Sweetest Downfall

Disclaimer: Checks under bed I don't own Jericho.

A/N: Okay, I'm pretty sure this is the first of its kind. This idea came to me, out of the blue and I thought, you know, why not? Stanley and Heather; they work together, both are lovable characters, they interact well together. As a pairing, yeah, why not. That's not to say I'm against J/H or Stimi, just dabbling in H/S.

This story is slightly AU and a little OOC. I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors; I tried my darndest to wheedle them out.

He crept in through the back door. He had a key, so it wasn't like he was breaking in.

He just needed to talk to her.

Usually, it was the other way around. She would drive to his place, park on the side of the road and creep up the gravel driveway. He though it was silly; it wasn't like anyone would hear her, except him, who she'd wake up anyway.

It was more frequent back then, their late night visits. But fuel was a precious commodity and he was currently…attached. She not only respected that, but was happy for him.

She thought he could do better than her.

He thought she could do better than him.

Their relationship was complex. They were friends, definitely. They loved one another, but weren't in love. They were close, but not intimate.

They were Stanley and Heather. No explanation necessary.

He was her first. And later, when they both realised they were better suited to being 'just friends', she didn't regret it. She wanted her first time to be safe and special and with someone she loved.

She never felt more perfect than she did in his arms.

Even after their relationship ended they were drawn to each other for comfort. They would lay in each others arms; she would talk about work, the trials of being Emily Sullivan's 'best friend' and her fear of ending up alone. He would talk about his farm, his worries about Bonnie and his worries about ending up alone.

They would fall asleep, her head on his chest, hands clasped. They wished they loved one another like that.

In the mornings she would make pancakes and drive Bonnie to school. He would always slip an apple into her bag. As payback, she stuck stickers of glittery farmyard animals on his fridge.

Tonight, however, he sought her out with a purpose. He was startled to hear about her decision, but not surprised. She was always trying to prove herself, prove she was a part of the town.

Going to the Black Jack Fairgrounds, fixing windmills, it was Heather. She was always one of the first to volunteer. Black Jack was dangerous; the world outside of Jericho was dangerous. He needed to know that she'd be safe; she'd be smart around strangers.

She trusted too much; she was too naive. Some days he worried it would be her downfall.

He could see his breath in the air, as he slowly padded up the stairs. He skilfully avoided the creaky step and came to a stop outside her bedroom door. He slowly pushed it open.

"Psst, Lisinski!" He whispered loudly, "Front and centre!"

"Who's there?" She demanded, sitting up, squinting through the darkness. She started rummaging through a drawer, "I'll shoot you."

"You don't have a gun, Lisinski."

"Stanley?" She called out, lighting a candle. In the dim light she could see his familiar figure standing in her doorway. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"No need for the profanities," he teased, taking a step forward and shutting the door behind him, "just thought I'd check up on you."

"At this hour?" She asked incredulously, "What do you want Stanley?"

"Hmm, a hot shower, chocolate cake, an electric guitar and Uma Thurman," he listed off, "oh, and world peace."

"Hilarious."

He could hear it in her tone, she was rolling her eyes.

"Heather?" Stanley whined.

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

She lifted the corner of her quilt.

"Take your boots off first," she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am," he scrambled into the bed, wrapping Heather into a hug.

For several minutes, they lay in silence. A dog barked outside, she could hear his uneven breathing. She realised she'd been holding her breath.

"Should we be doing this?" She asked finally, sitting up. He could see the guilt in her eyes. "I mean, you're kinda in a relationship, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he sighed thoughtfully, staring at the ceiling, "I suppose I am."

"Stanley and the IRS Agent," Heather mused aloud, "who would've thought."

Mimi and Stanley came as a surprise to everyone, most of all to Heather. She was happy he was happy, but she couldn't shake the familiar feeling of regret. That it should have been her, not Mimi. It was probably for the best. They didn't exactly have the best track record.

"I guess the pact's off," he grinned.

"Huh?"

"You know, if we weren't married by 35, we'd run off to Vegas?" Stanley nudged her playfully.

"Oh, that's right," she laughed, "and get married by Yoda."

"I forgot that part," Stanley squeezed her hand.

"Well, we were pretty wasted," Heather squeezed his back.

"True."

The candle flickered in the darkness. Stanley rolled onto his side, staring at her intently.

"Why are you going?" He asked softly, brushing her hair off her face, eyes full of concern.

"What do you mean?" She stared at him intently, eyes flickering to his hand on her face. He could sense her growing nervous.

"You know you don't have to prove yourself to anyone," he said seriously, pulling back his hand, "you did that long ago."

"What are you trying to say?" She asked tiredly. She didn't need a lecture from him; she needed his support.

"I'm saying don't go," he muttered, "It's too dangerous."

"If no one does anything, we'll freeze to death," Heather said softly, "You heard Gray, we have a month's worth of fuel left. What good are we doing here by just waiting for Spring to come? A change in seasons won't solve our problems."

She had a point. He didn't have a claim over her; he couldn't force her to stay. Not when he admired what she was doing for the town and was so thankful for everything she'd done for him. When Heather Lisinski had made a decision, nothing and no one could stop her from it carrying through.

She fiddled with a button on his jacket.

"Someone had to do something."

He chuckled.

"You're beginning to sound like Jake."

She was thankful for the darkness. He wouldn't be able to see her blush.

"You're blushing."

Damn it.

"No, I'm not."

