CHAPTER 1: Is a second impression all you need?

The entire scenario played out in front of her as though she were outside the body that said all the ridiculous, stupid things that now played through her mind.

Stupid Bridget!

Stupid book launch!

Now to drown my sorrows in a glass (or two) or chardonnay, before having to face everyone at work on Monday morning...hopefully still have job.

There seemed to be this invisible ring of 'untouchable' around her, as no one was standing within a 10 metre radius of her.

Then again if I could get out of my body as I had before I wouldn't be standing with me either.

Perhaps I should try and mingle…try and save some of my reputation (Ha!).

Moving away from the temporary bar set up to one side of the room Bridget spotted Mark Darcy in the crowd once more, standing with a group of people that were talking animatedly…although that lanky, snooty cow Natasha seemed to be doing more of the talking than he actually was. In fact, Bridget couldn't help but notice the way he kept rubbing his temple as though attempting to ease the strain of a head ache.

I do feel slightly sorry for him. He looks as though he would rather be anywhere but here…as would I at this very moment.

As she continued to pass through the crowd she unconsciously moved towards him, feeling as though he were the only one who would probably show some civility and empathy towards her right now. But as she got closer she realised that he was gone.

She quickly scanned the room to try and see where he had moved to but could not see past all the other 'suits' and 'snooty cows'. Deciding that the night was a complete bust, Bridget chose to call it a night and head home.

As she moved towards the coat check in the grand hallway she saw Mark standing just off to the side of the entrance way. He looked even worse up close.

Bridget collected her coat and then walked down the hallway towards him, but was stopped by the sound of her name being called from the direction of the room she had just walked out of.

"Jones!"

She turned at the familiar term said by a familiar voice.

"You are NOT leaving yet…or at least you are not leaving without me" Daniel Cleaver strode towards her with his usual sensual swagger.

Bridget didn't know why but she wasn't as thrilled as she normally would have been at the prospect of being with Daniel.

Must be an effect of total mortification in front of room full of colleagues and friends who will now all probably peg themselves as mere acquaintances so as to have little or no association with said mortification.

"Well I'm not sure how much more bottomless, non-stop conversation I can possibly endure tonight" she couldn't help saying in her most sarcastic voice.

Daniel smirked and gave a small chuckle at her self-criticising joke, before placing his hands on her hips and pulling her against him.

"Well then how about with spend the rest of the night using our mouths for something other than talking?" he said, with no attempt at hiding his true meaning.

Bridget didn't know what to say.

On the one hand I just want to go home and forget this entire night. On the other hand it would be nice to finally leave a party without going home alone…

She finally agreed to going to dinner with him, remembering that she hadn't eaten since lunch time and she had just downed three (six!) glasses of wine.

Daniel collected his coat also and then led Bridget down the hallway in the direction she had been heading minutes before. He suddenly stopped however, and Bridget was confused at his reaction until she followed his gaze towards the front door where she had forgotten Marc Darcy was standing. She was close enough now to see his red rimmed eyes and a pained look upon his face.

He looks absolutely terrible. He must be coming down with something.

Bridget normally became instantly concerned when she saw anyone she knew looking out of sorts, but she became exceedingly concerned for Marc's wellbeing for some unknown reason. She walked closer to him, leaving Daniel the few paces behind where he stood, still frozen to the spot.

"Marc?" Bridget said tentatively so as not to startle him with her sudden presence.

Marc looked up at the gentle and concerned voice. He looked surprised to see her standing there…not that he didn't know she was there (at the book launch that is) as he had seen the whole disastrous speech play out earlier.

Not that I was really listening to what she was saying. I was more interested in looking at how different she looked out of the Christmas vest and skirt ensemble…how beautiful she looks in fact.

"Bridget! What are you doing here?"

Stupid question.

She looked a little confused as she knew he had seen her on stage earlier.

