Author's note: Short, totally pointless, unrelated to anything just popped into my mind and begged to be written. Oh yeah and it's Bobby and Lindsay so you know the drill.
Summary: In jail for contempt Lindsay prepares herself for battle with an irate Bobby
Feedback: Helps fill the hours between episodes
Disclaimer: Nope not mine but I wish they were.
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God I hate this. It's the waiting that gets to me. I'm ready. I'm ready now. I just want to get it over and done with. I can't stand waiting. It only makes it worse. It just makes me angrier and so much more frustrated and more ... ready. I know there will be a confrontation. A viscous confrontation! Accusations and insults and abuse hurled at one another. None of which we really mean it's just, we're volatile people. We both let so much build up that, when we explode, we really explode. And I'm ready to explode! I'm so ready!
Any minute now he'll come. Any minute now I'll hear him approach. First I'll hear his heavy precise footsteps slowly approaching. With each thud, thud, thud my heart will begin pounding faster and faster. Knowing he's coming, wanting him to come and yet afraid. Afraid this time maybe I'll go too far. This time maybe I'll say too much. This time maybe it will all blow up in my face. That's the worst thing about explosions; there is no control. No control, no consideration of others and no guarantee all the pieces will go back together again when it's over. But, as afraid as I am, I'm ready.
So I'll hear his footsteps slowly approaching. Then the sound of keys jangling as the door is unlocked, the metallic sound of the door sliding open and then he'll come in. He'll take two steps in, the door will slide shut and the guard will walk away. Leaving just us. Two time bombs waiting to explode. Two time bombs locked together in a cramped stinking cell.
He'll stand there. Just in the doorway with his hands on his hips looking down at me. I'll sit here. Gripping the bench so tight it's hard to believe I don't dent the metal. But I don't. I actually even checked once just to be sure. He'll stand there silent waiting for me to make the first move. Waiting for me to acquiesce. Waiting for me to back down. He'll stare at me. He'll stare at me with a look so powerful it always breaks me. He'll stare with that expression every father uses on an errant child. An expression that conveys severe hurt, reproof and disappointment. An expression which never fails to make me feel as if I'm thirteen again and about to be severely grounded or worse. It's a look which turns me from a strong independent woman into a sniveling repentant child. It turns me into a child desperate to escape punishment. Desperate for forgiveness. Desperate to atone. That look given by him, it's powerful. It's one of his strongest weapons. He's defeated me with it many times. But not today! Today I'm ready. I know the look now. I know what to expect. It won't affect me like it did the first time.
The first time he used it on me, the first time I saw it, I was terrified and thrilled all at once. He terrified me because I saw my father in him for the first time. I saw the cold stern man who's approval I've so desperately sought but never received. The man I revered but feared. The man I loved yet couldn't love. But it thrilled me because I knew he wasn't that man. He's not my father. He's not cold. He knows how to love. And it thrilled me because for the first time I saw him as a father. And not just any father but the father of my children. The loving father of our children. The wonderful father I'd never pictured him as but now, undoubtedly, knew he would be. And I heard myself saying those words every mother eventually resorts to. I heard myself saying, "Just wait until your father gets home". And it thrilled me. I loved the idea of saying those words. The words I'd always thought my mother was weak for saying I now dreamed of using. The idea of them brought great comfort. They conveyed the notion of having a partner. Having someone to share the troubles. Having support. Support you know you can always rely on. And for the first time ever I wanted to be that woman. I wanted to be that mother. I wanted to have the difficult rebellious teenager who drove me so desperately to need Bobby and the support only he could offer. I wanted this because, I knew, together we could cope. Together nothing would defeat us. Together we could handle anything. I knew we would be a team and as a team we would create a family, a loving family, a family that would have it's ups and downs but a family that would be strong. And I longed for it to be now. I wanted it all now. Not for us to start a family now, but for us to be that family now. I wanted us to be that middle-aged couple tackling the problems of a growing family together ... But I also didn't want to miss the years leading up to that point ... I wanted the years of growing together and nurturing our partnership. The years of two headstrong individuals becoming one strong undefeatable unit ... All this from one look! I said it was powerful. No wonder it terrified me. No wonder it thrilled me. No wonder it defeated me!