"Sure," Stanley teased, "how come you didn't tell me?"

"Tell you what? There's nothing to tell!"

"You kissed him in the middle of Main Street," Stanley accused her playfully, "I heard it from Mary Bailey. Since when do we have secrets, Heather?"

His tone of voice may have been light-hearted, but his eyes always gave him away. He was hurt and Heather was hit with another wave of guilt. He was right, they didn't have secrets. Secrets made things complicated, and they were already complicated enough as it was. Secrets had the ability to rip them apart.

"I'm sorry, I just thought it would be…awkward, I mean, he's your best friend and well…" she paused, carefully choosing her words, "it's weird enough as it is."

"How?" Stanley prodded.

"It's embarrassing." Heather sighed.

"Tell me." He insisted.

"You'll laugh."

"So, what else is new?"

"I kissed him," Heather said aloud, blushing at the thought, "a month ago."

"What's so weird about that?"

"And we haven't talked since."

There was a moment of silence. Stanley burst out laughing.

"Jerk!" Heather hit him on the shoulder, cheeks bright red.

"Serious, are you two like eight?"

"This is why I didn't tell you!" Heather turned away from him.

"Oh, come on, Lisinski, I was joking!"

She didn't say a word. He was always doing this; making her feel stupid.

"Do you want me to beat him up for you?" Stanley asked innocently.

"Shut up." She turned around, smirking.

"Who kissed who?"

"I kissed him." Heather admitted, "Before he went to Rogue River."

"So it's his move," Stanley nodded, understanding her anguish.

"It's not me he wants," Heather sighed, "it's her."

Her. Emily.

He was all too familiar with the 'dramas of Emily Sullivan'. He'd grown up with her, at one stage they'd been pretty good friends. But watching her hurt his two best friends repeatedly was too much. He would never understand why Heather stuck by her. Especially after everything she'd put her through. It wasn't fair; it was always the good people who got hurt; who got their hearts broken. He wished he could do something to fix it.

"Do you want me to sick Mimi on her?" He asked her softly, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Get out of here," she kicked him lightly on the leg.

"I'm serious, she bites," Stanley grinned evilly, "hard."

"I didn't need to know that." Heather buried her face in her pillow, muttering incoherently. She lifted her head to face him. "I'll tell Mimi how you referred to her."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"No you wouldn't." He grinned shaking his head.

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't," she sighed, smiling lightly, "I'm too good to you, Stanley."

"More than you could ever know."

They lay in silence, a comfortable one this time. His eyes flickered from her to the ceiling. She was deep in thought. Probably about Jake.

"You and Jake, huh," He said, more a statement then a question. She gave him a quizzical glance.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" He asked softly, "I can see it in your eyes; it's the same far-off dreamy look you get when we watch 'The Notebook'."

"Yeah, maybe," she admitted, "it doesn't matter though; we were over before we even started."

"Who says?" Stanley asked pointedly.

"I say," Heather snapped, "so just drop it."

"All I want is for you to be happy." Stanley said honestly, entwining her fingers with his. Her eyes were glinting in the candle light. "I want to see you smile again."

A sob caught in her throat and he could feel his heart breaking for her. In a single moment their worlds had been turned upside down, destroyed. What was left of their hope was hanging by a delicate thread.

"Heather…" He whispered.

"I don't-" Heather took a deep breath, "I don't want to be his consolation prize."

"You'll always be first prize in my book, Lisinski," Stanley said seriously, "he's an idiot not to see that."

"You're sweet," Heather whispered, leaning into his embrace. He planted a kiss on her forehead. "I always feel so safe with you." She yawned.

"You be safe tomorrow, you hear?" Stanley ordered, holding her tight, "Get your part, and then come home. No fractured legs, no smoke inhalation, nothing. Okay?"

"Okay," she giggled.

"You promise?" He asked softly.

She stared at him. She understood his worry, his overwhelming concern. He'd lost too many that he loved and he couldn't bear to lose her as well.

"Promise."

He buried his head into his pillow when he felt a sharp nudge in his leg. He lifted his head.

"What?"

"You should leave," Heather avoided his eyes, "Mimi's probably waiting for you."

"Oh, yeah." Stanley didn't move.

"Stanley…"

"Shh." He shushed her, taking in the silence.

"Do you remember the night when we went to Bailey's; we did whiskey shots and I beat my record on the mechanical bull?" He asked her softly.

"Yeah, you let me play 'Don't Stop Believing' three times in a row on the jukebox and told everyone to 'put up or shut up'." She smiled wistfully, "Then we played 'Eye of the Tiger' when you beat your record."

"I did a victory lap," Stanley grinned.

"I remember."

"I walked you home and we sat on your porch staring at the stars. And I told you I loved you." He glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

"It was perfect," she murmured, tears in her eyes.

"It was," Stanley agreed, pushing her hair behind her ears, "so tonight, let's just pretend that it's that night, all those years ago, when everything was perfect and we didn't have a care in the world. When the stars shined bright above our heads and tomorrow was just a normal day. Just for tonight, Heather…let's pretend."

She curled up in his arms, closing her eyes and sighing contently.

"Okay."

"I love you, Heather."

"I love you too, Stanley."

The candle flickered out. They fell asleep listening to the beating of one another's hearts, dreaming about the ones they loved.

At that moment, in each others arms, everything was perfect.

------

You are my sweetest downfall

I loved you first.

- 'Samson' Regina Spektor

Fin.