Ringer "Saving Grace" (Fan Fiction)

Disclaimer: I do not own Ringer or any part of it, this is strictly Fan Fiction.

Chapter One

Bridget's POV:

Bridget shivered, and her fingers tightened on the cream sweater that stood as her only shield against the chilly Hampton breeze. Andrew Martin's beach house stood proudly against the dreary sky. The man she lied to. The man who hated her. The man she loved.

She sighed.

Andrew and Juliet were in there somewhere. Dread of seeing them again froze her steps. She loved them both so much, and she had hurt them so badly. The thought of facing them again filled her with sadness and longing. She never thought she would love anyone, and for a long time she had been convinced she didn't deserve to, which was why her feelings for Andrew came as such a shock.

She fell completely head over heels in love with him. Those months together were the happiest Bridget had ever known. Only it had all been a lie. Andrew was her twin sister, Siobhan's husband. Juliet was Siobhan's step-daughter. Bridget was an ex-drug-addict-stripper, who witnessed a murder by Bodaway Macawi and fled protective custody.

When Siobhan committed suicide, or so Bridge thought, Bridget slipped into her life to hide from Bodaway, who was trying to kill her so she wouldn't testify against him. It was supposed to be a temporary means to an end, giving her asylum until she could figure out her next move, only it didn't turn out that way. Instead she slipped into a world full of intrigue, affairs, and murder. Someone was trying to kill Siobhan. Her asylum became a mission to figure out who was trying to hurt her sister, while attempting to stay alive.

Playing Andrew's wife, and Juliet's step-mom, was the only way she could do it. Falling for Andrew wasn't in the plan, but when she realized she loved him, she couldn't leave. For once she wasn't depending on anyone, they were depending on her. It was a heady feeling for an eternal screw up like her, one she didn't want to give up. She treasured being dependable for those she loved, even though she knew it couldn't possibly last. That's the thing about a web of lies. Eventually, you got tangled up in them.

She never should have lied to him, but fear kept her from telling him the truth. Then she fell in love with him and gave her heart to Juliet as well, a girl who reminded her of herself trying to escape the pain of life with drugs and alcohol. Bridget did her best to help Juliet out of that trap and in the process gained a daughter in her heart. Juliet seemed to not only come around to their marriage, but she came to love Bridget, who posed as Siobhan.

When the truth of her true identity was revealed, the night before the vow renewal, both Andrew and Juliet were understandably furious and brutally hurt. After telling Bridget they wanted nothing to do with her, they packed their bags and headed to the Hampton's.

Tears welled in her eyes. The thought of facing them after her betrayal, sent a shock of self-loathing through Bridget. Stunned, she turned to walk back to the car, and instead walked right into Solomon, Siobhan's driver who over time became Bridget's friend and confidante.

"Whoa, where exactly do you think you're going?" his gentle dark eyes smiled. "The house is that way," he gestured behind her.

"I can't do it, Solomon. I just can't," Bridget cringed at the defeat in her voice.

"Yes, Bridget, you can. You have to," he said kindly.

"Why?" she shuddered and looked toward the beach. "He hates me. I could just send him the DVD with a note explaining everything," she closed her eyes and wished that was the answer.

"No," he shook his head, "he needs to hear it from you and you need to do this. It's as much for you as for him. You deserve to not only confront your mistakes but to learn from them. You are one of the bravest women I've ever met, you can do this."

"No, I can't."

Solomon raised a brow.

Bridget smiled ruefully and wiped her tear stained cheeks dry.

"All right, I'm a chicken. I just can't forget his face when I told him I wasn't Siobhan. He was completely betrayed," she shook her head. "How can I expect him to listen?"

"All you can do is ask for a chance. He may slam the door in your face and call the cops, or he might let you explain. The truth is you can't control how he will react, but you can control how you respond. Remember, this is as much for you as it is for him."

Bridget looked out toward the ocean. The waves beat and crashed against the shore before receding, only to return and do it again. They reminded her of her own desires to move forward one moment and retreat and hide the next. Only she couldn't be a coward. She couldn't flee this. If she did she would end up using again, not caring from one moment to the next what happened to her and thinking she deserved the dregs of life she got. She couldn't go back to that.

Resolved, she straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin. She wouldn't draw back, she would move forward. No matter how daunting that seemed to be.

