A/N: There will be part three obviously :D The first one was "Drunk, Not in Love", this one is "Not Drunk, Not in Love", guess what the third one will be! :D

Everything is bloody fuzzy, and you can't concentrate. It feels like your mind is scratching at some hard surface, but you can't seem to actually grasp what is happening… It is like you are trying to get a better look of the landscape rushing by a car window, your nose pressed to it… And then you realize your nose is actually uncomfortably squished. You decide to rub it, and you suddenly can't move your arm. You jerk it again and hear a strict voice, "Try not to move, Mister Thorington. You have sustained rather serious injuries." Right, that explains the whiteness around, you are in a hospital.

You turn your head and try to focus on what you see. The middle age bloke in a white coat is probably a doctor, there is a woman with short hair too. You blink several times. You can't remember what happened.

"What?..." Your voice doesn't comply, you sound very raspy. "You were hit by an inexperienced snowboarder, he was on a wrong track." Right… There was a kid, bright red jacket… "You have a broken leg, and a broken arm, bruises on your face..." Oh, that explains the funny feeling in your nose, there is plaster on its bridge. "There is a mild concussion, but it really could have been much worse. You are a lucky man, Mr. Thorington." Somehow you don't feel like one at the moment. "We contacted your sister, is there anyone else we need to inform of your accident?" "No," you shake your head, and everything swims. "You should get some sleep, Mr. Thorington, we gave you something for the pain. You might feel a bit disoriented." He calls this a bit disoriented? You momentarily think of skank weed in uni. Everything has that same weird tinge of green to it right now…

You wake up presumingly the next day. They give you another IV, and the overall fuzziness prevails. Apparently, the leg has been damaged severely, but you honestly think you would take pain over this greenish mist that is floating before your eyes.

She is a vision in blue, a bunch of white carnations in her hands. The smile is shy, and her cheeks are burning. Her eyes are of that weird brownish greenish colour you remember from the time when her head was lying on your shoulder, her small hand pressed to your collar bones. You smile. Well, this hallucination is much better that the weird shapes and swirls you have been enjoying for the past half an hour.

"Hey," the voice is as nice as you remember it. She puts the flowers in a vase on a table and is standing in front of your bed. You try to focus, little fidgety movements of her slender fingers utterly distracting. "I am Wren, I don't know if you remember me..." Funny, your imagination gave her an exotic name. "You are the drunk girl..." Oh that didn't come out nice, even a hallucination won't like this…

She bites her bottom lip. "Yes, it is me. I just thought that you probably don't have anyone to visit you… I feel so stupid..." She is chewing on her bottom lips and starts backtracking to the door, and you stretch your hand to her. "Please, don't go..." She tentatively takes your hand, and her fingers are warm and strong." "Sorry, they gave me these meds… I can't think straight…" She chuckles. It is throaty, and if anything in your body could move, something would definitely stir. "Well, then we are even." The corners of her lips are turned up. You remember her small hot mouth on your neck…

You pull her hand and make her sit on the edge of your bed. "You didn't call me..." You sound grouchy. You should be nicer to her, maybe she will stay for longer, you like her here. Somehow it feels less white here when you can look at her. The hair is astonishing, bouncy curls sticking out, and you let go of her hand for a moment. You press your palm into the halo and then let go. The orange springs predictably bounce back into their initialy shape. She giggles.

"You are completely narked, aren't you?" She picks up your hand herself, and you think that she is a very kind hallucination. When you are out of here, you will call the real her. Maybe she is at least a bit that wonderful. The thumbs of both her hands are rubbing your knuckles.

"The doctors told me you got hurt so much because you chose to fall off the edge of the slope instead of hitting other people..." You do not remember it, but since it makes her smile, you nod. She has a very sexy mouth, but you haven't brushed your teeth for two days. Maybe you can convince her to kiss your cheek. Another fuzzy thought enters your brain.

"Am I scratchy?" "What?" "Do I have a beard?" She lifts her brows. It looks so cute that you pull your hand out and touch the tip of her nose with your finger. She suddenly shifts and presses her lips to it. "You are definitely a hallucination..." You might be pronouncing about a half of letters in this word wrong.

"And you are bladdered," she is smiling, "And yes, you have a very nice beard. I wonder if you will remember this tomorrow..." "I will remember you… I remember how you pushed your hand down my collar… I have a fetish, you know?" Why are you telling her this? Even hallucinations don't discuss such thing on their first visit.

But she moves closer, "Oh really? What kind of fetish?" You put your palm on your collar bones. "It' sensitive here, and the throat… Makes me randy..." She tentatively stretches her hand but then jerks it back. You might be slightly whining in disappointment. She giggles again. "I am not going to sexually assault you while you are half conscious in a hospital bed..." "I don't mind."

Really, you don't. You remember her little fingers clawing at your chest, while she was sucking at your throat. You still can't believe the amount of self-control you demonstrated that night. "Why didn't you call me?.." You sound whiny, "I thought you liked me… You said something about James Bond..."

She chuckles. "I said 007 BA 7, it is the hex code for cerulean colour. Your eye colour. I am a graphic designer…" "Oh," you can imagine that you look pathetically bummed, "so I do not remind you of Roger Moore?" You cock one brow. She giggles again, and then you feel her fingers lightly brush your temple. "Timothy Dalton maybe?.. He botched up the films, but I don't like blonds." You have to concentrate really hard to remember your haircolour. Good, more Pierce Brosnan than Daniel Craig.

"I was going to call you, but I chickened out," she is speaking softly, her fingers still brushing your hair. "And then Thea told me she heard of your accident." "Is Thea the other one? The busty one..." The hallucination Wren bites her lip again. "Yeah, the cute brunette." You are staring at her. Is she serious?

"You are very hot." She jerks her hand away from your temple. "Sorry, usually my hands are cold, sorry..." "I mean sex…" You try to shake your thoughts back in place, they are clanking in your head, "I mean sexy..." The slanted eyes are giant. You run the finger down the narrow elegant bridge of her nose. "I want to kiss your freckles..."

You screw your eyes. The IV is almost done, meaning you have just a few minutes before you are out. You turn back to her. She is sitting with her mouth slightly open, probably still digesting your last phrase. Oops, might have been a bit straightforward… Is it the expression? Or is it something about straight ahead? Everything is increasingly blurred, and you are grasping for the remnants of consciousness. "Wren..."

She picks up your hand again. God, it feels nice, she feels nice… "Will you come back? I mean I know hallucinations can't choose themselves… But can you try to come back tomorrow? " She lets go of your hand and cups your face.

Through the strange cloud of the meds you feel her little fingers gently stroke your face and then slightly scratch the beard. Maybe you have a new fetish now. That is so bloody brilliant! You close your eyes from the sheer bliss and then sharply make them open in panic. You are not ready to sleep yet.

She presses her lips to your cheek and murmurs into your ear, "I'll come tomorrow. Get some sleep." Your lids are heavy, and you let your eyes close. You feel a couple more brushes of her gentle fingers on your face, and it is dark.