5From Bridget Jones Diary: Edge of Reason, Book Universe: A little "what if" piece where Bridget doesn't take so easily to Rebecca's interference in her relationship with Mark.
Early in their relationship, Bridget and Mark go on a minibreak to Rebecca's house in Gloucestershire and Rebecca tries to interfere. This is what I'd have liked Bridget to say/do just after Rebecca orchestrates Mark walking in on her being kissed by St. John. I realize it may be a little OOC, but really, everyone has a limit, even Bridget.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, I'm just playing "what if" with them :) And the first couple lines are directly from the book, so those don't belong to me either.
"Oops! Sorry!" said Rebecca, and shut the door.
"What do you think you're doing!" Bridget hissed, horrified at the whippersnapper. The bloody nerve of that little -
"But ... Rebecca said you really fancied me, and, and ..."
"And what?" she spat the words, eyes blazing with fury.
"She said you and Mark were in the process of splitting up." He looked agonized and humiliated. If she'd not been so angry she might have felt sorry for him, but as it was, he was just lucky she didn't eviscerate him. She pushed back abruptly from the table with not a second look or thought for 'Johnny's Boy.'
She was in the corridor in two seconds flat, and caught up to Mark and Rebecca near the pool shortly after that (she may have been short, but she was determined...). Mark seemed bewildered and shaken by what he'd seen, but she would deal with that later. First things first...
"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" she said it while simultaneously grabbing Rebecca's left shoulder and spinning her around roughly. The other guests were nearby, but she was not to be deterred.
"Oh, Bridget," Rebecca blustered coyly, still playing, "I'm so sorry for interrupting back there -" she gave a knowing and all-girls-together type of eyebrow raise, "- if I had realized you were, well..." she trailed off suggestively and hazarded a half-glance around at the other guests.
Everyone was now staring at them; Bridget didn't even notice. Years and years of back-handed, undermining, carefully subtle, but deeply hurtful jabs were flooding back in Bridget's mind and now to have Rebecca after Mark, like this! She wasn't even playing fair! No, it was just too much, the last straw, the absolute last!
"Oh come off it, Rebecca! I know what you're playing at and it's repulsive! Can't you get your own boyfriend or you only want the ones your friends have? You think I haven't noticed how you keep throwing yourself at Mark? You just happen to show up at every get together with his co-workers, or suddenly realize how nice Courcheval is the same weekend you know we'll be there, or this weekend! Ha! You've never invited me or Shazzer or Jude up here before, but as soon as Mark and I are going out, now you fancy a visit? You are so disgustingly transparent! And then, manipulating your poor nephew into kissing me just to split Mark and me up? That's low, even for you." Although Bridget had been progressively more and more worked up, that last line was spoken in a lower tone, dripping with disdain.
Rebecca looked like she was going to say something, but nothing was coming out, so she was left gaping, her mouth flopping open and closed like a huge fish; it was not her most attractive look.
Having reached the end of her tirade, Bridget realized everyone was staring at her. She turned toward Mark, half hopeful and half afraid. It suddenly occurred to her that losing her temper like that could have consequences, that he may chuck her just for her outburst! For the first time in her life, Bridget almost felt like she might faint; she was lightheaded and felt unstable on her feet. However, she needn't have worried. When her eyes connected with Mark's, although he was clearly surprised by her indictment of Rebecca, he did not seem angry with her. Actually, he looked somewhat pleased – what on earth for, she couldn't figure, but she decided that was better than being angry with her.
In her best attempt to smooth over the awkwardness that had set in, Bridget muttered something about needing to get up to her room and bid the dumbstruck guests goodnight. She glanced hopefully at Mark who – thankfully – offered his arm and walked back to their room together.
Once inside, Bridget let out the breath she'd been holding and Mark began laughing. Bridget, cheeks coloring, smacked his arm playfully and told him to stop it, but this just made him laugh that much harder. Soon, Bridget was laughing too, although not as hard, and begging him to explain what was so funny!
Gasping in between the laughs, Mark tried to explain, "You ... your face ... Rebecca's face!... she looked like ... you'd made her lick ... a lemon!" He seemed almost mad and Bridget was starting to become nervous. She calmed her laughing.
"Wait, though, Mark," she tried to be serious, "I meant what I said to her: she's been trying to pinch you and that, that assault by St. John was not something I encouraged. You do ... know that, right?"
Mark had calmed himself considerably by the time she finished. "Bridge, look, I will admit I was a bit, erm, put out to see you snogging St. John -"
She cut him off defensively, "I was not snogging him! I was put upon -"
He held his hands up in surrender, "Alright, alright, I know, yes. Look, at first, I didn't know what to think, but -" he couldn't help but smile again with suppressed laughter, "anyone who saw your face when you came out after Rebecca, well, let's just say that I hope never to be on the receiving end of that look!"
This earned him a smug smile, so he pressed his advantage further by pulling her to sit next to him on their bed. "The truth is, I had no idea that Rebecca was interested in me," adding quickly after seeing her face change, "not that that changes anything between us. But I do think perhaps I've now learned the reason you've been somewhat, well, distant at some of these gatherings?" His tone was soft; she could tell he wasn't angry or accusing.
She let her head drop to the side, "I'm sorry, Mark, I should have told you but – oh honestly, I feel so stupid – I worried that you might be flattered by her interest. I just -" she hesitated, but, with a deep breath, persevered, "I didn't want to lose you." She looked up only with her eyes to gauge his reaction.
He smiled softly, put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his. His eyes were serious, voice quiet but earnest: "Bridget, that will never happen."
Her ear-to-ear grin split her face briefly before they leaned in to each other and began snogging enthusiastically, any thoughts they might have had about driving back to London that night quickly vanishing. They could always go after breakfast...
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Comments and suggestions are always welcome and greatly appreciated!