed her purse. Then with a quick wave, she left, locking the door behind her.
Wes would have remained sitting, except when he heard a 'crash' coming from her bedroom. He hurried in, seeing Gremlin sit calmly down on the dresser, with one of the boxes she must have normally kept there on the floor.
As he picked it up, he saw something underneath the dresser. He frowned and picked it up, holding it up to the light.
Blinking, just in case his eyes were deceiving him, he looked at the object again.
What in the heck was Rachel Whannel doing with a thirtieth century communications device? One that wasn't halfway smashed, at that? The last time he had seen one of those was when Trip was working on some of the debris from the timeship crash. Such a piece of equipment would be keyed to work entirely on one person's DNA so it wasn't likely that someone from his time could activate it. Rachel's red hair would make her DNA sufficiently different so that she couldn't activate such a device as Wes had been able to do with Alex's morpher.
He examined the dents some more. Had some treasure collector scavenged it before his teammates had had a chance to look at it? Had he sold it, and that's how it came to rest under Rachel's dresser?
It was either that, or for some reason Rachel wasn't who she seemed to be. Sure, by some terrible coincidence a girl who looked and sounded a lot like Jen, who'd just moved into the area a few months before, could have bought what she thought was a piece of junk, but it made Wes suspicious.
Wes put the box back on the table, put the communicator back under the dresser, and picked Gremlin up. By the time Rachel came back with her soymilk, Gremlin was purring in his lap.
* * *
Several hours later, the two of them were still sitting in front of Rachel's TV. Wes had deliberately suggested some kung-fu movies, just to see Rachel's reactions, but to his disappointment she had fallen asleep. She apparently found them very boring. He started to wonder if he was just imagining things, that Rachel was not Jen, and he was suffering from teammate deficiency.
Still having doubts, however, he shook her gently. "Jen, where did Katie hide Lucas' poetry book this time? By the gears?"
"I don't know." Rachel murmured, sounding like she wasn't entirely there. "Go ask Katie, Wes. Or maybe Trip knows."
Wes shook her once more, finally waking her up. "Hi, Jen. What are you doing here?"
She blinked owlishly at him, horror appearing on her face.
"What are you *talking* about?" she asked, the horror fading from her face to be replaced by a calm resolve.
Without answering her, Wes went to her bedroom and retrieved the communications device, tossing it to her. She caught it deftly and looked at it. As she did, he explained, "There were a few of these on the first timeship. I know about it because Trip was working on them, and he explained them to me. Besides, how would some stranger named Rachel from Cheyenne know about Lucas' poetry, or that Katie hid the book behind the gears of the clock tower once?"
Her shoulders sagged as she looked at the device. "I knew I should have had Trip design me a new shell. I didn't think you'd find it."
Shrugging, Wes crossed back to the couch and sat down. "Well, I did. What in the heck are you doing back in the twenty-first century, under an assumed name and in disguise? Jen, last I checked, you hated disguises! Remember that time with the Super Strong gym?"
"Yes, I remember. But I didn't have a choice, Wes! I couldn't risk Alex finding out what I'd done. He thinks I'm dead, and that the timeship that I was on was destroyed. That's what Trip tells me, anyway."
"Trip's in on this?" Wes asked, though he wasn't totally surprised.
"All of them are. Were. Wes, it took us five years to plan out and implement what you see today."
Wes tried to not close his eyes in despair.
As if not seeing his distress, Jen continued on. "It was actually Lucas who got the idea to come to the past. Originally, we were hoping to bring you into the future, but we couldn't risk Alex finding out and sending you back home. Besides, we're far more familiar with the twenty-first century than you are with our time."
"Personally, I wouldn't have taken offense," Wes told her.
"I know. But the others could see, even before I did, that I had lost touch with my own time. I just couldn't see any reason to get up out of bed in the morning. Oh, Alex was starting to press his desire to start up our relationship again, and I still had my job, but I had nothing to live for. In the end, it was Lucas that confronted me and told me that he couldn't stand it any more."
Wes nodded. It was similar to what he had experienced, but fortunately, he hadn't had the resources for such a crazy plan. Jen had been beyond his reach, and he had accepted that. Sort of. It had still taken a while before he could say he functioned, though.
"We planned it out carefully. I volunteered on several missions, just so that people would be used to me going on them. I kept Alex from being suspicious by never going near the twenty-first century, and finally, finally, he relaxed his guard. I was supposed to be going to the nineteenth century, alone, to retrieve an item that had fallen through a timehole. Instead, I packed what I wanted to take with me, and Trip modified the ship so that it would seem like it had vaporized."
