[July 29th] [The Law and Mr. Jones] Let Nothing You Dismay

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Let Nothing You Dismay
Day/Theme: July 29th - I love the sound of you walking away
Series: The Law and Mr. Jones
Character/Pairing: Mr. Jones, Marsha Spear, Sarah Forrester, Roger Forrester, D.J. Forrester, assorted characters I don't know the names of (because I forgot and they're not in the IMDB cast list!)
Rating: K/G

This is a very odd thing that happened. It's a reworking/addendum to the Christmas episode of the old and rare series The Law and Mr. Jones, Christmas is a Legal Holiday, because I just wasn't satisfied one bit with the way it ended up! (Yes, I watched it this month. Not because of Christmas in July, though.) It wasn't Christmassy at all. Even though Roger was being a jerk, I didn't want him to get hurt, and then to not even know if he would be alright or if he'd had a change of heart. And we never knew the real reason for his belligerence, either; just what Mr. Jones thought. And I'm not in the habit of thinking a show's main character always gets everything right. :)

So ... since the episode was silly and light-hearted, this story takes on a similar tone. Very different from my usual fare, but I think I captured the feel of the episode while making things infinitely more satisfying for myself.

Hopefully the main characters sound alright. This is the only episode I've seen of the series, and I don't really intend to look up any more, unless someone else I really like is in one. (Wesley Lau played Roger.)


By Lucky_Ladybug

The commotion in the Forrester home had reached almost unbelievable levels.

The day had started with dear old Sarah Forrester taking in three homeless men for the Christmas holiday. Her visiting relatives had protested, believing them ruffians and the venture unsafe.

It only became worse when Sarah decided to allow them to live on the property. And even though it was to be in the carriage house and not her house, as her relatives had thought at first, it was still a matter of concern. After all, they had lied (or at least, stretched the truth) about their true, previous occupations.

But when the other relatives aside from Roger had relented, and Roger had persisted in his belligerence and his insistence that Sarah must not be all right in the head, Sarah’s lawyer Mr. Jones had had enough. He had accused Roger of being concerned about his inheritance and the property value decreasing, instead of about Sarah’s safety. Roger had vehemently denied it. And when he had suggested “settling things” in the other room, his wife D.J. had coyly volunteered knowledge of his weak spots to Mr. Jones.

Now, as everyone listened in astonishment, the brawl in the other room raged on.

“Oh dear,” Sarah exclaimed. “This isn’t any way for things to go on Christmas Eve. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Good Heavens, after the way Roger was acting, I say he deserves to be roughed up a bit,” another relative grunted. “It was a relief when he left the room at last. He’s been a nuisance all day long.”

“Well, I don’t know that he wasn’t worried about me,” Sarah said. “In spite of what Mr. Jones says. I trust his judgment implicitly, you understand, but he still doesn’t know my family like I do.”

D.J. reclined on the couch, throwing a customary sultry smile at the closed door to the other room. “Roger is a selfish man, Aunt Sarah. I’ve had to live with him for much too long, and I’m afraid the uncomplimentary interpretation of his actions isn’t far from the truth. I can’t imagine him showing genuine concern for anyone.” But that did not stop her from flinching at the sound of Roger yelping in pain.

Sarah frowned. “No one is perfect all the time. And I don’t like this one bit! I’m going to put a stop to it right now.” She stormed to the door.

Even as she reached it, the noise inside abruptly stopped. Sarah froze, waiting and hoping that the door would open and both men would come out. When nothing happened, the others in the room began to rise and come over as well.

“What on Earth?” one frowned.

“Maybe they’ve called a truce,” Sarah said hopefully. She threw open the door and promptly stopped short in dismay. “Oh no!”

“What is it?” D.J. demanded.

She soon had her answer. Both Roger and Mr. Jones were sprawled on the floor, not moving. She stared, her eyes widening.

Sarah snapped out of her alarm first. “Roger! Mr. Jones!” she cried, running into the room. She bent over one, then the other, torn between whom to give her attention to first.

“Are they dead?” came a voice from the doorway.

“I don’t know!” Sarah exclaimed. “Get some water, quick!”

It was one of the homeless men she had befriended who came back with a pan of water and two damp cloths. Sarah hurriedly thanked him and began to tend to her nephew. Mr. Jones’ secretary Marsha hastened to help her employer and friend.

After a moment Mr. Jones started and groaned. “Ohh . . . my head. . . . What happened?” Shakily he raised a hand to his throbbing left eye.

Marsha rocked back in relief. “It looks like Roger was more formidable than you thought,” she said. “You knocked each other out!”

“What?!” Mr. Jones cringed. “So much for teaching him a lesson.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Marsha regarded him in gentle amusement. “You struck back pretty hard.”

“But I wasn’t supposed to let myself get floored,” Mr. Jones protested.

Sarah shook her head. “Now, I appreciate why this fight happened. I’m happy that you were defending me, Mr. Jones. But I didn’t want anyone hurt, especially on Christmas Eve! This is terrible!”

Roger moaned now. “Am I dead?”

D.J. stood over him. “Maybe you’d be better off if you were, Roger, darling.”

