Chaos Theory
Part 1 of 6

By S. Faith, © 2008

Words: 31,177 (this part: 5,838)

Rating: M / R

Summary: There's a rather major thing that happens prior to the start of the real story that shreds a friendship to tatters and establishes the ultimate rivalry between two very different men. So… what if that thing never happened?

Disclaimer: I think you all know the drill by now. Characters: not mine. Story concept and words in this order: mine.

Notes: I'm using the same name I've been using all along for Mark's first wife. Someone once told me it was canon and while I have never been able to verify that, I like to remain consistent.

Anyone who catches the LA Story quote: I heart you. It's one of my favourite quotes.

Chaos Theory: Systems that change over time may have dynamics that appear to be sensitive to initial conditions; because of this sensitivity--which seems to result from disturbances in those initial conditions--the behaviour of these systems appears to be random, even though these systems are in fact fully defined by those initial conditions with no random interference at all.

Or,

Some things appear to be randomly influenced, but are actually predetermined by their initial conditions.

"Well, mate. I did it."

"Did what?"

"I asked her."

"Asked her out? Even though she's a junior colleague?"

"Technically, yes, she's under me."

He rolled his eyes at the double entendre. "And I've mentioned what a terrible idea I think this is."

"It was just supper."

"Hm."

"And sex. Oh-my-God sex."

He wasn't as surprised as he would have been with anyone else, and he suppressed a chuckle. "I can't believe you," he said. "No, never mind. I can believe you."

"Don't you dare judge me," his friend teased in return. "You're just jealous that you're married to a stick in the mud."

He thought that maybe he was jealous, a little bit. "Touché."

It would only be a matter of time, though, before his friend had moved on to the next flavour of the month and then have to deal with the fallout of working with an ex. Well, he thought, he will have brought it upon himself—and if she knows him at all, she should probably know better.

………

"The novelty hasn't worn off yet," came the teasing voice on the other end of the line.

"What?"

"Oh, I know what you were thinking when I first told you about her."

Ah, he thought; her. Even some weeks later, still her.

"That it wouldn't last, that I'd be onto another girl within days," continued his friend. "Not in the least. If you saw her, you'd see why."

"You've mentioned." Repeatedly. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Killer rack. And phenomenal in bed.

"Oh come on," his friend said. "Admit it. You love living vicariously through me."

"I'll remind you that I'm married."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "You still have to get your thrills somewhere."

"Is that all it's about? Thrills?"

"No," said his friend dismissively and without hesitation. "It is not just about that. She's clever and witty and smart. We can carry on with messaging for hours and she keeps me laughing."

"During the day?"

"Uh-huh."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" he said darkly.

"Chuh," he retorted. "I get plenty of work done. I'm well-motivated not to bring it home with me. I have better things to do there."

Again with the double entendre; so typical.

As they disconnected, he couldn't help but wonder about this girl that had so occupied his friend's thoughts. He had to admit he was intrigued. It was kind of too bad, actually, that she wouldn't be around long enough to meet.

………

Two tickets. Two tickets to the best match of the year, one that had been sold out for days now. He couldn't believe his luck and, grinning, he picked up the phone to ask the one person he knew wanted most to go.

"Yeah?" came the voice on the phone.

"Tickets," he blurted. "For the match. Jeremy came through."

There was silence. "Aw, bugger."

That was not the positive reaction he'd expected.

"What? Don't say 'bugger'. Tell me you can go."

"Mark, I'm sorry. I'd given up hope on the game so I… made other plans."

"Other plans?"

"Well," came the reply, a little coyer than usual. "Remember that girl I told you about?"

How could Mark forget? She had been all he'd talked about for the longest time now, the blonde, blue-eyed babe with the hot body. Mark hadn't actually met the woman yet, but had heard enough about her physical attributes that he felt he could have picked her out of a crowd. "Yes," he said patiently. "I remember Bridget."

"We're doing a mini-break. I'm sorry, mate. Can't go. I promised. And truth is, I'd rather spend the weekend with her. No offence."

Mark shifted the phone from one ear to another. "I can't believe you're turning down a ticket to this game. Who are you, and what have you done with Daniel Cleaver?" he said. He affected a light tone, but he was actually curious. Daniel was not the sort of man to get this serious about a girl. In fact, he'd been seeing her for longer than he could recall Daniel ever seeing a girl.