"And the timeship?" Wes asked, suddenly hoping that he could send her back as he had once before.
"Vaporized. Wes, we're not exactly idiots either! We knew there was a possibility that you'd prematurely find out about me and attempt to trick me into coming home. I wanted you to remember me, remember the happy times, and for once, not think about the timestream. It's more flexible than you think, Wes. There's room for me, if I became someone else. That's why Rachel Whannel was born, and why Jennifer Scotts had to die in a timeship accident."
After a moment, she added, "Wes, I am not going to leave. This is my time now."
Wes looked at her, looked into her dark eyes, and knew that she was telling the truth. Over his objections, she would stay. Oh, he could write a postal letter and hoped it would get to someone in Time Force, but could he really do that?
Jen had been the one to turn his life around. She was the one who had convinced Alex to give him back his morpher. It was clear that she was willing to break the rules for what she thought of as a good clause, and their teammates were the same way.
Besides, Alex had released him from his oath shortly before the timeship had left for the last time. Jen was no longer his commanding officer, and he was free to pursue a relationship with her if he so pleased.
Still, he doubted that the timestream was as flexible as Jen thought it would be. Sure, there was some flexibility; the present hadn't changed much even though Katie insisted she'd met Walter Brown and that he had originally died lonely instead of meeting and marrying his wife.
And, besides, wasn't the road to hell paved with very good intentions? Love was important, but Jen of all people would know that there should be responsibility as well.
But Jen wasn't thinking with her brain. Jen and the others had been thinking with their hearts, just as they had when they had decided to stay in the Silver Hills of 2001, in imminent danger of death. He had been the only sensible one then, and obviously the only sensible one now.
Still, Jen had made it clear that even if they didn't pursue a relationship, she was staying. There was no future for her to go back to, at least in the sense that she had burned her bridges. He had the feeling that Jen would wait until the ends of the earth for him to come to his senses.
Jen was still looking at him expectantly, and he wasn't sure what to say. He really didn't want to break up with her, not after he had a chance with her, but he had to have space to think of alternatives. "I'll see you later, Jen," he managed to gasp out, and then headed for the door, ignoring his ex-commander's pleas.
* * *
Wes got up in the morning, reconnecting his phone, checking his email, and generally becoming part of the world again. After the debacle with Jen, he felt that he really needed to just remind himself that the world was normal. It was just his life that was now topsy-turvy.
"Good morning, Wes," his father greeted him. "I'm told you got in a little late last night."
"I was with Rachel," he said, surprised to see that he could still call Jen by her assumed name. "And then I had some things to think about."
His father nodded, taking the morning paper from a platter held by Philips and flipping it open. "You should bring Rachel over sometime, you know. I've been wanting to meet her."
Unable to tolerate the deception any longer, Wes said, "I think you have before."
"Oh?" his father said, leaning more towards him, paper momentarily forgotten. "In what way?"
"You know how I said she looks a lot like Jen? Well, that's because she *is* Jen. I found out by accident last night."
"She is? Excellent," the elder Collins told him. "I didn't like Jen at first. In fact, I resented her for quite a while. But she was the best thing that could have happened to us."
"Dad, I don't think you're seeing everything! She's not supposed to be here. It's like the trizirium crystals. Anything that comes here from the future is supposed to be destroyed or returned. It was only a fluke that Jen convinced her superiors that Eric and I could keep the morphers."
"Son, sometimes happiness is more important than anything else. Think about it." As Mr. Collins resumed reading the paper, he added, "Oh, and Eric wants to talk to you. You really shouldn't turn your pager off."
Rolling his eyes, Wes turned to have breakfast.
* * *
"Where have you been?" Eric asked as he entered. Eric was leaning against the doorframe of his office door, arms crossed. "I tried to page you last night!"
"I was a little occupied, Eric. If you must know, Jen is back. Rachel is Jen. Can you see my problem?"
"Not really," his co-commander said, entering his office. Wes followed him in.
"Look, Eric. She doesn't belong here. She's from the thirtieth century, and there's a reason she went home. If I could, I'd send her back."
"Plan on sticking her back on the timeship again, Collins? You know, sometimes people other than you want to have a say in their own destinies."
"I know that," Wes argued. "But not when it endangers the timestream."
"Look, mister high-and-mighty, sometimes us mere mortals know there are consequences too, all right? Jen knows what she's doing. And I think she knows it better than you do."
Wes shook his head. Would nobody understand? Or was he not understanding?
"Now, if you don't mind, since you were so out of touch last night, I have some things to do. Why don't you go out and resolve things with Jen so I don't have to listen to you mope for another three months."
Knowing a clue-by-four when he heard one, Wes headed back to his car, hoping Jen was still home.
