"If I can't make it with you, I can't make it with anyone". Bridget chewed on her lip, feeling her heart literally tearing in two over these two handsome, ridiculous, foolish men, who had just had a public brawl over her. Daniels eyes were pleading, and she felt the familiar tug between them. "Come on, you need to get cleaned up" she said quietly, dismayed at how her heart jumped when Daniels face lit up in response. Helping him along, she led him to the door of her apartment, before turning back. "Go" mouthed her friend, shooing her along with a smile. She returned the smile with a wobbly one of her own, before following Daniel up the stairs inside.
Sitting him down on the sofa, she went into the bathroom. Surely she must have first aid equipment somewhere? After a few moments of fruitless searching, she gave up and grabbed a towel, running it under warm water for a few minutes before returning to Daniel, who was being strangely subdued, for Daniel. She saw why quickly, as he lay with his head back and eyes closed, snoring softly. "Daniel?" she whispered, with no reply. She felt her heart melting a little at the sight of him and shook her head. She was not taking him back. He had broken her heart, made her suffer endless hours of depressing music and more units of alcohol than was good for her. He was bad. She gently wiped at the cut on his eyebrow, trying not to disturb him too much. She hated this situation. She had almost believed Mark Darcy was the reformed man he appeared, only to see him swing a punch at the man whose heart he had broken. Remembering that only made Bridget's heart hurt more. Done with the cut, she picked up his hand and checked for glass, removing a few shards and wiping away the blood. He must have been really tired to have fallen asleep this quickly after that fight, she thought to herself. Or really drunk. Removing the last piece of glass, she kept hold of his hand, wondering what on earth she was going to do. And work tomorrow, ugh. She definitely did not have the heart in this moment in time to wake him up and send him packing in a taxi. So that was why, when Daniel woke up the next morning, bandaged and hungover, he was lying on Bridget Jones's sofa, with a glass of water and a packet of aspirin on the table in front of him, with a note in the messy scrawl of the woman he was madly in love with next to them.