"All right," her hands shook as she gave him a hug, "wish me luck."

"I don't believe in luck so I'll wish you strength." Solomon squeezed her tight, before giving her a gentle push in the direction of the house.

"Thanks," she glanced at the beach then back to Solomon. "I'm going to need it.

Turning, she started up the walkway, her sandaled feet slapped lightly against the pavers while her pale green dress flirted with her ankles. Fear tried to slow her steps, but sheer stubbornness drew her forward. Clutching her purse, she moved on to the front stoop. She would show Andrew the DVD, and she would leave. That was all.

Andrew's POV:

Andrew watched Siobhan. No. He shook his head in disgust. Bridget. Not Siobhan. Bridget Kelly, the stripper-whore-druggie-pretender. The woman who made him love her with lies.

He watched, as she hugged Solomon in his front yard. Jealousy ate at him, and he hated it. He had done little else but think of the scheming liar since they fled the city for the Hampton's, and a part of him was thrilled to see the face he saw nightly in his dreams, but the bigger part was suspicious. Why was she here, and why was she hugging her driver?

Solomon was probably her lover whom she slept with while sleeping with him. Andrew thought, bitterly. She pretended to be his wife, pretended to be a mother to Juliet, pretended to love them. Yes, she was probably screwing him, like she screwed them.

Even as he thought the cruel words, they didn't ring true. For the life of him he couldn't correlate the woman he knew as the infamous Bridget Kelly, with the woman he fell in love with while she posed as his wife.

His insides churned with confusion. A part of him rejected her lies, but another deeper part, wanted to embrace the mirage of the woman he thought he knew better than himself. The woman who he lived with, who he worked so hard to please, and the woman he gave his whole heart to in more ways than he ever did with Siobhan or his ex-wife Catherine. He had trusted Bridget and believed without a shadow of a doubt that she was his soul mate, a concept he didn't believe in, as his marriage to Siobhan had become a living hell. He only started believing in it when Bridget, posing as Siobhan, came back from the Hampton's, different, yet the same. He had convinced himself that Siobhan had changed back into the woman he fell in love with during the early years of their courtship, only it wasn't true. She was an all together new woman, and he didn't know what was real, and what wasn't. Instead he believed that Siobhan had come back to him.

So, that woman became the center of his universe. Suddenly, she was the loving supportive wife, and mother, that he imagined when they first married. Only it wasn't Siobhan, it was Bridget, and the pain of her betrayal hurt all the more. His heart bled with the loss. What had been his reason for being was a lie. A lie he fell for hook, line and sinker.

Shaking himself free of his wonderings, he mustered the anger he had harbored since fleeing the city.

The bell rang, and he waited until his anger, a shield against his desire, was fully in place before moving to the front door. He opened it on the second ring.

"Hi." Bridget said.

His heart stuttered. Her beautiful face shined, and the green eyes that haunted him sparkled. Her beauty cut a swath through the armor around his heart, but still it held. He wouldn't let her pretty face lower his defenses. Safeguarding his heart was his only concern.

"What do you want?" his English accent cut straight to the bone.

"I was hoping for a moment of your time. I have something that I need to show you," she held up a DVD.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"I can't explain it. I think it is better that I show you."

"I don't want to see anything you have to show me. I have no need to swallow anymore of your lies. I've had my fill."

Scarlet fluid filled her cheeks, and for a split second Andrew wanted to step forward and comfort her, but ruthlessly he squelched the knee jerk reaction to her discomfort.

She lifted her chin with a spark of defiance.

"This," she held up the DVD," isn't lies. It's proof that Siobhan isn't dead."

It was the last thing he expected her to say. Outrage filled him.

"I may not have been Siobhan's biggest fan, but I'm disgusted that you would use her death to try and insinuate yourself in our lives once again.

"That isn't what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to show you the truth. Look, I will show you this and then I will leave, and you will never have to see me again," she closed her eyes, and he noticed the shadows that darkened the skin beneath them. The traitorous part of him wanted to take away her worry, so she could sleep.

He stomped it out.

"Fine," he held the door open so she could enter. "You have five minutes."

She walked past him, stopped, and waited.

"I believe you remember where the DVD player is," he said.

