Ringer, Season 2

Hey guys! Here's Chapter Ten! Please review! I need to know how I'm doing.

Chapter Ten: Can We Start Over?

After Andrew permitted Bridget to re-enter the room, Juliet continued to cry and beg.

"I don't want to go to a psych ward!" she kept saying. "I don't need any help. I won't do this again, I promise! If you guys would just listen to me. I promise I won't do it again."

She tried to get up from the bed, but was restrained by the IVs in her arm and in her hand. "I just want to go home so we can be a family again! I don't understand why you guys are making such a big deal out of it."

Now, that made Bridget angry. "Juliet, you have to understand: you almost died. Your gambling your life away like this is not something we can just ignore, not matter what your motive was for doing it."

"What if I just saw a therapist?" asked Juliet. "If I do that, will you let me go home? I don't want to live in a psych ward forever. Please!"

A therapist would be something that she would need, anyway. She already had one after her mother went to prison who specialized in family matters. Bridget looked at Andrew, who was staring at his daughter with a look of disdain in his handsome eyes.

"A therapist?" His British accent cut the air like a knife. "A therapist wouldn't do anything for you! You've already had one, and look what good that did for you! You need constant monitoring, not someone who you could just say whatever you wanted to for five minutes." He shook his head. "No, no…."

"Andrew," Bridget took his hand. "Maybe if we found the right therapist, she wouldn't need to be monitored. At least, not for long."

"What do you mean 'not for long'?" Juliet almost screamed. "I want to go home now!"

"You have to be monitored for a while, Juliet. The doctors think you're a danger to yourself, and your father and I have to agree with them."

"NO!" the girl shouted. "I don't need to be monitored! I need to go home and be a normal girl."

"Juliet," Andrew's voice cracked, "you'll never be a normal girl again."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Then, his phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked down at it, obviously contemplating answering it, but he put it back.

"I tried," the warden said. "I called. He didn't answer. But, I'm still not convinced you have any evidence."

"But, you have to do something," Henry almost shouted through the bars of his cell. "She's going to kill all three of them! Why don't you leave him a message?"

Immediately after he had received the letter from Siobhan, Henry had handed it over to the warden and begged him to warn Andrew. But, as far as the warden was concerned, there was nothing in Siobhan's letter that pointed to anything. "Just let me get rid of a few things" was too vague of a sentence to point to anything, the warden claimed.

How could these people be so stupid? He knew what Siobhan was capable of, what she wanted to do to her family. He couldn't believe that he could have ever fallen for her. She had ruined his life, taken away his wife, his children, and his freedom. It was because of her that Tyler Barrett was dead.

The least he could do was help her family. "She is going to kill them," he said again. "You have to do something!"

But, the warden walked away, non-responsive, and the guard led Henry back to his cell, where he banged on the bars in frustration. Was there anyone who would listen? He thought and thought, but only one name came to mind, and he wasn't even positive as to how to get in contact with him.

But, he figured he would try. He called his guard over to him.

"Yes?" the well-built man asked him.

"I want my one phone call," Henry said desperately.

"Your one phone call?" The guard echoed. "To whom?"

"That's none of your business," he responded angrily. "Just give it to me."

The guard came back a few minutes later with a phone in hand and gave it to Henry through the bars. That was when he remembered he didn't know the number he was trying to call. It was in his cell phone, but, of course, he didn't have that.

"I need the number to the FBI, the Wyoming Division. Right now," he demanded rudely.

"What could you want with that?" the guard asked.

"I need to talk to Victor Machado. He's the only person who will listen."

After Andrew had left the penthouse, Siobhan had searched the place for anything she could find to pawn, but she found nothing. Andrew had cleaned her out the house of every memory of her, including her jewelry. Every spec of it was gone.

The only solution would be to sell the clothes off her back. At least, her trench coat and sunglasses. They would be worth a few thousand dollars, and that would be enough to start. So, she had gone to the pawn shop and left with five thousand dollars. Now, all she had to do was find a hit man, or, if that didn't work, a gun to do the deed herself.

At around nine o'clock that night, the therapist finally came. She wanted to talk to Juliet alone, so she asked Andrew and Bridget to leave. She was a shorter woman, with dark hair and a lot of make-up. She was wearing so much eye shadow that it reached her eyebrows.

"Hello, Juliet," she said politely as she took a seat, scraping the chair across the floor as she did so. "My name is Dr. Matthews and I'll be your therapist today."

"You'll be my therapist today?" Juliet echoed. "What are you doing, taking my order at McDonald's?" That was sure what it felt like.

But, Dr. Matthews ignored her. "Look, sweetie. I'm here to help you. Your father and stepmother think something is very wrong with you."

Weren't therapists supposed to be on the patient's side?

"But, there isn't anything wrong with me!" Juliet wanted to kick her in the shins and run away. "I just want to go home."

"Why did you do it, Juliet? Why did you hurt yourself?"

"I already told my parents that," she said stiffly. "I wanted them to get back together, so I did it."

She averted her eyes from Dr. Matthews and looked down at the I.V. in her hand, wishing the annoying therapist would go away.

"And did they get back together?" she asked. Juliet could feel her eyes on her, but she kept her own eyes away.

"Yes," she replied slowly, "but it wasn't because of anything I did."

"So, what purpose, then, did hurting yourself serve?"

There was a long pause and tears began to form behind Juliet's eyes. "I don't know," she finally said, still with her eyes down. "I guess…it didn't serve any purpose."

