Ringer, Season 2

Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long. I recently started a Harry Potter story and I've been bogged down with school work, so I haven't been able to update. Does anybody else find that all their fanfiction stuff comes up in Spam email now? It's really weird. Anyway, here is Chapter Nine! Enjoy and please remember to review! Thanks to everyone who has done it thus far!

Chapter Nine: Please Just Let Me Go Home!

Andrew and Bridget looked on as Juliet lay there, unresponsive. Andrew wondered what was going to happen once she woke up. Would she have to be on dialysis for the rest of her life? Or worse, would she ever try to do something like this again? Would the doctor want to put in her a psych ward? He couldn't bare that. He couldn't bare his little girl being locked up and watched, monitored all the time. He wanted her to be normal, with no problems, but he knew that now, that was impossible. He still couldn't believe that she had done something like this. Why hadn't he watched her more carefully?

He buried his head in his hands and let the tears continue to fall. He knew his actions weren't manly, that real men didn't cry, but he didn't care. His daughter might be dying, for crying out loud! He could do whatever he wanted to express his emotions. He felt Bridget put a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be ok," she said. "She's going to be fine." But, when he looked up at her, he could see that she was just as desperate as he was.

He didn't know how to respond. He could only sit there and watch his daughter's motionless body, praying that she would wake up and be normal.

They were silent for a while, before Bridget sat down beside him and said, "Now, that we're together, I have to ask you, what made you want me back?"

"What?" he asked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what made you decide to come after me? I thought you would never want to see me again. What made you change your mind?"

Then, he remembered what had happened earlier that day. "Siobhan," he said. "She came to the penthouse and started saying all things about you, and I realized that you were true to me. I can't explain it, really. I just knew you loved me and that what we had wasn't a lie."

She smiled. "But, what about the babies?" she asked. "Did she tell you what happened to them?"

Andrew's heart stopped and his stomach dropped. He had completely forgotten about the babies!

"She didn't say anything about them," he said honestly, feeling very ashamed of himself, which only added to the burden he felt in regards to his other daughter. Was he really that much of an idiot?


She was lying in a field of lilies, the sun shining down. It was the most beautiful scenery she could have asked for. But, she had to wonder: was she dead? Was this Heaven? Or was she simply dreaming?

She knew what she had done to herself, of course. She knew the effects were probably irreparable, if she could even survive it, but she didn't care. If she was dead, then her father and Bridget could live a happy life together without her. They didn't need her. They could have more children and get on with their lives. She had done this for them, to make them happy.

She closed her eyes to take in the warm sun, to smell the delicious lilies around her, when she heard a voice, a deep baritone voice, singing softly. She smiled. She knew who it was instantly. When she was a little girl, her father would always sing lullabies to her as she fell asleep. If this was God's plan for her for eternity, then she was just fine with it.

Until what she heard next.

She opened her eyes as the sound of yelling came from somewhere far away. She couldn't make out what was being said, but she knew it was her father's voice. Why was he yelling? He was supposed to be singing.

Come back, Daddy, she yearned within her thoughts. Come back and sing to me some more.

But, he didn't come back. He continued to yell. She only hoped he wasn't yelling at her. As she opened her eyes again, she noticed a bright light appear above her head. What was it? Could she be going to Heaven? Was her flowery place just a temporary purgatory?

The light grew brighter, and as it did, she noticed that it wasn't a divine light, but a long, rectangular light, like ones they put in big buildings. As the sound of beeps began to fill her ears and pain began to rack her stomach, ever so slowly, she realized that was awake. She hadn't died. She was lying in the hospital, right where she planned to be.

"Andrew!" A familiar voice shouted so close to her that it made her shake. "Andrew! She's awake!"

Juliet tried to shift her eyes toward Bridget's voice, but she was too weak. She felt her head being smothered with kisses as the pain in her stomach worsened.

"Oh, Juliet," she heard Bridget say as the kisses kept coming. The older woman's tears were sliding onto Juliet's forehead. "I'm so glad you're awake."

"Juliet…" she heard her father's whisper and felt his hands caress her cheek. She saw his face and felt his kisses. His eyes were just as wet as Bridget's. It was odd. She had never seen him cry before.

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Bridget in a gentle voice.

Juliet tried to nod, but she felt so drained. When she tried to speak, no sound came out.