* * *
As he knocked on the door of Jen's apartment, Wes wondered what he'd say. The stop at the florist had given him time to think, but nothing had come to his mind. Yes, he wanted to see Jen again. Yes, he wanted to resume their relationship. But he wasn't ready to start. This time, he would be the reluctant partner in this dance.
The door opened slowly, and Wes found himself holding his breath. He'd never given Jen flowers before, and he wasn't sure if roses meant anything different to the inhabitants of the thirtieth century.
"Wes," Jen greeted him, hair in a towel, though he could see little red hairs sticking out. "Come in."
She closed the door behind him and he found himself facing his former commanding officer once again. "These are for you," he said, holding the roses out awkwardly.
Jen gave him a tentative smile as Gremlin bolted towards his legs and proceeded to rub around him. "So, can you accept me here?"
"I guess... I guess that I can," Wes said, surprising himself with his words. "I still have reservations... but I think I should put those aside. I've been reminded of things."
Jen smiled, toweling her hair dry. "Thanks."
"For what?" he asked, surprised and uncertain of her meaning.
"For not being Alex. For not turning into Alex. When I met you, I didn't know this, but I was searching for something more in my life. When Alex came back to us, I knew that I had been, and that what, who, I was looking for was right in front of me. I wanted you, and I wanted you even before I realized I didn't want Alex. He'd changed, I'd changed, we'd all changed. I couldn't be what I was before. I didn't belong where I belonged before. So I came... home."
Wes stood there, speechless. Jen walked towards her bedroom, and he didn't follow her, not certain if he should. But she came out again, holding a little box, and Wes suddenly knew what it was.
"Will you marry me, Wesley Collins?"
He answered without words.
-end
Disclaimer: I own Gremlin, but the rest belong to Saban.
Rating: PG (Maybe PG-13 later)
Spoilers: End of Time
Author's notes: While I have written quite a few Wes/Jen fics, I am not really a Wes/Jen 'shipper. Still, their relationship, especially in light of the end of "End of Time" is fascinating, and I really wanted to deal with how Wes dealt with a possible life without Jen. This fic uses some of the semi-official names given to the TF Rangers.
This was originally posted in two chapters on fanfiction.net and is posted in the same two here.
Moving On
by Estirose
copyright 2002
It was a sunny, warm day in the middle of winter, and Wesley Collins, along with the rest of Silver Hills, was enjoying the break from the cold weather. It had been over a year since his friends had left for the last time in their ship, and he had been busy structuring and gathering funds for the free public incarnation of the Silver Guardians.
While he and Eric still trained together, he noticed more and more that he was being pushed towards administrative functions. Part of it, he suspected, was because his father's bootlickers still trusted him over Eric, never mind that Eric was educated and intelligent. That frustrated both of them to no end; it was the same kind of snobbiness that punctuated their time at prep school.
The last year had been... interesting, to say the least. Being a Ranger had left him little time to deal with relationships outside dealing with his father and the Rangers, and little time even for his father. Not that it had been a big deal during that time, as he'd believed his father had disowned him.
Now he knew that his father had been extremely proud of him, and continued to praise him for his work with the Silver Guardians. Sometimes he wished that he could continue to have his cake and eat it too, have his teammates with him, but he knew all things had to come to an end.
In particular, he missed Jen. He'd been *so* mature about letting her go, realizing that there was no time to start the relationship that he'd known would have been possible if he'd just spoken about his feelings. But he didn't want to feel foolish, not in front of her and not in front of the others. Besides, he was sure that Time Force had a rule about fraternization, and he'd sworn the loyalty oath.
But that didn't mean he wished there had been one, or that he'd not been so shy about things.
Still, the past was the past and he doubted that anyone was going to invent a time machine by the time he died. In fact, it would probably be a thousand years until humanity traveled in time on purpose. So he had to get on with his life. At some point in the future, no doubt, he would run Bio-Lab. He had to let go and find someone else to love, or at least someone else to marry.
But he doubted he'd ever fall in love again. Not with Jen fresh in his mind. Not besotted like a teen on a woman that he could never have because he was born ten centuries too early.
"Oof!" he pronounced as someone he wasn't paying attention to ran straight into him. He looked into the face of someone... someone female.
She had a pleasant face which reminded him of Jen's. In fact, on closer examination, she looked a lot like his former teammate, except for short red hair which was definitely not dyed. There was no way the woman had had a dye job.
"Oh, sorry! Did I hurt you?" she asked, and he could have sworn that she also sounded exactly like his team leader. Of course, that was impossible. Jen's task was done and she was living in the thirtieth century as far as he knew.
