Untitled
by Rebecca Immich

Disclaimer: Remember WENN belongs to Rupert Holmes, AMC, and some other legal people.  Other parts of this story are taken from "Radio Silence," "In the WENN Small Hours..." and "Who's Scott Sherwood?" and are meant to be used to heighten the dramatic suspense in the story.   No infringement intended what so ever.

- - - - - -

As Maple and Eugenia walked into the studio, Betty and Victor stood hiding at the end of the hallway. They snuck across the hallway and stood by the airducts. Victor glanced at his watch and said, "I have to meet my contact in eight minutes." He looked up at Betty and said, "Betty, what I didn't tell you in all the time that we were working together--"

"Could fill volumes," Betty interrupted. She smiled and said, "Risking your life to let me know you're alive... I don't know what more you could say."

"This is the key," Victor said, holding up a small key, "to the stong box in my desk. In it is the code name and the phone number of the one man who knows everything about Jonathan Arnold. Keep it." Betty placed her hand over the key. "In case it... Well, just in case."

"Victor, what about the others? What about...Gertie and Mr. Eldridge?"

"You can't tell them anything. And I had no right to tell you. As far as the world is concerned," Victor said, "I am the late Victor Comstock."

"What about Scott Sherwood?" Betty asked. "He's taken your death so hard."

"Who...is Scott Sherwood?" Victor questioned.

"Scott Sherwood. The man you sent here to replace you."

"I've never heard of Scott Sherwood."

As they stared at each other in confusion, the studio door slammed shut. "Betty!" Scott shouted. "Betty-Betty-Betty-Betty!"

"Betty--" Victor said. Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed Betty passionately. They broke off the kiss and stared at each other, exchanging silent good-byes.

Victor vanished as Scott turned the corner. "Betty!" Scott exclaimed. She whirled around. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Scott said, as he frowned at her pale face. "Come into my office. I've got a great new concept that will completely change the way you look at everything." He chuckled and strolled off to his office. Betty turned around and stared at where Victor had left.

- - - - -

The year was 1942. Victor Comstock was finally coming home to radio station WENN in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He was flying in on a military cargo plane. The ride was uncomfortable, but Victor was accustomed to dealing with such small details. Right now he had more important things on his mind. Like the girl he had left behind.

Victor sat, scrunched between stacks of parachutes and boxes of rations, thinking about the last three years in Germany. They had been lonely years, filled with the threat of exposure and death. But the memory of Betty Roberts waiting at home for him had kept Victor optimistic about his future. He kept waiting for the day when he could finally tell Betty how he really felt. Victor reached into his jacket pocket. The small velvet box was still there, waiting for the right moment.

The plane finally landed in Pittsburgh and Victor was whisked away to be debriefed. After hours, he was give a cover story. When anyone asked of his miraculous resurrection, Victor was to tell them that he had survived the bombing, but had wandered off in a semiconscious state to a bus leaving London. From that bus, he went to a small Welsh town and became a sheep farmer. Of course, all this time Victor had been suffering from amnesia. After several grueling hours, Victor was let free, alive once again. He headed straight for WENN and let himelf in through the airducts. He told himself that it was just because he didn't want to scare the cast, but deep down, he knew it was because he only wanted to see Betty. After squeezing through the tight airducts, Victor lowered himself down into the writer's room.

"Hilary, I'll have those pages in a minute," a familiar voice said. "Just--all right! Give me a minute!" The door pushed open and Betty walked in. "Victor!" she said, staring at him.

"Hello Betty."

Betty stared at him disbelievingly. She blinked several times and swallowed hard. "I-I thought you were dead. Killed in Berlin, I mean. We heard on the radio that Jonathan Arnold had been killed in a freak training accident. I never thought I'd see you again. This is so..."

"I know it's all quite a surprise, Betty. The news about Jonathan Arnold was faked. Planted by the Allies. It's all a part of my reappearance. Actually, I had amnesia and became a sheep farmer in Wales. It's only after the shock of Pearl Harbor that I realized who I was and decided to come back to WENN. But I can tell you more later. Betty, I have something I need to tell you," Victor said, grabbing her hands as he propelled her to a chair. "You're all that I could think about in Germany... Betty, you helped me stay focused on the future. I have but one question to ask you."

