Chapter Text
The first time Colin opened his eyes, it was because of the beeping. The incessant, loud, shrill beeping. It annoyed him awake. The room he found himself in was dark, the bed unfamiliar. He sensed, rather than saw, the loose gown on his broad frame, and the pounding in his head coupled with the non-stop beeping told him he was in a hospital.
He hated hospitals. Hated the memory of his dad lying in a sterile, unfamiliar room and bed, gasping out his last, raspy breaths.
But there was nothing for it. He was there, he was tired and sore and in pain, and so he closed his eyes, banished the image of his dying father from his mind, and willed himself to sleep again.
The second time he opened his eyes, light streamed in from a large window, illuminating the snoring woman laying her head on the side of his bed. Her hand grasped his, but her bright red hair covered her face. He could only think of one person with hair like that, but could not imagine why she’d be keeping vigil at his hospital bed.
The third time, a nurse hovered over him and jumped in surprise when he cleared his throat and attempted to sit up.
“Bollocks!” she yelped. Then laughed. Then winced as Colin raised his hands to his head, every sound seeming to bounce around his skull like a pinball machine. “I’m sorry, mate. Wasn’t expecting you to move. It’s very good to see you awake. Let me go get a doctor.”
“Wait,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and low, like it was only grudgingly allowing him to use it. “How long—”
“Three days. Your girlfriend is going to be so happy, your family, too. They’ve all been worried. Taking shifts. I’ll see if I can find them after I alert the doctor.”
“Girlfriend?” Colin asked. “Marina’s here?”
“Is that her name? It’s pretty, but I never would have guessed. Wouldn’t think that suits her, but what do I know?” She bustled out of the room, and Colin tried to relax against his pillow. He couldn’t remember why he was here, but his head felt like it had been split open, so he closed his eyes against the light.
“Mr. Bridgerton?”
He allowed his left eye to open, while keeping the right shut. A short woman, with black hair cropped close to her head stood chuckling at the end of his bed.
“You have returned to us! I did worry for a moment Evie was letting her imagination run wild.”
Something about the doctor’s posh London accent niggled at the back of Colin’s brain, but he tried to smile as he opened the other eye and attempted, once again, to push himself up. She held out a hand. “No need to sit up. I’m going to check your vitals, the Metropolitan Police have been wanting to talk with you about the accident, and then you can see your family.”
“Accident?”
She nodded, but didn’t elaborate as she went through the motions of checking his pulse and blood pressure, listening to his heart and lungs, and examining his head: front, back, and both sides.
Her hands were cold as she prodded his feet and toes, and gingerly touched his neck, probing it slowly to see if there was soreness or pain if he twisted from side to side. Once satisfied that there weren’t injuries that hadn’t already been detected, she spent several minutes scribbling notes in his chart. Colin wanted to ask why he was there. What happened? How long would light create lesions of pain behind his eyeballs? And why was Marina here? But he didn’t say anything.
Two bobbies entered the room a few minutes after she left, dressed in Metropolitan police uniforms. The niggling grew more intense. The taller of the pair approached the side of Colin’s bed. “Do you remember what happened?”
After several rounds of the same question phrased only slightly differently, Colin’s, “No,” and “I don’t remember anything,” finally seemed to convince the officers that he could not be a witness to his own accident. They handed him a card and told him to call if he did remember anything, then left before he could ask what happened. He tossed the card on the small table beside the bed without looking at it. Realizing he had absolutely zero memories of how he ended up in the hospital with - he assumed, as the doctor had yet to tell him anything about his condition - a head injury, was frustrating, but it was infuriating that no one had filled him in on what led to his current state.
The doctor returned soon after the bobbies left, and began reading over his chart again, a frown on her face. “The police said you don’t remember the accident.”
He started to shake his head, but the notion caused a sharp, stabbing pain to lance through his neck, and he winced. Loudly.
“Best not to do any sudden or jerky movements for now,” the doctor said, coming over and gently guiding his neck back into a straight line.
“Yeah.” He breathed out through his nose, trying to alleviate the pain. “Do you know what happened, Dr… um? They didn’t tell me.”