"Exactly," the therapist said, and it made Juliet look up. "Hurting yourself is never the way to get what you want, and the only purpose it could possibly serve is to make your family suffer, because they would have suffered horribly if you had died. Do you understand, sweetie?"

Tears rolled down Juliet's face. "I guess so." She didn't know if she truly understood or not. She just wanted everyone to be happy again.

"I didn't think they would get this upset," she explained as she wiped her eyes. "Do you think they'll forgive me?"

"Of course they will," Dr. Matthews said. "They love you unconditionally. The question is: do you love them unconditionally?"

Juliet looked up sharply, anger in her heart. "Of course!" she snapped. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

Dr. Matthews sighed. "Because, sweetheart, any time you hurt yourself like this, you're telling them the opposite. By hurting yourself, you're telling your family that you don't love them. At least…that's the way they see it."

At that moment, Juliet's heart broke and she burst into sobs. Now, she understood, and she truly was sorry for what she'd done. Dr. Matthews didn't say anything for a while. Instead, she let Juliet get her emotions out, and it took quite a while, because Juliet couldn't stop crying. She wanted nothing more than to jump into Andrew and Bridget's arms, kiss them, and tell them how much she loved them, because she just realized then and there that for the entire day she had been awake, she hadn't said those words once.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Matthews asked after she let Juliet spill her emotions.

Juliet nodded. "Yeah," she said weakly, wiping her puffy eyes. "I just…I have to tell them that I'm sorry."

Dr. Matthews smiled. "And you can do that tomorrow when they come back. Okay?"

Andrew hadn't wanted to go back to the penthouse in fear that Siobhan would have been there, Bridget had offered to go her apartment above the diner. She knew it wouldn't be what Andrew was used to, but it would be a place to stay for the night, at least. But, before they went, they decided to go to the supermarket so Andrew could buy some new clothes as he was still wearing his business attire. As Solomon drove them, Andrew gave Solomon some diehard instructions.

"I want you to go every hospital, every adoption agency, anywhere Siobhan could have possibly left her children," he said. "I want to know where they are so I can have a paternity test done."

"Sure," said the chauffeur as he came to a stop in front of the apartment. "I'll get right on it."

Andrew and Bridget walked passed the diner and up the stairs. The place looked even trashier than it had the day before.

"It's not much at all," Bridget tried to explain as they made their way to the door. She was very embarrassed. "But, it should do at least until…" Well, she didn't know until when. Until they could get someone to arrest Siobhan?

But, Andrew didn't seem to mind as she opened the door. "It looks lovely," he commented. Still, she fought back the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he was just being nice.

"I don't have any food," she said. "I've been eating all my meals at the diner because I didn't have any money. I promised I'd pay them back once I got my first paycheck. I've probably gained thirty pounds."

Now, that made him laugh. "You have not."

"Would you like some tea?' she asked. "Megan gave me a box. It's nothing fancy. Just Darjeeling. I like to drink it at night before I go to bed."

"Sure," he said, looking around the living room with all its bareness. "It really isn't a bad place."

Bridget chuckled smugly and walked over to the pantry. The tea was the only item she had in there. She pulled it on the counter and took out a small pot from underneath the stove, as she didn't have a proper teapot. Once she had filled it with water and had the gas on, she turned back to Andrew.

"The bathroom's down the hallway if you need to take a shower, but honestly, the water takes about a minute to warm up, so I usually just take it cold."

"I'm alright for right now," he said. "But, I think I will go shave."

"Alright," she said. "I'll be in here."

Once the water had boiled, she took out two glasses from the cupboard. She didn't have teacups, so she had to settle for those. Andrew came back, clean-shaven, and smiled.

"What?" she asked, noticing his smirk. "I don't have teacups."

"I think it's very creative," he said.

"Not really. I've seen it done before." She handed him a glass and they sat down at the table.

"Where did you get the furniture?" he asked.

"From Solomon," she replied. "I think some of it might be his grandmother's old stuff."

"That was very nice of him." There was a pause and he looked down at his glass. "Do you remember when we used to do this? Just the two of us, in the afternoons?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I remember. It was fun." She had had a lot of fun times with him back on Park Avenue, times that she never wanted to forget.

"It was," he said. "I hope we can do it again."

"So, you really want me back?" she asked him. She had to be sure that it wasn't just an impulse.

"Of course, I do," he said, his eyes widening, as if in fear that she would leave him. "That night at the loft, when I told you that what we have is worth the pain, I meant it; and I was talking to you, not Siobhan. I realized it as soon as she showed up in my home, thinking she owned me. She and I never had anything, but you and I, we had everything together. I'm sorry I didn't realize it immediately." He lowered his eyes. "I should have known what a hypocrite I was being. After everything I did, you forgave me for my sins but I couldn't forgive yours." He looked up again as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Bridget."

"It's alright," she said, smiling. "I love you."

"And I love you," he said. "Can we start over? No more secrets? No more lies?"

She nodded. "Never again."

She leaned forward to capture his lips with hers and he consented, tangling his fingers in her blonde hair. It went on for minutes, until she entwined her fingers with his and led him to the bedroom, where they stripped off all their clothes and made love, as if for the first time. No more secrets, no more lies, nothing hidden. Their bodies were naked, but their souls were also. They were no longer a thief and a whore, but a redeemed couple, surrounded by nothing but love and forgiveness.