"I meant what are you doing out here in the hallway? Shouldn't you be back in there trying to talk up all those writers about their 'greatest books of our time'?" he couldn't help the word vomit that was spilling out of his mouth at that moment. He hadn't meant for it to sound as sarcastic as it did, or how condescending it did as well.

She looked down and began to twist her hands together, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up her neck.

"Yes well, I'm sure there will be plenty of time to do that the next time someone hosts a book launch they want completely ruined" she tried to joke, but realised at the same time the truth behind her words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm not feeling quite myself tonight and just came out here to get some air" he tried to explain himself, feeling equally as embarrassed as she obviously was.

He began to unconsciously run his fingers across his forehead and then pinch the bridge of his nose, screwing up his brow against the obvious pain he was feeling.

"Marc. Are you feeling alright?" Bridget asked, concern returning to her voice.

As he released his fingers and looked up to her to answer, he spotted Daniel for the first time standing off to the side. His face fell and he did not respond to the question Bridget had asked him. Because in that moment he was anything but alright.

What the hell is HE doing here?!

Bridget couldn't understand his reaction until she remembered Daniel was standing behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see that Daniel wore the same expression.

The two men just stood in silence staring each other down, as though having a dual with their minds.

Bridget became uncomfortable standing in the middle of it all, so moved to one side before breaking the unfriendly silence.

"Do you two know each other?" she asked tentatively.

Neither one of them answered straight away. Both of them finding the simplest way to answer such a complicated question…at least in their case.

"Yes" Marc said simply.

"It's a long story" Daniel added.

Marc scoffed at his answer.

"Depends on who's version you hear" he said a little harshly, his stare becoming more venomous than surprised.

It became silent between them once more and Bridget wasn't sure what to say or who to speak to first. She looked between Marc and Daniel before noticing the sheen of sweat across Marc's brow. He was leant up against the door frame in a way that suggested he was exhausted. She was about to ask him again if he was alright when suddenly they were interrupted by the clicking of high heels coming down the hallway at a rapid pace. All three looked in the direction of the sound and saw a tall, lanky, impeccably dressed and primped woman striding towards them.

Natasha!

Bridget huffed to herself, not being able to help but roll her eyes slightly as she approached them.

"Marc! What in God's name are you doing out here? Come, come" she clicked her fingers at him "Salman has been telling us all about his next book."

Bridget could tell that Marc didn't want to go back into the party but she guessed he would use any excuse to get away from this awkward-as-hell situation. As he pushed himself off the door frame and went to move past her and Daniel, he suddenly stumbled and had to grab onto the buffet in the hallway.

Bridget instinctively reached out to prevent him from falling further, catching his right arm and steadying him back to an upright position.

Marc glanced gratefully at her while trying to compose himself.

I must be worse than I thought.

"Are you alright?!" Bridget asked anxiously, still grasping his arm in support.

"Yes, yes I'm fine" Marc tried to sound convincing.

"You probably just need to have something to eat" Natasha piped up with little concern "Come back in for a half hour and then we can go have dinner somewhere, alright" she said, more as a statement of command than as a question.

Bridget looked towards Natasha in shock.

Is she crazy, blind or just stupid? Marc is far from being well enough to go back into a room, over crowded with people.

She looked back at Marc, who she could see was about to comply with her request, when she stopped him.

"Natasha I hardly think that he should be staying here any longer. Marc is clearly not feeling well. I think he should be going home."

Marc looked slightly shocked that she had stood up for him.

And against Natasha no less!

Natasha looked taken aback and shifted slightly as though trying to find stable ground after being knocked off her usually high perch.

"Well I didn't realise you knew better than me what Marc did or did not need" she said, inwardly seething "But Marc is a big boy. I think he can decide for himself where it would be best for him to be."

Her double meaning did not escape Bridget, and she realised that she was silently hoping Marc chose leaving (really herself) over Natasha.

"Bridget, she is right. Darcy has only ever once had a problem with making the right choice" Daniel couldn't help putting his thoughts on the situation into words.

