Note: This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of "Ringer." The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the WB, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of said work. The author shall not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site.

Season 1 Episode 23 Part 4

"Consequences"

Anyone with discerning taste would've noticed the surreptitious gentleman in the tailored Zegna Bespoke and shoes that only Testoni could have had crafted by the hand of maidens. No matter how dark his sunglasses nor how espionage-like his scarf wrapped around his face, this man struck attention. It was not his refined posture, sizeable wallet or European heritage that stood out on the streets of the Upper East Side. No, those would have made him a perfect fit for his environment for those acquainted with urbanity and finesse. His James Bond-like presence caught the eye because of the gloriously beautiful woman draped by his side – a woman who could have no equal.

Siobhan clutched her husband's arm all the more tightly. Delicately pressing the tips of her fingers into his skin, indicating possession.

"How did you know it was me and not her?" she whispered the question into his ear by his side, with delicate urgency.

There was barely a moment of hesitation. But it was there still.

"I could always tell the love of my life," he breathed. A puff of white hot air smoked into the cold winter.

Her eyes fluttered and face flushed a deep blood red. Her naturally long lashes dipped. She held him more tightly, increasing her grasp. The love of his life. Yes, Andrew was an excellent judge of that.

"You would never have let those children behind," he stated as fact.

He was so trusting of Bridget. So believing in a woman he had known for such as short period of time. Months. Months they had spent together. But days would be enough to know the one whom you were fated.

There was a deep pause, as the two figures walked down the street. Arms linked. The devoted pair left the hospital. Behind them, a discrete vaguely familiar-looking valet carried a carriage. The Roddler had been delivered when the woman explained to her adoring lover about the two children she had found. How her good for nothing twin sister had bore then, then left them, abandoned them- just like her husband and her old life when she had grown sick of their use.

Without question, he believed her. That she was Bridget.

"Siobhan is alive," she murmured.

"Yes, I know…"

She suppressed the urge to scoff at what he knew. He always thought he knew. While her blood boiled at the thought of touching his skin or being in his mere presence, she gingerly pressed her cheek to his shoulder. The ringlets of her golden hair fell, brushing the side of his face. Her rapidly forming plan could only succeed as long as he gave her rope. She needed his trust. His money. Her old life back.

After much walking, they had reached the stoop of an unremarkable building.

Their old apartment, a luxurious penthouse with panoramic views of Central Park, had been closed off because of an incident, which had all too recently occurred. As the site of a home-invasion and murder, the FBI had still not completed their investigation. Nor would they likely to for a while… The Martins were forced to find refuge in a new location, one whose address was not as posh evidently. One that not many people would seek. Not many people lived on this side of town. It was one that barely had any traffic for the matter. A quiet, abandoned home. Barely comparable to the lavishness to which they were accustomed. How bad had Andrew's finances turned?

"We should do something about her," he said firmly with a tone that implied resolve. There was no chill in his voice, but the cool air of winter seemed even colder in that moment. Perhaps, it was the wind at night which had this effect. Siobhan could not help but involuntarily shiver.

"What could we possibly do? We should let it rest. I'm just saying she has done enough harm. We should focus on having a happy life now with our children. These children," Siobhan explained. It would be harder to hide the truth from those who would ask questions. Not everyone would be so easy to manipulate.

"A woman like that deserves to be punished for what she's done," he said looking deeply into her eyes.

He held her hands reassuringly; his own gloved in Moncler….Except

His hands reached past hers. They moved closer to her shoulders, towards her face…. Stopping at her neck, where they formed a ring.

Siobhan's eyes widened.

"Andrew, what are you doing?"

"Siobhan," behind her a voice uttered her name. A woman who looked exactly identical. From every freckle on the face to the gold-flecked green in her eyes. Her mirror image. Not a doppelganger, but Bridget. The real Bridget stood beside her husband. This woman did have an equal, a physical copy at the very least.

So, he had known all along. Perhaps, he was not the fool she thought he had always been. These were her last thoughts before blackness fell.

TBD