A/N: This eight-chapter story came about due to a conversation with KarlieQ about our mutual dislike of Ben Devlin, who made three appearances in Season 7, as a new counterpart for Jessica, with William Windom being in a different show at the time. It wasn't overt (Angela Lansbury would never allow it), but it always felt as though the writers presented Ben Devlin as a possible love interest for her. The actor who played Ben, guest starred in several seasons as different characters, but this briefly recurring role was different in that he was a newspaper editor, a writer, and intellectual equal to Jessica. However, his character was arrogant, brash, and abrasive and I took issue with him from the moment Jessica confronted him in his office for having the paper run the story about her bicycle accident. Anybody who crosses Jessica is always going to be a persona non grata to me, as my Latin teacher would have said. Our beloved Seth will appear a bit later in this story, as during the first episode that Ben Devlin appears in, Jessica is on the phone talking to Seth, who tells her that his daughter's baby is late, which is why he can't come home yet to Cabot Cove.

Ben Devlin's character appeared in:

S7E2: Deadly Misunderstanding (aired on 9/23/90)

S7E6: A Body to Die For (aired on 11/11/90)

S7E10: Murder in F Sharp (aired on 12/16/1990)

For purposes of this story, most of it takes place in September, October and November around these first two episodes' air dates, with it wrapping up in December. Small pieces of the story lines and a couple of comments by Ben are used to aid in the plot to provide setting and context. I borrowed the details of Jessica's dress from S7E10, but that one was a bookend episode, where she and Ben start on the couch talking about Dennis Stanton, and then Dennis is the focus of the episode. So, when Ben makes his exit in this story (That's not a spoiler, right? Look at the title of the story!), and Seth comes to the forefront, in my mind that takes place from the middle of November to Christmastime.

I borrowed Wylie to suit my purposes, even though his character only appeared in season 3.

This is my work, but I don't own the characters. I just adore them.

Chapter 1

Mid-to-late September

Jessica Fletcher had not been sure what to think about Ben Devlin when he moved into town and became the new editor of the Cabot Cove Gazette. After all, he was a newspaper man who had won a Pulitzer Prize and had worked at the Washington Globe. He had led an intriguing career already with many accolades. On paper, he had the background and characteristic qualities that she was usually drawn to.

During college, being a journalist had been her dream. But when she met Frank Fletcher, while working on the set of the Applewood Playhouse, Frank had become a different kind of dream and one she had never regretted for a moment. Even so, she had remained enamored with the journalism profession over the years, often being far more tolerant with reporters than many others in her current profession. Being subjected to many interviews via print, television and radio every time a new book was published, she answered the same questions over and over again, understanding that each reporter wanted to reach a different audience while hoping to find another angle or detail to snatch for the public to collect a feather in their cap. Beyond her work though, she disliked seeing her face plastered across a newspaper whenever she became involved in a murder investigation. It wasn't easy, but she did understand it, often exerting far more patience than any of her friends or family understood.

Instead, she had used her love of the English language to become a teacher early in her marriage and through that, enjoyed writing for pleasure whenever she had spare time. Then, when she lost Frank, writing became her lifeline, one that she couldn't seem to stop doing. Almost a compulsion to channel her time and energy, as well as her emotions. She had wondered if her anger in the beginning at losing Frank was what made her focus on murder mysteries. It felt rather macabre looking back on it. Why always murder? She abhorred violence.

After Grady had peddled her manuscript and her life felt as though it completely spiraled out of control, if she was asked why she wrote about murder, she focused on the puzzle of murder mysteries and how it was something to solve that everyone could engage in that had made her gravitate towards that genre. But after a period when the anger started to fade, she was able to admit to herself that in those early days of grief, writing about dark plots had been a way to express that anger at life for taking Frank away from her.

These days, thankfully, the anger was long gone, and she had built a life for herself around something that she did truly enjoy, even if the original reasons had changed. Even though she had felt frustrated at Grady for taking her manuscript to a publisher, she was grateful for how that action had affected the trajectory of her life. Having as much opportunity at this age as she had both in her career and in her personal life, her world had expanded far more than she ever imagined could be possible.

Thus, she had become a different writer than the journalist she had dreamed to be as a young woman. Yet that had not made it any less meaningful. Nor did she think one career path was better or more valid than the other.