"Oh, you'll meet her, and you'll see," Daniel said.

"That sounds like a threat," said Mark lightly. "Actually," he said, glancing to his appointment book, "why not make good on this threat and bring her over for dinner, the two of you and the two of us."

"Shouldn't you run this idea past your wife?"

"Good point. She doesn't like surprises."

Daniel laughed.

"Let's fix it for Thursday night then, my house," continued Mark.

"Pending approval," added Daniel.

"Yes," Mark laughed; "of course."

………

"Well of course I don't mind," his wife said, scowling, flipping her short, sleek black bob back away from her face in an impatient manner. "You make me out to be some kind of evil witch."

"Tamiko, I was just making sure," Mark said, thinking her reaction kind of bespoke her true feelings. "I know you know Daniel, but his girlfriend's new, and I know you like to prepare for new acquaintances."

"Hm. Well, I hope she's a little brighter than the last one he brought 'round," she sniffed. "Dumb as a brickbat, I swear."

He stared at her and thought, I don't think you realise how unattractive hate is.

She was about to take a bite of dinner, but stopped, undoubtedly correctly reading his expression before continuing. "Oh, come on, Mark. Don't play all high and mighty with me. I know you didn't think much of her, either."

He dug into his pasta, swirling it around, and drew his mouth into a tight line. Tamiko was right. He hadn't liked the last one at all: too ready to offer opinions that were clearly not her own, and an insulting, condescending attitude towards the legal profession. "Well, Daniel hasn't spoken of anything else in at least two months, and he speaks very highly of her at that. She sounds quite an improvement over his past girlfriends."

"We'll see," she said with a smile. "But I won't hold my breath."

………

It was thirty minutes past the appointed time for supper, and still no sign of their dinner guests. Mark was feeling hungry; upon her return from the kitchen, his wife was looking murderous.

"Cook says the roast is going to dry out if we don't eat soon," she said. "They did agree on Thursday, right?"

"Yes, they did. Maybe there's a snag in traffic."

She had opened her mouth to reply when the doorbell sounded.

He rose from the sitting room chair. "Ah. You see? The roast will not be a lost cause, after all. Come, let's get the door."

"You go on. I'll go let Cook know we're ready."

They parted ways in the foyer; Tamiko went back down to the kitchen, and Mark, to the door. He swung it wide to find his friend and the woman he presumed to be the much spoken-of Bridget. She was indeed as Daniel had described: blonde hair to just over her shoulders, blue eyes looking up at him apprehensively, and generous assets quite appealingly sheathed in an indigo dress. She was a little shorter and a more on the zaftig side than his usual preference, but altogether a very attractive woman.

"Hi," said Daniel, grinning sheepishly as they came in. "I'm sorry we're late. Bridget got caught up in a—oh, Christ, where are my manners. Mark, this is Bridget Jones. Bridget, this is Mark Darcy."

"It's nice to meet you," she said tentatively, holding out her hand. "Daniel's told me a lot about you, how you met at Cambridge, how he was best man at your wedding."

He accepted it and shook it. "Likewise," he said. "I understand you work together."

She nodded, then looked around herself at his home, very starkly decorated per Tamiko's tastes. "Wow," she said. "Nice house. Very… white."

"Um," Mark replied, not quite expecting that adjective. "Thank you."

"Where's Tamiko?" asked Daniel.

"Went to make sure the table was all laid out with dinner." He held out a hand, indicating the stairs to the lower level, where dinner had been set up, before leading the way down.

"I am so sorry," said Bridget. "When my mother phones it's impossible to get her off the line."

"Really, it isn't the end of the world," Mark replied.

"By the way, Mark, that's a little something you two have in common," piped up Daniel. "Bridget grew up in Grafton Underwood, too."

Mark turned back to them as he reached the bottom, gazing intently at her as she descended the staircase, wondering if she was indeed someone he'd known from his hometown, when he heard Tamiko approach. "Hello!" she said with forced brightness, holding out her hand to shake. "You must be Daniel's new girlfriend. I'm Tamiko Darcy. It's very nice to meet you."

"Hi," she said, accepting the handshake, smiling. "I'm Bridget Jones."