Although she didn't fully understand the meaning behind Daniel's words, Bridget knew that they must have meant something to Marc, as she felt the muscles in his arm tense and his fist reflexively clench.

He went to make a move towards Daniel but he stumbled once more and felt his vision blur slightly. He leant against the buffet once again and allowed the touch of Bridget's hand, still firmly holding his arm, secure him in place until he felt his head return to normal.

"I'm taking you home. No questions" Bridget said, finality in her statement.

"Fine!" Daniel exclaimed loudly "But I'm not letting you go with him on your own. Don't want you stealing anything of mine" he said, too quietly for Bridget to hear but definitely loud enough to cause Marc's temper to flare once more. Daniel glanced wickedly at Marc as he pushed between him and Bridget, forcing her to drop her hold on his arm.

Bridget didn't understand why Daniel was acting like this.

I mean I'm not even his girlfriend for goodness sakes!

She looked back up at Marc, who was looking down the hallway towards Natasha. She was still stood there with an irritated, almost angry look on her face.

He can't possibly be thinking about leaving me here on my own…especially to leave with HER!

"Marc?" she said questioningly, waiting for him to give her the answer she wanted but knew she wasn't going to get.

"Natasha I'm sorry, but I'm just not feeling up to it…"

He went to apologise further but she held up a dismissive hand and turned and strode back down the hallway, disappearing back into the party.

Marc shut his eyes tightly and grimaced.

I'm going to pay for that.

"I'm sorry I should have just butt out."

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice beside him again.

"But when I see a friend like this…and especially at a party…and I knew that you would probably never have let on that you were…but you really need to take care of yourself better" she rambled on for a few minutes, first apologising, then explaining, then almost accusing, before Marc stopped her.

"It's ok. You're right. I wouldn't have said anything, and I would have been the worse off for it tomorrow…and probably for the rest of the week" he said, giving her a shy but small smile.

She smiled back at him.

"Are you able to walk without collapsing on me?" she tried to joke, but also asked with a hint of seriousness.

"I just need to take it steady. I wasn't feeling this awful when I left work this afternoon to come here."

"If you were already feeling sick why on earth did you still come?" she asked in surprise.

"I felt obligated" he answered matter-of-factly.

Natasha must have invited him.

"Oh, is Natasha your…umm…" she didn't want to actually say the word.

"She's just a friend" he answered quickly…almost too quickly.

Bridget looked up at him a little confused.

"Then why did you feel obligated if she's just a friend?"

"Because I never go back on a promise" he smiled once again.

For some reason Bridget felt embarrassed under his sudden scrutiny, and so looked away quickly so that he could not see her blush…or the smile playing around her lips.

They carefully made it down the stairs outside and stepped onto the sidewalk where Daniel held open the door of the cab he had disappeared to hail down.

Bridget helped Marc get into the back seat before sliding in beside him. Daniel then stepped into the cab and sat opposite them, an icy look on his face and a glare directed solely towards Marc.

As they travelled through the streets of London towards the address that Bridget had given the cab driver (surprised she had remembered Marc's address from the numerous times her Mother had insisted Bridget just 'pop round and visit'), silence seemed to reign over the three of them.

Marc didn't mind however, as he was concentrating on not throwing up on the cab floor. He closed his eyes and rested his head up against the cool window, taking in deep cleansing breaths.

Bridget meanwhile just stared out the opposite window, trying to avoid eye contact with either of the two men,

Not that they would notice me looking at them anyways. Marc has his eyes closed and Daniel has his eyes firmly fixed on Marc.

The cab ride eventually came to a unanimously grateful end for all of them.

Marc stepped out into the fresh air and took a deep breath, before very indignantly, leant over and threw up in the gutter.

Daniel stood back and watched the entire scenario play out, silently pleased that he had been here to witness it.

Oh I will hold this over you for years to come Darcy, mark my words!

Bridget quickly threw a few bills through the window at the cab driver before rushing over to Marc to hold him around his waist, afraid that he might fall over.