But today I won't look up. I won't meet his eyes and I won't see the look. He can't defeat me with it if I don't see it. I refuse to be defeated. No! I won't look. I can't see that expression today because I refuse to be repentant. I won't let it affect me. I won't let him affect me. Not today! Today I'll be silent and petulant. I'll sit here gripping the bench and staring at my feet. It has to be my feet. Anything else and he may come into my field of vision. Anything else may give me a glimpse of him and that would be dangerous. Even a glimpse of him, even his shoes and I'll want more. Before I know what I'm doing my eyes will have traveled up his body, reveling in it and all too soon I'll meet his eyes. I'll meet his gaze. I'll meet the look. The look I want to avoid. The look I need to avoid if I'm to prevail. Experience has taught me how to be strong. Experience has taught me how to combat his weapons. Experience has taught me how to win. So I'll look at my feet and eventually he'll concede. I will have won the first battle but he'll move on. He'll use his next weapon and this one's even deadlier than the look. Even more powerful than the look! It's so much harder to avoid and so much harder to defeat.
He'll say one word. He'll say "Lindsay" in that whiny irritated tone he knows cuts straight to my heart. That tone that never fails to bring tears to my eyes, that never fails to make me ashamed and contrite and to want only to run to him and comfort him and beg him for forgiveness and understanding. That makes me want to touch him and ease the hurt I've caused. It makes me want to accept full responsibility for anything and everything if it will only appease him, if it will only make things right between us, if it will only make amends. It makes me willing to take the weight of the whole world on my shoulders if only to ease the burden on him: to ease his pain. It makes me forget my own anger, my own pain, my own needs. It just makes me forget everything completely until only he is important. Until only his needs are important. Only his opinions count. As bad as the look is, as powerful as the look is, it pails into insignificance when compared to his voice. When compared to that tone of voice saying my name. To hear my name, in that tone, to have my name associated with that tone, to hear my name said with such hurt and disgust and ... He does it so well too. He's won me over every time with that tone. It's so hard to avoid. I can close my eyes, I can block out the look but over my ears I have no control. That voice, his voice, penetrates all my defenses. It's so hard to ignore and so hard to defeat but today I will defeat it. Today I'll be strong. He won't break me today. I'm ready!
I'm prepared. I have the advantage. I know his strategy. I know it's going to happen like that. It always happens like that. Footsteps ... look ... tone. He has it down to a fine art ... I suppose I do give him a lot of practice ... but this time ... this time I'm ready. I'm determined. I'm not going to relent. I'm not going to apologize. I'm not going to cry. I'm in the right. I know it and I'm not going to let him get to me. I'm going to be strong. I won't back down. I'll stand up for myself. I'm right I know it. I don't care what he says. He can rant and rave about being senior partner, about how my actions affect the firm, about how I'm not acting in the best interest of the client, about how I'm being stubborn and foolish ... I don't care! I know I'm right. If what he wants is an argument I'm ready. I will not back down. I will not apologize. Not to my senior partner, not to my fiancée and not to my best friend. Not to Bobby and certainly not to that poor excuse for a judge!
I don't care how long I have to stay here I will never apologize for what I said in court today. I don't care! I'm not sorry I will never be sorry. He deserved it! Totally! I couldn't sit back any longer and let him continue to strongarm us like that. That's not who we are! We don't back down. We fight! I had only one course of action and Bobby had better understand that if he wants to leave this cell alive. If he knows what's good for him ... He wasn't there. I was! ... This time he has to bow to my judgement. This time he has to accept I know more than him. He has to accept my take on the situation. This time he has to accept what I say is fact. What I say is right. I was right! If he dares criticize, if he dares question, if he dares complain I'll let him have it. I swear I will. He won't know what's hit him because ... I'm fuming. I'm seething. I haven't been this ripe, this ready for a fight, this angry, this consumed with indignation since ... I don't know when. I'm so ready. I'm so so ready! Bobby's not going to stand a chance. One false move and I'll pounce. I'm ready for his weapons. I'm prepared for his anger. I know what he is going to say. I know his arguments. I've heard them all before and I can counteract them all. This time I'm going to win. He's not going to make me repent. He's not going to make me apologize and he certainly is not going to make me cry. He's not! Not today! Today I'm ready for him. I'm ready!