"Bridget. We've heard nice things about you." She released Bridget's hand and with a smile of her own she said, "And Daniel, always nice to see you, of course. Now, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable, dinner's ready." Tamiko indicated the table, already set, wine already poured, roast sitting already carved in the centre and steaming up deliciously.

"Thank you. It smells delicious."

They ended up arranged at the table such that Mark was seated next to both his friend and his wife, leaving him directly across from Bridget. He was still trying to work out if he'd known her back in Grafton Underwood when it suddenly came to him. He recalled a long-ago birthday party, a much-younger blonde girl running around like a hellion. "I do remember you," he said abruptly to Bridget, "tearing off your dress to jump in the paddling pool."

All three looked at him in shock as he realised exactly how bad that had sounded.

Mark hastened to add, "At my eighth birthday party. She was a small child, four at best."

Bridget had, however, turned a deep crimson; Daniel had erupted with gales of laughter; Tamiko had merely pursed her lips and said icily, "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Mark said earnestly to his guest.

"Don't apologise," said Daniel, leaning to his side to slip his arm around Bridget's shoulders. "It sounds exactly like something she'd do."

"Oh, shurrup," Bridget said in a low tone, taking her wine and taking a long draw.

Daniel pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. Reluctantly she smiled at last, looking a little more comfortable.

"So," said Tamiko after they'd begun to eat. "I understand you and Daniel work together."

"Um, yes," she said. "I work in publicity at Pemberley Press."

Tamiko raised an eyebrow. She knew, as did Mark, that Daniel was editor-in-chief. "Oh. He's your boss."

"Um, yes," she said again. "But it's fully disclosed to Human Resources."

"She's the brightest in her department," offered Daniel, then turned to Bridget to add, "but don't ever tell Perpetua I said that."

Bridget laughed, previous discomfort forgotten, as she took another sip of wine. After swallowing more of her dinner, she turned her blue eyes to Mark to Tamiko and back to Mark again. "And you are both… lawyers?" she asked.

He nodded. Tamiko said, "Yes. Mark's speciality is human rights. I am—was—corporate."

"Oh," she said. "That must be very… interesting."

Daniel chuckled; he was surely thinking too that no one could possibly ever correctly describe corporate law as 'interesting'.

"What I mean is, human rights must be a very challenging area," she went on to explain. "Striking a balance between ethicalness and neo-colonialism, and all that."

Mark was floored, especially considering the last girlfriend's rather unpleasant opinion of the law. "Yes," was all he said, rather stupidly.

She blinked rapidly, then turned back to Tamiko. "And you say you were in corporate? Do you do another type of law now?"

"No," Tamiko said with a little laugh. "Once we got married I gave up working."

"Oh," she said. She looked down to her plate, fiddled with her asparagus, then stabbed a spear with her fork and ate it. "This is very good, by the way."

"Thank you," Tamiko said, delicately cutting into her roast. "I will be sure to pass your compliments on to Cook."

"Oh." Bridget smiled again. "I assumed—"

"Tamiko doesn't cook if she can help it," cut in Daniel.

"Neither do you," Bridget snapped back to him with a grin.

Mark laughed. He couldn't help it. Even Tamiko cracked a smile at that retort.

Daniel reached and took Bridget's hand. "You're lucky you're so bloody cute," he said, then reached to peck a kiss on her lips.

The atmosphere thus lightened a bit, they continued eating their dinner, drinking the wine and engaging in conversation. Their guests shared amusing stories from work, which caused a round of laughter more than once. Mark noticed three things during the course of the evening: that Daniel truly seemed smitten with his girlfriend; that Bridget seemed as friendly, intelligent, and sharp as Daniel had claimed, not to mention even more smitten than his friend; and that Tamiko seemed to grow strangely resentful as the night passed.

He knew he would find out why when Daniel and Bridget left.

As the couple were getting ready to depart for the evening, Bridget froze as she restored her handbag on her shoulder, then turned to stare at Mark in a most disconcerting fashion.

"Malcolm and Elaine," she said, sounding like she'd just discovered electricity.

Taken aback, Mark blinked. "What?"

"They're your parents?"

"Yes, those are my parents' names."

She grinned. "Ahh. Your parents and my parents are friends."

"I don't understand."

"How I came to be stripping off at your eighth birthday party."

Mark laughed, saw Tamiko's expression, and quickly shut up. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

Mark walked them to the front door, using all the power of his persuasion to get Tamiko to come with him. "Well," said Daniel. "Thanks for dinner."