However, when she had her first encounter with Ben Devlin, there had been something about him that had both intrigued her and offended her.

Well, she supposed it was no secret and could be answered in rather simplistic terms. She was impressed by his obvious success in his field, garnering recognition that had made him highly regarded around the country. Regarding her struggle with his offensive and abrasive side? That had come about because of the newspaper article he had allowed to run covering her bicycle accident that resulted in her left arm being placed in a sling. She had been indignant; her anger being exacerbated by the stress that her manuscript was due to her publisher by the end of the week and she had to rely on a tedious woman to be her typist ever since her injury had occurred.

In Jessica's mind, it had been unconscionable for Mr. Devlin to have run such a personal story in the newspaper. Why was a bicycle accident when she had not been seriously injured, newsworthy? Oh, when she confronted him, she knew his reasoning was sound. But why must the article include that she ruined her best pair of trousers? She knew her pride was hurt more than anything else, but it was times like these that she resented her celebrity status in the world and even felt sorry for those who were far more famous, knowing they could not live normal lives. At least here in Cabot Cove, she had the illusion of being unknown most days. She supposed if the accident had been serious, it would have been even more upsetting to have her personal details included in the newspaper, as she had no doubt, he would have viewed it as being worthy of the front page. Didn't she have the right to feel upset though?

Then, Mr. Devlin had the nerve to suggest they discuss the duty to report the news to the public versus the right to privacy over a meal and that he would let her win an argument, no matter how flimsy her arguments were, as though she needed to win anything with him. By then, her point if she wanted to argue one, which had nothing to do with her accident at all and which she was under no obligation to prove, was that no man at this stage of her life was going to feel that they would ever let her win anything. She didn't need a man like that, nor did she want to be around a man who viewed women in such a derogatory manner.

Frank had not spoken to her that way, even on the rare occasions that she knew he did view her as the weaker sex. He had known better than to ever breathe a word like that in her presence if he wanted to sleep with her in their bed. She recalled twice, early in their marriage, he had taken a pig-headed notion in his head about the roles of women in a marriage, and he had found himself sleeping on the couch while she slept in their bedroom with the door locked for the night. He had learned never to do that again even if he did think he knew better from time to time.

So, after that first conversation in his office and the awkward breakfast that followed, how in the world had she ended up going on an actual date with Ben Devlin a few nights later?

Jessica wasn't exactly sure. It had been so many years since she had gone on a date that she didn't even know what to expect. In fact, on their first date, she did not have an inkling she had agreed to one until he rang the front doorbell and presented her with a bouquet of flowers. The entire dinner, he had been a gentleman though, doing little things such as opening the door for her and pulling out her chair. On the ride home, she became flustered sensing that he would want a goodnight kiss.

When he parked the car and came around to open her door, her mind was waging a battle. Briefly, she considered hurrying inside without giving him the opportunity to do anything. But she knew that would be rude and immature. If she was going to refuse his advances, she should do so to his face, and not by running away. She wondered if he would expect to come inside for coffee and considered inviting him. But she was tired. Her arm was still in the sling.

Ever since the bicycle accident and getting her manuscript turned in finally after that business with Melissa Maddox and her husband's murder being solved, she had allowed herself to rest more. Even though she was truly tired, would he believe her? Could she kiss him on the cheek and say goodnight on the doorstep? Or should she allow him to kiss her if he wanted to? She knew she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. But she hadn't been kissed in so long that the idea was intriguing. Was he a good kisser? Would he think she was? Did she want to find out?

By the time Ben walked her to the front door, holding her right hand, he said, "Jessica, I had a lovely evening. I can tell you are tired, so I am willing to let you go inside without a kiss, if I can get a rain check for another date soon."

Thrown off, she mumbled that she supposed that would be alright. By the time he drove off, and she had gone inside though, she wondered how she had agreed to have a second date and apparently, promised a kiss? Who did he think he was anyway by saying he would let her go without a kiss? If she didn't want to kiss him, she was under no obligation to do so. The nerve of him!

Only…what if she wanted to kiss him? She did find him attractive, but his personality left a lot to be desired. She knew other men like him, who were married to friends, and those women weren't typically happily married. Her guard was up, and red flags were present, but she remained intrigued by him, wondering if this was how her friends initially felt before they ended up with men like him.

