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[_bridget_jones_]

Bridget didn't know how he'd gotten ahold of it again, but by this point, she was certain it had to stop. Now that Dixon was walking, toddling around on two feet, and grabbing hold to either the bed or his mummy's legs when he got tired, he'd been exploring more

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[fisherprice_tim]

Tim hadn't wanted to leave Jim, at all. He wasn't sure how much time he could have spent, though, before they'd have broken down and had to just... talk about what life was going to be like. And he didn't know, he wouldn't have been able to say anything.

It was going to be hard. And it was going to hurt a lot, probably, most days. Every day, for a long time. And Jim didn't need to hear that, because he already knew it.

So Tim had returned to his wife and her son, his son, now, looking drawn and worried and almost distracted.

"Hi," he greeted, a bit lamely, he thought, as he closed the door of their suite and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Which probably needed cutting. Not that it was important. But the not-important things, the little details of no consequence, those were easier, at the moment.

[_bridget_jones_]

"I think we might need to build a shelf," Bridget mused, when she heard Tim walk in, not looking at him at first. After all, she didn't know what could be at all different about him coming and going like he did most every day, so she hadn't thought that he'd come round looking a bit like someone had run his puppy over with a truck.

Dixon, however, had a slightly more enthusiastic reaction to Tim coming into the room and greeted him with a loud "Hi!" from where he stood in his crib, small hands grasping the bars.

[fisherprice_tim]

Tim stopped. He'd been feeling grateful, of course, all day- which made him feel kind of guilty- that he had Bridget and Dixon to be returning to. But it struck him, as he actually laid eyes on the two of them: The relief. It was like a wave of dizziness, and he wasn't sure for a moment that he wouldn't have to sit down or put his head in a paper bag or something equally as ridiculous. Instead, he crossed the room to lean down, gently cupping Dixon's ears to press a kiss to his head, then turned and reached out to Bridget, catching her elbow and pulling her to him, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Sure," he said. A shelf, why not. Anything she wanted.

[_bridget_jones_]

It wasn't quite the reaction she'd expected to get over suggesting another place to put things. Bridget looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"...something's wrong, isn't it?" She asked, not quite able to place the look on his face, but recognizing that there was something just a bit 'off' about it.