“Dr. Yiu. You were riding your bike and a car clipped the back wheel. You were thrown forward, your helmet fell off, and you broke another car’s windshield with your skull.”
“That wasn’t very well done of me.”
She chuckled.
“Wait,” Colin pushed himself up, and actually succeeded this time. “Riding a bike? I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid. Why would I have been riding a bike in Sydney, where would I have even gotten it?”
The doctor frowned again, but this time, it looked more like concern rather than just resting face. “Sydney?”
But Colin was prevented from responding, because at that moment, the door to his room swung open and in marched his mother, Anthony, Benedict, and Eloise. “Colin!” Violet exclaimed, rushing to his side and grabbing up his hand. He could tell she was restraining her urge to hug him.
“Mum, I’m okay, I think. You didn’t need to travel all the way out here.”
Violet’s face screwed up in confusion. “It’s a—”
Dr. Yiu paused her. “Colin, what’s the last thing you remember?”
“The Sydney Opera House – taking photos for the blog.”
No one made a sound, but every single person in the room exchanged glances, with everyone but him. Colin realized why his brain had tickled at the doctor’s accent and the officers’ uniforms. They weren’t Australian. And he was in Australia. Wasn’t he?
“Colin,” Dr. Yiu started again, her voice a touch softer, “what year is it?”
“2015?” he responded, but he already knew it was wrong – it was written all over his family’s faces. Eloise, in particular, looked horrified. “It’s not 2015? The nurse said I was only out of it for three days.”
His mother gripped his hand tighter, but turned to the doctor for answers. Over her shoulder, Colin could see Anthony and Benedict whispering to each other, and Eloise slumped into the tiny armchair against the far wall.
“Not to worry,” Dr. Yiu said. “Memory loss is common with head injuries. I’ll refer you to a specialist, who can give us a better idea of what it means and what to expect—”
“Doctor,” Colin interrupted, “what year is it?”
“20—”
“Oh, thank God! Colin! Evie told me you were awake, finally.” Penelope Featherington, Eloise’s best friend, barged into the room and bee-lined to the currently unoccupied side of his bed. She grabbed up his free hand, just like his mother had, her eyes shining with tears, but a smile the personification of sunshine gracing her lips.
So, he had not been dreaming when he woke to the image of her laying her red-haired head on the side of his bed. There was too much going on. Too much to process. Why would she be here? His cheeks burned at the memory of their last encounter. His brothers had been teasing him about her very obvious crush on him, and Colin proclaimed that Penelope Featherington was much too young for him and that he certainly wasn’t going to date her.
He drank too much and his voice carried louder than he intended it to. As soon as the words left his lips, he felt silence fall around him. Felt the stares of his mother’s party guests. Felt the weight of Penelope’s disappointment as she hurried to leave behind the whispers sure to begin any second.
He chased after her and tried to apologize. He promised he didn’t intend to embarrass her, didn’t mean for anyone to hear. Her heartbreak was clear, though, even as she tried to brush it off. Laugh. Claim she certainly had no desire to date him, either.
That was three months ago, and he had not seen her since. Yet here, in front of him now, she looked different. More mature. Not wearing her customary bright yellow jumper, her hair still curly, but smoother, silkier than he’d ever seen it. How had she changed so much in three months? It was just three months, right? The doctor and his mother, they were just joking about the memory loss. They had to be. Three days. The nurse said he lost three days.
“Um, Penelope,” Anthony said, clearing his throat, but he wasn’t quite quick enough, because before he could get out whatever else he was going to say to her, Penelope leaned down and pressed her lips to Colin’s, her hand dropping his to cradle his face. Colin closed his eyes automatically, shocked at her boldness and unsure how to gently pull away. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her again, but he couldn’t let her think things had changed. She was still twenty years old. Still in uni. Still Eloise’s best friend.
But her kiss. Her lips on his. God damn. Perhaps it was just the head injury, but their connection was electric. She sighed into him, tasting of strawberries, and he forgot all the objections he held three months ago. Her lips so soft, her smell so intoxicating. And then she pulled back, and he came back to himself and all the completely legitimate and logical reasons he’d had for rejecting the notion of them as a couple.