"No, I'm okay," he responded. She continued checking him out in concern, the way that Jen might have.
"Hey, I'm Rachel. Coming to the fair?"
That's right, there was a fair. A celebration of the history of Silver Hills. He'd initially decided not to go because he didn't feel he could handle seeing pictures of the Rangers again.
But at the moment, it couldn't hurt to remind himself that this woman was not Jen coming to the past to be back with him. She'd come straight up, get onto the grounds, and resume their relationship. Not bump right into him and invite him out. That had not been Jen's way.
"Sure, I'll go," he said, smiling as she took his hand and pulled him along. Definitely not Jen.
* * *
"So, have you ever gone out with someone before?"
Wes shook his head. "I was in love with someone once before. But we didn't realize it until she had to move away."
Smooth lie. There was no way that Rachel could know that the last time he'd seen the love of his life was as she was beamed up to the ship that would take her back to her time. Rachel would probably react to it like he'd reacted to Jen's initial tale.
"Oh. I'm sorry," she said, sounding and looking like she meant it. "To know you love someone and not be able to be close to them. Where'd she'd move to?"
"Somewhere that it's really hard to get in contact with her."
He couldn't say for certain, but he felt that Rachel was one of those people who wore their emotions on their sleeve. "I'm sorry," she responded. "I didn't mean to cause pain. Me and my big mouth."
"It's not your fault," he reassured her. It wasn't her fault, after all. She had brought up the subject, and it was his own fault if it had brought him pain, just as her uncanny resemblance did.
Rachel smiled at that, in a way that reminded him of Jen, but Jen had never been so open until she had gotten to know him and had relaxed a little. "Anyway, I was thinking if you were single, we could go out on a date?"
He returned her smile, wondering if it was a wise idea to do even that. Should he pretend an imaginary girlfriend? No, he'd just said that he'd hadn't had a date since Jen, and not even then. And he didn't want to offend her.
But maybe, maybe...
"I know this is going to sound weird, but you look and sound like the girl that moved away," he said. "You're pretty, and I wouldn't mind spending more time with you, but I want to get to know you as you, and I don't think I could do that right now."
Rachel's face dropped, and then a smile began to warm her face again. "An honest guy. Oh, she must have been so lucky! I don't want to be looked at and reacted to like I was somebody else, either."
If she only knew, he thought. If she had only knew that her almost-physical-double had done exactly that to him the first time they had met.
But he didn't want to tell her about Jen. He didn't want to involve her in his life if he wasn't going to treat her right.
As they stepped into the cloth-walled exhibit, he responded, "That's why I wouldn't want to go out on a date until I was sure I could tell the difference. It's going to take me a long time to get over her. Maybe not ever."
"Oh, why didn't I meet you months earlier?" Rachel said, her face clearly in a pout. "Why couldn't I have met you before her?"
"If you had known me before I knew her, I'm not sure that you'd like me," he said honestly. "I got to know her... and a lot changed."
Rachel smiled again. "I guess that I'm lucky to have met you now."
"Yeah, lucky," Wes echoed, as they looked at the exhibits. The exhibit was a short one, and he could see a picture of the Rangers coming up. He knew without looking that this was probably something Bio-Lab had probably quietly contributed to, since there was a picture of the Silver Guardians. Why hadn't someone told him, if that was the case?
It didn't really matter. He hadn't intended on seeing this, especially with a girl he had just met and who reminded him of Jen but wasn't. And, as he reminded himself, he couldn't let his guard down. This was not Jen, and she had no idea about her history with the Rangers, nor that the features under that helmet were the same as hers.
Somehow they got out of the exhibit and Wes blinked his eyes at the sunlight after the cool dimness of the exhibit hall. "That was interesting," Rachel was saying. "I had no idea of the history here. Not native to Silver Hills, y'see."
Knowing that the small talk would help him regain his composure, he responded, "You aren't?"
Rachel shook her head. "Nope. Came to do a customer service job in the billing department for Alexis Communications."
"The wireless carrier," he acknowledged.
"Umhum. I've been three months. I wanted a change of scenery, so here I came."
Wes had to smile at that. "We're still rebuilding."
She returned his smile. "Yeah, I've heard about that. You know, I was afraid to go to Silver Hills? But Alexis pays well enough, and it's a good new start. Me and the city can rebuild together."
Wes nodded. The Silver Guardians had had a hand at that.
"Anyway, want something to eat? I'll pay," Rachel offered. "After all, I'm the one that ran into you."
"Thanks, but I need to go," Wes said, trying to find a way out. He'd probably never see Rachel again, and that was a good thing. She didn't drive him off, personality-wise, but he really didn't want to hurt this girl.
