Title: Wise Men Use Tonight
Author: Bluehaven4220
Summary: It has been at least 5 years since Jamie and Bridget have seen or heard from the Doctor. When he returns to them begging for help, the three of them face the most dangerous decision of their lives.
A/N: Here we are, readers! The sequel to 'Musically Inclined'. I hope you all enjoy the adventures that Jamie and Bridget are going to have now that they have a family, and please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.
ooOoo
Try not to talk when there's nothing to say. Kept bottled up we get carried away. Then I fall, then I fall down, then we fall down. And you know that it makes me feel so ridiculous… a pocket full of poesies we fall, down on the inside pretty on the outside, turn it around, can we turn it around? Try to make a comeback with nowhere to start from now, but it's looking up.
Ridiculous- Bowling for Soup
ooOoo
She couldn't explain it.
She simply could not explain it.
She couldn't explain why she shrunk away from Jamie's touch, why she could barely stand to look at him, let alone let him touch her, why she snapped at him when he tried to talk to her…
Still her heart ached for him, it was as though being apart hurt her more than he'd ever know, and she meant ever.
Bridget snorted into her tea as she read the excerpt from the latest short story that had been sent her way. Good Lord, an adult wrote this? Her daughter, Carol, was five and could write better than this. This was one of the worst things she'd ever read, and she'd edited countless stories and books about childish drivel that no one but a specific niche market would be interested in. If this author was looking to kill the brain cells of every intelligent human being on the planet, she was pretty sure they could have succeeded. Never mind the fact that the hero had the same name as her husband; that just made it even more hilarious.
"Bridget, are ye okay? Why are ye laughing?" Jamie came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"Yeah, I'm fine, this is just…" she snorted again. "Oh Lord, I just can't…"
She fought to contain her laughter.
"I simply cannot finish this, it's just god-awful," she admitted, resting her elbow on the kitchen table, her pen balanced between her fingers. "And I'm the one who has to write the rejection letter."
"Well so long as ye handle it gently, like ye always have," Jamie kissed her cheek and patted her shoulder in reassurance. "The kids will be home soon, what are we doing for supper tonight?"
"It's leftover night," Bridget chewed the end of her pen, not turning around at the sound of the fridge opening. "Whatever's in there, put it on a plate, heat it in the microwave and there you go, enjoy!"
"And t' think I used t' look forward t' a home cooked meal."
"What's that supposed to mean? I cook almost every night," she turned around in her chair and stared at her husband. "Tonight I just don't feel like cooking. Most of the time I'd offer you a peanut butter sandwich. Be thankful there's stuff that can actually be reheated this week." She turned in her chair, rolling her eyes.
"Aye," Jamie took a container out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. Opening it, he lifted it to his nose, sniffed, and shrugged.
"Chicken stew," he mumbled.
"Do you mind finishing the rest of that?" Bridget asked as he made a mark on the manuscript. "Alex and Carol had huge helpings last night, I doubt they'd want it again."
"What don't I want again?" she heard from the doorway. Alex had thrown open the door and kicked his shoes off, hitting the wall with a dull THUD.
"And good evening to you too," Bridget answered sarcastically as nine year old Alex came over to the kitchen table and kissed his mother hello. "Empty your lunch bag into the sink, and go get started on your homework."
"But…"
"You have that massive assignment due in two weeks. Go get started on it now," she answered his rebuttal, replacing the manuscript in the envelope it had first arrived in and seeing Carol storm through the door, face like thunder and arms crossed over her chest.
"Damn!" she let the word out with such force Jamie nearly dropped the container he was replacing in the fridge.
"What did you just say?" he roared, slamming the fridge shut and startling the little girl into silence.
"I… uh…" she whimpered, backing against the door.
"Jamie, back away," Bridget got up and stepped between father and daughter. Getting down to Carol's level, she looked her daughter in the eyes. "You know better than that, Carol, what made you say such a thing?"
"The kids on the school bus said it," her eyes were filling with tears. "They say it when they get mad."
"And are you mad?" Bridget asked.
"No…" her tiny voice answered.
"We don't say those words. Ever." Bridget reminded her, straightening Carol's school tie. "Just because someone else says it when they're mad does not mean it's the right thing to say."