“Penelope, what are you doing?” he asked, pushing her back gently, both hands on her upper arms.
“I hardly think your family minds witnessing one tame kiss, Col, knowing how worried I’ve been.”
Eloise jumped up from her seat. “Pen, I need to speak to you in the hallway for a moment.”
“El, he just woke up.”
“It’s really important.”
Colin looked between the two girls, then at his mother who had moved to the back of the room and had her head bowed as the doctor spoke to her, and then over to his brothers, whispering away. Benedict smirking. Anthony just as grim as always. And finally, Colin thought he understood.
“Oh!” he said. “It’s a prank. You’re all trying to get back at me for that awful moment at Mum’s party a few months ago.”
“Colin, what are you—” but Penelope didn’t finish her question and everyone else’s faces looked so disappointed and sad, that he knew he was wrong again. None of them were good actors. If it were a prank, he’d see the lies in their eyes. But he couldn’t accept whatever this reality was. It wasn’t what he knew. It wasn’t what he wanted.
“Hilarious, all. Penelope, I am so sorry they dragged you into this, and I am sorry again for what I said and for how I said it at the party. I did not mean to embarrass you or imply there is anything wrong or undateable about you. I think you’re wonderful, you know. But too young for me.”
She took several steps back, looking so achingly similar to how she had that night, like he’d slapped her and killed a puppy right in front of her at the same time. “What’s going on?” She turned to Eloise, who held her hand out.
“He thinks it's 2015.”
“It is!” Colin insisted. “The nurse said my girlfriend was here. Where’s Marina?”
Violet and Eloise gasped, Anthony and Benedict groaned. Tears pooled in Penelope’s eyes, and with two rapid blinks, began trailing down her cheeks. She pushed past the doctor and his brothers, and rushed out the door, Eloise hot on her heels.
“Colin, you and Marina, well—” his mother began, but the doctor paused her with a hand on her arm.
“Let’s wait for the specialist before we give him any details. Sometimes the best way to restore memories is to let the patient work through things on their own.”
“This is a joke, right?” Colin pleaded with Anthony. His big brother had never let any of them take their silly pranks this far. He’d put an end to this. He could count on Anthony to stop the charade.
But Anthony just looked at him. Looked at him with sad eyes and tight lips, his fist held up to his chin. “No, Colin,” Anthony finally spoke, stepping to the end of the bed. “It isn’t a joke or a prank. You were in a coma for three days, but—” he swiveled to address the doctor. “Can I tell him the year?”
Dr. Yiu hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I think giving him a frame of reference is fine. I’ll go page the specialist and give you all a few moments of privacy.” She gave Colin a pitying smile as she left the room, and as the door opened, he could hear Penelope sobbing in the hallway.
“I’ll be right back, dearest,” Violet said, following the doctor and exposing more of the sounds of Pen’s sadness as she exited.
Anthony grabbed Colin’s foot and shook it slightly. A simple gesture, but one which spoke volumes. Anthony was trying to distract. To redirect. To reassure. “Colin, it’s 2023.”
Eight years? Eight years of his life gone? Eight years of travel and birthdays, writing and holidays. Eight years of the beauty of ordinary moments. Just gone. His own eyes filled with tears and his heart ached as much as he imagined Penelope’s did.
Penelope.
He glanced toward the hallway. He could see the back of Eloise’s head from the small window in the door, but not Pen’s. He gulped, trying to will his tears to remain shining in his eyes rather than dripping down his nose. “Are Penelope and I… we’re together?” That was the only way her, Eloise’s, and his mother’s behavior could make sense, even if he couldn’t make sense of it at all. He always liked Penelope just fine. But that was all. Fine. He could never see himself dating her. She was too young, too naïve. He was too independent, too free-spirited. They’d never work.
But Benedict nodded at the question. Anthony shook Colin’s foot again. Neither brother said anything for a long time, letting Colin process, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to process all of this. Eight years. Penelope. Marina. His life. He didn’t know what his life in the year 2023 looked like. He wiped at his eyes and stared down at the blanket covering him. “How long?”
