Chapter Text
Shiiittttt. Poor Gregory.
It’s Penelope’s first thought when she wakes up. She makes a mental note to text him later, to check he’s ok (after lunch of course, he’s a student, there’s no way he’s up this early).
Thank God for Colin. For many, many reasons, but especially for his caring, kind side and his unflinchingly fierce protectiveness of his siblings, especially the younger ones. He must have been so embarrassed stepping up for Gregory like that and... erm… Wait? What was it he did?
Penelope stares at her ceiling trying to picture Colin and then Gregory, trying to remember what exactly happened last night, but nothing is coming to her. What the fff… that’s weird and worrying. Her memory is normally so good, especially when it comes to matters of Colin Bridgerton.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Ughhhhhh. Better get up for work.
She gets on with her morning routine, a quick wee, showering, brushing her teeth, doing her hair and make-up, but all the while she can’t shake the growing tension in her stomach. Why can’t she remember anything after Gregory’s chicken dance?
She’s been running through the evening over and over in her mind; she can picture the bar and the Bridgertons just fine, and she has a sort of blurry recollection of the old flamboyant man in the pink cloak that she remembers is called Brimsley. And there’s Colin standing up for Gregory, she remembers that bit very well… God, he was so hot!
And then… nothing. She can’t even remember getting home or going to bed.
‘What the fuck?’ she thinks to herself, and for some reason the words ring out in Colin’s voice, clear as day, like he’s in the room. She closes her eyes and laughs loudly to herself.
God, Penelope, has the obsession gotten so bad you’re thinking in his voice now?
On the train into work she tries again to remember last night, wondering if maybe the daylight will help nudge her mind into action. But there’s still nothing.
Fuck, this is getting very worrying now.
Wait!.. fuck! Could she have been spiked? Should she go to the doctors’?
No, no… don’t be silly, Penelope, you were with the Bridgertons, you were with Colin, you are always safe with him. It’s obviously the cocktails, that last one was really strong. Colin will help, he’ll know, just text him and he can budge your memory. Easy.
Penelope: Morning sleepy head, sorry if I woke you.
She gives him a minute or so to reply, he’s usually very quick to text her back. Hmm, nothing yet though. She only has one more stop on her commute so she decides to just get the rest over to him, he can reply when he’s up.
Penelope: Remember after Sophie’s hen do, we made that deal for three moments of zero judgement? Well I am invoking my moment number two. NO JUDGEMENT ALLOWED!
She waits again, grinning at her phone and thinking back to the night they created that rule. They both got sooo drunk at Benedict and Sophie’s respective hen and stag dos. The groups ended up merging at 3am in Mermaid’s nightclub, where they danced on tables and shouted ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ into each other’s faces. It was at 6am when they were walking along the beach, their hangovers starting to kick in, that they agreed on the no judgement rule. Three moments each, and they both used one that night.
She imagines Colin’s laugh in her head followed by his voice saying, “I mooned a seagull and you threw up in someone's flower box!”
Oh right, ok, so she is having conversations with Colin in her head now too, great! Maybe she needs to see a therapist?
The train is pulling into her station, so she quickly types out her last message then dashes for the doors.
Penelope: I can’t remember anything about last night. Was I that smashed? I really didn’t think I was. Can you tell me what happened after you stood up for Gregory, please? NO JUDGEMENT ALLOWED!
She tucks her phone away as she stumbles into her office block unceremoniously. She’s telling herself not to worry, Colin will reply soon and he’ll tell her all about their shenanigans from last night and all will be well.
She’s worked at Debling Shipping for nearly a year now, writing the copy for their marketing material. It’s a shit job with awful people, but the pay is good and Colin takes her out for lunch whenever he is doing a day at the nursing home around the corner. He doesn’t really need a job with his trust fund, so he does a lot of volunteering and charity work. Another reason she’s so bloody head over heels in love with him, to be honest.
“Penelope.” Her supervisor nods curtly, without giving her eye contact.
“Cressida.” Penelope returns the nod despite knowing Cressida isn’t looking her way at all. She slumps down onto her desk chair and fires up her computer.
“That brief is on your desk, in case you missed it” Cressida says still not looking up.
“What?.. What brief?” Penelope grabs the printed sheet from her desk and shoots up from her seat. This fucker is not bloody doing this again, is she?
“I told you about it yesterday,” Cressida lies.
“No... no you definitely did not mention a new brief.”
“Yes, I did. It’s to be presented to Mr Debling at 10am this morning.”
Yep, she’s fucking done it again. Cressida is always trying to undermine and sabotage Penelope at work. She fails to tell her about new briefs all the time then she’s all – Oh, I am not sure why Penelope is so unprepared, I informed her days ago.
‘That absolute fucking arsehole! You need to get revenge. I know! Hack into her emails, send pornography to HR or something,’ she thinks in Colin’s voice again, and in her mind Colin sounds so excited by the prospect of revenge that Penelope giggles out loud at her own insanity. Oh fucking hell, she really is going insane this morning, isn’t she?