"But I didn't know that," she protested.
"Yes you do know, I think you just forgot," Bridget answered. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to your room for a 5 minute time out, and when that time out is done, no dessert after supper."
She stuck out her bottom lip.
"That's not going to work. Off you go."
Carol trudged up the stairs, stomping each step.
Once they heard her bedroom door close, Jamie nearly rounded on his wife.
"What did ye do that for?"
"Do what?"
"Step in front o' me like that."
"I know your temper, Jamie, and it would have been entirely misplaced in a situation like that," Bridget turned and placed Jamie's plate in the microwave. "If she was really curious, she probably just said it to see what reaction it would cause. What happened to you the first time you ever cursed? Hmm?"
"I got the strap, an' was told t' say a decade o' the rosary lest m' soul burn in hell."
"And how old were you?"
"I dinna ken, six maybe?"
"Mmm hmm, and Carol's five. Do you really think yelling at her is going to solve…"
"Mum!" came a yell from upstairs.
She rolled her eyes, turning around and walking into the living room. "What?"
"Mum!"
"What!" she repeated. "I'm busy!"
"Carol spit at me!"
"Alexander McCrimmon, don't you dare spit back!" she shouted as she ran toward the bottom of the stairs, hearing the tell tale sounds of forcing mucus to build in the back of one's throat starting. "If you simply cannot get along with each other tonight, you're simply going to stay away for her, and she from you!"
"But…"
"No more buts! I'll call you when dinner's ready!"
"I hate you!" Carol shouted out her door toward her older brother. "You're a snot-rag!"
"Mum!"
"Work it out amongst yourselves! Don't make me get your father up there!"
Both children went silent.
"That's what I thought," Bridget mumbled under her breath, going back into the kitchen. She put a hand to her forehead, sighing.
"Maybe I shouldn't have gone back to work…" she shook her head.
"Ye were going crazy staying at home," Jamie reasoned, placing the newly washed dishes in the drying rack.
"But they fight all the time now," Bridget answered. "All the time. They pinch each other and it's hard! He pinches her so hard!"
"Hey, hey, relax," Jamie quickly dried his hands and wrapped his wife in a hug. "They're just doin' what siblings do. They fight. Cora an' me did it all the time."
"But they never used to do this when I stayed at home," she protested. "I should just quit my job…" she suddenly felt as though she couldn't stand in one place. "That's… that's it, I'll just quit my job and the fighting will stop, there's no other way around it…" she was pacing back and forth now. "If I'm home I can monitor…"
Jamie seized her by the arm pulled her to him, kissing her hard.
Pulling away, he gave her a huge smile.
"Relax, love," he smiled. "They're still getting used t' the fact that yer not always home anymore."
"Oh God," she ran a hand down her face and took a deep breath. "Why did I ever think I could do this?"
"You're doin' it now," Jamie went to the stairs. "Alex! Carol! Supper's ready!"
There was a sound like a herd of elephants charging into the kitchen, where the two children sat down, restless to finish their supper and go back to whatever they had been doing.
The four of them sat down together, Jamie telling them about one of the mares that was due to foul any week now, and the children who came to learn to ride during the day.
Bridget and Jamie both knew that he'd never be happy in a suit and tie, sitting in an office day in and day out. To remedy this and to make use of the land they had and the horses in the barn, they started a small riding school, teaching children how to tack up, brush, bathe, and muck out horses' stalls. Plus they were getting lessons from Jamie and another instructor who Jamie had hired. She worked as an editor for a publishing house, finishing her degree in Communications after Carol's birth and getting a job after nearly 3 years of being at home.
"Can I have a lesson, Daddy?" Alex asked as he swallowed a forkful of mashed potato.
"After ye finish yer homework," he answered, taking a bite of the chicken stew he'd reheated for his dinner.
"What about me?" Carol asked.
"Tomorrow," he mumbled, taking a drink of water.
Bridget forced herself to smile. While she was happier than she'd ever expected, domestic life really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She and Jamie had barely had time for a honeymoon, with Alex in need of such attention and Carol's birth simultaneous with Jamie's release from prison, they'd never actually had a chance to just be together. She supposed that was what a lot of military wives had felt during the Second World War. Many of those couples had married quickly, in case their sweethearts didn't return.