"Drive safely," said Mark.

"Oh," said Bridget. "We walked."

"Walked?" asked Tamiko incredulously.

"Oh yes," Bridget said matter-of-factly. "I live pretty near to here, and it's a nice night." She smiled. "Well, Tamiko, Mark, it was great to meet you both. Thanks again. I had a really terrific evening."

"It was nice to meet you too," said Mark; he met Daniel's eyes, and nodded subtly. He thought she had great potential, and he wanted Daniel to know he approved. Daniel grinned, getting the message.

"Goodbye," said Tamiko, and with that the couple headed down the front stairs. Mark watched them stroll hand in hand down the walk before he and his wife went back into the house.

He waited for the other shoe to drop. It did not take long.

"Oh, she has the nerve," said Tamiko.

He sighed, resigned to waiting for the rest.

"Comes in here, spends every moment determined to be the centre of attention. I can't stand that," she said, which was rather like the pot calling the kettle 'black'. "And she works in publicity? She may as well be asking 'do you want paper or plastic?'" She snorted. "What is Daniel thinking, anyway, dating a subordinate? Maybe that's it. Maybe he's not thinking at all."

"I found her quite charming," he said. He knew immediately it was a mistake.

"Oh, you would," she hissed. "Men always notice a nice pair of breasts."

"That is not fair," he said, his tone rising, though he had to admit Bridget's physical attributes had not gone unnoticed; he was, after, a straight human male with a pulse, and his wife was not as generously endowed in this respect. "I found her very pleasant, engaging, and intelligent. A far cry from his last girlfriend. Surely you noticed that, too."

She raised her fingers to her forehead, said softly, "I'm sorry. Sorry."

"Daniel's my best friend, so it behoves you to make an effort—"

"Jesus, Mark," she interrupted curtly, dropping her hand down. "I said I was sorry." With that she stalked off.

Mark knew it was better to let her cool down on her own, and instead headed to his office to review for court the next day.

When he looked up from his work and saw the clock nearing midnight, he sighed and knew he should go up to bed. He hoped Tamiko was already asleep.

He slipped beneath the sheets and reached to switch his bedside lamp off; he felt her turn over towards him, felt her hand on his chest.

In a low voice she said, "I didn't mean to be such a harridan today."

"You never mean to," he said.

"I could make it up to you," she said. Her fingers trailed lower on his abdomen.

He covered her hand with his own to still it. Any time he was interested, she was unwilling. Tonight he was exhausted, and had a very busy day ahead of him, which he was certain she knew. Turning away to sleep on his side, he said, "Good night, Tamiko."

………

"You're looking a little ragged," came the voice across the table.

Mark glanced up to his lunch companion and grinned. "Could say the same about you."

As usual, Daniel smirked rakishly and was quick to offer a retort: "I, my friend, have good reason to be sleepless, whereas I doubt that you do."

Mark chuckled, thinking not for the first time how unlikely a friendship they had. "Work, as usual. Caseload's out of control with Jeremy taking off so much time to spend with his wife and newborn." He took a sip of his white wine. "So I take it your mini-break weekend was pleasant, then?"

"Well. Don't like to kiss and tell—"

"Bloody liar."

"—but I think we may have shocked a few of those country folk with our wicked city ways." Daniel leaned forward as Mark chuckled. "Seriously, mate, this girl, she's dangerous for me."

"Dangerous in what way?"

"I don't mean making the restraints too tight, if that's what you're thinking, you old perv," said Daniel, the usual defence mechanism of humour surfacing, before becoming pensive again. "I mean dangerous… in that she may really be it."

"'It'?"

Daniel stared at him meaningfully. "Don't make me say the 'm' word out loud."

Mark nearly choked on his lunch. Marriage? "My God, you're serious."

He sat back. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Mark was thoughtful. He was glad Daniel had found someone to make him happy, but didn't want to encourage him to move too quickly too soon. Daniel was prone to making snap decisions without thinking things through. "Just take it easy," said Mark. "If it's right, it won't need rushing."

Daniel chuckled. "Says the man who got engaged after three months of dating."

"That was different," said Mark. Methodical as ever, Mark had made his mental list of qualifications and prerequisites, and Tamiko had met them all. He'd seen little point in waiting.