Daniel's expression changed from smug to annoyed, because despite everything, Bridget was still so concerned about 'Marc-bloody-Darcy'.

Marc pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his mouth before standing upright.

"I'm fine now, thank you" he couldn't look at her, not now she had seen him in such a state.

Marc stepped up out of the gutter and headed towards his front door.

Bridget didn't miss a beat and fell in line behind him, already having decided that she was going to make sure he was settled and alright before she would leave him for the night.

Daniel, having seen the direction of Bridget's thoughts, stepped forward and grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking up his front steps.

"Bridget he just said he is fine. Now I promised you dinner, and we have delivered Darcy safe and sound, so let's go." He began to walk down the side walk away from Marc's place.

"I'm sorry Daniel but if you think I'm going to leave Marc in the state that he is in then you can forget about dinner completely" she almost shouted after him.

He stopped momentarily, but seeing the determined look on her face, turned and continued walking.

"See you at work on Monday Jones" he called over his shoulder, an almost sardonic tone to his words.

What am I going to have to do to keep my job?

Dismissing the thought, Bridget turned and made her way up the front steps of Marc's house and through the front door, which he hadn't closed for some reason. Upon entering the main foyer however, she was greeted with the exact reason as to why.

There sat Marc on the chair just inside the door. He had collapsed in a heap, obviously not before attempting to rid himself of his coat and shoes, as was evidenced by his left shoe half kicked off and his right arm shrugged out of his sleeve, the buttons on the front of his coat still securely fastened around his waist however.

Bridget couldn't help but smile down at him.

So vulnerable yet still the picture of upper class gentleman.

She shook off her own coat and hung it on the coat rack beside the chair he was lounging in, before kneeling down in front of him. First she removed both of his shoes properly before reaching up and undoing each of his coats buttons carefully.

He stirred as she reached the second to last button, and looked down at her questioningly.

She looked up at him sheepishly but managed a smile.

"Don't worry. It's not what you think. You fell asleep halfway through divesting yourself of your coat. I'm just helping you finish the process" she said with a laugh.

Marc suddenly realised his position on the chair in the foyer and quickly sat up straight, trying to look dignified while having the most apologetic look upon his face.

"I'm sorry. I must be more tired than I thought" he shifted in the seat and attempted to stand up, but was hampered by the fact that Bridget was still kneeling in front of him.

Seeing that he was trying to get out of the chair, she pulled herself up off the ground and stepped back away from him, allowing him room to stand.

"You don't have to stay. You obviously had plans with Daniel Cleaver. Don't let me get in the way."

She suddenly felt awkward with the stiff manner in which he was talking to her, so she wrapped her arms around her middle.

"I wanted to be sure that you were alright. But if you don't want me to be here I'll go" she almost snapped back at him.

Hearing the hurt in her voice, Marc immediately regretted the way he had said what he'd said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that" his demeanour now soft and remorseful "I only meant that I don't want you to feel as though you need to stay. I'll be fine."

Bridget kept her arms wrapped securely around herself, still a little hurt and shocked at the tone he had used.

After all, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to. I care about all my friends…about him.

As they stood there in silence, Marc having finally removed his coat completely, Bridget could see the slight shiver run through his body but the increasing persistent sheen of sweat coating his skin.

She tentatively stepped towards him and reached a hand up, placing the back of her fingers against his forehead.

"Marc, you're burning up!" she gasped, before placing her other hand against his cheek.

He shivered again and his teeth began to chatter.

"But I feel so cold" he said, his voice quavering as though he was standing naked out in the snow.

"We need to cool you down. Where's your bathroom?" she asked, while looking down the hallway.

"Up…stairs" and managed to get out between shivers.

Without hesitation she grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her up the internal staircase and along another hallway, looking through each doorway they passed until they reached the bathroom. She pulled him inside and pushed him down to sit on top of the closed toilet seat. She turned to the shower and turned on the faucets, adjusting them until she got the desired temperature. She then turned back to Marc, who was now shaking uncontrollably and had his arms wrapped around himself as she had been doing only minutes ago.