Victor gazed deeply into Betty's eyes. Betty opened her mouth, but Victor put his finger over her lips. "There'll be plenty of time to talk later. Just let me..."

The door burst open. "Betty, Hilary is waiting for those--" Scott Sherwood stopped, frowning. "Who is this?"

Betty stood up. "Scott, this is Victor Comstock."

"Isn't he dead? I thought--"

"No," Victor said, sounding annoyed. "I did not die in the first Blitz of London. It's a very long story and I'll be happy to tell it to you later, Mr.--"

"Sherwood. Scott Sherwood."

"Whatever. But right now I need to talk to Miss Roberts."

"Actually, she's not Miss--" Betty cut Scott off midsentence. "Scott, it'll just be a few minutes." She reached on top of the desk and pulled out a few pieces of paper. "Just give these to Hilary. I need to talk to Victor, okay?"

"Sure." Scott took the pages and left the room.

After he left, Victor asked, "Who is Scott Sherwood? What does he do at WENN?"

"It's a long story, Victor. A very long story. Let me start at the beginning. It all began in a pub in London. You may even recall the incident..."

- - - - -

The pub was filled with the haze of cigarette smoke and the sound of clinking glasses. London in 1939 was filled the atmosphere of war and many residents went to the local pub to get away from it all. The pub was filled mostly with locals, but on one bar stool sat a radio reporter. "You know what I hate most about being here?" he asked a bartender.

The bartender glanced down at the newcomer. "About being where? In London, or," he said, his eyes narrowing, "in this pub?"

"London. This pub is great. No, I really hate the mail. It's so slow! I need to get this book," he siad, pulling a book of limericks out with a flourish, "to Pittsburgh. I work at this radio station, WENN, and I want to send Mr. Eldridge this book. But I think I'd make it home before the book will."

A gravelly voice broke through the dim. "I'm going to Pittsburgh tomorrow. Perhaps I could drop the book off for you."

Victor frowned and swiveled towards the voice. He saw a large man sitting on the stool next to him and said, "Who are you?"

He replied, "I'm Scott Sherwood." He reached out his hand. "Who are you?"

"I'm Victor Comstock," he said as he gripped Scott's hand firmly.

"Nice to meet you. Yeah, I'm going to California to promote a show. My cousin just started a theatre and he wants me to help him. I'm going through Pittsburgh though and I could drop it off. But where exactly would I leave it?"

"At the radio station where I work. It's a present for Mr. Eldridge," Victor said. "When you get there, could you say hello to Betty Roberts for me?"

"Who is she? Your girl?" Scott asked.

"Well," Victor said, taking a long swallow of his beer, "she's not mine exactly. She's a sweet girl, real sweet. And smart. She writes all the shows for the station. Plus now she's taken over my job as station manager. I hope she's coping okay. Those actors... They can be demanding. But I know Betty can handle it." Victor broke his reverie, saying abruptly, "You'd just have to leave it at the front desk."

"Oh, don't worry, Victor," Scott said. "I could say hello to all your friends there. Just tell me what to say to them. I wouldn't mind."

Victor began to talk about the cozy radio station and a plan began to form in Scott Sherwood's devious mind.

- - - - -

"Scott took the book for limericks from London to here. But on the way to Pittsburgh, he forged a letter of introduction and took over the job of station mangaer."

Victor stared at Betty with disbelief. "He's the station manger?!?"

"Yes...and no. There's still a lot more to this story."

"More?" Victor asked in wonder. "Well, I guess you'd better keep going."

"Scott actually didn't plan on staying at WENN as long as he did. But then you died so he ended up keeping WENN running. Scott helped me stop grieving. I guess he felt guilty about the way he became station manager and he began to take money from the sponsors to build the Victor Comstock memorial. Eventually, he got caught by Mr. Pruitt. The whole cast rallied behind him. They would have lost their jobs if Scott hadn't stopped them. I confronted him about forging your signature..."

- - - - -

"From the moment that we first met," Betty said angrily, "I thought you were an odd choice to take over the station. But I tried to ignore my instincts because...I thought Victor saw something in you. But Victor saw nothing in you! You were just a guy in a bar. You were just a guy in a bar."