"I don't see how," replied Daniel.

"It's true that you and I are very different people, and we want different things," Mark said, then clarified, changing tack, "Bridget's very nice, but don't base major decisions like this on how much fun you're having, in or out of bed."

Daniel pursed his lips. "That sounds very much like 'do as I say, not as I do', Mark."

"It's not, it's really not," said Mark, "and… I'm going to shut up now before I dig myself in even deeper." He grinned, hoping Daniel would accept the truce. He did, allowing a smile in return.

"I'm not going to rush into anything, but—well, you seem to have conveniently forgotten how much you've been hounding me to settle down, find a wife." He sipped at his beer.

"Well, yes, I do think it's time you settled down, but—"

"Tell me," Daniel interrupted, "if your objection stems from your wife's dislike of Bridget."

"What?"

"You seemed to like her well enough on Thursday," said Daniel, "but it wouldn't be the first time Tamiko's convinced you that your mates' girlfriends are evil incarnate."

"Daniel, you don't listen to me at all. I did like her. Do like her. You just need to exercise a little caution." He paused. "I do, in fact, think independently of my wife. I just don't want you jumping into something too quickly."

Daniel looked doubtful. "She didn't think you liked her."

"Why would she think that?"

"I told her you were just being you," Daniel added.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know. You, especially when meeting someone for the first time." Daniel was recovering some of his humour. "Tight rein on thoughts and expressions; keeping responses monosyllabic; not speaking until spoken to and even then under penalty of murderous glare…"

He bristled. "I am not like that."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, as if to dispute this claim. "Just try being more engaging with her, will you?"

"If you think me worthy of being in her presence again," Mark said drolly.

Daniel pulled out his mobile, checking the screen. "In fact," he said, "she's meeting me here so we can share a taxi back to the office. Should be here any moment. Do you think you can be civil?"

He exhaled sharply. Daniel was back to form at the cost of his own patience.

She turned up within minutes, waving and smiling from the entrance to the room before threading her way to the table. She came up between the two men, bent and kissed Daniel briefly on the mouth; Mark caught a faint whiff of her light, floral fragrance as she did so. She then took an empty chair from a nearby table and sat where she'd stood.

"Hello, Bridget," said Mark, remembering Daniel's charge to be more engaging. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Hi," she said, a genuine smile directed his way. "Nice to see you again. Having a good lunch?"

"Very good," said Daniel, taking in the last of his draught. "How was yours?"

"Spent in emergency relationship triage with Jude. Poisonous, hateful, vile boyfriend of hers." She sighed, reaching for a chip from Daniel's plate and popping it into her mouth. "He doesn't deserve her and I wish she'd come to her senses and chuck 'im already—anyway. Mark, how's Tamiko?"

Her question took him by surprise. Considering he hadn't even seen his wife that day—he typically rose long before she did—he felt dishonest in his answer. "Um, she's fine, thanks for asking."

"That's good to hear," she said, stealing another chip.

"Are you sure you actually ate lunch?" teased Daniel.

She picked off another one. "Well, if your scrawny arse isn't going to eat them, I might as well." She grinned wickedly.

Daniel chuckled, then he reached forward for his plate to pull it out of her reach. She anticipated his move and took the other side, holding firm.

"Bridge." The tension on the plate caused the chips to shift about.

"Didn't your mum ever teach you to share?"

"My mum was the queen of sharing," said Daniel. "Hence three husbands. But, if you insist…"

Daniel suddenly let go of the plate, which tilted up under the force of Bridget's tugging; the remaining chips and other debris flew and landed in a spray across Mark and his own lunch spread.

"Oh my God!" said Bridget, turning towards Mark in horror. "I am so sorry!" She started brushing salt and bits of potato off of his suit front. "I've ruined your suit."

"Please, please, it's all right. Stop." He grabbed her wrists. "Rubbing it in will only make it worse."

She did stop, looking up at him.

"Besides, it's his fault for letting go of the plate," said Mark, glancing to Daniel, before offering her a smile.

"Oh, I won't apologise," said Daniel. "Mark Darcy needs to have potato shards dumped in his lap on a much more frequent basis. I may make a habit of it."

She smiled, and feeling confident she wouldn't start trying to brush him off again, he let go of her wrists. She turned back to Daniel.

"You are a very bad man," teased Bridget.