"Hey, that's fine," she said, reaching in to her purse. She seemed to be sorting through about forty zillion pieces of paper before finally coming up with a pen and a small notebook, tearing a piece of paper from it. "Look, I know from the way you act that you're someone that I'd like to associate with. I know you don't want to be false to me. But, maybe, call me sometime? I think I'd enjoy being friends with you, if nothing else. I know this sounds forward, but...."
She scribbled something on the little piece of paper and thrust it at him. He knew without looking at it that it was either her phone number or her email address, or probably both. "See ya!" she said before striding off, stopping to look at him after a half dozen steps as if she should say something more.
He looked at the messy handwriting and made out an email address. That was fine by him. He had a free email account, after all, to use as a throwaway just in case things went bad. She didn't know his last name, so there was no reason for her to question why he was using such an address.
So he would write her back. As long as he kept to his first name, there would be no problem. They would be friends, and as long as they kept to email. No problem there. He wouldn't be looking at her and reacting to her like she was Jen.
Wes squinted at a smaller squiggle that seemed to be a phone number, but he couldn't tell. Rachel had probably the worst handwriting he'd ever seen. Odd, most lefties had better handwriting than that, and most right-handed folk didn't bother to learn how to write left-handed, or so he had heard two of the Bio-Lab secretaries saying.
He could envision the first sentence of his email to her: "Hi, this is the guy from the fair. I intended to call you, but I couldn't decipher your phone number."
That was, of course, if he could be sure he was reading her email address clearly. Of course. He could say that he never got in touch with her because he couldn't read her handwriting. And it would be mostly the truth.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
Shaking his head, Wes headed off to look for his bike. It was clear that he had some thinking to do on the subject.
* * *
He was off, he was sure, as he kept colliding on the floor during his daily sparring sessions with Eric. Even his business partner and sometime friend must have noticed it, as he reached a hand out to help Wes out.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" Eric demanded.
"I've had something on my mind, that's all," Wes answered defensively.
"LIke what?" came the challenge.
Knowing that he'd never hear the end of it unless he told, he answered, "I met a girl."
"You met a girl," Eric repeated. "Since when does that shake you?"
"Since she looked just like Jen," Wes told him. "I mean, just like Jen, except that she had short red hair. She asked me to go out with her."
"And did you?" Eric asked. "Let me guess, no."
Wes shook his head. "How could I? I'd look at her and think of Jen, just like Jen looked at me and thought of Alex."
"For some reason, she still fell in love with you, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. Why don't you go and invite her out so at least the Silver Guardians won't have to suffer you going through another pity party."
He opened his mouth to answer Eric, but realized his co-commander was right. It had taken him a while to adjust after his teammates had left, and it was fortunate that Eric could handle things. He was, after all, very intelligent and sharp.
"You're right," he told Eric, catching the surprise that flashed momentarily over his teammate's face. "I'll go write her back."
* * *
Wes pondered the email that had arrived in the mailbox on the free provider.
"Wes!!
Hi, I wasn't sure you'd reply. Wow.
Yes, I'm the girl who knocked you over at the History Fair. I'm sorry you couldn't read my numbers - I know, my handwriting's atrocious sometimes. Anyway, I wrote my number at the end of this email. Give me a call, okay? I'd love to get to know you better.
Rachel Whannel"
Well, now he had a name, an email address and a number. But despite everything, should he call?
Looking again at the telephone, he picked it up and dialed. A slightly breathless voice answered the line.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Rachel?"
"Yeah. Wes? Is that you? Wow."
He could hear the amazed smile in her voice and answered, "It's me. So, you want to have lunch sometime?"
"I'd love to! Have to be weekends though."
"No problem. The Morrison on Saturday at noon?"
"Love to. Bye!"
Wes smiled as he put the phone down. He couldn't help it; something about Rachel made him smile.
* * *
Rachel was waiting for him at the Morrison, relaxed against a bench. She stood up as he approached her, smiling all the way. "Hey there, stranger," she said. "I haven't reserved us a table yet, ready to go?"
"Sure," he responded.
At lunch, Rachel chatted about anything and everything. When she was so talkative, she was easy to differentiate from Jen. If it hadn't been for Jen, he would probably have fallen in love with her. She was clearly bright and friendly, easygoing and relaxed. "You really haven't seen me at my best, really." she told him.
But she was definitely not Jen. An interesting person to listen to and to talk to, but she wasn't Jen.
"And I don't want to be a rebound relationship, either," Rachel told him. "Take your time. Friendship is worth a lot; don't forget that."
He didn't.