Unsettled, she recognized that she did respond to his confidence. A weakness on her part clearly. Well, buck up, Fletcher, she thought. Perhaps she would go on a second date with him if what had just happened could even be considered a first date, and maybe she would even allow a kiss, but she would do so, with her eyes wide open.

S/J

Early October

A week later, still with her left arm confined in her sling, Jessica was increasingly disgruntled. While Seth's daughter had given birth to her baby, it had been a difficult delivery and she had hemorrhaged afterwards requiring a blood transfusion. Jessica had been touched when Seth called the night before, telling her what happened, explaining why he wasn't coming home yet. As father and daughter both had the same blood type, Seth had donated his own blood to her. He told Jessica quietly, not seeking any praise, but needing to convey how serious the situation had become and how worried he was still about her.

Jessica had assured him that his daughter and grandbaby needed him, and he was doing the right thing by extending his visit.

"You should stay as long as you can. Be a dad and a granddad to that baby. They need you right now. You don't get those special moments ever again, Seth," she had said, quietly.

She hated when she couldn't hide the pain in her voice that she had been unable to bear children. She knew he heard it, too. What she wasn't saying, but she sensed he discerned anyway, was that no one was ever guaranteed those special moments to begin with, so when they happened, they should be appreciated and savored. Listening to her, he had committed to staying, once he was convinced that her arm was improving, and she was doing her range of motion exercises every morning and night.

"You will call me, Jess? If anything is wrong?"

"Yes, of course." But she wouldn't and he likely knew that. It was a harmless white lie, wasn't it?

When they said goodbye, she felt the loss of her friend immediately. He had been gone for two weeks already and if it hadn't been for the fact that his daughter had been ready to deliver over a week ago when her bicycle accident happened, she knew he would have driven home right away. But instead, he still wasn't home and for good reason.

Jessica missed Seth. Sighing, she wondered for what seemed like forever why they had never tried to be more than friends, even though she knew that the thought of trying and failing had made it too much to risk. Instead, they remained friends, best friends, and that was probably all they would ever be.

The next evening, she wound up agreeing on the spur of the moment to have dinner with Ben Devlin. When he called at lunchtime to ask, she had said yes, before considering if it was a date or not. If it was dinner only as friends, she felt it was fine for him to ask at any time. But if it was a date, shouldn't he have asked her earlier?

Trying not to overthink, she sighed and continued to putter around her house for the afternoon. Since her manuscript had been sent off to her publisher the week before, she was no longer on any type of deadline for the foreseeable future. Missing Seth, she wondered what he was doing, wishing that he was there, and they could go on the boat with Caleb, as it was a beautiful fall day. She wouldn't have been able to cast with her arm in the sling, but she could have enjoyed being on the water with Seth.

She had a list of things that she needed to do around her house, as she always did, now that she had a break from writing, but with her arm injured, she couldn't do any of it. While she had a great deal of flexibility in her career and could create a writing schedule that suited her needs while having time off when needed, when she was on a deadline to finish a manuscript, there was far less leeway. It often required tunnel vision. Making lists was something she had done to free her mind from mental chatter for her entire adult life. Over the years, she had learned to make a list for everything that was important to complete once every manuscript was in the mail. Currently, as it was fall, she had tasks on the list hanging on her refrigerator such as pruning the rose bushes, digging up the flower bulbs to protect through the winter, taking screens off her downstairs windows, reorganizing the pantry, and going through her closet to donate articles of clothing she was no longer wearing.

Staring at the list, she supposed she could do the last one with one arm. She did not have the energy to try on any blouses or shirts or dresses, as it was challenging enough to get dressed every day, but she could try on pants and skirts and shoes readily enough, deciding if they fit well or she simply didn't like wearing them any longer. Looking at the rest of the chores, she admitted she was frustrated knowing that if Seth was here, he would have done everything for her.

Which posed another dilemma in her mind. Was she taking advantage of her best friend? What did she do for him in return?

Feeling unsettled, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom closet, set to begin her task, reminding herself she needed to discuss her concerns with him. She never wanted to endanger their relationship. He was far too important to her.