"Unfortunately," Daniel continued, "this means I have no more chips to eat, as I am not picking them off of your trousers."

Mark smiled; Bridget laughed. "Lucky thing you're through, actually," said Bridget. "We should get back to the office."

"And I think I ought to get out of this suit and get this one to the cleaners."

"I'll pay," said Bridget.

"Nonsense," Mark said, then chuckled. "Daniel will pay."

"It was my turn anyway."

They all rose at once and a shower of salt fell from the creases in Mark's suit and trouser legs, sending them all into another fit of laughter. The fun they so clearly had together was infectious, and Mark realised he liked being around it. He hadn't laughed so much in such a long time.

"It was nice to see you," said Mark. "Maybe you can join us sooner next time."

He was gifted with a broad smile; maybe she would no longer think he didn't like her. "Yeah, I'd like that." Then to his utter surprise, she stepped forward, got up on her toes, and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye."

He guessed he was right.

"Bye," Mark returned automatically.

Daniel hung back for a moment as she headed towards the door. "She does that all the time," he said. "Cheers, mate."

Mark detoured for home and as he was changing out of his suit in his bedroom, he heard Tamiko's voice calling up to him. "Mark? Is that you?"

"It's me," he confirmed.

"What are you doing home?" she asked, appearing at the doorway.

"Had an incident at lunch involving grease, salt and potato," he said, buttoning his shirt and slipping into a new pair of trousers. She said nothing. He turned to look at her and found her with a very strange expression on her face. "What?" he asked.

She strode forward, reached up and swiped something from his cheek. When she pulled her fingers away, he saw the deep pink hue. "I thought you were having lunch with Daniel," she said icily.

It was completely innocent, yet he felt his skin flood with heat. "I did, but Bridget showed up at the end so they could take a taxi together," he said, looking down to tuck in his shirt tails, fasten the button at his waist.

"And what's she doing kissing your cheek?"

"Come on, Tamiko. She's a friendly girl. We got on well, and she was just saying goodbye. There was nothing to it."

"She's a little too friendly, I think. I don't want you seeing her."

Mark laughed. "Come on."

In a firmer tone, she said again, "I don't want you seeing her."

"Be serious. She's Daniel's girlfriend. I'm not likely to be able to avoid her as long as they're seeing one another." He slipped a tie around his neck.

"Then you don't see Daniel."

He paused in mid-tie. "Not acceptable."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Then we're at an impasse."

He resumed the tie, then slipped into a suit jacket. "We can talk about this later. I have to get back to court."

She stared at him with palpable anger and irritation before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

When he returned after court that evening, she was not at home. A note advised she'd gone for dinner with her friends, and not to wait up.

………

"I am so glad you could make it on such short notice."

Mark took a seat in the booth there in the pub, a place that his wife would never dream of entering, for which he was thankful. Bridget had been sporadically joining Daniel and Mark for their weekly lunch together for the past month or so, and in that time he'd been glad to have gotten to know her better. She had a depth unlike any of Daniel's previous girlfriends, and each meeting showed him yet another facet. However, he felt it best that, for his own self-preservation, he didn't mention Bridget's continued presence at that standing lunch date to Tamiko.

Bridget's call to his mobile was sudden and the tone of her voice so serious when she rang him begging to meet her that he had agreed without hesitation, fearing the worst, fearing perhaps Daniel had done something stupid to upset her. He knew that his concern was plainly written across his face because of the way she smiled.

"Nothing is wrong," she said. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

Without even having a chance to look at the menu, the server came to take their orders. He decided to have a pint of bitter and got the same lunch as Bridget: a toasted cheese sandwich and a bowl of soup.

After the server departed, Mark asked, "What is this about then?"

"Well," she confided, "I need your help. It's Daniel's birthday tomorrow and I don't know what to get him."

"Oh!" Mark sat back in the booth, feeling very much relieved. "Well, did you have anything at all in mind?"

She slouched back. "No. That's why I called you. I want something with an… emotional attachment, you know? And we've been going out for a little while, but compared to the length of your friendship…"

Mark furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "You know, I'm drawing a blank. He's the sort of man who just buys what he needs when he needs it. Although—" A distant memory started to glimmer from the far corners of his mind, and he looked down, concentrating on pulling that memory to the surface. "—I have this recollection of his desire to own a first edition or rare copy of some book or other, but I'll be damned if I can remember by whom."

