A/N: And here is Chapter 3, brought to you during the wonderful week of Hanukkah. I say wonderful because a certain fanfiction writer now has a very shiny blue box that contains 6 very lovely DVDs . . . yeah, I got "Taken". Anyway, thanks a ton to SpookyMulder1 for betaing this. Enjoy.
Spend my nights in self-defense
Crying about my innocence
But I ain't all that innocent anymore
-"I'm Not Sleeping", Counting Crows
By the time Jesse finished his story, an hour and a half had passed. That surprised him; he didn't expect it to take that long. But after he began talking, the words just kept flowing, like they had been locked up behind a dam in himself, and that dam that cracked, releasing the flood of words. For a few moments doctor and patient sat in silence, Elizabeth trying to fully understand everything that had been said to her.
Jesse broke the silence. "You don't believe me, do you?" He asked, quietly.
"I . . . " Elizabeth, at a loss for words, trailed off. "It's just . . . this is a little hard to swallow right away, that's all." Noticing the skeptical look on Jesse's face, she quickly added: "Well, put yourself in my place."
He nodded. "I can see what you mean." His eyes wandered to the clock. "I'd better get going. Amelia'll be worried." Halfway between the couch and the door, he stopped abruptly and turned around. "Thank you." He said awkwardly, continuing on his path out the door.
Elizabeth sat at her desk, silently. The logical section of her brain was screaming at her to give up and recognize the fact that Jesse Keys was crazy, that aliens were nothing but figments of the imagination of lonely, mentally unstable people, and that she would be helping Jesse by sending him to another, better qualified doctor.
But another part of her, the tiny piece of herself that contained hope and spontaneity, continued to nag her. She knew that Jesse was a logical man himself, and it seemed unreasonable for him to create something this elaborate and well thought out in his head. Everything he had said that involved the abnormal was supported with details that only disproved her doubts. Finally her gut instinct kicked in, a small, annoying voice in the very back of her head, telling her that Jesse was telling the truth. She had been reading people for so long - after all, it had been her job for seven years now - that she could tell what people were like based on instinct. And she had grown to trust that instinct after all that time.
She finally stood and pulled on her coat, heading out of the office. Her receptionist had already gone home, she noted with a smirk. Carefully she stepped outside and locked the door, feeling a slight early summer breeze brush against her face. The walk to the car was brief, and as she began to drive home, she felt an odd mix of pride along with a sickening sensation deep in the pit of her stomach, warning her that she had gotten involved in something much bigger than she had bargained for.
"Amelia?" Jesse called as he entered the apartment. "Sorry I'm late."
Amelia came out of the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief. "Jesus," she muttered. "I had no idea where you were. If something had happened - "
"I'm fine." He interrupted. "I just ended up staying later then I had expected with Liz." Shaking his head, he continued: "It's actually kind of nice to have someone to talk to."
"You can talk to me, too." Said Amelia, her voice containing an edge of something that Jesse didn't recognize at first, but then classified as hurt. He shook his head, flustered.
"I didn't mean it like that - "
"I know," she said, sighing. "It was just a long day at work, that's all. After that patient" Jesse stiffened as he remembered Chad for the first time since earlier that afternoon, "everything was generally hellish." She had been a nurse for a few years now, but no amount of experience could ever get her used to seeing people die before her eyes.
He didn't respond, moving into the kitchen. Amelia followed him, concerned. "How'd you know him?" She asked softly.
"He was my drug dealer. The night we met he kicked me out of his place and told me to get clean." He didn't tell her what else he had said and how sad he sounded when he said it, as if he was sacrificing himself so Jesse could get clean and live a normal life. He's probably happier now, though, Jesse thought. He didn't have anything left to live for anyway. That's what he tried to explain to me that night, that I had the ability to make something of my life.
Amelia took out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. "I'll make you something," she said, not wanting to touch upon an obviously sensitive subject that she had no way of dealing with. Jesse sat down and watched her spread the peanut butter on the bread, thinking of one of the last things Chad had said to him.
Find a nice girl and settle down.
"Amelia?" Jesse asked.
"Mm-hmm?" She murmured without looking back over her shoulder, continuing to make the sandwich.
He sat back in the chair and looked at her, watching her as she quietly placed the slices of bread together and headed towards the refrigerator to get the bottle of milk. "Will you marry me?"
The milk bottle slipped right through Amelia's hands and landed on the floor, exploding in hundreds of miniscule fragments of glass. Hardly noticing it, she let her gaze go back to Jesse. "What?"
Jesse realized that this was what Chad had been talking about. Except Amelia was much more than a 'nice girl' - she had stayed with him despite his stubbornness and his unwillingness to cooperate with her and Liz. He knew that if he let Amelia leave, he would never be able to forgive himself for letting another opportunity at a better life slip through his fingers yet again. His gaze remained steady as he said, "I love you, Amelia. I don't know if I could ever let myself live knowing that I could have had you and didn't. Please." He watched her bring her hand to her mouth, tears beginning to well up inside of her. "Please marry me."
