I woke up with a pounding headache and cotton in my mouth. A groan escaped as I forced my body into an upright position, my stomach quick to let me know that it didn't approve.

'What did I do last night?'

At the risk of upholding outdated stereotypes about sailors, I was no stranger to nights spent painting the town red. What I wasn't used to was facing physical consequences to those nights.

'Didn't I meet someone?'

Another groan slipped out, this one more heartfelt than the other. The last thing I felt up to facing was Higgins as she took exception to me having given the gate code to another young woman, especially as she'd only changed it two days back.

I wondered if I'd be able to find my new friend before Higgins did, staggering a little on my way towards the front door.

Which was standing open.

I blinked at it, noticing, but not really understanding, how dark it was outside. I was too busy trying to work out why it was open. I might have been drunk, but I couldn't remember ever being so far gone that I forgot to even shut an external door behind me.

'Maybe she opened it?'

I chose to ignore the fact that I was struggling to remember the name of the woman I had only met a few hours previously, focusing instead on the possibility that a stranger was roaming around the estate. Or what would happen if she ran into Higgins. Or how the dogs would react.

I hurried as much as my spinning head would let me, determined to find this poor woman- 'Joey,' my mind suddenly shouted at me- before she ran into British fire and sarcasm or sharp teeth designed to tear human flesh. With that thought topmost in my still muddled brain, it took me a second to realise the study was empty, coffee had been splashed on the floor, and Higgins' chair was laying on its back.

I moved through the room, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor. The urge to call out to Higgins was there, but I resisted. I wish I could say it was because I was wary, on guard, but really, I was just trying to nurse my headache a little. It's funny to think that I actually thought, for a second at least, that the mixture of hangover and confusion was the worst thing I had to deal with.

Then I walked into the kitchen and saw a mess of broken glass.

And blood pooling on the floor.

And two bodies sprawled on the tile.

…

Ambulances are noisy, did you know that? Obviously, when you're on the road and one comes screaming up behind you, there's a lot of noise. And that's the point. But did you know the inside of them is noisy? You can hear the siren, the two EMTs are almost constantly talking, the driver occasionally breaking off to call something over the radio, equipment beeping… if you're driving fast enough, you can even hear the engine.

I heard the engine the entire way to the hospital.

The ambulance got to the Nest just a minute or so ahead of the cops, and Higgins was already being lifted onto the gurney by the time the first police car had pulled in through the gates. She had lost a lot of blood, was still bleeding heavily, and I could see the EMTs were scared they wouldn't get to the hospital in time.

She was still holding on when we arrived, but only just. I barely had time to run in through the main doors before she was being whisked off to an operating theatre. And I was left to sit in the waiting room.

I hate hospital waiting rooms. I hate waiting in general, if I'm being honest. But hospital waiting rooms are a special sort of nightmare. Quiet, not because of a lack of people but because everyone is too scared to talk at a normal volume. Full of chairs but spaced out in such an odd pattern that groups have to either trade off between sitting and standing or they have to split into unnatural pairings that make everyone feel even worse. The clocks are always hung at strange angles to the chairs, so anyone looking has to crane their neck and stretch into painful positions to try to hide the fact that they're watching the clock.

And, through it all, hanging heavily over it all, is the fear. The fear that the next person who walks through those double doors might be coming to talk to you. Might be coming to tell you that your loved one hadn't made it. And every time the doors swing open, every pair of eyes lift and immediately skitter away, wanting news but terrified.

All I wanted was to know that Higgins was holding on. That she hadn't died because of my stupidity. That I hadn't killed one of my best friends.

...

"Might I remind you that it was your spectacular lack of good judgment that led to my being in this ridiculous situation in the first place?"

Yeah, she was definitely feeling just fine. I winced and failed to come up with any sort of a reply. I carefully ignored Rick and T.C as they smirked at me before moving closer to the hospital bed.

