I FEEL HORRENDOUS.

Absolutely horrendous.

My head feels like it's been hit by a truck and subsequently smashed hard into a brick wall. My stomach feels like it's been twisted until it's about ready to burst. Then my body feels like it's been run through a disintegrater and then spat back out the other side.

I feel utterly shit. And even if there was another adjective to describe how I feel, I'd still use the word 'shit.'

I lost track of how many glasses of whiskey I had in the end, but given how I felt... I'd say it was a lot. I also probably had a bit of explaining to do, as I don't think I came in here quietly last night.

Looking out the window, I can see it's at least daytime. But having no idea what time it is other than that, I reach over to the table next to me to grab my phone.

I groan when it falls off the table in bits.

"Oh yeah. Right."

That I did remember. I was angry, and it seems I took the brunt of my anger out on my poor phone. The rest I took out on my liver. And from the way I have a constant stream of nausea floating over me, I'd say my stomach is biting back.

I look down at what's left on my phone. It must still be connected to the battery, because the screen keeps flashing, but I can't see anything through the shattered screen. I bet quite a few of those flashes will be missed calls from Millie. My phone has got to have wracked up thousands of missed calls by now.

And as I remember why, through the fog, I launch what's left of my phone across the room and let out an almighty cry as I do so. Pain has shot up my arm, and as I look down and take in the contorted bones and blue-black bruising, I know for a fact my hand's broken.

"I thought I recognised that scream."

A familiar voice battles through the fog. Lara.

"I heard the nurses gossiping, saying you were back, so I had to see for myself whether it was true or not," she jokes.

With the combination of feeling sicker than a dog and my hand throbbing like the blazes, I'm really not in the mood for joking around right now.

"And here you are."

It was starting to become difficult to control the white hot anger building inside of me.

"And you look like complete shit, Archie."

With that comment, the anger dissipates and dissolves as I bark out a laugh. She definitely wasn't wrong.

"Hello to you too," I groan, my throat feeling groggy and raspy... and strangely fuzzy.

I wave her in with my good hand and attempt to sit up, only it makes me feel worse, so I slip back down to my original position and put my head gently back down on the pillow, wishing for unconsciousness again.

"Archie, you really do look awful."

I open my eyes and glare at her. "Way to help make me feel better. You know if you're just going to laugh, you can piss off back to your own room," I tell her, proud of myself reining in my deteriorating temper.

That only makes her laugh, and before I can stop her, she swats at the thing closest to her, which unfortunately for me, happens to be my bad arm.

I hiss and screw my eyes shut as I try and resist the urge to scream my guts out. "The hand! The hand..." I grimace through clenched teeth, and she cups her mouth.

"Oh my God. Archie, I didn't see it." Her eyes look panicked as she looks around but I shake my head.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just..." I gesture with my other hand to my other side, wanting to get her far away from my bad hand. "Just come this side. Please."

I point down at the seat next to my bed and she sits in it with no other questions as a couple of nurses come in, seeing that I'm awake. One of them does something with the IV next to me before leaving, and after a couple more minutes, the effects of whatever she's fiddled with seems to have reached my arm, as I can barely feel it.

As my breathing returns to a vague normal, Lara swats at me again, this time my good arm, and laughs.

"So... how comes your back?" she asks, even though the why is glaringly obvious.

She shuffles her chair in and hits the part of my phone that dropped to the floor.

"And what the hell happened to that?"

She leans down to pick it up off the floor and laughs.

The one thing I'm liking about Lara at the moment is that she's treating me like I'm just sitting here. She's not treating me like I'm wounded or helpless like everybody else.

"It got in between me and anger."

"Anger, eh?" I nod. "What happened? When you left on Friday you were fine?" She frowns before quirking her eyebrows. "Okay you were a little bit angry on Friday... but not this angry," she says, holding up my phone again.

"A lot can happen in a couple of days apparently."

I sigh and close my eyes as a fresh wave of nausea washes over me. She's already seeing me at an all-time low, I'd rather she didn't see me chuck my guts up as well.

"You want to talk about it?"

When I open my eyes, she's now sitting on the side of my bed. Her eyes are calm oceans as she looks at me, not judging, not prying, just asking the question, leaving the answer completely up to me.