He looks like a little boy.

Bridget gently reached out and ran her fingers across his hair soothingly.

He closed his eyes against the touch, the frown lines across his brow disappearing and his shoulders relaxing a little. He felt the tie being slipped from around his neck and then gentle fingers loosening each button of his shirt. He opened his eyes at this and looked at the hands working their way down his dress shirt. He looked up at Bridget. She wasn't meaning for her actions to be seductive in any way, but to him her fingers were doing the most extraordinary things to his state of mind.

Or is it the fever?

Bridget looked into his weary but slightly shocked eyes. She stopped undoing the buttons but kept a hold on his shirt.

"You're undressing me."

It wasn't a question or a rebuttal, but Bridget suddenly realised what she was doing and dropped his shirt, stepping back slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have asked, or just let you do it…but I thought you might be too tired…but I guess you aren't seeing as you're still awake…I was just worried…" she rambled on hastily, her hands twisting in front of her.

She went to leave the bathroom but Marc grabbed both of her restless hands in one of his, stopping her.

"Bridget, it's fine" he said without looking up at her, trying to hide the slight emotion that had begun to build-up inside of him.

"It's just that no one has taken care of me like this since I was a little boy" he looked up at her then with an almost embarrassed expression on his face.

How could I have thought so badly of this man? He may have said some terrible and almost unforgivable things about me at the Turkey curry Buffet, but he is just a vulnerable, lonely little boy at heart.

"Everyone needs someone to take care of them when they are sick, even beyond the age of being a little kid" she said gently, while taking his shirt back in her hands and finishing unfastening the buttons.

She helped him pull his arms out of the sleeves and deposited the shirt in the clothes hamper. She went to reach for his belt buckle but froze just before reaching it, both of them staring down at the direction her hands were heading.

Bridget pulled back slowly.

What am I doing? I hardly know him. I'm not even sure if we are friends.

"Umm…I'm sure you can handle the rest" she said as she cleared her throat "Call me if you need anything." And with that she left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Marc sat momentarily stunned, just staring at the spot that she had been standing, before shaking off his thoughts.

"Right. Yes, right" he murmured, now to himself, before standing unsteadily and removing his pants and boxer shorts.

He stepped into the shower and immediately shivered. The water was slightly cold. But then he realised that Bridget had set the temperature like this on purpose, the intent being to try and bring down his fever.

He stepped back under the water and stood under the stream, only barely tolerating the lukewarm cleanse. It faded into the background however, as his thoughts began to shift to the events of this evening.

She looked so different tonight compared to what she did at the disastrous Turkey curry Buffet…beautiful in fact. Despite her appalling attempt at an introductory speech at the book launch, she was fascinating. She can certainly socialise without feeling uncomfortable (unlike me) and she definitely does not have a problem with dealing with DANIEL CLEAVER.

His thoughts turned quite resentful and angry as they always did when he thought about Daniel Cleaver. He started to wonder what Bridget saw in him and how she could tolerate working for such a cad, when it suddenly dawned on him.

She doesn't know!

She doesn't know…and yet she stayed with me even after everything I had said about her.

His mind was in overdrive. If she didn't know about his and Daniel's history and she still chose him over Daniel then she must at least like him on some level. Sick or not, no one would cancel a date to help someone they didn't like.

Natasha wouldn't even let ME leave the party tonight, let alone her volunteering to go with him and at least see him home safely…and she was supposed to be his friend (more than that if you were to ask her).

Bridget had been down in the kitchen making Marc some honey, ginger and lemon tea, also thinking about the evening.

She had wanted to go with Daniel to dinner (and let's be honest…probably leading to shagging at her place afterwards) but seeing the way Marc looked, she felt an even stronger desire to stay with him and make sure he was taken care of.