"We're just glad you're okay, no matter how ridiculous you think it is." Rick's face clearly showed his concern as he spoke and T.C nodded his agreement. Higgins smiled at them both.

"Thank you, both," she said, with far more warmth than she had shown me. "The doctor has assured me the damage was reasonably minor. I'll be home in a day or two." She glanced at me, a smirk tugging at her lips as she added, "I'm sure Zeus and Apollo will be happy to see me."

I felt my eyes wide and I'm pretty sure my gulp was nearly audible.

***

The thing is, she wasn't wrong. It was my fault. I thought the woman I picked up at that bar was in a rush to get back to my place because she couldn't wait to jump into bed with me. Turned out she just wanted me to enter the gate code before the drugs she slipped me kicked in. Then, once I was safely tucked up in an artful mussed bed, 'Joey', real name Samantha Clarita, went snooping around the main house.

It was her bad luck to run into Higgins. It was Higgins' bad luck that Samantha grabbed a knife that she had no idea how to use. According to the statement she gave Katsumoto, Higgins spent more time trying to stop Samantha from accidentally hurting herself with the blade than she did using any real self defence. Of course, she also said it was only because blood would be a pain to clean out of the Nepalese rugs.

Actually, I think she said it would be a sod.

Anyway, it ended with the knife sticking in Higgins' side and Samantha out cold with a concussion. So now the would-be thief is sitting in a jail cell, facing multiple charges, and Higgins is sitting in a hospital bed where she charms the nurses and doctors with her ridiculous accent before promptly ignoring every recommendation they make.

And I have the unenviable job of explaining to Robin why his major-domo was, once again, too badly injured to do her job. I used to say that any excuse to talk to Robin was a good one. Man, was I wrong about that. See, it turns out that Robin is pretty protective of Higgins. I still have no idea how they met or what she did for him, but I learnt the hard way that he would move heaven and earth for her.

"So, you see, it's not entirely my fault. It was more..." I finally stopped talking as he realised the man on the other end of the phone was laughing. "Robin?"

"Sorry, Thomas, but I've already been through with this Juliet. She assured me she's fine and even promised not to set Zeus and Apollo on you when she gets discharged, which, apparently, should be tomorrow."

There was a heavy silence for a while as I tried to figure out what to say next and Robin kindly waited for me to settle my thoughts.

"I kinda feel like everyone should be mad at me right now," I managed finally, struggling to express the guilt I was feeling. "If I hadn't been so stupid…" I trailed off as Robin started to speak over me.

"Do you know why I offered Juliet the position of majordomo? A position that entails guarding and protecting my most valuable pieces? A position she held long before I made you my security chief?" He didn't wait for me to try to formulate a glib reply. "Because I knew she was more than capable of taking care of both my estate and herself."

"Look, Robin…"

"No, Thomas, you look. What happened was unfortunate, yes. But at least this young lady wasn't able to do any lasting harm to anyone or anything. Would it be better if it hadn't happened? Of course! But it did happen. So, rather than dwelling on maybes and what ifs, you need to focus on the fact that Samantha is going to jail and that neither you or Juliet were seriously harmed."

I opened his mouth to reply, a self deprecating comment already on my lips, something about my rotten taste in women, before I let it fade unspoken. I knew that Robin wasn't going to let me keep wallowing in guilt. I actually huffed a little as a smile pulled on the corners of my mouth; I suddenly realised, not for the first time, just how lucky I was to be surrounded by people who cared for me.

Robin seemed to sense the shifting of my mood. "If you're really desperate to make it up to her, you could always tidy Juliet's study. I understand some furniture was scuffed?" His voice was light, a laugh clearly present beneath the words.

We spoke for a while longer until Robin, currently half the world away on a book tour, was called away for a reading by his increasingly frazzled sounding assistant. And I grabbed my keys and headed off to the hospital, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon going over the security upgrades for La Mariana with Higgins.

Who, for the record, is a terrible patient who would try to steal the car keys from me three times before the end of visiting hours.