Stranger on the Cliff (ONC 2021)

Lost Hope

Tav felt impossibly tired. His eyes were far too reluctant to open, even though he could see the brightness burning through the lids, suggesting it was later in the morning than the maid had been coming previously. He realised she was going to catch him in Darcy's bed, though he didn't care. But why was he so bone tired?

It took him a moment to realise something was wrong, though a longer moment to work out what it was. In the end it was the noise. Pemberley was quiet, other than the swish of soft shoes on hardwood floors or the clink of harnesses from the carriage house. This place – this painfully bright place – was a cacophony, which slowly worked its way into his consciousness. He finally peeled his sticky eyelids open, if only to see who was shouting, and was greeted with large windows with long slatted blinds letting clear sunshine into a room wrapped in a curtain.

There was no uncertainty then. A hospital. And the flash of the silent machine by his bedside and the television high on the wall above the window told him it was no Regency cottage hospital. He was back. The challenge had been completed, but left him with nothing but an empty ache instead of pleasure at a job well done.

He tried to shift, but his arms felt weak and the sudden raging alarm coming from the machine next to him made his head move sharply enough that he struck it against the metal of the bed frame, and he let out a pained moan. There were footsteps then, heavy and purposeful, and he was not stunned when the blue curtain around the bed was unceremoniously whooshed to the side.

"Octavius! Well, it's wonderful to see you awake."

He didn't recognise the woman, though she was clearly a doctor, right down to the stethoscope around her neck. On her heels, though, there was Sam, and Tav let out a sob that took him by surprise.

"Oh my, Tav, sweetie," they leaned in, pulling Tav into a hug that made his muscles scream, though he let it happen only because of the relief that washed over him to see his friend. Sam looked a little different, they must have had a haircut, and they'd gone for the green dye that they'd shied away from before because they worried about not getting taken seriously.

"Please, Sam," the doctor interrupted their reunion, "he still has a lot of recovery to do."

Sam reluctantly let him lay back, but they sat by the bedside and took Tav's hand, only letting go when the doctor tutted to be allowed closer to test Tav's reflexes.

"Well," she said, adding details to her tablet, "you're remarkably healthy for someone who's been in an unexplained coma for a week."

"A what?" Tav gaped.

"You collapsed. Sam here called an ambulance, but I'll be honest, we couldn't diagnose anything. We will, of course, run more diagnostics now you're awake. We have some of the best diagnostic technicians in the country here, so if there's something to be found, we'll find it."

She left them to it, and Tav slumped back onto the bed, in shock.

"You're going to be okay, Tav," Sam soothed, stroking his hand again.

"You're very touchy-feely?" Tav asked. Sam had always been conscious of social conventions and the importance of never making people uncomfortable with their presence. It wasn't necessary with Tav, obviously, but they'd trained themselves for so long it was second nature. This was new, but Sam tilted their head, as if confused at Tav's question.