“How long, what?” Benedict asked.
“How long have Penelope and I been… whatever we are.”
“You live together.”
Anthony hit Benedict’s chest with the back of his hand. “The doctor just said—”
“Yes, that he has to figure things out himself. She also said he needs a frame of reference. Don’t you think that includes knowing where he lives?”
Anthony didn’t refute Ben’s logic, but Benedict wouldn’t answer any additional questions Colin threw out, so they fell into silence for several minutes until the ladies returned – Penelope with red eyes and nose, but dried cheeks. She took a seat in the armchair, rested her chin on her fist, and avoided looking at him.
He wanted to apologize for hurting her, because clearly he had, but sensed it wasn’t the right time. Violet bustled around, trying to make everyone comfortable, bringing Colin snacks and examining his head like she would have when he was a kid and bumped it after a fall, and generally keeping herself busy and the rest of them silent until the specialist finally arrived.
After an hour-long consultation, Colin’s prognosis seemed positive. Dr. Wren believed his memories would likely return, and in the meantime, suggested Colin surround himself with familiarity, both in locations and people. The family was given permission to help him by elaborating on any memories that came naturally, but were also told not to volunteer information he did not remember on his own. The only exceptions being the children and spouses that had been added to the family since 2015, mostly so the nieces and nephews who loved their Uncle Colin would not be confused and hurt when he did not remember them.
Penelope sat quietly throughout the consultation, nodding every now and then, and taking notes in a little green book, drawing Colin’s eye to her. She certainly was beautiful now. No, that was wrong. She had always been beautiful, he simply had not been interested before. She was a teenager when they met, only sixteen, and he a grown man, twenty-one, nearly done with university. When he made his poorly-conceived announcement, she hadn’t seemed much older, even though four years had passed. Plus, he’d been dating Marina, then. How could he think of Penelope when Marina was right there?
“Mr. Bridgerton?” Dr. Wren interrupted his thoughts and he blinked, turning his gaze from Pen to focus back on the doctor’s instructions.
When the consultation ended, both Dr. Wren and Dr. Yiu insisted the family depart and allow Colin time to rest. They could return the next day and if his vitals continued to test at normal levels, his discharge and recovery at home could be discussed. Both Colin and Penelope tensed at the word “home,” but he imagined for very different reasons.
As his family filed out, Penelope whispered something to Violet, then hung back, waiting until the door was closed before she approached his bed. She stood a foot away, looking to the floor.
“Penelope—”
“Don’t, Colin.”
“I just wanted—”
“I know what you want to say and I do not think I can hear yet another apology from you about how you don’t love me, how you’d never dream of dating me, but you think I’m wonderful and you never meant to hurt me.”
“I—”
She looked up, glaring at him, and he promptly shut his mouth. How did she know him so well? He supposed if they were at a stage in their relationship where they were living together, they must have been a couple for a significant amount of time.
“May I?” Pen sighed, gesturing to the chair beside his bed and sitting at his nodded acquiescence. She automatically reached for his hands, but stopped herself before they touched. Clenched into fists, she set hers in her lap before looking up again and meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry for earlier.”
“What?”
“For kissing you and for my reaction to, well, everything.”
“You’re sorry?”
“I clearly freaked out. A bit. It was just such a surprise, and after going frantic with worry – getting the call from the hospital, you not waking up – then finally, good news! You were awake! Only to be doused with cold water again. You don’t remember our life together. I’m sorry. Instead of asking how I could support you, I ran out of the room crying. Probably helped confirm your belief in my immaturity.” She looked down, into her lap, at her knuckles turning white from the way she clenched them so tightly, and Colin had a surge of emotion. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t put a name to it. But he did not want her ever looking so defeated.
“Penelope – no. Is that what you think I think of you? That you’re immature?”
She tapped her fists against her thighs, but didn’t respond.
“I don’t. When I said you were young, I meant in age. It would feel like I was taking advantage. If anything, you’ve always been too mature for your age. You put us all to shame with your competence.”
This caused a small smile to form at the corner of her mouth. “You said something like that to me before. Not the age thing – the competence thing.”
