Twenty One

Archer's apartment smells like it was painted with alcohol. The stench is so strong that Maddy's eyes water as she walks in. She clears her throat and blinks rapidly. Archer growls out a throaty laugh behind her as he closes and locks the door. Maddy stands in her place and Archer pushes past her to walk into the bedroom through the small living room.

"Are you going to lock your knees and sleep in the hallway like a horse?" He calls from the bedroom.

Maddy shakes her head and follows in his footsteps slowly. In front of her, she hears another door open followed by a click. A moment passes before the dim glow from the bathroom manages barely illuminate her path. She enters the bedroom and leans against the doorframe as she looks around. There's a small television on an upside-down milk crate in one corner with a mini fridge next to it and a chair with clothes hanging off it in another. Archer's 'bed' is a mattress with a single pillow and a handful of blankets and a towel strewn over it.

"Make yourself comfortable huh," Archer says in a low voice. Maddy hears a glass bottle being put down on porcelain before the click of a bottle cap echoes from the sink. "I might even telephone for some room service for you, Miss Bowen."

Maddy shakes her head again, not appreciating the sarcasm. She folds her arms tight across her chest and is quickly reminded of how tender her biceps still are. Brushing over them with the tips of her fingers, she can feel they are swollen and probably bruised. She stands over Archer's bed. She can't say that she's surprised over the state of his home — if she can even call it that — but something about the space feels wrong and Maddy refuses to believe that Archer would live in such plight.

She hears him hiss and groan in the bathroom as something splashes into the sink. He's breathing through his teeth when she turns her attention to the bathroom door. A tall bottle of Russian vodka stands pure and clear on the side of Archer's sink and Maddy assumes he must be using the drink in place of rubbing alcohol on whatever cut he gave himself earlier. Maddy doesn't even have a chance to stop herself before her feet start moving towards the bathroom. She leans against the doorframe and watches him in the mirror.

Archer stops what he's doing when he feels Maddy's presence behind him and raises his eyes to meet hers in the reflection. His face is pale and he has big beads of sweat hanging from his forehead and temples. He licks his lips and grins like the devil on a hot day.

"Thirsty, Miss Bowen?" He grabs the bottle of vodka by the neck and spins around as he takes a deep swig.

Between Archer's bloody fist and the unnatural grin on his face, Maddy's stomach turns. She glances into the dirty, bloody sink behind him for only a moment before she fixes her eyes on his face. His eyebrows raise expectantly as he thrusts the bottle towards her.

"Don't be scared, Maddy," he growls.

She shakes her head sternly. "I don't want any of that poison."

"It's only vodka, Miss Bowen!"

"I said I don't want any," she answers firmly.

Archer goes to raise the bottle to his mouth, but Maddy seizes it from his hands and holds it down by her waist. Archer looks at her with a mixture of drunken confusion and anger. His eyes soften for a moment before he lunges forward for the bottle. Maddy is quick to step back and hold the bottle behind her and out of Archer's reach.

"Maddy," he says in a low grumble of a voice. "I will snap you like a branch if you don't give me that fucking bottle back."

Maddy shakes her head. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight."

"I have not!" He yells emphatically.

He throws himself forward and grabs the front of Maddy's shirt before she can take another step back. He pulls her in aggressively so that he can tear the bottle from her grip. Maddy gasps and squeezes her eyes shut, half expecting a punch or a slap to the face. Archer, still holding her shirt in his tight fist, drinks the rest of the vodka in the bottle before shattering the bottle against the doorframe near Maddy to prove a point. The glass explodes everywhere and the shattered neck of the bottle slices a new gash into Archer's palm. In his rage, though, he doesn't feel the cut.

"You're in my fucking house now," he slurs angrily.

"Archer!" Maddy yelps.

"Do you understand me?"

"Archer!" She opens her eyes and looks at him as she wraps her hands around the hand he's holding her shirt with. "Stop yelling at me, Archer!"

He shakes Maddy's hands from his own as though her palms are made of fire. He gives her chest a small shove before stumbling back against the sink. His bloody hand slips across the porcelain and he leans lopsidedly on the pedestal. He groans when he realizes his palm is bleeding. He wipes it down the front of his shirt and Maddy cringes.

"Let me clean you up," she says quickly. She steps forward cautiously, glass popping and breaking under her shoes, and takes his wrist. "You're going to get this infected."

"I don't fucking care," he grumbles.

"Archer, please," she sounds out of breath, panicked. "Let me clean up your hand."

She reaches behind him to turn the tap of the sink, but no water comes from the tap. She twists the other tap and listens to the pipes tremble and groan in the walls. Archer laughs pathetically. He loses his balance and falls to the floor against the side of the bathtub. He reaches into the dirty tub and pulls an empty bottle of vodka out. He drops his head back and holds the bottle above his mouth half-expecting a cool flow of alcohol to fall between his lips. Maddy watches him sadly. Her heart aches for him. He throws the empty bottle back to its resting place before closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose.

"...s'fucking hot in here, huh?"

Maddy nods. "Yes it is, Archer."

"Fucking hot," he shakes his head.

He opens his eyes and Maddy is alarmed at how bloodshot they are. She kneels down in front of Archer as he closes his eyes again. He turns his head away from her. Maddy extends her hands to his cheeks. He flinches when he feels her touch initially but he leans into her palm after a moment.

"I've got a first aid kit in my bag," she says to him in a low voice. "I'm going to clean your hand up."

Maddy stands and leaves the bathroom to get her first aid kit from her bag. She's sweating all over from the heat and from what just happened between her and Archer, but she composes herself quickly. She knows that Archer is drunker than he probably has ever been and she puts his exaggerated anger down to the alcohol. She returns to the bathroom a few minutes later. Archer is still leaning against the tub with his hand bleeding profusely on his lap. There's blood everywhere.

"I'm going to disinfect your hand, Archer," Maddy informs him as she gets back down on her knees in front of him.

When she looks at his face, she sees the sweat dripping down from his forehead. His cheeks are red and his eyes are closed and he's breathing as though he just ran a mile.

"This fucking heat, huh," he groans. He tugs at the collar of his shirt weakly as he shifts in his spot.

"I'll take your shirt off for you," she says carefully.

She begins undoing each button individually, but Archer swats her hand away and pulls it open. Several buttons pop off his shirt and bounce around the dirty floor. Maddy moves closer to push his shirt back off his shoulders, but even when it's off, Archer feels little relief. His face twists into a look of pure discomfort and he shakes his head dully.

"Maddy," he whines.

"I know, Archer" she sighs sympathetically.

She leaves the bathroom again to go back to her bag. She pulls her phone out and telephones the UNICEF camp she was at a couple days prior for a Jeep to come pick them up. She's afraid that Archer has alcohol poisoning, and without water in the hot, muggy apartment, his condition could worsen and he would become devastatingly ill. She's relieved to hear that a car would be there within the next hour to get them. She returns back to the bathroom just in time to hold Archer's head above the toilet for him to throw up.