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Archer and Pam sat in silence as they drove back to his place. No one had wanted to take Archer back to his apartment but unfortunately for everyone he wasn't exactly in any condition to be driving at the minute, so here he was sitting with Pam, great.
While Pam and Archer had previously been close (which they still were of course, compared to everyone else anyway.), their relationship was now much more strained, or certainly more... awkward. Much like it was with Lana, and Cyril, and everyone else in the crew to be honest. Turns out, not being around for three years makes relationships complicated.
Archer's first day back hadn't been the greatest, sure, the mission had been successful, in the sense that the thief had been caught and sent to prison. However, it was, close, much too close, apparently the closest to failing a mission The Agency had experienced since Archer had fallen into his coma.
And no one was surprised. They had all clearly been dreading his return, he thought back to what they had said, about being happier without him. Those words affirmed what he had already begun to think, and to be honest, they had hurt.
Was he really that much of a nuisance to have around? He knew he was an egotistic dick and all that but he thought maybe after being gone for so long people would've actually missed him, or, atleast be grateful to have him back on the team.
Ugh, he really needed to grow a pair, he told himself. The coma must've made him soft if he was letting a group of infinitely lesser spies make him feel this way. Did comas do that? Do they make someone a sensitive bitch? Maybe it had something to do with the hormones the hospital had given him, whatever was in those IV bags. He didn't know medicine but it was probably possible.
It's not like he would've ever called them friends anyway, so he had no reason to feel left out or even, abandoned. They were annoying assholes at worst and drinking buddies at most.
The awkward atmosphere could even come from intimidation, he convinced himself, of course they were scared about his return! He'd come back and start crushing missions again and they'd all have to depend on him once more-
"Archer?"
Archer was snapped out of his thoughts by Pam, the car had stopped and they were outside of his apartment.
"Mm?" He replied, turning his head towards her slowly. Pam smirked.
"Jesus, how the shit did you get so drunk on your first mission back, and why didn't you save me some?"
Pam assumed he had zoned out because he was drunk, even though the slight concern etched onto her features told him there was more to it.
"I barely drank, stupid coma made me more of a lightweight than Cyril, uhh.. thanks for the ride... By the way." Pam nodded at him, winking.
He attempted to stand out of the car and a sharp pain shot up to his hip. He groaned loudly and fell against the car, holding himself up against it and trying to put all of his weight on his left leg. He heard the car door slam and suddenly Pam was at his side, her strong arms quickly grabbing him by the waist. He tried to pull away but she forced his arm around her neck for support.
"What? Did you really think you could just go on crazy intense missions again without issues?"
"Let go of me I'm fine." He rolled his eyes.
"You need to think about your leg now dumbass, it has limits you know."
"Yeah, maybe for normal people, not mine though." Pam breathed in deeply, she couldn't believe how stubborn one person could be.
"Stop being such a whiney bitch, you're leg will be fine soon anyway." He tssked and made no further response. He wanted it to go away now, for the stupid comments to stop and for him to be capable of doing whatever he used to be able to do without having to worry about his dumb leg pain.
He trudged forward, accepting that he was unable to separate himself from Pam. He gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge the pain of his leg screaming at him to slow down.
The travel up to his apartment was silent and uncomfortable, both just stared forward awkwardly and said nothing. To be fair, Archer wasn't in much mood to talk anyway, he was just tired and wanted, no, needed a drink. Archer reached into his breast pocket and took out his key, letting them in to the trashed penthouse.
"Jeeezzzzz." Pam said as they stood in the entrance, clothes and bottles littered the floor, along with various stains and garbage to add to the mess. All of the chaos of the dirty living space only highlighted Woodhouse's absence, and especially Archers grief.
Archer put his hand in his pocket, feeling for the turquoise gravel, before forgetting that he had recently thrown it at Peregrine to stop her from escaping.
Pam didn't mention it, she had had three years to get over Woodhouse's death, and they had never been that close. Pam thought about her own dad, who she was relatively close with, but the relationship held nothing to Woodhouse and Archer. Woodhouse was much more than a dad to Archer, though Archer would never admit it. And he hadn't even known he was dead for years, he hadn't even been able to see him one last time at the valet's funeral.
Pam let him fall into the couch,
"Ugh, I need a drink." He mumbled.
"You and me both." Archer went to sit up and go over to his bar, but Pam was there first, two empty glasses already in hand. Pam was one of the few people Archer trusted to operate her bar, and to make a good, strong drink. Though he still watched her cautiously as she dug around looking for whatever alcohol was left.
He honestly just wanted to be alone, even though he knew that once he was he would be even more miserable. Of course, he was grateful for Pam, who seemed to be the only considerate person towards him in that entire office nowadays. He still hadn't stopped thinking about the teams comments towards him and his contribution to that trainwreck of a mission.