"I'll get you some water," her father said briskly, and she could see him dashing across the room for a pitcher. He came back with a glass and held up her head.

The water felt so good against her throat. How long had she been sleeping? Long enough for her to become parched beyond belief, at least. She felt dizzy, but that was probably because of all the drugs the doctors were giving her. Once she had drained the glass, she felt well enough for words to come out.

But, when they did, they were scratchy and hoarse.

"How long have I been asleep?" she managed to muster.

"About a day," Bridget responded, her eyes still glossy. She tried wiped the tears off her cheeks, but they kept coming. "We were so worried you wouldn't wake up."

But, Juliet smiled. "I'm so glad you're here, Bridget. I knew you would come."

Bridget brow furrowed in a gesture that Juliet had not expected. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Juliet tried to clear her throat and failed. She said in her hoarse voice, "I knew Daddy would go and get you. I knew he would bring you back once I made it to the hospital. I knew it."

Bridget's eyes widened with shock and she and Andrew exchanged looks.

"You mean you did all this just to bring us back together?" Andrew asked. His voice was cracked, presumably from all his crying, but it was also low and stern, cold. That was not what she had expected.

"Yes," Juliet said weakly, wanting to be honest. "I knew that if I got sick, you would realize how much Bridget meant to me and you would bring her back. We needed her, Daddy, and she needed us."

"Oh, my God." Andrew's lip quivered and suddenly, more tears came out of his eyes. Sobs racked his body and he buried his face in his hands.

"Juliet," Bridget's soft voice was suddenly hard. She put both hands on either side of Juliet's face. "How could you do this? Why did you do this? You…you could be dying."

"But, Bridget, I did it for you. Daddy had to bring you back."

Bridget's brow narrowed, anger in her eyes. "Juliet! He was going to bring me back anyway! You didn't have to do this! Do you have any idea what could happen to you? You could be dying!" She repeated again, shaking her head. She clenched her fist and gritted her teeth, suddenly looking much more like Siobhan than the Bridget that Juliet had known for the past seven months. "You have got to learn that you can't just manipulate people into getting what you want."

"But—"

"No, Juliet. I'm talking and you're going to hear me out," Bridget interrupted coldly. "Your father and I love you with all our hearts, but this, this is the last straw. You can't do it anymore. The doctors want to put you away in a home, and at first, I was against it, but now, now I'm really thinking differently about it. Your father has been blaming himself—"

"Bridget, please," Andrew suddenly interrupted, wiping his eyes and putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "May I speak to Juliet alone? We need to have a one-on-one talk."

There was a pause and Bridget looked at him. After a moment, she nodded.

"Of course. I'll go."

"NO!" Juliet shouted suddenly, her throat sore, not wanting Bridget to leave. She had a right to explain herself. Didn't they understand that she had done this for them? For their own good and for the good of their family? She didn't want to talk to her father alone. She dreaded what he had to say. He certainly wouldn't understand if Bridget wouldn't.

"I'll just be outside," Bridget said, ignoring Juliet's plea.

Andrew closed the door behind her as she walked out, his face grim.


Once Bridget had left the room, Andrew began to pace around, something he had always done when about to give Juliet a lesson. But, this was different than anything she done before. A whole wave of emotions poured into him. Joy and relief that his daughter was alive, guilt over not being able to help her, but, most of all anger, anger at her for doing what she did.

It would have been different had she done it out of a cry for help, if she had been depressed, like he had thought originally. He had believed she had been desperate. But, the fact that she had done it to manipulate him, to get what she wanted. It made his blood boil.

"Why are you like this, Daddy?" she asked, clearly not understanding his emotions at all. "You're supposed to be happy. You're supposed to take me home…we're supposed to be a family now."

But, he ignored her.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," he finally said stiffly as he stopped pacing to look at her. He had his hands behind his back, keeping himself up straight. "I've been shot, I've been robbed, but this…this has to be the worst thing to ever happen to me, because you almost died, and you could be dying now, and you don't even care; and what did you do this for? Not because you were depressed, but to manipulate me and get what you want! Just like you have always done!"

His voice turned angry again, but he couldn't help it. He wouldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to strike her, to show her just how angry he was, but he knew he couldn't touch her. He loved her too much. Instead, he turned his back to her, his shoulders hunching over as he breathed in and out, trying to control himself.