“It’s not funny Penelope, you should have got in early for this really, I was surprised not to see you here when I arrived at 8am,” Cressida adds in her usual self-important tone.
“I wAs SuRpRiSeD nOt To SeE yOu HeRe At 8aM. Yeah Penelope has a life outside of work Cressida. Ugh, she’s such a dick!” Mind-Colin adds.
Penelope fails to stifle her laugh again and Cressida shoots her a thunderous look.
“Ehem... sorry… Yes, no problem, I’ve got...” It takes effort for Penelope to drop her smile but she manages it and then she makes a show of checking the time on her monitor. “40 minutes… easy!” she adds with a fake laugh.
“Prick!” Colin’s voice booms in her head, and that’s when Penelope decides that she definitely has to call the doctor later.
The presentation to Mr Debling actually goes pretty well even with Cressida tutting and shaking her head throughout. Mr Debling quite likes Penelope; he keeps trying to set her up with his son, Alfred, which Penelope has so far successfully avoided. Partly because Alfred is soooooooooooo boring. All he does is talk about flightless birds and milk alternatives, but if she’s honest with herself, it’s mainly because of Colin and the tiny little candle of hope she keeps burning for him.
The rest of her morning at work trudges along like any other. Well, that’s not strictly true; she doesn’t normally have Colin’s voice in her head, giving her commentary on various little things. He keeps popping up here and there. He nudges her to treat herself to the chocolate muffin she was eying at the coffee shop. He tells her a silly joke about biscuits when she’s making herself tea (she has to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing like some sort of lunatic). He hums Yellow by Coldplay while she wees.
Ugh! Stop this, Penelope. It’s you, it’s your muffin nudge, your biscuit joke, your humming. It’s just because Colin still hasn’t replied to your text and you still can’t remember last night and you’re getting worried and this is how your brain has decided to manifest that worry. Perfectly normal… definitely.
She picks up her phone to check for a reply from him—still nothing. She shakes her head then slams it down way too hard on her desk.
“Are you ok, Penelope?” Alfred says, appearing behind her suddenly.
She sits up quickly, and gets a bit of a rush of blood to the head. “Oh ... erm... Yes, yes I am fine.”
“Ugh!” Mind-Colin groans. “Piss off, penguin fucker,” he adds, sounding grumpy.
Penelope has to purse her lips tightly to stop herself from guffawing, and then she has to remind herself again that it’s her calling him penguin fucker. Colin barely knows him, he wouldn’t have reason to call him penguin fucker now would he?
“Did you still want to go for lunch today? Last week you said Friday might work,” Alfred asks, completely oblivious to the internal conversation Penelope is having with herself.
“Errr.”
“Oh my god, will this guy just fuck off?!” Mind-Colin shouts.
“Ermmm.”
“She doesn’t want to go and eat carrot sticks in the fucking park you fucking double fried, dry arsehole!” Colin’s voice rings out again.
“PFFTTCKKFFF… COUGH COUGH COUGH!” Penelope nearly bursts a blood vessel as she splutters.
“Oh, are you well, Penelope?” Alfred asks, concerned.
“Er, no actually... ehem... ehem... I think I need to go home.” She says it loudly enough for Cressida to hear, but the evil wench doesn’t even look up.
“Of course, you must, straight away. Ms Cowper, could you book Penelope a taxi please?” he asks as he reaches over to place his hand on Penelope’s forehead and she flinches away just in time. She sneaks a peak over to Cressida just as her face contorts into the dictionary definition of disgust.
“Shall I travel with you, make sure you get home ok?” Alfred asks and Penelope has to force herself to smile so she doesn’t grimace.
“FUCK OFF!” Mind-Colin bellows. “Get the message, breadstick man! She’s pretending to be ill to get out of having lunch with you!” he adds, laughing to himself.
“No, no, that's fine. I’ll be fine, Alfred. Thank you. I actually don’t need a taxi, the train will be quicker and airier. I’ll just head off now... And I’ll check in this afternoon, ok, thanks again, bye,” Penelope says quickly as she grabs her bag and jacket and flies from the office.
As soon as she lands on the pavement outside, she pulls her phone out. Still nothing from Colin! She decides she’s either having a full mental breakdown or Colin’s absence is affecting her in ways she never knew possible. She’ll have to go and speak to him at home, that will relax her.
God, this really has to be the weirdest hangover she’s ever had. If she wasn’t freaking out so much, she’d be excited to tell him all about it.
She practically jumps in front of the first cab she sees and hightails it to Colin’s flat. She tries calling his phone over and over on the way there, but she’s not getting through. It's like his phone is off. Weird.
When the car pulls up outside Colin’s building, she pays the cabbie without a word, runs to the entrance door and smashes number 12 on the call panel. There’s no answer so she smashes it again and again and again. Still nothing. Bugger!
Ok, chill out Penelope. It’s fine, you know the door pin and you have a key in your handbag. It’s fine!
She punches in 12080493.
Nothing happens.