* * *
Eventually, every Saturday Wes found himself having lunch with Rachel. He had let a few things slip, but he was rather reserved telling her about himself. She knew what he did do for a living, and once she connected his surname, she had realized who he was.
But, much to Wes' relief, she never pressed him for a date. "I don't want to give you the impression that I want to be with you for your money. That's not my style."
And, as time passed, he noticed she became more serious, more quiet. It was as if she had some inner demons that she would not tell him about. Sometimes, he imagined he saw some mannerism of Jen's in Rachel, and then he had to shake his head and remind himself that Jen was happily back in her own time, and her ethics and honor wouldn't allow her to dress up as a twenty-first century civilian, even for him.
No, Rachel was just some kind of ancestor for Jen, which probably meant that the two would never marry.
So the two of them settled down for a friendship, and Wes was relieved that there was nothing more than a nice girl there who wanted to know him for himself rather than his connections. Rachel was happy with her job, and with her salary, and desired little more out of life than some good friends and an apartment building that allowed cats.
And as long as she didn't do anything that reminded him of Jen, that was fine by him. It was harder, though, nowadays. She was too calm and sweet to be Jen, but sometimes, when she was serious, and when she was quiet, he could look at her and swear he saw Jen looking back at him.
He didn't want Rachel to turn into Jen. Not in reality, and not in his imagination. So, one fine Saturday, at four in the afternoon on the one weekend she'd begged off lunch, he took a car and drove to her apartment.
Knocking softly on her door, he clutched the casserole dish containing the lasagna. It was one of her favorites, and he was able to convince his father's chef to make some for her. The chef, being a romantic at heart, had readily agreed.
"Who is it? Oh," Rachel said, her hair in disarray as if she'd just woken up. "Hi, Wes, what're you doing here?"
"I just wanted to cheer you up," he said, offering the lasagna in its dish to her.
Taking the casserole, she opened the lid and breathed in deeply. "It smells so good. Thanks for making it."
Wes blushed. "Brought it, actually. I was talking to the family chef and he's the one who made it for you."
Rachel smiled, putting the lid back on. "Homemade, still. That was really, really sweet of you, Wes. Hey, want to come in while I put this down? I feel I owe you something for coming all the way out here to give me my favorite."
"Hey, I'd do it for any friend that wasn't feeling well."
She brightened. "Thanks, Wes, I really mean it."
Wes followed her in and shut the door behind him as she carefully carried the dish into her small kitchen. Gremlin, her cat, greeted the two of them with his odd meow, jumping onto the counter as she put the dish down. Rachel deftly lifted him up and put him down and he stalked off, apparently unhappy at her action.
Opening her refrigerator, she picked up a container and put it down in disgust. "Hey, if you want to stay here, we can share it. I just have to pick up something at the store. Sit down and I'll be right back."
Picking up one of several hairbrushes that seemed to be scattered around the house, she quickly brushed her hair, put on some shoes, and grabbed her purse. Then with a quick wave, she left, locking the door behind her.
Wes would have remained sitting, except when he heard a 'crash' coming from her bedroom. He hurried in, seeing Gremlin sit calmly down on the dresser, with one of the boxes she must have normally kept there on the floor.
As he picked it up, he saw something underneath the dresser. He frowned and picked it up, holding it up to the light.
Blinking, just in case his eyes were deceiving him, he looked at the object again.
What in the heck was Rachel Whannel doing with a thirtieth century communications device? One that wasn't halfway smashed, at that? The last time he had seen one of those was when Trip was working on some of the debris from the timeship crash. Such a piece of equipment would be keyed to work entirely on one person's DNA so it wasn't likely that someone from his time could activate it. Rachel's red hair would make her DNA sufficiently different so that she couldn't activate such a device as Wes had been able to do with Alex's morpher.
He examined the dents some more. Had some treasure collector scavenged it before his teammates had had a chance to look at it? Had he sold it, and that's how it came to rest under Rachel's dresser?
It was either that, or for some reason Rachel wasn't who she seemed to be. Sure, by some terrible coincidence a girl who looked and sounded a lot like Jen, who'd just moved into the area a few months before, could have bought what she thought was a piece of junk, but it made Wes suspicious.
Wes put the box back on the table, put the communicator back under the dresser, and picked Gremlin up. By the time Rachel came back with her soymilk, Gremlin was purring in his lap.
* * *
Several hours later, the two of them were still sitting in front of Rachel's TV. Wes had deliberately suggested some kung-fu movies, just to see Rachel's reactions, but to his disappointment she had fallen asleep. She apparently found them very boring. He started to wonder if he was just imagining things, that Rachel was not Jen, and he was suffering from teammate deficiency.