He didn't want to think about it, and he didn't need to, he would just drink, pass out and then wake up tomorrow with a hazy memory of this awful night. Then, maybe it would hurt less to think about the stain he was leaving on everybody's new and improved lives.
Pam passed him a glass full of dark brown liquid which seemed to be a mixture of literally whatever she could find.
"Man, today was crazy! Shit hasn't been that wild since-" She shut herself up quickly, giving Archer an apologetic look.
"I know." He responded, rolling his eyes. "Since before 'coma o'clock'." He added in quotation marks. Pam sighed and sat down next to him and Archer gave her a confused glare. "Uh, what are you doing?" He objected.
"... Sitting down?"
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? I'm tired, it's been a long day."
"Yeah, so... Go home?" He stated as if it was obvious.
"I just wanted a drink," she downed the rest of her glass, "Shitass."
"Okay, you've had your drink so... go?" He gestured to the door, Pam gave him an incredulous look, wondering if the man was being serious. This was not the reaction she was expecting.
"Asshole!" She exclaimed, pushing herself up from the couch.
"...Thanks for taking me home." She turned back to look at him but he stared at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.
Pam hesitated between the couch and the door, she felt almost weary about leaving Archer on his own. Maybe it was the fact that she was leaving him in this shit hole.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, letting out a sharp sigh and ultimately deciding to leave. He'd call her if he needed her anyway.
And then the penthouse was plunged into silence once more, he was alone again. Archer swished his drink around, watching the ice cubes clink against the glass satisfyingly, then, he necked the drink. It was far from good, but it gave him the comforting burn in his throat and buzz in his head that he desperately craved right now.
He didn't love the sight of an empty glass in hand right now, so he quickly stood to make himself another drink, forgetting- again somehow- about his leg. The pain was so sudden and his leg buckled, sending him to the floor in an instant.
The glass was out of his hand and smashed against the floor, in sync with the thump of his body hitting the floor. He groaned, finding himself on the ground for the millionth time today. He rolled to his side and sat up against the side of the couch, wrapping his hands around his thigh muscle and massaging it as if it would relieve the dull ache it seemed to permanently give off.
He could just lift himself up slowly now, back onto the couch, it wasn't like he hadn't passed out on there countless times before. But he didn't want to. He had no problem with sleeping on the couch, it was the getting up part that he had an issue with. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion seemed to pass over his body and he just didn't have it in him to get up again. What was the point?
He was tired, staring down at himself, the broken glass, the mess all around him, it made him feel hopeless, sad, and above all else, pathetic. This pathetic aura seemed to follow him everywhere since he had woken up, and it was tiring, he felt like people saw him as less now. Everything was harder, and he hated it. He felt sorry for himself, and he hated himself for that too.
He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to face it anymore, he shouldn't have gone back to work. No one wanted him back, no one needed him back, and what agency wants a limping spy anyway.
He hated nights like this, when he didn't have the alcohol to numb him, or in his case right now, couldn't reach it. Turns out spending a ton of time blocking out thoughts only makes them grow until you can't block them out anymore, who the fuck would've known?
He brought his knees up and curled up, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, trying to fall into the haziness that was his semi-drunk mind.
-
Pam shut the door and stormed out of the building. She had really thought that he wanted her to stick around, have a drink or two, which would eventually evolve into ten. Like the old days. She had missed her friend, she had missed the chaos he brought to their lives. Sure it was nice to have things running smoothly at all times but it was also soooo boring. They were more of a team now but much less close, less friendly. She couldn't even remember the last time they had all gone out for drinks together. And obviously, Archer was an annoying douche who pissed everyone off but, he could also be funny and intelligent when he needed to be.
But things were different now, both of them had changed and she didn't know how to deal with him like this. He just seemed so sad. It was so unnatural. She just wanted to be there for him, even if their way of 'being there' for eachother involved getting shitfaced and doing something probably illegal.
The first thing she noticed when opening her car door was the glint of Archers cane handle. Crap, of course he had managed to forget it. One of if not the most important piece of equipment he needed. She stared at it briefly, wondering if she should just give it to him tomorrow, but no, of course, that would be way to petty and definitely cross the line. She was a little annoyed at him, that was no reason to make him absolutely pissed at her.
So once again she found herself ascending the entrance stairs, cane in hand.
"Archer!"
The door creaked open and the bright hallway casted a long ray of light across the dim room, onto the couch.
"You left...your cane?" Where she expected to see Archer she instead found an empty space, no sign of the spy.
"Archer?" She opened the door wider and stepped into the room, brandishing the cane around instinctively, her mind immediately preparing for some sort of intruder.