She laughed abruptly. "That isn't particularly helpful."

He grinned. It really wasn't. "There's a bookstore just 'round the corner from here, lots of old, rare, out-of-print books. We could go have a look after we're through here."

She perked considerably. "That sounds great."

The sandwich and the soup were incredibly delicious. Mark could not remember, actually, the last time he'd had toasted cheese, and the cream of tomato soup was the perfect complement. Feeling satisfied and full of good food and excellent beer, she paid the bill (insisting, since she had asked him to meet her) and they strolled over to the little bookstore.

It was small and absolutely packed floor to ceiling with tomes, giving the place that dusty old-paper smell so common in such establishments. It was bright and lively in there, though, and the proprietor very friendly, which set the tone for their exploration.

Perhaps he was slightly buzzed on the ale from lunch, but every little comment Bridget had made elicited a smile from him. She had pithy things to say about certain writers, both literarily and on a personal level: "When he came in to Pemberley," she confided, pointing to a well-known name on the spine of a leather volume, "he smelled like stale frying oil."

He stumbled (almost literally) upon a small little section of aged law books, and he found himself drawn to their weathered covers, the browning paper, the history; she asked him if he minded if she went to browse the magazines.

"No, of course not," he said.

He wasn't sure how long he had been thumbing through these volumes when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Hey, Mark." He turned to look at Bridget, who held in her hand a magazine, protectively sheathed in a plastic sleeve. "I know he likes this author, but a magazine seems kind of insubstantial."

Mark took a closer look at the magazine in her hand, saw the name Charles Bukowski, saw Poems and Drawings, and knew Bridget had hit a goldmine. "No," he said earnestly. "Not insubstantial at all. Daniel has been wanting a copy of this for years."

Her eyes got very wide, and she grinned broadly. "Really?"

Mark nodded.

She clutched the magazine to her chest, bouncing on her toes. Her enthusiasm, her excitement, was infectious. He could not stop the smile from spreading across his face.

After she paid for the magazine, she turned back to him, still beaming gleefully as they walked out of the store together. "I am so glad you came today. I'd never have thought of this on my own. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he said, very pleased that he had been able to join her.

"Well," she said, glancing down to her wristwatch, "I should probably get back to work."

"Do you need driving back?" he asked, digging his hands into his pockets, looking for his keys.

"Oh no, that's fine. It's just down the street. I'll see you soon, I'm sure." She smiled again, then popped up onto her toes for the customary peck to the cheek. "Bye!"

"See you soon," he said, watching her walk away, feeling an odd sadness in losing her company.

Midway through the day the following day, Mark's office phone rang.

"Mate, you'll never guess." It was Daniel.

"Guess what?"

"That Bridget… an absolute goddess. Jesus, Mark, she found a copy of Bukowski's magazine. I don't know how she did it, how she knew, if she's psychic or what, but in any case, I am just… overwhelmed. Can you believe it? How on earth did she know?"

Mark sat back in his chair, grinning. "It's a bloody miracle," he said dryly.

"Not only that, as if that weren't enough, two tickets to the football match on Sunday—with very specific instructions that I am to take you."

Just then, Mark's mobile began to buzz in an unfamiliar manner within his jacket pocket, and he reached for it as he answered, "Wow, that is a very nice surprise."

It was a text message. It was from Bridget, and it read: thanx again—enjoy the game!!

He grinned, then added, "How on earth did she get tickets?"

"Her friend Tom is sleeping with one of the players. Wouldn't tell me which one. Said she didn't want to shatter my illusions."

Mark laughed outright. "Daniel," he said, "I hope you realise how lucky you are with her."

Daniel did not say anything right away, then offered in response a very quiet, "Yeah." After another considerable pause, he added, "Well, mate, gotta get back to work. See you on Sunday?"

"Absolutely."

As he set the receiver into the cradle, he thought about the football match a little—he was, after all, very excited to go—but thought more about Daniel's less than enthusiastic reaction to his mention of the fortune of having a girlfriend like Bridget. He had to admit it was worrisome, because a reaction like his was an indicator that, like a skittish colt, he might dash for the barn door and for freedom; after all, Daniel did not have a good track record when it came to long-term relationships.

Mark hoped he was wrong, but feared he was not.