Footsteps! ... I hear footsteps ... He's coming ... At last! ... Breathe now ... compose now ... prepare now ... I'm ready! ... I'm ready! ... Don't look! ... Don't look! ... Stay ready ... Stay focussed ... Stay strong ... you can do it! ... keys ... lock ... door ...one step ... two ... door ... lock ... guard going ... gone ... just us ... don't look ... one step? ... two, three, four? What? ...
That's not how it works! ... He's not supposed to take more steps ... He's not supposed to come closer. He's not supposed to be this close. What's going on? ... What's he doing? ... No! ... Stay strong ... ignore him ... it's a trick ... don't look ... don't smell ... don't listen ... to that gentle voice, to that sweet soft beautiful voice asking so compassionately,
"How you doing?"
... It's a trick ... A ploy ... don't fall for it ... Stay strong ... Stay angry! ... Give him the glare ... He looks ... surprised? ... He sighs and asks,
"What?"
"I'm in jail Bobby" I respond in as snooty a voice as I can muster. I'm annoyed he's not following the script. This isn't what I'm ready for. Where's the anger? Where's the fight?
"I can see that Lindsay" he replies in a teasing tone.
A teasing tone! ... What is this? ... I was ready for anger but he's changed tactics. Now I'm lost. I'm confused ... My whole game plan is shot ... What does he have up his sleeve? ... What weapon is this? ... God he's infuriating. Just when I thought I had him beaten. Just when I thought I knew how to win. Well if he's not going to start the fight I will. So I stand and let him have it. That's what I'm ready for afterall.
"What ... no recriminations! No accusations! No I told you so's! What's going on Bobby? What is it you expect me to say? ... What? ... What are you waiting for? ... If you're waiting for me to..."
His smile stops me mid sentence: mid outburst. I can't go on. I'm too confused. What's his game? What am I missing?
"Lindsay that judge is an idiot!" he says softly as he steps closer again. He's so close I can feel him "He deserved everything you said. I was there ... I stopped by to watch you. I wanted to see you and I saw it all ... I heard everything! ... He deserved it all Lindsay, everything you said and more."
So much for my resolve not to cry. I'm in his arms and crying. How's a girl supposed to defeat this. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared for him. I wasn't prepared for this.
"Lindsay?"
That one word I was expecting. The word I was prepared for, ready for, that never came. Which still hasn't come because he says it now with such love and compassion it's unrecognizable as that which I was expecting. It's a completely different word. This one holds no animosity, no accusation. Now, this time it's offering love, asking what's wrong, begging to be allowed to help. My name said like this ... my name said by him, like this, it's the most beautiful sound in the world and so I cry.
"I was expecting a fight" I blubber, that is the only term that accurately describes what I'm doing now, I'm crying like a baby, clinging to him and crying like a baby "I was ... ready for a fight!"
It's not much of an explanation but it's all I've got. Long story short I was ready for a fight, his love and compassion took me by surprise and tears came. Even a more detailed explanation would probably make no sense. So I don't bother. He seems to understand anyway. He holds me tighter and kisses my tears away. He apologizes in his own mischievous way,
"I'm sorry Lindsay I didn't know ... but I can call the judge down here if you want ... I'm sure he'll give you a fight if that's what you really want."
"No" I answer having almost regained a measure of composure. His arms and lips have grounded me. Soothed me! I think I'm sane again and I'm almost coherent when I add, "It's ok ... I'm ok."
And I am. This time bomb has been diffused. All is safe and secure. I don't know how it happened. I don't know why it happened but I'm not ready anymore. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't need to fight anymore. I only need him. His arms, his lips, his love. Him! There won't be any explosions today.
Not unless I see that idiot judge again that is!
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Authors note: ok so my summary wasn't exactly correct. Bobby wasn't irate but it would have spoiled it if I'd let you know earlier right?