"You'll do whatever it takes to get what you want, but I just can't believe you took it this far," he finally said. His heart began to beat faster as he thought. "I know it's partially my fault," he said honestly. "I should have been watching you more carefully," but he had to remember that he never forced her to take those pills. "But you had no right to do what you did."

He turned around again, his brown eyes—her very own eyes—no doubt angrier than Juliet had ever seen them. He certainly felt angrier than he ever had been. Everything, from being held hostage, to everything having to do with Siobhan and Bridget, was dwarfed when it came to this. "You have to understand that what you did was ultimately in your hands, and, you weren't only hurting yourself. You hurt us, Juliet. Bridget and me. You hurt us more than we have ever been hurt before. Jeopardizing your life is worse than anything you could ever do to us!" The tears were on their way again. This was more crying than he had ever done in his life. "Don't you understand that? Don't you see that your life is more important to us than anything?"

"I—" she began, but he cut her off. His question had been rhetorical.

"I'm not even going to let you answer that, because I know what you're going to say, and you're wrong. There were other ways, Juliet. Other ways to bring her back. Like she said, I was going to bring her back anyway, because I realized I loved her." He came closer and placed his warm hands on either side of her face. "But, I don't know if we can ever be happy again, not after what you did. If you die…Juliet, if you die, I'll— "

Tears poured forth from his eyes before he could say anything else.

There was a pause and Juliet had a sudden pleadingly look on her face, tears in her own eyes.

"The doctors want to put you away," he said, stroking her hair, the tears still flowing down his cheeks. "At first, I was adamantly against it, but now, now I think it will be good for you. You need to know that you can never do this again. I won't…" he swallowed, "let you go down the same path your mother did."

"But, Daddy, I won't!" She screamed hoarsely, grabbing a hold of his hands. "I promise you I won't do it again! Please, just let me go home!"

"No," he shook his head. "No. I can't let you do this anymore. You have to learn from what you did, and this is the only way."


It was ten o'clock at night by the time Officer Towers brought Henry into the interrogation room. Henry had no idea what to expect. He had heard that there was new evidence against him in the Tyler Barrett case, but he didn't know what. Nevertheless, Towers did not lose the opportunity to taunt him.

"So, Henry," he began, inclining his bald head towards the man seated in front of him. "I hope you've had a good few days here. Now, that we finally get the chance to talk, down to business!"

He slapped a plastic bag down on the table in front of Henry. It was a tiny bag with a label reading "Evidence" in almost unintelligible letters across it. Henry tried to get a look at what was inside the bag, but he saw nothing. Whatever it was must have been almost microscopic.

"Do you know what this is?" Towers asked.

"No," Henry replied stiffly.

"This, Mr. Butler, is a piece of your hair; and do you know where we found it?" He didn't wait for Henry to respond before he said, "we found it off of Tyler Barrett's dead body when we re-examined the evidence. The coroner found it and put it in a neat little bag for us."

Henry could feel himself paling drastically. He must have transferred a piece of his hair onto Barrett as they were fighting. That was the only explanation.

"Now, how do you think your hair could have gotten there, huh?" Henry wanted to slump in his seat, but he knew that would make him look guilty, so he stood straight. "If you had never seen or spoken with him, how could it have gotten on his body?"

Henry shook his head. He knew the reason, but he had to play the part of an innocent man. "You put it there," he retorted strongly. "You framed me! You put it there to make it look like it was me! I know you did! My lawyer will come up with a thousand ways in court as to how you put it there."

Now, he knew that was likely, and Towers knew it, too. As long as his lawyer was smart enough to do that, then Henry would have nothing to worry about. The jury would buy it. He leaned back in his chair.

"May I go back to my cell now? Either that, or call my lawyer to come in immediately. I'm not answering any more questions."

A few hours later, as he lie on his bed, the warden came up to his cell.

"You have a letter, Mr. Butler," she said.

His stomach tightened. He knew exactly who it was from, but he took it anyway.

"Thank you," he said. Ripping it open, he glared at the contents.

Henry,

I know you don't want to see me, so I'm writing you a letter to tell you everything. I can't stress this enough. It'll all be ok. I'll get you out and we'll live happily ever after, just like we always wanted. I promise. Just let me get rid of a few things first.

I love you,

Shiv