He squinted at her. “What?”

“You and Mr. Jones had a stalemate,” D.J. said.

“Ohh. . . .” Roger groaned, running his fingers into his hair, which was loosely flying all over his right eye. With his other hand he reached out, flailing through the empty air. “Aunt Sarah?”

“Yes?” Sarah took her nephew’s hand. “Roger, what is it?”

He looked to her, blearily. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “This is your house and I didn’t have the right to try to interfere. I . . . I was so upset I just lost my mind for a while.”

“Why, Roger?” Sarah spoke with patience and kindness, willing to listen to the explanation.

“I . . . I’m terrified of men like them,” Roger stammered. “I never told you or anyone else, but when I was young I went exploring in the bad part of town. I was curious, you understand. I just wondered what was down there and why it was so bad.

“Well, I . . . I found a whole bunch of those men. They teased and tormented and jeered me for being from the rich part of town. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. They wouldn’t even let me go! And . . .” He shuddered. “I just couldn’t stand to think of you bringing some of them into the house. And me having to be around them.”

“Oh Roger!” Sarah brushed the falling hair away from his sore eye. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood.”

“I didn’t want to say it with everyone else around,” Roger mumbled miserably.

Mr. Jones sat up, rubbing his left eye. “Well, your conduct was atrocious, but I guess maybe I owe you an apology,” he said. “Maybe. It’s still no excuse for bringing these men here to figure out if Ms. Forrester is losing her mind.”

“I know,” Roger said. “You don’t owe me anything, Mr. Jones.” He sat up too, looking to Sarah in disbelieving amazement. “Aunt Sarah, how can you ever forgive me?”

“Why, because it’s Christmas, of course,” Sarah smiled. “Well, I’d forgive you anyway, Roger. But it’s getting late. After we get you and Mr. Jones some ice packs for your eyes, why don’t we have our Christmas Eve dinner?”

“Hold on a minute,” Mr. Jones said. “There’s still something we need to clear up. Roger, are you going to make trouble if your aunt Sarah’s new friends stay?”

“We’ll leave, Mr. Jones,” one of them spoke up. “We hate to have been the cause of all this trouble in this family on Christmas Eve and all.”

To Mr. Jones’ surprise, it was Roger who promptly interjected, “No!”

All eyes turned to him. Running his tongue over his lips, Roger stammered on. “Well . . . like I already said, I didn’t have the right to interfere. Aunt Sarah can have whomever she wants for dinner. I . . . I’ll just sit at the other end of the table, if that’s acceptable.”

“That sounds more than fair enough to me,” said another of the homeless men. “I’m sorry you had such a rough time when you were just a young whelp. I hope we’ll all get to know each other better. Maybe you’ll come to see that we’re not like the ruffians who forcibly detained you.”

“Maybe,” Roger said slowly.

“Well,” Sarah said brightly, “this calls for a song! Boys?”

Roger and Mr. Jones both winced as Sarah’s friends launched into their terribly off-key version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. At least one thing they could agree on was the cringe-worthy singing.

But it was sincere, at any rate. Soon the Christmas spirit was catching. Everyone in the room began to join in. Roger was the last to add his voice. He caught D.J.’s eye, his own eyes filled with questions.

Sighing, D.J. came to be beside him. “I should apologize too, Roger,” she said. “I told Mr. Jones your fighting weaknesses.”

Roger stared at her in disbelief. “What?! What were you trying to do? Did you want him to kill me?!”

D.J. shrugged. “Maybe I wanted you to have a bad headache for a while, at least. And some bruises. But when I heard the fight and realized you were being hurt, I . . . well, I started to regret it.”

Roger sighed. “I really was acting horrendous, wasn’t I?”

“Less tolerable than usual,” D.J. purred. “But for some strange reason, I’m still married to you.”

“I’ll do better in the future,” Roger said. “I promise.”

“You’d better. And so will I.” D.J. finally smirked. “Are you going to kiss me or strike me, Roger?”

“What?” Roger blinked.

“Oh, look above you,” D.J. said with impatience.

Roger glanced up. Sure enough, they were under the mistletoe.

He pulled his wife close. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly.

D.J. gave him a genuine smile at last, allowing herself to be drawn into her husband’s arms and to his lips. “Merry Christmas.”

Marsha relaxed as she observed. “This is how it should be,” she declared. “Now it really feels like Christmas.”

Mr. Jones was in perfect agreement. “Maybe I’ll never like old Roger, but at least he’s actually admitted being wrong and apologized. I never expected either from him.”

“Maybe he’s a nice person, deep down,” Marsha said.

“As incredible as it sounds, that just may be true.

“Oh, Marsha, what about those plane reservations?” he suddenly remembered.

Guilt flooded her face. “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “It was too late. There weren’t any more seats on a later flight. I meant to tell you before, but then we found you and Roger on the floor.”

Mr. Jones wasn’t that surprised. “That’s alright. I won’t be able to make that plane,” he mused, “but I think we’ll all be able to have a happy Christmas right here.”

“I think you’re right,” Marsha smiled.