“I did? When?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. Think about it, see if it jogs any memories.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Daphne is coming first thing in the morning to visit. She wanted to be here today, but no kids allowed, so she ended up watching Ant and Ben’s, too. She’s going to bring photos of all your nieces and nephews and teach you their names and ages.” Penelope reached into her purse and handed him a phone. It was bigger and yet more lightweight than the phone he remembered. “Your passcode is—”
“My birthday. I always use my birthday.” He typed the date in, but the screen remained locked. He tried again. No luck.
“It’s, um, actually, your birthday and mine. You changed it a few…” she paused and reconsidered her words. “Well, you changed it. It’s 230804. Do you want me to write it down?”
He shook his head, staring at the phone, concentrating as he typed the numbers in. “I know your birthday, I’ll remember.”
She glanced away, but swiveled back to him after a few seconds. “It has Face ID, too, but I turned it off while you were… so I could access your email and let your boss and clients know you were…” she trailed off again. Swallowed. “I have their contact info now. I’ll let your boss know what’s going on. He’s been super flexible so far and in the past, so I’m sure he’ll hold your job for you until you’re ready. If you still want it.”
Colin didn’t say anything, because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know who his boss was or what job she was talking about. In 2015, he’d been self-employed, and he liked it that way. He could not imagine trying to work for someone else.
“Um, there are photo albums here.” She tapped on an app on his home screen. A half-dozen or so albums appeared: family, work, Pen, food, Instagram, TikTok. What the hell did TikTok mean? “There’s an encrypted one here.” She pointed to an album labeled “X” that had a red square as a cover. “You can get in with your passcode, but I’d ask that you don’t. They’re, um, our private collection and I don’t want you seeing me like that when you don’t… when you aren’t…” She swallowed thickly again, and ran the back of her hand across her eyes.
“I won’t open it,” Colin promised.
A shaky breath escaped her lips. “Thanks. The doctor said you should look through the others. They may help spark some memories.”
He considered it, looking at the first album, the family one. And decided against it. He wasn’t ready yet to see everything he had missed. Or, was currently missing. “I think I’m just going to sleep tonight.”
Her shoulders tensed, but she relaxed after a moment and simply nodded. “I’ll let you get your rest, but please call or text me, or anyone in your family, if you need anything.” She stood, adjusting the straps of her purse as she moved to leave. For some reason he couldn’t explain, his heart broke at the stoic determination on her face.
“Penelope,” he whispered. She turned to face him, a hurried smile plastered in place.
“Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Her eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. And she looked at him for several long, quiet seconds, before shaking her head sadly. “I miss you, Colin.” With another sad shake of her head, she left.
He stared at the door for at least ten minutes, thinking she’d be back. He didn’t know why. Maybe he was remembering something about their relationship dynamic? But he thought it unlikely that their dynamic would be him waiting on her.
And that made him feel like shit. He glanced down at his phone, inputted the password again – her birthday given more digits than his own (why?!?) – and scrolled through the photo albums main screen. “Pen” had the most. Over 500. And that made him irrationally angry. Had she taken over his entire life? Why should one person hold such dominance in his phone? He had seven siblings, for God’s sake. And friends! And a job, apparently.
Had he given up traveling for her? Is that why he had a boss now, and rode a bike through London, and changed the passcode he’d used for a decade?
With frustration mounting, he tossed the phone onto the table beside the bed. He did not want to peruse pictures of a life he could not remember. He wanted it to be 2015. He wanted to be in Australia, finishing his tour and posting on his blog and making his own way in life. He wanted the girlfriend he remembered – Marina – not the one he’d never considered.
Snatching up the phone again, he scrolled through his contacts and felt a bubble of relief when he found Marina’s, but the bubble quickly burst when he saw her last name was different. The picture remained the same, but instead of Thompson, it now said Crane. Married. She’d gotten married to someone named Crane and Colin couldn’t even remember their breakup.
And somehow, somehow, he knew that was Penelope’s fault. It made no sense, being angry with her, and yet, it was also the only thing that made any sense to him since he’d woken up to a nurse crying “Bullocks,” in his face.