What has gotten into me? Before tonight I would have told you I couldn't stand the man. But seeing him tonight so unwell and standing on his own…

The kettle whistled loudly on the stove top, pulling Bridget from her reverie. She physically shook her head before going back to her task and mechanically preparing the pot of tea and some toast.

It had been 20 minutes and Bridget could still hear the water from the shower running. She was just about to knock on the bathroom door to check on Marc when she heard the water stop and Marc step out of the shower.

She gave an unconscious smile and began to walk back down the hallway when she heard something smash and then a loud thud.

She swiftly ran back to the bathroom door and listened, waiting to hear any sound or movement from the other side. She heard a low groan and some shuffling, but she remained concerned.

What if he's hurt?

Knocking loudly she waited for Marc to acknowledge that he knew she was on the other side of the door.

Nothing.

Bridget knocked again with urgency in her pounding.

"Marc? MARC are you alright?!" panic rising in her voice.

Still no answer.

I have to go in.

There was no thinking it over, no justifying like she normally would when she was making a decision, this time she just did.

She pushed the door open but it was stopped halfway, hampered by something on the other side. The door was opened enough for her to be able to stick her head around and see what had happened, and as she did she could see exactly what had happened.

There lay Marc in the middle of the bathroom, decorative glass bowel and toiletries spread over the tiles.

"MARC!" she yelled, almost screamed.

He stirred slightly, but did not respond or sit up.

She pushed against the door again, looking down to see that it was Marc's own feet preventing her access. As the nudged him however, he was conscious enough to try and move away from the sensation, allowing enough room for Bridget to eventually slip between the door frame.

She threw herself down beside him, conscious of the broken glass around him. She took his head in her hands cradling it gently, stroking his left cheek with her thumb.

"Marc. Marc, can you hear me?" her breath caught in her throat and tears began to well up in her eyes.

She looked him over, checking for injuries. She only realised then that Marc was completely naked.

Under different circumstances…

What am I thinking?! Marc is lying here unconscious and all I can think about is…

She turned her focus back to his face, his eyes were beginning to flutter, before they opened slightly against the harsh light of the bright down lights.

"Marc" she said a little more gently.

He began to stir and move his legs. He looked up into her worried eyes, confusion as to why he was on the floor starting to flood his mind.

"What happened?" he said, a little raspy. He tried to sit up but immediately felt light headed again.

"Shh shh shh. It's ok, try not to move a few minutes. You must have collapsed. I heard something break and then a loud noise. You didn't answer when I knocked" she suddenly looked down shyly, a blush flooding her cheeks "Sorry." She whispered the last part.

Marc was a little confused as to her sudden demeanour and apology when he suddenly remembered that he had been taking a shower, and that he now lay in the middle of his bathroom floor…naked.

WOW! If there is anyone more embarrassed than I am right now, please dear God, show them to me so that I may live through this moment.

He reached around her to grab the hand towel hanging from the rail beside the basin.

Not that this will cover up much…the important things will be I guess.

He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say and unable to look at her just yet.

She continued to cradle his head and stroke his cheek, looking down at him still with concern in her eyes but now with a little bit of humour as well.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked softly.

He looked up at her now, glad that there was no disgust in her expression.

"You mean other than my ego?...No. no damage done here."

She insisted that he lay there a little longer before standing up, arguing that if he collapsed again it wouldn't just be the decorative bowel that he would break if he landed on her…it.

They both shared in a round of laughter at Bridget's joke, before just staring into one another's eyes, until the silence became awkward and Marc became light headed for a different reason.

"I think I can sit up now" he said a little hoarsely.

Bridget didn't move for a second, still too enraptured by his gaze, when she realised what he had said and began to help him sit up right.

"Do you want help standing up?" she asked without thinking.

Marc gave an amused chuckle while adjusting the hand towel across his lap, trying to remain as dignified as one can in such a situation.

"I think it best if I take it from here" he smiled shyly up at her.

Remembering his current state of undress she blushed profusely and stood up quickly.

