The Reason He Stays

Disclaimer: I do not own Ringer.

Bridget looked over at him one day and abruptly asked, "Why are you still here?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her. For once, there was no pressing crisis (sometime it seemed like their entire lives were spent running from one crisis to another but what could one expect when on the run from everyone?) and so they were just enjoying the temporary peace that they knew could never last.

"Do you not want me to be?" he asked.

Bridget made a face. "No, of course not. I mean, yes, I do. I mean…whichever one means that I still want you here."

Malcolm considered. "I think it's…actually, that's a good question. But what brought this on?"

Bridget shrugged, refusing to look at him.

"Bridge," Malcolm said with fond tolerance.

"I don't know. I just…I really screwed up your life, didn't I?" Bridget asked unhappily.

His response came automatically. "No, of course not. How can you even think that?"

Bridget smiled wryly and wrapped a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Well, let's see. First there was calling you when I fled from the law and from Bodaway and dragging you into my problems. And Bodaway took you to get to me and no matter what he did to you you never gave him what he wanted."

"Of course not," Malcolm said firmly. "He would have killed you, Bridget, and I knew he couldn't afford to let me go."

"But he would have just killed you instead of making you suffer," Bridget said softly. "And that's not all, either. The minute you escaped you came running to me, disapproving of my choice but determined to help me anyway. And you've been such a help. I guess I'm too close, Malcolm, because you see all of this so much more clearly than I do and I don't know where I'd be without you."

"You were doing alright before I came," Malcolm said gruffly. Technically, everything she'd said was true but she was making it out to be a far bigger deal than he thought it was. Maybe if you laid it out like she had it sounded impressive but he had just wanted to be there for her, couldn't not help her and one bit of help led on to the next.

"I was hiding bodies in trunks in the middle of parties," Bridget said flatly. "That's hardly 'alright.'"

"That only happened the one time," Malcolm defended her.

"Once is usually all it takes," Bridget said dryly. "But either way, I'm doing better now that you're here."

Malcolm could feel a slow smile spreading across his face. "That's all I wanted, all I've ever wanted. You're in some serious shit right now, Bridge, and if I can try to make it better then I'm good. I've got a nice place to stay and I'm clean again and it might not be Wyoming but New York's pretty good, too."

Bridget let out a breath."I just…" she shook her head helplessly, looking everywhere but him. "I just don't understand it."

Malcolm didn't know all the details but in that moment he hated whoever had made Bridget think that she wasn't worth it. "I'm your friend, Bridget. This is what friends do."

"Is it?" she asked rhetorically. "I've had my fair share of friends and none of them would have ever done half of what you've done."

"Then maybe you need to pick some better friends," Malcolm said lightly.

Bridget shook her head again. "Malcolm…"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "What do you want me to say? I'm your sponsor and it's my job to help you keep your life on track. I'm your friend and the only person you can depend on. I'm a guy who sincerely wants to be able to look himself in the mirror in the morning. All of those demand that I stay with you and help you work through this."

"I may never be through this," Bridget admitted softly. "I might stay here forever. Things here…they're good, despite the crazy. Andrew and Juliet…I don't want to leave them behind, not ever."

Somehow, Malcolm had suspected this was the case. Slipping into her dead sister's life and living out the remainder of her days as her twin wasn't anywhere near what he would call 'healthy' but if it would keep her alive and keep her off the drugs then it was better than some of the other paths that she could go down.

Bridget was watching him anxiously for his reaction.

"I could get to like New York," he said finally. "It would help if I had a steady job but it looks like I've got time to look."

A beautiful smile lit up Bridget's face. He would never tell her – she loved her sister's husband and didn't need the complication – but that look, right there, was what he thought of every time he asked himself just what in the world he was doing…and there had been times. Mostly when Bodaway was holding him prisoner but even afterwards.

Bridget Kelly had been through so much pain in her life. She still refused to open up completely and, after everything they'd been through and through his own experiences, he knew that meant that it was buried deep. And no one turned self-destructive with quite so much dedication unless they had a damn good reason.

Bridget's reason mattered but only because he wanted to save her from it. If she wouldn't talk then fine, he could be there for her regardless. He'd try to save her from getting lost in her sister and her sister's problems and from everything she'd run away from.

Bridget was a lot stronger than she knew and a far better person, too. You wouldn't think that an ex-stripper ex-junkie who fled from testifying at a murder trial in exchange for immunity and who was currently committing fraud (and probably technically rape since Andrew didn't know it was her) would be a good person, could be a good person.

Malcolm knew better, though. As an ex-junkie himself, he knew that nothing could be gained from sticking a label on it and moving on.

Bridget would be better off running far away and she was well-aware of it. Love might be motivating her now but even before she'd wanted to stay to fix her sister's life and protect people that she didn't even know but who had made up her sister's world. If only she could see that.

Still, even someone who had managed to impersonate someone she barely knew anymore for months on end with nary a slip-up in sight could use an ally, could use someone to confide in.

If Malcolm could do nothing else, he could be there for her and try to stop this whole thing from blowing up in her face for as long as he could.

He didn't quite believe that he could stop it forever the way Bridget seemed to on her more optimistic days but he'd be there through all the fallout, too.

"Did I ever tell you that you're the greatest?" Bridget asked, still beaming.

Malcolm smiled back at her. "Maybe a few times. Still, it never hurts to be reminded."

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