She let out a frustrated breath. "I was trying to be polite,"

"Why stand on formality now, it isn't like we haven't been as close as two people can be," he said with disgust.

She nodded curtly and started toward the living room.

Stark white couches stood sleekly in the large space. The brick wall, encasing the fire place, bled down and covered the entryway. The far wall held floor to ceiling windows that gave an unobstructed view of the beach, while the scent of the ocean filled the room. Turning from the spectacular view, she turned to the entertainment console. The flat screen came to life with the manufacturers name as she inserted the DVD in the player, but she didn't hit play as he expected. Instead she turned to him.

She hesitated, before finally speaking. Earnest eyes begged him while her words seduced.

"I want you to know that what happened between us was real, at least it was for me. I used Siobhan's identity to hide from the men hunting me, I used you, and Juliet, to do it, and for that I will feel eternally sorry. However, the feelings I developed for you and Juliet were real. I loved you both, and it ripped me apart when I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorrier than you will ever know."

Refusing to show any reaction to her speech he raised his hand and looked at his watch.

"You have three minutes left."

She nodded, swallowed hard. Her eyes glistened, as she turned back to the DVD player. He clenched his fist in his pocket and tried forget her words. He wouldn't let her see their effect on him, or give her anymore ammunition to hurt him. He sat stoically on the couch and waited.

She pushed play, the screen blipped, and then he saw an image of her standing next to a car talking to a man. The time stamp said it was taken on September 9, 2011 at 4:17 p.m.

"So?" he said, unimpressed.

"This was three hours after Siobhan died."

"This proves nothing. All, I see is you talking to some man."

"That man is John Delario, a.k.a. Charlie Young."

Stunned, Andrew looked closer, and it was indeed the dead kidnapping blackmailer. What the hell?

"This doesn't prove that it was Siobhan. Maybe you knew him," his voice held little conviction. As much as he hated her, he really didn't want to believe she was capable of cavorting with a man like Charlie Young, or John Delario, whatever the scumbag's name was. The thought that she may have had something to do with Gemma's kidnapping wrenched his heart.

"That is Siobhan and here is the proof," she pulled a tape recorder from her purse. "After I saw the tape, I went to see Henry, since he was sleeping with Siobhan, I figured he might know something," she grimaced, "and he did. Not knowing what I would find out, I taped our conversation.

Andrew watched as she pushed play, and on the tape he heard a door open and then Henry speak.

"Oh, Siobhan, what? It's 3:00 a.m."

"It's Bridget. But you know that already, don't you?"

A pause filled the recording.

"Yeah."

"WHERE is she?"

"I don't…I don't know. I kicked her out earlier. It's over between me and Siobhan."

"She was here? In New York?" Bridget paused. "That's who Bodaway attacked in the apartment."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why did she lie to me? Why did she want me to think that she killed herself?"

Bridget stopped the recording.

"Do you believe me now," she asked.

Andrew stared at the evidence in her hand and tried to get a handle on the emotion swirling though him. Shock, suspicion, and relief warred as his brain tried to make sense of what he had just seen and heard. Maybe the voice recording was old, but he knew that Bridget had killed Bodaway Macawi in the New York apartment a week ago, after he attacked her. The timing fit.

When the police informed him that his 'wife' had killed Macawi in self defense, he had to stop himself from running back to the city to make sure she was okay. He had to remind himself that she wasn't his wife, she was an imposter, and his wife was dead. He should have told the police that very thing, but he didn't. Not entirely sure why he kept it to himself, he pushed it aside and did his best to forget it. He would have to deal with it eventually, but not now, not while the pain was so fresh.

His head threatened to spin off his shoulders. Siobhan was alive? Why would she fake her death?

"Why?" he demanded. "What excuse does Henry give for Siob's actions?"

Bridget said nothing.

"What is on the rest of that tape?" Andrew demanded. "No more omissions, no more lies. I want the truth, and I want it now," he slapped his hand on the glass coffee table, the glass trembled under his rage.

Without a word, Bridget lifted the recorder and once again hit play. Henry's voice filled the room while dread filled Andrew's heart.

"Because she knew that someone was trying to kill her," Henry paused, "and she wanted you to take her place," he paused again, "for what you did to Sean."

"Siobhan wanted me dead?"

Second chapter coming soon…be sure to let me know what you think!