Still having doubts, however, he shook her gently. "Jen, where did Katie hide Lucas' poetry book this time? By the gears?"
"I don't know." Rachel murmured, sounding like she wasn't entirely there. "Go ask Katie, Wes. Or maybe Trip knows."
Wes shook her once more, finally waking her up. "Hi, Jen. What are you doing here?"
She blinked owlishly at him, horror appearing on her face.
"What are you *talking* about?" she asked, the horror fading from her face to be replaced by a calm resolve.
Without answering her, Wes went to her bedroom and retrieved the communications device, tossing it to her. She caught it deftly and looked at it. As she did, he explained, "There were a few of these on the first timeship. I know about it because Trip was working on them, and he explained them to me. Besides, how would some stranger named Rachel from Cheyenne know about Lucas' poetry, or that Katie hid the book behind the gears of the clock tower once?"
Her shoulders sagged as she looked at the device. "I knew I should have had Trip design me a new shell. I didn't think you'd find it."
Shrugging, Wes crossed back to the couch and sat down. "Well, I did. What in the heck are you doing back in the twenty-first century, under an assumed name and in disguise? Jen, last I checked, you hated disguises! Remember that time with the Super Strong gym?"
"Yes, I remember. But I didn't have a choice, Wes! I couldn't risk Alex finding out what I'd done. He thinks I'm dead, and that the timeship that I was on was destroyed. That's what Trip tells me, anyway."
"Trip's in on this?" Wes asked, though he wasn't totally surprised.
"All of them are. Were. Wes, it took us five years to plan out and implement what you see today."
Wes tried to not close his eyes in despair.
As if not seeing his distress, Jen continued on. "It was actually Lucas who got the idea to come to the past. Originally, we were hoping to bring you into the future, but we couldn't risk Alex finding out and sending you back home. Besides, we're far more familiar with the twenty-first century than you are with our time."
"Personally, I wouldn't have taken offense," Wes told her.
"I know. But the others could see, even before I did, that I had lost touch with my own time. I just couldn't see any reason to get up out of bed in the morning. Oh, Alex was starting to press his desire to start up our relationship again, and I still had my job, but I had nothing to live for. In the end, it was Lucas that confronted me and told me that he couldn't stand it any more."
Wes nodded. It was similar to what he had experienced, but fortunately, he hadn't had the resources for such a crazy plan. Jen had been beyond his reach, and he had accepted that. Sort of. It had still taken a while before he could say he functioned, though.
"We planned it out carefully. I volunteered on several missions, just so that people would be used to me going on them. I kept Alex from being suspicious by never going near the twenty-first century, and finally, finally, he relaxed his guard. I was supposed to be going to the nineteenth century, alone, to retrieve an item that had fallen through a timehole. Instead, I packed what I wanted to take with me, and Trip modified the ship so that it would seem like it had vaporized."
"And the timeship?" Wes asked, suddenly hoping that he could send her back as he had once before.
"Vaporized. Wes, we're not exactly idiots either! We knew there was a possibility that you'd prematurely find out about me and attempt to trick me into coming home. I wanted you to remember me, remember the happy times, and for once, not think about the timestream. It's more flexible than you think, Wes. There's room for me, if I became someone else. That's why Rachel Whannel was born, and why Jennifer Scotts had to die in a timeship accident."
After a moment, she added, "Wes, I am not going to leave. This is my time now."
Wes looked at her, looked into her dark eyes, and knew that she was telling the truth. Over his objections, she would stay. Oh, he could write a postal letter and hoped it would get to someone in Time Force, but could he really do that?
Jen had been the one to turn his life around. She was the one who had convinced Alex to give him back his morpher. It was clear that she was willing to break the rules for what she thought of as a good clause, and their teammates were the same way.
Besides, Alex had released him from his oath shortly before the timeship had left for the last time. Jen was no longer his commanding officer, and he was free to pursue a relationship with her if he so pleased.
Still, he doubted that the timestream was as flexible as Jen thought it would be. Sure, there was some flexibility; the present hadn't changed much even though Katie insisted she'd met Walter Brown and that he had originally died lonely instead of meeting and marrying his wife.
And, besides, wasn't the road to hell paved with very good intentions? Love was important, but Jen of all people would know that there should be responsibility as well.
But Jen wasn't thinking with her brain. Jen and the others had been thinking with their hearts, just as they had when they had decided to stay in the Silver Hills of 2001, in imminent danger of death. He had been the only sensible one then, and obviously the only sensible one now.