She never has pushed me for answers, and it's now that I'm remembering what she said to me when I was discharged. Maybe it would be good to tell someone who had no connection whatsoever to what happened...

"Maybe," I say with a shrug.

She gives me a small smile as she taps at my leg under the blankets. "Well a maybe is better than a no." Her smiles grows, trying to get one back, but I'm still not in the mood. "Do I get an ETC on that then? Or just a maybe?"

I frown, trying to work out what ETC means.

She must know what I'm confused at because she says it without me asking. "Estimated time of conversation."

I roll my eyes. Although she didn't push me on things, nothing was ever allowed to be simple with her. Like the fact she was quite happy to ask the questions, but whenever it came to answering them, she would divert and just ask you a new one.

"Later. I should, erm..." I take my phone out of her hand and put it on the tray table in front of me. "I should probably call Millie first."

"With that?" she asks, pointing to it. It starts buzzing just as she points. "Jeez, I'm surprised that thing still works."

"Me too," I laugh.

"What made you go psycho on your phone anyway? What did it ever do to you?" she asks.

"Let's just say I got some bad news yesterday and leave it at that. At least until I explain later."

Her eyebrows raise. "Is Millie okay?"

I nod, "Yeah, she's fine. I expect she's worrying I'm not though."

She shuffles awkwardly and I'm wondering what she's doing when she pulls her phone out of her back pocket and hands it to me.

"Try not to break this one, okay," she tells me before hopping down gently off the bed.

She winces slightly as she lands but simply smiles at me before leaving the room.

"Hey, wait. Where are you going?" I ask. I'd just about psyched myself up to tell her everything and then she leaves?

She points with her thumb behind her. "I have physical therapy, which I am actually late for. But I'll come back after, I promise." She smiles as I nod slowly, actually disappointed that she has to leave. "Then you can tell me," she says with a wink.

She's about to turn away when I call out, "Hey, thanks."

"For what?" she asks.

I shrug. "For being here. With the way I feel... it's actually nice to see a friendly face." I smile. "Vaguely friendly," I correct myself and she narrows her eyes jokingly.

She laughs before she turns the corner, and just like that she's gone, and I'm left alone with my thoughts again.

Staring at the phone in my hand, my palms sweating, I type in Millie's number and hit dial, putting the phone to my ear.

Unsurprisingly, she answers immediately and sounds completely panicked.

"Archie? Is that you?"

"I'm s-"

"Archie, are you hurt? Are you okay?" she asks, cutting me off and I frown, unsure of how she knows I'm in the hospital, and that I've hurt myself.

I go to speak again but she cuts me off a second time.

"When Tessa said you were hurt I didn't know what to think."

I freeze.

Tessa?

Had I heard that right? Tessa knows I'm hurt?

"Millie," I start, closing my eyes as I screw my eyes shut. "You said Tessa."

My voice is quiet as the silence deafens me from the other end before I hear her breath catch in her throat.

"Millie," I whisper again, my voice sounding menacing in it's quietness.

"Someone told me you were hurt," she backtracks, even though she knows I heard what she said.

"You said Tessa. How did Tessa know?"

She sighs and doesn't say anything for a long time, and I know it's because she doesn't know what to say... or probably how to say it.

"Tessa texted me," she starts, her voice quiet. "She said she thought you were hurt, and to check on you. She didn't know how to explain."

Check on me?

"How would she know?"

Again she sighs, and I can tell the answer is frustrating her just as much as it's frustrating me. "I don't know. Are you hurt?" she asks, this time allowing me to actually answer the question.

"I'm fine," I tell her, although I can hear my own insecurity in my voice.

The coincidence of this was now freaking me out. I'd called out to her, knowing she would never be able to hear me... and yet somehow she has?

That kind of coincidence doesn't exist.

"You're lying," I tell her.

She sighs frustratedly. "Yes, Archie, I'm lying, I said Tessa's name just to hurt you on purpose," she says, her voice laced with equal amounts sarcasm and anger. "Archie, I swear I'm not lying. She texted me an hour ago, saying she thought you were hurt, and I've been trying to get through to you ever since." She sighs again. "What happened?" Her voice is now soft and caring, and it amazes me how she still has so much patience for me after what I've put her through.

"I had a drink."

"You had a drink?"

