Ringer, Season 2

Hey guys! So I just finished the first season of Ringer and I have to say that I'm extremely disappointed it got canceled. After reading everything I could get my hands on about what could possibly happen in season 2, I've decided to write my own fic, thanks to the encouragement of everyone who has written them before me. Everyone reading go check out the others on this site!

Chapter One: "I'm Danny. Danny Reeb."

Bridget collapsed on the steps in front of Henry's apartment and burst into tears. She couldn't believe it. Her heart was pounding. Siobhan had actually wanted her dead! After all the hoping and praying that Siobhan had forgiven her, in reality, her sister had done no such thing. In fact, she had gone out of her way to try to have her killed. She couldn't believe it. She was hurt, her heart ripped to absolute shreds. As she continued to cry, Solomon approached and sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "It'll be ok."

Bridget sniffed. She knew he was just trying to be optimistic, but it wasn't working.

"No it won't," she said, almost muffling the sound of her voice with her sniffling. "She hated me. Siobhan hated me, after everything I tried to do for her. After all the times I asked for forgiveness, she wanted me dead." She broke down and began sobbing into his shoulder.

They sat there for a few more minutes, Solomon lost for words, letting Bridget cry into his arms.

Finally, he spoke. "Let's get you back to the Sheridans."

She piped up and eagerly wiped the tears from her eyes. "N-no," she sniffed again. "We…have to tell Andrew that Siobhan's alive. He has to know. I'm not keeping anymore secrets from him."

And before Solomon could object, she had hopped into the passenger's seat of his limo, waiting for him to take her straight to the Hamptons. That was the other thing. Andrew. He and Juliet were the loves of her life. She couldn't let them get hurt by Siobhan, no matter how much they hated her.

As Solomon consented and drove out of the city, Bridget set her head against the window, continuing to let the tears fall. She had so much on her mind. Siobhan and Andrew and Juliet were all her family, and yet, they all couldn't stand her. She wouldn't be surprised if Andrew wanted her dead now, too.

Finally, after two hours of driving, they finally reached Andrew Martin's beach house, a beautiful place, right next to the Atlantic Ocean, with white walls and a beautiful chandelier in the living room that Bridget loved to admire. As she got out of the limo, she listened as the waves crashed against the beach, in the dark. She got up her courage and walked straight to the door, pounding as hard as she could.

Andrew couldn't sleep. He had been awake all night. Ever since Agent Machado had called and told him about Bodoway Macawi's break-in at the apartment, he was conflicted. He had thought that it was over, that he would never think of Bridget Kelly again after the moment he told her to leave, but now, all he could do was worry about her. His mind was racing: Was she hurt? What was she doing with a gun? Were her feelings about him genuine? There were so many questions that he needed answers to, but he couldn't call her. He was too prideful.

He lay in his bed, trying to sleep, but it was no use. Instead, he got up to get a glass of water from downstairs. He was halfway down the stairs when a loud thud came from the direction of the front door.

"Andrew! Andrew!" a familiar voice rang out from behind the door. "I need to talk to you! Please let me in."

For a split second, he thought about calling the police, but then realized that it was none of their business. He could handle her all by himself.

He opened the door cautiously, and found himself staring into the tear-streamed face of Bridget Kelly.

"Andrew!" she said. "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I have to tell you: Siobhan's alive and in New York." She stepped onto the threshold and waved something in his face. He realized it to be a DVD.

"Here," she said. "This is surveillance footage from the harbor. She didn't drown that day. She left me on the boat and went off with John DeLario. Look."

She tried to rush over to the television and turn on the DVD player, but Andrew stopped her. He stood in front of her, blocking her entrance to anywhere else.

"No," he said. "I'm not letting you trick me again. Leave my house. Now."

He knew his eyes were cold, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't going to let this woman take him for a fool anymore. She had done it for seven months, and that was good enough.

"She's telling the truth, Mr. Martin," Solomon, her body guard, was right behind her. 'I found the footage myself."

Andrew shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't believe either of you. You," he looked at Solomon sternly, "could be working with her. I want you both to leave."

But, Bridget was stubborn. "I'm not leaving until you hear me out," she said. "Siobhan is alive. She faked her death because she wanted me to die in her place."

Andrew froze. "What?" he asked. "Why would she do that?"

His heart grew even colder, not with hatred for Bridget, but for his wife. He still didn't know if he could trust Bridget, but if what she were saying was true, how could Siobhan be so heartless? His mind was racing. Was Bridget telling the truth? After all, she could have been trying to make an excuse for him to take her back. Before he could make up his mind, she answered.

"Because of what I did to Sean," she finally said, tears streaming down her face. "Sean was Siobhan's son. He died in a car crash, and Siobhan always blamed me for it because I let him go out with his father that night."

She began to sob uncontrollably, her whole body shaking, when Solomon put his arm around her.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go."

"No," she protested, and pulled herself together long enough to turn to Andrew. "You have to know. She…she was pregnant, with twins. Remember, back in September, when I got the call from the hospital? It was for her. She was really pregnant. Henry…Henry told me that he had a paternity test done and that it came back negative." Andrew's heart stopped. "I don't know if they're yours, but you have to know. He told me she gave birth at Good Shepherd Memorial Hospital and that she signed in under the name Rebecca Sheldrake."

There was a long silence, before Andrew made up his mind. His mind continued to race. He could have more children? He couldn't believe it.

"You need to go," he finally said.

She nodded. "I understand, but before I do, here." She took off the wedding ring and engagement ring that Andrew had given her a few months ago. "You'll need these back," she said as they dropped in the palm of his hand. "I hope you know that I never pretended to love you or Juliet. I promise, you two will always be in my heart."

She turned slowly, with Solomon right behind her, and walked out the door, leaving Andrew in the dark. As he watched her walk down the pathway, his eyes filled with tears.

Two weeks went by, and Bridget found herself a job at a diner on Fifth Avenue. The pay wasn't much at all, minimum wage, to be exact, but it was a start. What more could she have gotten without a college degree and no credentials to speak of? It was a small place, little known in the area, but it had a nice atmosphere. Maggie, the owner of the store, was a kind older woman who had given Bridget a place to stay once she got the job. Everyone she worked with seemed supportive of her, and no one asked questions about her past. In fact, all they knew was that she had recently gone through a bad break-up, and that was that. That was all she would tell them.

One day, as she was waiting tables, she came across a group of construction workers, dirty to the bone with sweat and grime. One of them, a tall muscular man with dark blond hair and striking blue eyes, seemed particularly interested in Bridget from the moment she had walked over to their table.

"I'm Danny," he said as she sat down a plate filled with a large Reuben sandwich and fries in front of him, "Danny Reeb."

That was odd, she thought. Men didn't just give out their last names to any woman. She knew instantly that he had an ulterior motive, and she wasn't too keen on it.

"Well, nice to meet you, Danny," she said politely, brushing a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

He had obviously taken that as a flirty gesture, whoops, and started talking to her about his work. Before she knew it, she had to move on to other tables, and left him there to watch her. But, he wasn't offended. In fact, the next day, he came back and asked her for her phone number.

Ugh. This life was going to get some getting used to.