August 20, 2008
It’s 39 days to go until the start of season 3 in America.
There are 39 episodes for season 1 and 2. (Not taking the unaired episode in account or the original pilot, as not everybody can see those)
I started to watch the episodes again. One episode a day.
And then I got the plan to write a small scene for every episode. (Never more than 1 page long)
2.10 Feast of epiphany
Disclaimer: B&S doesn’t belong to me. Written with love, not for money.
Summary: David - not exactly a pretty picture
“The next move is yours, Holly.” That is what David had said, just before he left. Holly is in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The wind is picking up outside. It will be yet another chilly night, but she knows that the shivers she has, are not due to change of weather, but to this creepy feeling she has, that he wants something from her. She wonders if her changed financial position might have given him a reason to drop in. And what did he think she would pay him for?
So what if the dinner turned out better than she thought it would. It was still David sitting at that table and she wondered how long it would last this time. Yes, he was right, he seemed to not be using drugs anymore, but does that make him more reliable? No. She knows, very deep inside, she cannot trust him.
She turns to her side. The pillow is soft and fluffy, but somehow she’s not comfortable. He hasn’t explained what he is doing
here and that worries her. On the other hand, she remembers him as a bad liar, so maybe the story that he just wanted to see her again, holds a degree of truth in it. But she also worries about his interest in Rebecca. And Rebecca’s interest in him.
Rebecca seems more alive, more vibrant around him. She loves his stories. It’s like they have some connection to each other. Holly gets a bad taste in her mouth. It couldn’t possibly be…..? No, of course not. He was not, could not, would never be Rebecca’s father. Is that what he believed he could be? Rebecca’s father?
She pulls the blanket closer around herself as she remembers the heated argument she had with William that one night. She had gotten so angry as did William and William left her house, slamming the door. She couldn’t even remember what the fight was about, it was that irrelevant. She felt sorry for herself, she needed a shoulder to cry on and David had been there.
He had been using, yes, but he listened to her. He saw how upset she was and gave her some wine. When she cried, he put an arm around her, rather unsteadily, And when she looked up at him, he kissed her. Without hesitation. Miserable, drunk and upset she had slept with him that night....
“My memory of you is not exactly a pretty picture.” And neither was her memory of what she saw, when she woke up, in the morning, in his bed. The sunlight in that dirty bedroom, the stale smell of a room closed up for too long, she realized her mistake. A few weeks later she found out she was pregnant. She had put her night with David out of her mind. In her mind, the child she expected was William’s.
To punish him, she told him that the child was not his, she pretended it was David’s. She had always stuck to that story, until William died… She never really believed Rebecca to be David's, she was so much like William. She had to be William's But now, now that she saw David and Rebecca together she was not so sure of herself anymore.