I look up at the ceiling. "Okay maybe like forty drinks. After breaking my phone."

She sighs again and I can tell she's pinching the bridge of her nose, just like she's always done when I'm pissing her off. Despite the situation, the thought brings a small smile to my lips.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

I let out a unconvinced laugh. "Define okay. I have an unset broken hand and I'm fairly certain I've had my stomach pumped or something because I feel worse than death right now."

"Stomach pu-" she stops when she groans mid-sentence. "Wait did you say you broke your hand?"

I shrug, even though she can't see me. "All the decanters were empty this time," I say, trying for a joke, but from the stunned silence at the other end, it hasn't landed very well.

"Is there anything else?" she asks.

I'm half wondering if Tessa had told her anything more. And the other half of me is wondering if Tessa did actually hear me... because this was all too much for my splitting headache-plagued brain to comprehend.

I wanted, so badly, to believe that she had heard me. I wanted to believe that me and her were still connected across continents somehow. But the truth is that connection was lost a long time ago, when I decided to walk away.

"No. Nothing else," I tell her.

"Archie," she insists, and I can hear that she's crying now. "You would tell me if there was, right?"

I know I should tell her... but I can't. If what she said was true... well, then... Argh, I just can't explain it.

"Archie?" she pushes me.

I shake my head again. "No. Millie, there's nothing else, I promise."

She sighs shakily, but even though she can probably tell I'm lying, she's clearly deciding to pick her battles carefully because she leaves it.

"You're all okay now?"

I roll my eyes as another laugh comes out of me. "Okay as I can be, Mils. I'm waiting for a doctor, but in terms of what you told me..." I pause as the taste of bile hits the back of my throat at the thought. I swallow and close my eyes. "I'm okay."

The truth was that I wasn't okay, but I had to be. This is what I'd wanted for her, for her to find someone to make her happy, so I couldn't start questioning it now. It wasn't fair.

"Or at least I will be," I correct myself and I hear her sigh again.

"I'm so sorry, Arch."

I shake my head before she can say anything more, not wanting to hear her pity. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve anything.

"Don't. I'll be okay. Just... Just let me process it, okay."

Silence at the other end makes me think she doesn't agree but is obeying my wishes.

"Are you still coming for Christmas?" I ask, wanting to change the subject.

She sniffs and I hear a laugh come unexpectedly from her, probably not thinking I'd ask the question. "You sure you want us to?"

I smile, "Of course I do. I've even decorated the apartment, so please don't make me regret doing that."

She giggles but then gasps. "You haven't done the tree have you?"

"No, of course I haven't," I chuckle. "I was waiting for you." I sigh as I smile, ignoring the tightness in my chest. "So please come."

"Okay," she says quietly, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

I'm about to say something else about Christmas when a groan comes from the background behind Millie, telling her to get off the phone or he'll fling it out the window.

Millie and I both laugh at the same time.

"I'd better let you go," I tell her.

"Yeah, he will throw it, too." She sighs. "I love you, big bro. And I am sorry."

My smile disappears as I hear the pity in her voice again, making me grit my teeth.

"Millie, don't. Please. I'll be fine."

Another sigh comes from her, and I know, again, that she doesn't believe me.

"Okay... well I love you. And I miss you."

My heart tugs in a different way. I've not been fair to Millie over the last couple of years, keeping her in the middle the way I have. And yet, she's still stuck by me, through every stupid decision. I didn't deserve her at all, but I'm wretched and desperate to keep her, no matter what, because she's the last good thing I have left.

"I love you too, Mils. And I miss you more than you can possibly imagine."

She coos before another threat comes from behind her making her laugh.

"You'd better go. But I'll see you in a couple of days?"

"Yep. You'll remember to come get me from the airport?"

I chuckle. "I'll be there," I promise.

"Okay. Look after yourself until I get there, big bro."

I roll my eyes just as she hangs up, leaving me sitting, staring into the emptiness of the room.

I'm still reeling from what Millie had said about Tessa, so before I break Lara's phone, I put it down gently before tightening my broken hand, using the pain to try and slice through the image of her and Jamie that seemed to have branded itself onto the back of my eyelids.

But when I open my eyes, that picture is still there; the two of them standing right in front of me, taunting me, torturing me.