Scott got up from his chair. "If it means anything, I never meant to stay as long as I did. Then Victor died and this place suddenly seemed like an orphange. Someone had to keep this crew afloat."

Betty replied, "Well, at this moment, this crew is putting their jobs on the line for you. I think you should go out there and tell them to stop trying to save your skin."

"I already did."

Betty nodded, not meeting his eyes. Scott began to speak again, "Do you know that I didn't have to confess any of this to you, Betty. I had you fooled. Don't I get any points for honesty?"

She looked at him and shook her head. "A few. Not many."

"Enough to...give me a kiss good-bye."

"Not a chance," Betty emphasized.

Scott nodded and said, "I understand. Well, so long Betty Roberts."

"Good-bye."

Scott turned to leave, then turned back and said, "Oh, what the hell." He kissed Betty thoroughly and then left. She stared after him, confused at the torents for emotion he had evoked in her.

- - - - -

"Then he just left the station."

"Then how is he back? This sounds like an episode of Valiant Journey," Victor said. "All these twists. It's quite confusing."

Betty opened her mouth to clarify everything, but Victor gestured for her to keep going. "I'll get eventually," Victor said. "Just keep going."

"Well, first he got a job as an actor, taking over all of Jeff's roles while he was in London. But then Mr. Pruitt was caught embezzling himself! One of our sponsors scraped up enough money to buy WENN from GLOBE after the government liquidated all of Pruitt's holdings. The sponsor was impressed by Scott's efforts to memorialize you, but just not the way he went about it. He hired Scott back as the station manger. But during the whole ordeal," Betty said, looking down, "I did a lot of thinking. I realized that I never really loved you."

Victor protested, "Betty, what about--"

"Victor, let me finish. I was infatuated with you." She smiled and looked up. "You taught me how to love radio, but you never took time for me until it was too late. Victor, you're married to your work. I know I couldn't come between you and the radio. And when you died the first time, I buried myself in my work, trying to forget you."

- - - - - -

"Oh, Mr. Sherwood," Gertie said as she got up from her desk. "Betty is typing when I leave here in the evening and she's still typing when I get back in the morning. Doesn't she ever go home?"

"She's been locking up around two a.m., takes the last trolley home, gets to her apartment around two-thirty, and then is back to work by seven."

"Sounds like you've been hiring a private detective to follow her around town," Gertie said.

"Naah. I don't trust private detectives," Scott said. "I used to be one." He walked out of the reception area.

"Then how do you know whether she's coming or go..." Gertie stopped, a puzzled look on her face.

- - - - - -

"I finally realized that I loved Scott." She looked over at Victor. "Don't worry, it was as much a surprise to me as it is to you. But it was the truth. I-I'm no longer Betty Roberts. That's what Scott was trying to tell you. I'm Betty Sherwood."

"You married him?" Victor sputtered. "B-but I thought we had something. Something special."

"We do," Betty said as she leaned over and took his hand. "But Scott and I have something better. I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. You being in Berlin and all, it made things very complicated. I didn't want to hurt you. It was after you died in London the second time that I finally reached the crossroads. I buried myself in my work again. I finally came to my senses and realized that Scott--"

The door banged open again. "Did someone say my name?" Scott asked. "Oh, Betty, did you, ah, explain to--"

"Yes, Scott," Victor said. "May I call you Scott? Betty did explain everything." He reached out to shake Scott's hand. "Congratulations. Betty's, well, she's one of a kind."

Scott looked confused. "Thanks, I guess. Can I help--"

"Oh no," Victor said hurriedly. "Just excuse me." He got up abruptly. "I need to get something out of the strongbox in my des k." With that, Victor walked out of the writer's room.

"What's the matter with him?" Scott asked, turning towards Betty. "And how can he be alive?"

"It's a long story involving Wales, amnesia, and sheep. You'd better tell the rest of the cast. I'll explain it to everyone--"

Two shots rang out, interrupting Betty mid-sentence. She turned white and ran to the office. The door was locked. She pounded on it furiously. "Victor! Victor are you all right?"

- - - - - -

The End

And as a sidebar, I wrote this story during late August and early September 1997, before "Happy Homecomings," which is probably evident by the dated information. Kind of spooky although, when you think about both of them ending with a mysterious gunshot.

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