"Of…of course...sorry. Sorry" she stammered out as she began to bate a hasty retreat.

He watched her moment of 'unbalance' before she practically ran for the door. He wanted to reassure her that what had happened was alright, because he certainly appreciated it.

"Bridget!" he called after her, causing her to stop just outside the doorway.

She looked back to him, her cheeks still slightly red and avoiding complete eye contact with him.

"Thankyou...for taking care of me even though I'm not a little boy" he said with all sincerity.

Bridget could only nod her acceptance and then closed the door behind her.

No you most CERTAINLY are not a little boy!

Marc came out of the bathroom a few minutes later feeling slightly better than he did earlier. He wandered down the hallway slowly, so that he didn't bump into things, and went to his bedroom to find a sweater to pull on over his undershirt and boxer briefs that he usually wore to bed. Upon entering his bedroom however, he found something his was not expecting.

A breakfast tray lay on top of the mattress, at the foot of the bed holding a plate of toast with jam and a pot of steaming tea, which he could already smell was honey, ginger and lemon.

He smiled at just how much thought Bridget had put into this gesture, and found himself giving a full on smile.

He found a sweater and pulled it on, before making his way over to his bed and picking up the tray, preparing to settle himself against the headboard so that he could enjoy his food and tea. Just as he was about to take a bite he heard her speaking from the doorway.

"I was going to help you get settled but I had to search for the ibuprofen" she said, while making her way across the room, her hand outstretched towards him carrying two small white pills "Here. Take these it will help bring your fever down faster."

Marc took the pills and downed them both at the same time with a sip of the tea.

Mmmm. It's perfect! Not too sweet not too spicy.

He took a bite of the piece of toast he was still holding in his other hand, suddenly realising just how ravenous he was feeling.

I guess throwing up what little I had left in my stomach from lunch time didn't help.

Bridget stood there for a few more seconds just watching him chew his piece of toast and sipping the tea, before deciding that he was comfortable and well enough to finish on his own.

"I'll leave you to it" she said, almost disappointedly.

She began to walk across the room when Marc felt the need to keep her close to him.

"Won't you sit with me?" he said the words before he thought about his request, hoping that once he had it didn't sound too pathetic.

But Bridget was glad that it was Marc who had made the request, because she so wanted to ask it herself…for the same reason.

She answered him by moving around to the opposite side of the bed and climbing up beside him, resting her back against the headboard in the same manner that he was.

He smiled shyly at her again, which she immediately decided she found endearing.

Marc made his way through the rest of his toast and tea in silence, not sure of what to talk about.

Well you tosser, you could always talk to her about how, despite appearances, you actually do like her. Or about how you know Daniel Cleaver and why you so desperately want to knock his block off. Or you could ask her out on the date you have been planning in your mind all evening, in hopes that one day you grow the balls to actually ask her.

The clatter of the teacup on the tray brought him back from his reverie, realising that he had nearly dropped the entire contents onto the carpet.

Bridget saw him make a quick grab to steady the tray and noticed that he had finished eating.

"I'll take that back to the kitchen if you're done?" she asked, moving to take the tray from his hands.

"No" he said, a little too quickly.

Bridget pulled her hands back, shock registering across her face.

"Sorry" he said a little more gently "I meant 'yes', I'm finished, but just put it down beside the bed, I'll take it in the morning."

"Marc I don't mind taking it, I've got to go downstairs when I leave anyway" she replied, missing the pleading and hopeful look in Marc's eyes.

Marc reached across then and took her hand in his.

"I don't want you to go just yet…please" he squeezed her hand slightly, beseechingly.

Bridget didn't know what to say. On the one hand he had said all those nasty things about her only a few weeks ago. But on the other hand, he seemed so different this evenly, lovely even.

I want to stay!

That was the overwhelming thought and desire running through her brain.

Bridget stood up off the bed, at the complete shock and disappointment of Marc.