Still, this was the way life was now, and she wouldn't change it for the world. She climbed into bed each night exhausted, but proud. Proud of her children and their accomplishments, proud that she and Jamie had been able to make a marriage work for five years, and excited that they both had jobs they enjoyed. As Jamie said, why do something you know you're going to hate for the rest of your life, if only for a paycheck?
"I'm all done, Mum," Carol announced. "Can I be excused?"
"Yeah, yeah, off you go…" she took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, waiting until both Carol and Alex had gone back upstairs.
"Bridget?" she could barely hear Jamie's voice. "Bridget?"
"Hmm?" she snapped out of her daze and turned to look at Jamie.
Jamie slid his chair out, got down on his knees in front of her, laid his hands overtop of hers.
"Are ye alright, love?"
She nodded a little too quickly, saying nothing. She got up, and took the dishes to the sink. She did the dishes in silence, Jamie stepping in beside her, drying them and putting them away. Once that was done, she went back to the little room that held her computer and a couch. She had to write this rejection letter before she could do anything else. It was never something she enjoyed doing, but it was one of the evils of her job nonetheless.
What she didn't realize was that, by the time she stopped writing, it was near enough half nine, and the kids needed to be tucked into bed. By this point, however, she was so completely exhausted she could barely move.
"Bridget?" Jamie put a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes Jamie, I know, the kids need to be tucked in, I'm coming…" she pushed against the computer desk, wheeling her chair out of the way and standing up. Stretching, she made her way up the stairs, kissed both Alex and Carol good night, and went back downstairs.
Jamie was waiting for her on the couch in the living room with a cup of tea and a blanket.
"Are ye gonna tell me what's wrong?"
She didn't even get the chance to sit down before going back to the front hall, where her purse lay. She pulled out a few folded sheets of paper and went back to the living room.
"What's that?"
"Hold on," she sat down beside her husband and unfolded the paper. "I found this while I was at work."
Jamie gave her a confused look, took the paper from her, and read the headline.
BODY OF LOCAL MAN PULLED FROM RIVER
Jamie's expression didn't change.
"Read on," Bridget urged.
Ottawa- Underwater rescue crews were called to the Ottawa Canal today after reports of a man jumping from the overpass. The man has been identified as Anthony Grey, 49, of Ottawa. Anyone with information is urged to call Ottawa Police at…
And there was a number listed.
Jamie sighed and put the article down on the couch. He crooked a finger at his wife and opened his arms, waiting till she curled on the couch with him and kissing her head, saying nothing.
"I'm sorry Jamie, I didn't mean to be so quiet and off tonight, I just… I didn't want the kids to know about it."
"It's alright, love, really," Jamie whispered, holding her close. "You're safe."
At the mention of the words "You're safe", she let go a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, but no tears came.
"Why can't I cry?"
"You're in shock."
"But he was my father!"
"Aye, that's true."
"I should feel something," she insisted.
"Ye are, right now," Jamie pointed out. "You're angry."
"I… am… not!" she permeated each word with a light punch to her husband's chest.
"Aye ye are," he repeated, staying her fist. "An' ye have all right t' be."
"I should have been there," she insisted. "Maybe I could have talked him out of it."
"Aye, ye might have, or he might have just told ye t' fuck off."
"It still would have been better than wondering why the hell he did it."
"Any number of reasons, love," he lightly ran his fingers through her hair. "Perhaps he couldna live wi' the guilt anymore."
"But the article said he jumped," she answered, laying her head on his chest. "But it's all relative when someone is that far gone."
Jamie sighed. "The thing ye have t' know, Bridget, is that, even if he was a monster, I am nae denying that, he was your father. It's alright t' cry over that loss. I cried when I lost my father."
"But he wasn't a monster."
"No, but he was still my father. Do ye see what I mean?"
"I think so. What you mean is that it's alright to mourn the loss of my father, not the monster."
"Aye, that's exactly what I mean," he hugged her close, waited till she fell asleep in his arms.
And for the first time in many months, she felt completely at ease and safe, able to sleep without having to look over her shoulder.
Yes, she was safe, and at that moment, curled on the couch with Jamie's arms wrapped around her, there were no monsters.