Still, Jen had made it clear that even if they didn't pursue a relationship, she was staying. There was no future for her to go back to, at least in the sense that she had burned her bridges. He had the feeling that Jen would wait until the ends of the earth for him to come to his senses.
Jen was still looking at him expectantly, and he wasn't sure what to say. He really didn't want to break up with her, not after he had a chance with her, but he had to have space to think of alternatives. "I'll see you later, Jen," he managed to gasp out, and then headed for the door, ignoring his ex-commander's pleas.
* * *
Wes got up in the morning, reconnecting his phone, checking his email, and generally becoming part of the world again. After the debacle with Jen, he felt that he really needed to just remind himself that the world was normal. It was just his life that was now topsy-turvy.
"Good morning, Wes," his father greeted him. "I'm told you got in a little late last night."
"I was with Rachel," he said, surprised to see that he could still call Jen by her assumed name. "And then I had some things to think about."
His father nodded, taking the morning paper from a platter held by Philips and flipping it open. "You should bring Rachel over sometime, you know. I've been wanting to meet her."
Unable to tolerate the deception any longer, Wes said, "I think you have before."
"Oh?" his father said, leaning more towards him, paper momentarily forgotten. "In what way?"
"You know how I said she looks a lot like Jen? Well, that's because she *is* Jen. I found out by accident last night."
"She is? Excellent," the elder Collins told him. "I didn't like Jen at first. In fact, I resented her for quite a while. But she was the best thing that could have happened to us."
"Dad, I don't think you're seeing everything! She's not supposed to be here. It's like the trizirium crystals. Anything that comes here from the future is supposed to be destroyed or returned. It was only a fluke that Jen convinced her superiors that Eric and I could keep the morphers."
"Son, sometimes happiness is more important than anything else. Think about it." As Mr. Collins resumed reading the paper, he added, "Oh, and Eric wants to talk to you. You really shouldn't turn your pager off."
Rolling his eyes, Wes turned to have breakfast.
* * *
"Where have you been?" Eric asked as he entered. Eric was leaning against the doorframe of his office door, arms crossed. "I tried to page you last night!"
"I was a little occupied, Eric. If you must know, Jen is back. Rachel is Jen. Can you see my problem?"
"Not really," his co-commander said, entering his office. Wes followed him in.
"Look, Eric. She doesn't belong here. She's from the thirtieth century, and there's a reason she went home. If I could, I'd send her back."
"Plan on sticking her back on the timeship again, Collins? You know, sometimes people other than you want to have a say in their own destinies."
"I know that," Wes argued. "But not when it endangers the timestream."
"Look, mister high-and-mighty, sometimes us mere mortals know there are consequences too, all right? Jen knows what she's doing. And I think she knows it better than you do."
Wes shook his head. Would nobody understand? Or was he not understanding?
"Now, if you don't mind, since you were so out of touch last night, I have some things to do. Why don't you go out and resolve things with Jen so I don't have to listen to you mope for another three months."
Knowing a clue-by-four when he heard one, Wes headed back to his car, hoping Jen was still home.
* * *
As he knocked on the door of Jen's apartment, Wes wondered what he'd say. The stop at the florist had given him time to think, but nothing had come to his mind. Yes, he wanted to see Jen again. Yes, he wanted to resume their relationship. But he wasn't ready to start. This time, he would be the reluctant partner in this dance.
The door opened slowly, and Wes found himself holding his breath. He'd never given Jen flowers before, and he wasn't sure if roses meant anything different to the inhabitants of the thirtieth century.
"Wes," Jen greeted him, hair in a towel, though he could see little red hairs sticking out. "Come in."
She closed the door behind him and he found himself facing his former commanding officer once again. "These are for you," he said, holding the roses out awkwardly.
Jen gave him a tentative smile as Gremlin bolted towards his legs and proceeded to rub around him. "So, can you accept me here?"
"I guess... I guess that I can," Wes said, surprising himself with his words. "I still have reservations... but I think I should put those aside. I've been reminded of things."
Jen smiled, toweling her hair dry. "Thanks."
"For what?" he asked, surprised and uncertain of her meaning.
"For not being Alex. For not turning into Alex. When I met you, I didn't know this, but I was searching for something more in my life. When Alex came back to us, I knew that I had been, and that what, who, I was looking for was right in front of me. I wanted you, and I wanted you even before I realized I didn't want Alex. He'd changed, I'd changed, we'd all changed. I couldn't be what I was before. I didn't belong where I belonged before. So I came... home."
Wes stood there, speechless. Jen walked towards her bedroom, and he didn't follow her, not certain if he should. But she came out again, holding a little box, and Wes suddenly knew what it was.
"Will you marry me, Wesley Collins?"
He answered without words.
-end
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