Short of breath, she gave a small, strangled sob mixed with a nervous giggle. "I've only known you for a month, Jesse. I - "
Jesse stood up and walked over to Amelia, walking right over the shards of glass and crushing them beneath his soles. "Please." He said once more.
Amelia laughed again disbelievingly, a laugh that was nearly masked by the sob that came with it. She nodded just as the tears came, standing in the midst of broken glass, sobbing and laughing and nodding all at once.
And with that Jesse enveloped her in a hug, the sounds of her sobbing muffled by his shirt.
That night, Jesse and Amelia lay side by side in their bed. Amelia turned on her side to face Jesse, who was staring at the ceiling.
"Do you want kids?" She asked quietly.
He smiled. "Yeah."
She shifted back to her original position, staring momentarily at the ceiling before turning her head to face Jesse. "A boy or a girl?"
"I don't mind." He said, shrugging. "Although I do think having a Gunther would be rather nice."
Amelia laughed. "Gunther Keys?" She asked, staring at him disbelievingly. "You wouldn't name our child that, right?"
Jesse turned his head to face her, his expression completely solemn. "I'm serious, Amelia." He paused. "Gunther's a fine name. In fact, I can only think of a few names that are better than it."
Sensing that mischievous tone in his voice, Amelia asked, as if she were a student addressing a respected professor in a mocking voice, "And, pray tell, what would those names be? Surely none of them could rival 'Gunther' in terms of sheer brilliance."
Jesse replied: "Well, I am quite partial to Montego. And an Erno Keys would be a delightful addition to our family."
Amelia's eyes were filled with tears from her hysterical laughter. "And," she said when she managed to catch her breath, "What do you suppose we would call a daughter?"
"Some favorites of mine include Lola - " he paused to catch his own breath, Amelia's infectious giggle spreading to him, "and Xantara." Amelia's questioning glance, accompanied by more laughter, prompted his explanation: "You know, it means 'Protector of the Earth'. Something our child will undoubtedly aspire to be."
For the next few minutes they lay there, laughing, until they got control of themselves again and reduced their laughter to an occasional giggle.
"You were looking through a baby names book?" Asked Amelia, when the giggles had subsided and all that was left was a grin on her face.
"A few days ago." Jesse admitted.
"Well," said Amelia, "I think that when we have a child, perhaps we can name it something less . . . interesting."
"Agreed." Jesse replied. They muttered each other their goodnights as Amelia rolled over to her side and immediately fell into a peaceful rest, her chest moving up and down evenly. Jesse, however, lay flat on his back and stared up at the ceiling, still, occasionally glancing over to Amelia. He felt less alone than he ever had before in his life, finally knowing that someone was going to stay with him forever and love him the same way he loved them.
He closed his eyes, only to have them pried open by a blinding light seconds later. At first there was nothing but the light, so bright that he could not escape it, whether or not his eyes were closed. And then he was able to turn his head and see the familiar gray forms, their bodies standing in front of the light.
His mouth opened to let out a yell, and then he did indeed yell. But, as always, it seemed to do nothing to stop them from their activities. Finally the light began to fade into darkness, and he awoke, the clock reading three-forty-three AM. Jesse lay entangled in his bed sheets, gasping and panting, before he finally slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.
"Is this why you asked?" Jesse asked, watching Amelia carefully, as her finger rounded the rim of her water glass.
"Yeah." She swallowed. "I didn't know for sure until I went to the doctor's today . . ." She trailed off, staring at the table silently, before looking up. "Did you really mean it when you said you wanted a child?"
Jesse nodded. "Of course."
Amelia smiled, tears springing to her eyes. Bringing a handkerchief to her eyes and gently dabbing at them, she regained her composure and looked at Jesse, who was sitting perfectly still, emotionless. He watched her putdown the handkerchief and then said, "It's just a lot to take in right now."
She laughed. "I know."
The silence provided an opportunity for their ears to recognize the music coming from their kitchen's transistor radio. Jesse stood and turned up the volume. "Dance with me?"
Amelia looked up from the water glass her finger had returned to circling yet again. "What?"
Jesse walked over to her chair. "Just dance with me."
Two pairs of feet moved together on the worn floor, the dancers moving along to, but not listening to the music. Amelia's head lay on his shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of her tears creeping through his shirt silently.
They danced for a while, until Jesse stopped feeling the tears on his shirt.
Jesse sat in the wooden chair of the office, twisting his gold wedding band uncomfortably. The receptionist was blatantly ignoring him, busying herself with a nail file, and Jesse had eventually resorted to slapping his palms on his thighs to keep himself occupied. Occasionally the woman behind the desk looked up from her nails to shoot a glance full of dislike at him.
Finally the door opened and a man stepped out. "Jesse Keys?" He asked, extending his arm.
Jesse shook his hand. "That's me."
The man gestured for him to enter his office. "Right in here."
The door closed, and the man bustled about the cramped office in search of a glass. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"No thanks."
"Ah. Well, then," said the man, sitting down and folding his hands on the desk in front of Jesse. "You're interested in volunteering?"
Jesse nodded and the man reached inside his desk, pulling out a thin packet seconds later. "You'll - ah - have to fill this out. Nothing much, just your name, date of birth, stuff like that." He pushed the form towards Jesse. "Need a pen?"
