Chapter 40: Begin Again

There were sounds before there was light.

A low rhythmic beeping. A distant shuffle. The gentle rustling of cloth and whispers he couldn't quite place.

And then, a voice.

Soft. Familiar. Cracked around the edges, like someone who had been crying for too long and had nothing left but hope.

"Archie... please..."

Archie's eyes fluttered beneath his lids.

For a moment, it was like he was underwater—everything was muted, slow. But then it came rushing in: the hum of machines, the sterile scent of antiseptic and something metallic. A dull ache bloomed somewhere in his side, his head, his chest.

And then—

The pressure of someone holding his hand.

His fingers twitched.

"Archie?" the voice said again, more urgently this time. "Archie—please. Please wake up. I need you."

He knew that voice.

He'd always known that voice.

With tremendous effort, Archie's eyes cracked open.

The world was a blur—shapes and shadows smudged together—but in the center of it all was a face. Tear-streaked, pale, with eyes rimmed red and wide with disbelief.

William.

"Hey," Archie croaked, his throat dry and voice raspy. "You look like you need a bath."

A sound erupted from William's chest—half sob, half laugh. He lunged forward and gently cupped Archie's face, tears falling freely.

"Oh my God," William whispered. "You're awake. You're—oh no, Archie, I thought I lost you."

Archie blinked slowly, his mouth twitching into a lopsided grin. "You wish. I'm too stubborn to die."

William laughed again, leaning his forehead against Archie's.

"You got shot," William choked, his voice trembling.

"I figured," Archie mumbled, trying to shift, then immediately groaning. "Feels like a cannonball."

"Don't move," William said quickly. "You're going to be okay, but the doctor said you need rest. And fluids. And painkillers. And—"

William grabbed a cup with a straw from the side table and held it to his lips. Archie drank, eyes fluttering shut in relief.

When he finished, William set the cup down and brushed Archie's hair back from his face.

"I thought you were gone," William whispered. "I thought—after everything, after all we fought for—I was going to lose you again."

"You didn't," Archie said softly. "I'm here."

William closed his eyes. "You came to save me. You walked into a house full of guards, into the middle of everything—why would you do that?"

"Because I remembered," Archie said, his voice trembling now. "Because I remembered us. I remembered how we were planning to run away. How we kissed before the crash. How we promised to never leave each other. I remembered the look in your eyes when you said you loved me."

William's breath hitched.

"You... you remember?"

Archie nodded weakly. "Not everything. But enough. Enough to know you were never just a dream. You were real. You were mine."

William kissed his hand, pressing it to his cheek.

"We have so much to fix," he said. "So much to heal from."

"I know," Archie replied. "But we have time now, don't we?"

William nodded, smiling through his tears. "We do."

There was a pause.

William helped him gently, arranging the pillows behind him with care.

They sat like that for a while. No more words. Just the soft glow of sunrise outside the hospital window and the sound of two hearts learning how to beat beside each other again.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door. Anne peeked in, her eyes wide—and then welled up the moment she saw Archie.

"Oh my God, you're awake," she said, rushing in, Amanda right behind her.

Archie gave them a tired smile. "Hey, room's full of pretty people. I must be in heaven."

Amanda laughed. Anne nearly choked on a sob-laugh combo as she pulled a chair beside him and grabbed his hand.

"We were so scared," Anne whispered.

"Yeah, me too," Archie said. "Mostly of the pudding they tried to feed me."

Laughter rippled through the room like a balm.

Amanda looked between him and William. "You two really broke the world open, huh?"

William squeezed Archie's hand. "We're going to build something better from the pieces."

And as morning light filled the room, golden and warm, Archie whispered:

"Together."

And everyone—everyone who mattered—knew that this was the moment where everything began again.

Archie rested with his eyes half-closed, his head nestled into the soft hospital pillow, feeling more human than he had in days. William had stepped out to talk to the doctors. Anne and Amanda had gone to fetch something from the café downstairs.

And then there was a soft knock.

The door creaked open.

Archie turned his head slightly—and his breath caught.

Amber stood in the doorway.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, a tissue clutched in one hand. Her long curls were tucked behind her ears, her expression caught somewhere between joy and heartbreak.

"Hey, dummy," she whispered.

Archie laughed, a dry, broken sound. "That's my line."

Amber rushed to his side, dropping the tissue and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She stared at him, as if afraid he might disappear again.

"I wanted to come sooner," she said, voice trembling. "But they wouldn't let me in last night. Said you needed rest. Rest, Archie. You almost died and they thought a nap would fix it?"

"I didn't die," he replied, smiling softly. "I just... dramatically passed out into the arms of my boyfriend in the middle of a hostage situation. Very normal."

Amber let out a choked laugh as her eyes welled again. "You're unbelievable."

He reached for her hand, and she gripped his with both of hers, holding on like it would keep them tethered.

"You scared me so bad," she said. "When I heard—when I got the call—I couldn't breathe. I thought I'd lost you. I kept thinking about our last argument... about all the times I didn't say how proud I am of you."

"You don't have to say that," Archie murmured.

"Yes, I do," she cut in. "Because you're brave, and stupid, and stubborn, and you have the biggest heart I've ever seen. And I let you carry too much. I let you take care of me when I should've been looking after you."

Archie blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes. "Amber..."

"You fought for your truth. You fought for love. And you almost died because of what they did to you—to both of you."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, her lips trembling.

"You're not alone anymore, Arch. You have me. You have William. Anne. Amanda. The whole damn truth now. And you—you survived it."

Archie wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You're still the best big sister. Even if you're dramatic as hell."

She laughed through her tears. "Only runs in the family."

They sat like that for a while—no more explanations, no more apologies. Just the silent healing between two hearts that had seen too much and still found their way back.

At some point, William slipped back in and stood quietly near the door, watching the two of them.

Amber turned, eyes narrowing. "You. You're the one who got him shot."

Archie snorted. "Technically, he shielded me from getting shot worse."

William raised his hands. "Guilty of existing dramatically."

Amber stood, walking over to William with purpose.

And then, to everyone's surprise, she pulled him into a hug.

"You take care of him," she whispered. "He loves you."

William swallowed. "I will."

She stepped back, looked at both of them, and nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna go yell at a nurse for not giving my brother Jell-O. Call me if you need backup."

When she left, the room settled again, this time warmer—like a storm had passed and left only sunlight.

Archie looked at William and grinned. "She likes you."

"She threatened me."

"That's how you know."

They both laughed, and for the first time in a long while, it didn't hurt.

It healed.