Kiss Me Once
by Cristina "Nina" Trask
The perpetual disclaimer: "Remember WENN" and its characters are copyright Rupert Holmes, Howard Meltzer and AMC. This story is copyright Cristina Trask, 1999. All rights reserved.
Italics indicates thought
"And I kept thinking, what would it be like to be coming home to a girl named Betty Roberts?" Scott chuckled low to himself. He watched Betty's lips tighten and felt a sharp slap to his left cheek. Scott compressed his jaw and looked down. Not until now had he felt ashamed, truly ashamed, of the fraud he had perpetrated. He realized that he deserved her slap...perhaps Betty's was the most-deserved slap he'd ever received.
Betty stood and opened the door, causing light from the hallway to better illuminate the pain in her drawn face. "From the moment we first met, I thought that-that you were an odd choice to take over this station, but I tried to ignore my instincts because I thought Victor saw something in you." Her eyes filled with reproach. "But Victor saw nothing in you, did he?" Reproach turned into revulsion. "You were a guy in a bar. You were just a guy in a bar."
Everything she'd said was true, and every stinging bit of it was deserved. Scott stood to offer what little verbal defense he could. "If it means anything, I never meant to stay as long as I did." He felt an unnamable emotion choking his words. "Then Victor died, and this place suddenly seemed like an orphanage." Betty appeared ready to contradict him. "Somebody had to keep this crew afloat."
"Well, at the moment this crew is putting their jobs on the line for you." Betty avoided meeting his gaze. "I think you should go out there and tell them to stop trying to save your skin." The line of her mouth dropped slightly.
Way ahead of you, Scott thought bitterly. "I already did. And you know, I didn't have to confess any of this to you, Betty. I had you fooled." Any lame attempt at an excuse was worth it at the moment-his last moments at WENN. "Don't I get any points for honesty?"
Betty glanced into his eyes and admitted grudgingly, "A few," but before he could feel any victory, "...not many."
Scott stared at her lips. The lips that had so often talked him out of hot water. The lips that had once kissed his cheek. Now or never. "Enough to give me a kiss good-bye?"
Betty's frown deepened and her clear eyes looked into his. "Not a chance."
Scott's gaze quailed. Her refusal cut deeper than any physical wound she could have dealt him. But he had anticipated her reply. Only the wild hopes that were his trademark had allowed him to voice his question. "I understand." Betty's clean-scented presence suddenly felt much too near. He had to get out of there soon. "Well, so long, Betty Roberts." He hesitated, waiting for her to acknowledge his words.
"Good-bye." She answered primly but seemed disconcerted and relieved about something.
Scott took Betty's short eye contact as a dismissal. This is it. He turned to the empty hallway. I'll never see her again...annoy her again...see her blush...This could be my only chance... He took a step into the corridor. Oh, what the hell! Scott spun on his heel. "Oh, what the hell," he whispered huskily. Both his hands gently, but firmly, cradled the line of her jaw. Hundreds of sensations registered in his brain as he brought her lips to his. Desperation made him passionate. Love made him tender. Courage had brought him here in the first place. The small bit of honor that Betty had instilled in him forbade such behavior. Sorrow gathered at the back of his throat. He'd just brought Betty's justified accusations to a new level. Scott began to release her. For a split second, he'd felt a nuance of...well, certainly not a return on Betty's part...but...acceptance.
Scott dropped his hands, never removing his gaze from her face. And he was gone.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Betty met his gaze. That look on his face, that last look, would forever be imprinted on her conscience. She expected reproach, glee, something akin to Scott's teasing, selfish nature. Only grief. Remorse. Not love. No, not a chance. Scott loved nothing except himself and pleasure.
Betty stood watching the empty corridor for goodness knew how long. Her mind sputtered incoherent thoughts. Scott's burning kiss had frozen her ability to think. All she could feel was a vague phantom pressure below her ears, where Scott had touched her. Betty slowly returned to the writer's room. If Victor had ever displayed half that amount of passion, she'd have purchased her trousseau. But Scott isn't Victor. She looked at the projection of Victor's signature on the wall. Scott isn't Victor. Why was she relieved by that fact? And scared.
The moment before Scott had freed her lips, Betty had felt an answering passion developing inside. Who knew what could've happened had he continued the kiss? Betty turned off the projector. Her iceburg of thoughts melted into hot tears. She bowed her head in the dark.
The End
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