She punches in 12080493.
Again, nothing happens.
She punches in 12080493!
“Arghhhh. Fuck, he must have changed it recently,” she says to herself.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, it’s 08049312 now,” Mind-Colin says.
“Oh! Thanks, Colin.” She replies.
Penelope enters the new number and it works! Still her birthday, he just moved the door number to the end. That makes her feel all gooey inside for some reason.
She steps through the door grinning and ready to bolt for the lift when she suddenly freezes.
“Wait… What the fuck just happened?” she asks herself out loud.
Mind-Colin just told her something she didn’t fucking know, and she heard him and she typed in what he said and it fucking worked and... WHAT THE FUCK!?
“Colin?” she says slowly and carefully into the empty entrance hall.
“Hi, Pen… you can hear me?” Colin asks from inside her mind.
Penelope starts screaming.
Colin starts screaming.
Penelope’s head starts humming.
“Shit! Colin! Stop screaming, please!” Penelope shouts clutching her temples and bending double.
He stops immediately. “Oh no! I am so sorry, Pen. Are you ok?”
Penelope stumbles a little towards the stairs and plonks down on the bottom step.
“Colin, what the hell is happening? Why can I hear you? Where are you?”
There’s a short pause as he pulls in a deep breath from somewhere inside her mind.
“I don’t know,” he replies in a small voice.
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“Ughhhhhh…”
Colin groans before he even opens his eyes. He feels achy and warm and a little discombobulated. There is muffled banging and clattering coming from somewhere and what sounds like singing but from under water.
He slowly opens his eyes, and stares at the weird dark grey matter above him. That’s not his bedroom ceiling… what?
The room around him is brightly lit but still somehow dark and the ceiling above him looks like one of those soundproofed walls, all spongy and bumpy, but there is also a sort of translucent sheet covering over it too.
He rubs his face roughly and sits up, slowly taking in the rest of the room. He is on the floor, it feels like a normal solid floor but when he looks at it closely, it looks the same as the ceiling, a weird translucent sheet over a bumpy dark grey surface. He looks up to the walls around him and has to squint at the bright light blasting in from the two windows to his left. After a moment of adjustment the walls start to come into view. Again there’s that translucent sheet over them but behind are what looks like bookshelves, hidden by shadow but visible, huge towering bookshelves, somehow too big for the room but still easily contained. The books are all uniform, all the same width and height and the same dark grey colour as the floor and the ceiling.
He notices that down in the bottom right corner of the room, one of the books is flickering, a multitude of colourful lights bursting out of it and then disappearing again.
“What the fuck?” he says to himself.
Suddenly the windows shut and the whole room comes to life, each individual book dances to its own flickering light rhythm as colour and sound fills the entire space.
It’s fucking beautiful.
Colin spins slowly, watching the dancing lights and listening to the muffled noises, his jaw gradually dropping. He realises now that the sound is laughter, slightly muffled laughter but definitely laughter… It’s Penelope’s laughter, he would know it anywhere.
The light show stops abruptly and the windows open again, flooding the room with bright white, the beautiful rainbow performance over as quickly as it started.
What is this place? Is he dreaming? Did he sign up to some weird immersive art show and forget about it? Is he... Dead?
He tries to remember how he got here but his brain is all fuzzy, only giving him little snippets and flashes. Gregory squatting, a gang of girls laughing, a very confident man dancing around a stage. What the hell happened last night?
He pushes himself up onto his feet, he’s a little wobbly and his legs still ache but he manages it, slowly. The floor still feels sturdy beneath him, even though it looks soft, so he starts to walk across it, a little gingerly at first but then more firmly as he realises he isn’t going to sink into the squishy looking mounds.
First he heads to the shelves on his right. He scans the books but sees no distinguishing features, he’s not even sure they are books just matter shaped like them, a few here and there are lighting up randomly in pinks and greens and blues.
Next he heads to the windows to look outside, only when he gets close to them he realises they aren’t windows at all. They are two large projection screens hanging down, and there are moving images in both but he can’t see a projector anywhere so he has no idea how they work.
He looks at one of the screens for a while, re-adjusting and focusing his vision until it becomes clearer. What he sees is what seems like a first person view of a drawer being searched. He can hear muffled scrapes and bangs as two dainty hands rummage through the letters, sewing bits and bobs and keys. Are those Penelope’s hands? They look like hers; he thinks he can see the little scar she has on her thumb from the candle she smashed at his house forever ago.
Just as he is leaning in close to the screen to get a better view, the image whips upwards and suddenly he is staring at Penelope. Well, her reflection in the mirror in front of her.
His jaw drops and he is speechless as Penelope dabs her lips and tucks a curl behind her ear before the image whips again and he’s witnessing the person (Penelope, he now knows), exit her flat and leave her building.
Colin slumps to the floor in shock.
If he were an irrational person he’d say it seems like he might be inside Penelope's head but that’s absolutely mental… isn’t it?
How on earth could he be inside Penelope’s head?
Seriously! What the fuck happened to him last night?