Accepting the pen, Jesse began to fill out the form as the man continued to speak. "Do you have any medical experience?"
"No," said Jesse, meeting the man's questioning gaze with his steadfast one, "but my wife is a nurse. She'll be able to teach me some things."
Satisfied, the man took Jesse's completed forms. "Thank you for volunteering to help the Chicago Red Cross."
Three Months Later . . .
Amelia had wanted to move after they got married, but Jesse was comfortable in a big city like Chicago, where he could move about freely and still remain anonymous at the same time. So they had agreed on moving to a house in a small suburb about fifteen minutes away, satisfying the wishes of both Jesse and Amelia.
He was tying his shoes after receiving the call a couple minutes earlier about a fire at an apartment building in the city. Jesse stood, watching Amelia sleep, her stomach beginning to show the earliest signs of pregnancy. Quietly he crept out of the house.
When he reached the building, he realized the fire was worse than he had imagined. The apartment was a blazing, furious red and orange, its smoke billowing into the early morning sky.
"How did this happen?" Jesse yelled over the roar of the fire.
"I don't know," said one of his partners, Malcolm. "But it's a big fucking fire, man. I don't think anyone who was in there could survive."
Jesse pulled on his mask and headed towards the door, despite the calls of his partners trying futilely to put out the raging fire. He stepped through the door and the heat Intensified, like he was walking through hell itself. But he knew he couldn't get hurt here.
The blazing inferno brought back memories of Vietnam. It brought back the feeling of helpless claustrophobia, of being trapped in a swarm of men and a hail of gunfire. The heat was just as bad there as it was in the apartment, all of Nam seeming to be a sweltering mass of sweat and blood and pure unadulterated heat.
He remembered the helpless feeling of being caught up in that whirlwind of gunfire being rained upon the enemy. Everything was bright and noisy, and along with the smell of something burning (probably one of his comrades) it made Jesse feel like crawling into a hole and dying.
And then they had wandered into that trap later, and that was when Jesse thought (with a certain feeling of relief) that that was probably the end. But he had escaped, escaped alone, and watched his friends and his comrades die while he sat by a nearby river, tears mingling with the dirt and the sweat streaking his face.
Because they wouldn't let him die.
A crash brought Jesse back to reality, to the apartment, and he silently reminded himself that this wasn't Nam; he had a job to do. He walked cautiously through the remains of the first floor lobby, pausing at where the front desk would have been.
Alarmed by the sound of a curious rumbling, he looked up.
The ceiling was collapsing.
"He'll be fine, Mrs. Keys. I can't explain how he managed to survive that, but I can tell you that he will."
Gradually he opened his eyes, and he could begin to see faint outlines of people, placing faces with their voices. Amelia noticed that he was awake and dropped the tissue she had been using, running to his bed.
"My God," she said, tears threatening to come out, "I can't tell you how worried I was."
He blinked, letting her face come into focus. "What happened?" Everything was a blur, and all he could remember was standing outside of an apartment building, Malcolm saying something to him.
"You went into that building and the ceiling fell. They found you later, when they finally put the fire out."
Suddenly he remembered it, standing in the building, everything ablaze around him, wherever he looked. "Was there anyone else in there before me?"
Amelia looked puzzled. "No, you were the only one that went in."
"Not like that. Were there any tenants in there? Civilians?"
"I don't know," she replied truthfully. She was worried about him, about whether this was the right job for him to be pursuing. If he was hurt or killed - the thought of losing him and having to raise their child alone sent a chill down her spine. But affection suddenly overcame her at that moment, a love for the always-selfless Jesse. He was hospitalized, clueless as to his condition, and yet he was inquiring about other people, people he had never even met before.
He sighed and closed his eyes, and she watched him as he slept again, realizing the true fragility of human life and just how easy it was to lose someone, as his chest rose and fell systematically.
Within a week Jesse was released, perfectly (and unexplainably) fine. Doctors marveled at his condition after surviving something like that. Jesse, as a result of Amelia's prodding, took a couple of weeks off from volunteering to "recuperate". He started running in the morning again and became more active to fill up the hours of spare time he had.
He would also take care of the house, occasionally cleaning, but mostly mowing the lawn as he was today.
The blades of the lawn mower spun around, separating the tips of the grass from their ends. Jesse pushed the machine back and forth in a neat line across the yard, watching the lawn quickly begin to resemble a paragon of the "suburban dream".
Jesse's neighbor peered over from the other side of the fence, as he watched Jesse mow his lawn for the second time that week.
"Hey, Jesse," called Alan from next door, "How you been lately? Doing anything exciting, or do you mow all the time?"
Jesse smiled to himself and continued to mow the lawn, calling over the roar of the mower, "I've been cutting the grass and watching it grow." And then to himself, more quietly, "Cutting the grass and watching it grow."
Alan furrowed his brow. He yelled out in a jokingly good-natured way, "That's the second time this week, Keys. Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Life," said Jesse, turning the lawn mower to cover the other side of the lawn, "is ninety percent maintenance."