Her head snapped back towards the couch as she heard a faint groan, she opened the door fully to let more light in and that's when she noticed the figure curled up and leaning against the side of the couch.
"I leave you for two seconds and you're already on the floor." She chuckled, lowering the cane. Archer gave no response.
The woman raised her eyebrow, a cautious expression on her face, taking further steps towards him.
"Archer?"
"Go away Pam." He grumbled, his face remaining buried in his arms. Pam stood in the middle of the room briefly, inspecting the man, he looked like an upset child in that position, so small. She went around the table and noticed the smashed glass beside him.
"How do you even have any glasses left?" She muttered under her breathe. She sweeped the large chunks of glass out of the way with her foot, that would be a problem to deal with in a minute.
With the new bit of space she sat down beside him, saying nothing for a moment. Waiting to see what sort of reaction it would engage from Archer. He continued his silent treatment.
"You need help up?"
"Go away Pam."
"Are you really pouting right now?" Archer humphed. "Is this about your leg? It's gonna get better you-"
"Can you not keep your fat mouth shut for more than a second?!" Archer sharply snapped back, his head shooting up.
"Woah." Pam simply replied to the outburst.
Archer looked away and exhaled, coming out of his curled position and running his hands through his hair in a soothing manner.
"Sorry. It's not about my leg."
"Well then what is it about?" Archers face scrunched up as he tried to figure out how to answer the question.
"It's not not my leg, but it's just- i don't- everything is just..." He gave up, his head falling back and hitting the couch so that he was now staring up at the ceiling.
"Everything's different? You just need time to adjust Archer, it's been three fucking years!"
"So everyone keeps reminding me." The spy gritted his teeth.
"This isn't only hard for you Archer, this is a lot for-"
"I know! It's been a huge pain for everyone that I woke up! I'm so sorry that I'm making my coma about me!" He lifted his head back towards Pam.
"Don't say it that way. We're all happy that you're back Archer, it's just a really big thing-"
"Wow yeah, thank you for that observation Pam, you know what else is a big thing? Actually being the one in a coma for three years and waking up to find out that everything and everyone is different! Why should I have to adjust? Why can't everyone take a second to think about me?"
Pams first response was to roll her eyes at the egotistic comment, of course everyone was thinking about him, but he couldn't always be the god damn centre of attention. But... She hadn't actually heard anyone ask him about his coma other than Krieger, which was for scientific purposes. Archer was having to learn all about the new world around him but no one learned about the world he was living in for three years, had he dreamed? She wasn't even sure.
"Look dude I said we we're going to catch up soon..."
"I think we're gonna need a lot more than an evening of 'catching up' Pam." He brought his hands up to cover his face. "I just want things to be normal again." He mumbled softly.
"It's not going to be though." The statement caught Archer off guard, he was expecting some attempt at comfort, or a weak joke to clear the atmosphere. He peaked out from between his hands and Pam shrugged at him.
"It's true. You can't force things back the way they were, this isn't something you're going to be able to change no matter how bad you want to. But things aren't going to be normal for any of us now either, you're back, the team dynamic they have going now is gonna have to change. Things are different and all of you need to accept that and get your shit together. You need to start working with them instead of being passive aggressive, otherwise you guys don't have a snowballs chance in hell."
Archer stared at her, unable to mask the genuine surprise on his face,
"Well shit."
"Thanks. There's a reason why I'm in HR."
"Yeah." The man quickly looked away again, his jaw clenched and eyes squinting as he processed her words. Pam exhaled and placed a gentle hand on his knee.
"I know it's hard-"
"Phrasing boom!" Pam gave him an unimpressed look, rolling her eyes.
"Just try to make an effort, okay?" Archer suddenly felt like a kid being told off by his parent, his hands fidgeted awkwardly.
"Mm... Yeah." He grumbled, barely audibly.
Well, that was the best she'd be getting out of him. She patted his knee and then pushed herself upwards.
"Come on, let's turn this pity party into a... Normal party."
"Five more minutes." He whined. Pam kicked his bad leg, and the spy yelped in pain.
"Ow! Alright jesus!" She held out her hand and he grabbed onto it, pulling himself up before quickly stepping away and glaring at her, rubbing his leg. She picked up the cane from the couch and he snatched it from her, making his slow journey back towards the bar. Pam wanted to object and make the drinks herself but she knew it was no use.
The next pair of drinks were a golden colour, Archer handed Pam her glass from across the counter and then came round with his own. They sat on the couch together and cheered, their glasses meeting with a satisfying clink. The action seemed (to Pam anyway) as Archers way of asking 'Do you want to stay over?'. Pam happily accepted.