But instead of leaving, to his relief she merely walked around to his side of the bed, lifted the tray off his lap and placed it on one of the chairs over in corner, before gently pushing him down on the pillows so that he was laying down more than sitting, and covering him with the blanket sitting on the chest at the foot of the bed. She then slowly walked back around to the other side of the bed and climbed back in next to him…if a little closer than before.

The entire time Marc watched her, enraptured by her unwavering care and gentleness.

And her grace, and beauty…and sexiness.

As she settled back in beside him, Marc rolled onto his left side so that he was facing her. He was surprised when she rolled onto her right to face his direction also, their knees almost touching in the middle of the bed.

They just lay their staring at one another for a while, neither saying anything, the silence not uncomfortable between them.

Marc once again churned over the things he so desperately wished to ask her.

"Can I ask you something" he almost whispered.

"Always" she answered automatically.

"Are you and Daniel Cleaver dating?" He regretted asking it as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Bridget was shocked at his frankness and was a little embarrassed to be discussing this with someone she had barely seen more than a half dozen times since they were kids.

"Not exactly. It's complicated" was the only explanation she could give him, unsure of any other way she could explain the 'relationship' she had with Daniel.

"I see" he looked down "Well just be careful. I know him well enough to know he's not all good news" he began to fidget, feeling awkward about saying this while being very cryptic at the same time.

She looked at him with wide but curious eyes, a slight frown working its way across her brow.

"Can I ask you a question in return?"

"Always" he used her words back at her, a smile playing across his lips.

She smiled in return.

"What's your history with Daniel. I mean by the glares that were being shot between you and he this evening, it's got to be more than just some teenage/college girly spat" she tried to lighten the mood of her question, thinking that it was probably a sore topic of conversation.

She was correct in thinking so. Marc shifted a little uncomfortably on the bed and looked down once again. Minutes passed by with nothing said between them, making Bridget feel terrible for asking about something that was obviously very private.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just thought I'd…"

Marc interrupted before she could finish with her unnecessary apology.

"No. no. It's fine. You deserve to know, especially when I'm warning you off him" he quickly rebuffed her back tracking on her question.

He took in a deep breath before continuing.

"He slept with my wife" he said, trying to hold back the emotion that always threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought about that afternoon.

Shock was the only thing that Bridget felt in that moment.

I was expecting 'he stole my term paper' or 'he made me lose a big important case', but I was NOT expecting THAT!

Her silence must have come across as disbelief because Marc went on to explain the entire thing.

"Daniel and I were best mates throughout college. He was even best man at my wedding" his eyes became a little distant when he said this, as though remembering something from long ago. He shook his head "I came home early from work one afternoon just before Christmas to find Daniel and my wife right in the middle of…well…you know."

Bridget began to feel a great sadness and sympathy for him as he told her about finding his best friend and his wife in full mode 'en fuego'.

She reached out and touched his hand.

"Oh Marc, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. That explains the looks you were giving each other this evening, and why you don't like him so much…rightly so I might add!" she told him, with all sincerity in her voice.

Marc smiled slightly and looked down at her hand on his arm, before placing his own over the top and squeezing gently.

"Can I ask you something else?" he asked.

She simply nodded her head.

"Why did you stay with me tonight?"

He was looking so deeply into her eyes that Bridget couldn't help but catch her breath in her chest before letting it out slow and steady.

"Because I like you" she said truthfully.

Marc gave the biggest smile she had seen him give yet, and could only think that he should smile more often.

"I'm glad. Because I like you too" he said, closing his eyes "Just as you are."

He relaxed more deeply into the pillows and slowly drifted off to sleep, still holding Bridget's hand securely in his.

Bridget watched as he fell into an exhausted sleep, slowly raising her other hand and touching the back of her fingers to his forehead before letting them gently stroke down his cheek.

Thank goodness. His fever has finally broken.

They slept soundly side-by-side, dreaming of what daybreak would bring.

**I have a few more ideas on how to continue this story, but please let me know what you think so far and whether I should continue. Enjoy!**