That Was When He Saw Her Chapter 1, a 7th heaven fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own the character of Wilson or Geoffrey West (even though we never met good ol' Geoffrey), the town of GlenOak, Kennedy High School, or Billy West. They all belong to Brenda Hampton and The WB, among others.

A/N: This was my NaNoWriMo fic. It's all about Wilson's back story- how he meets his (first) wife, how they got pregnant, and how she died. There will be no Camdens in this story at all. This story takes place from 1994-1995, two years before Season 1 of 7th Heaven.

That Was When He Saw Her

The door to the locker room opened and thirty-seven boys – mostly incoming freshman of the Southern California Boys Academy – filed out in their bathing suits and went toward the pool. Coach John Walker, Assistant Coach Al Abrams, and the boys from the team last year all awaited them. The noise level was as still as the water atop the twenty-five yard pool.

"Gentlemen, welcome," Coach Walker finally said once they all stood before him. "Thanks for coming out today. I'm Coach Walker," he gestured to his left," this is Assistant Coach Abrams," he pointed to the mass of boys at the side of the pool, "and those scrawny looking boys are the team you all desperately want to be a part of."

Wilson sized up everyone around him, just as he had done with his competition when first entering the locker room earlier that morning. Coach Walker seemed non-threatening enough. He was slender for a man of his age, but had some bulk around the middle. The graying blonde hair and navy blue tracksuit made him seem easy going, as did the way he held himself. Assistant Coach Abrams, on the other hand, was significantly more portly than Coach Walker. He had dark black hair and reminded Wilson more of Jabba Da Hut than anything else, minus the dark, leathery skin. The boys on the team were indifferent to the new meat, seeing as they were mostly juniors and seniors and wanted nothing to do with freshman, so everything seemed OK.

"So, um, let's see. There are a bunch of you-" he quickly counted as he pointed to each of the boys in front of him- "thirty-seven, and we only have five spots open, so good luck. I guess I want to start off by saying that our team has been ranked number one in the state since the school opened back in 1942, so if you make the team you will have a legacy to uphold. That being said, it's a great honor to be on the swim team. We don't take anyone who swims like crap, and we don't expect any crap from you in return, understand?" They nodded. "Good."

Assistant Coach Abrams jumped in; he hated it when Walker showed him up. "We'll be making three sets of cuts. You'll be called tonight if you are asked to come back for tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. So before you leave, don't forget to give leave your phone numbers. No beepers, guys, none of those crazy cell phones, just your house."

"Yeah, so line up over there," Coach Walker pointed to the far end of the pool. "Give your name and telephone number to Richie, he's the Captain, and then dive in; we want to see how you dive. Just dive off the side of the pool, don't use the platform right now. Dive in, come up, and freestyle down to the shallow end and we'll give you further instructions"

Richie started walking over and the group followed suit. Wilson walked in the group. He didn't really know anyone, like some of the other boys did, so he remained silent until he told Richie his name and dove in. His form was perfect, tight legs and fluid motion. His freestyle stroke wasn't bad, either. The coaches took notice.

Next, the coaches had the boys get out, jump in off the platforms, and freestyle two times back and forth, four times the length of the pool. Wilson climbed out, went to the end, and stood in line. He was third for his lane. Boys from the team stood next to the platform of each individual lane with a stopwatch and recorded the times.

"Name?" the boy said when Wilson was up.

"Wilson West." The boy scribbled it down and Wilson stood on the platform.

"Ready?" Assistant Coach Abrams yelled out. "One, two, and GO!"

Wilson darted off. Jump, light splash, big push under the water, up and swimming. He had form that only came with time, even though the only formal training he had had was from his dad when he was younger, when his dad had had more time for him. His father swam a bit in high school, so he taught Wilson in their own pool in the backyard. He swam the 100 meter in 56.37 seconds, give or take a little for the accuracy of the freckle-faced kid who was timing.

If they hadn't taken notice to Wilson before, everyone certainly noticed him now. He finished well before the pack of swimmers in his "heat".

"Mike, what was his time?" Walker yelled out.

"56.37… I think."

"Wow," Assistant Coach Abrams muttered. "What's your name, kid?"

"Wilson. Wilson West."

"You've made it West. You just broke the school's freestyle meet record by over two full seconds."

"Thank you sir," was all Wilson could say. Inside he was glowing, and even happier since he had received that kind of praise from the harder of the two. Wilson turned back to his peers, most of whom looked like they were ready to rip his head off. He could even hear the beginnings of unpleasant mumblings. The guy who was in front of him in line, though, came over to Wilson.

"That was great. Screw the rest of the guys. They're just jealous because they suck. Hell, even I suck compared to you."

"Uh, thanks," Wilson said with a laugh. "I'm Wilson."

"Yeah, I heard. I'm Tyler. Hogan."

"Now the rest of you sissies," Coach Walker boomed, "you'd better step it up if you want to make an impression on us. Four more spots now, and we're only twenty-minutes into the first try out. None of you are looking all that amazing in the water."

An hour later, they were all back in the locker room. The boys from the team came over to congratulate Wilson, in their own unique way.

"Good job man," Richie said, and then turned back to his pals. "I guess we know who's going to get all the girls at the Frosh Party." They all laughed.

"What's that?" Wilson asked with a slight feeling of audacity.

"Well," Richie answered in a condescending, explanatory tone, "Frosh equals freshman. That's you. A party is something we have where you get wasted and make out with five of the CGP girls- at least."

"I see," Wilson said, almost in a bashful way. CGP stood for "California Girls Preparatory", the all girls compliment to their posh all boys school. From what he had heard, all the girls there were gorgeous and came from lots of money. Being with them didn't sound too bad. "Getting wasted" didn't sound too great to a fourteen year old Wilson, but he didn't lead on.

"Whichever freshman had the fastest breaststroke time the year before, the next year they throw the freshman party. This year, "Richie tapped a shoulder of the kid behind him, "it's Danny's turn. Seblowsky, not Jenastia."

The boys walked away laughing and Tyler showed back up behind Wilson, completely dressed with spots on his t-shirt from where the water dripped onto his shoulders from his hair. "Their parties are legendary," he said. "That was half the reason I am trying out." He laughed "The other reason is they own the school. Swim is equivalent to football in a small town. You're set for life now. If you're on the swim team, you're in."

"Good to know." Life in the fast lane didn't seem too bad. Neither did being popular in high school. At least that was how it seemed in naïve eyes.

Like it so far? There's another 48,000+ words to go! Review.