Breaking News: A wave of concern has swept across the world tonight following the sudden collapse of internationally beloved actor Troy Armitage, who had just wrapped a lively interview with Jonathan Ross. Troy collapsed moments after greeting fans inside the BBC studios.
The actor, who appeared light-hearted during the show, suffered what multiple witnesses described as a "sudden and severe nosebleed" before losing consciousness.
Paramedics responded quickly, but the actor was unresponsive and remained unconscious when transported to a nearby hospital. Troy's parents were seen rushing to the hospital urgently, but chose not to comment on his condition.
Our prayers are with Troy, wishing him a swift recovery.
Jonathan Ross addressed the camera: "By now, you all must have seen the news and know what happened. Yesterday, I had the privilege of interviewing this super-talented young man we all know as Troy Armitage. Troy is a great friend and an amazing human being. We had a great conversation, and everything seemed to be going well. We had wrapped up the episode when it happened. I don't know why it happened or what the reason is, but I'm praying that he regains consciousness soon. Until then, we've decided not to air the interview."
SereneDreamer: Wtf is going on! What happened to Troy?
FireStarter12: He fainted, from what I can gather.
LunaBliss: But he seemed so fit and healthy! How come he just fainted all of a sudden?
PixelWarrior77: Don't believe what you see on a screen. These celebs take a lot of pills to maintain that image and keep themselves going. Don't forget all the drugs they take. I used to think Troy wasn't like that, but now I'm not so sure…
DarkMatter69: I'm still pretty sure he's not like that. That man doesn't even drink, let alone do drugs. Don't spread malicious lies, @PixelWarrior77.
NovaKnight: If it's true that he's not an addict, then I think he has a major illness. You don't just faint without reason after a nosebleed. Of course, it's unlikely that we'll ever know the truth—this is Troy's health, after all. Just keep praying for him.
TinFoilHatExpert: Is it possible that he may have been poisoned? I read in a book about a type of poison that causes severe bleeding from a person's nose and ears. Given how rich and famous he is, I won't be surprised if he has some enemies... for example, the creators of South Park.
SereneDreamer: I don't like them either, but it's unfair to drag them into this mess. As for him getting poisoned... The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.
TinFoilHatExpert: Of course it does! Most of my theories are true.
FireStarter12: Weren't you the one who speculated that Troy left Rihanna because she forced him into a sex cult?
TinFoilHatExpert: I'm correct about this one. As for the sex cult thingie, it could have happened. We'll just never know.
LunaBliss: Forget all your conspiracy theories and just pray that he's okay, and it's nothing major that caused him to faint.
(Break)
"Please, just one photo," Dave pleaded with the security guard posted at the gate. "I'll be in and out before you know it. Please."
The guard gave him a deadpan stare before announcing, "Get the hell away from here before I punch your nose in."
Dave stepped back hastily, melting into the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lingering outside the hospital gates. Ever since news of Troy's health scare broke, everyone wanted a photo.
Unconfirmed sources had claimed he was finally awake, but no one knew for sure.
Over the past few days, Dave had photographed countless people arriving to see Troy—his parents, his brother, Emma Watson, Jamie Bell, Alan Rickman, Gary Oldman, and several more of his [Harry Potter] castmates. Taylor Swift had flown across the Atlantic to visit him, and so had Ryan Gosling and Scarlett Johansson.
It was strange to see how many people were trying to curry favor with him in this hour of crisis. Dave didn't believe for a second that it was genuine concern. Yet, he couldn't do anything about it but wait for an official confirmation from Troy's family or spokesperson.
(Break)
I opened my eyes slowly after what felt like a long time. The lights were too bright, but I fought through it, blinking several times in quick succession until I could make out the sterile environment around me. It didn't take a genius to guess I was in a hospital—the white walls, ceiling, and bedsheets gave it away. Not to mention the heavy stench of antiseptic in the air, or the IV drip connected to my arm.
Every table around me was covered with flowers, bouquets, and get-well-soon cards that my well-wishers must have brought.
It was my first time ever being admitted in either of my lives. Well, technically, I was brought to a hospital after that car crash in my first one, but I died within hours—so that didn't count.
It wasn't a sudden realization of shock. I'd always known this was my second life, but now, I was finally at peace with my thoughts. The flashes I'd been getting all my life—of an alternate future—were more than a little jarring, and I'd always felt like a piece of me was missing. Finally, I felt complete.
So many things about my life made sense now, like the fact that I was born in a poor neighborhood, yet my accent was posh. Or why I knew so much about movies. Or why I was so adamant about keeping my birth name this time around. Or how I just instinctively knew something was wrong when Carla told me to stay in her car all those years ago.
I hadn't told anyone, but I remembered that day vividly. She stood near the edge of the bridge, behind the railing. No one would have suspected she was about to jump, but I had a feeling. So I shouted from the window—about food, of all things. My heart had been pounding in my chest until she came back and acted as if nothing had happened.
All this time, I thought I was overthinking things, that it had been a hallucination. Not a future memory.
But now I know the truth.
I'd idealized my biological parents greatly in my first life. Till the day I died, I firmly believed they could do no wrong. When you have assholes like Richard and Patricia for comparison, anyone else would look like a saint.
It feels like all those assumptions were busted in one go with a sledgehammer.
What surprised me most was the fact that I only regained my full memories after seeing my biological mother face to face.
Why though? If she held the key all along, why didn't I regain my memories right when I was born? Or when things changed in this reality and Carla didn't die as she originally did? Or when I last met her in her apartment?
If my life were a story, this would probably be the first chapter of it. That's how all those reincarnation web novels started, didn't they? I smiled bitterly at the thought.
"You're awake," a woman in a doctor's garb said matter-of-factly, standing at the foot of my bed.
I turned to her, startled by her sudden appearance.
"I'm sorry, Troy," she apologized immediately. "I wasn't expecting you to be up yet. That's why I didn't announce myself."
"How…" My voice was hoarse from disuse. "How long?"
The beautiful woman, who seemed young for a doctor, walked over to the side table and filled a cup of water without me needing to ask. It reminded me of a special scene I had shot in my past life…
I quickly quashed that thought and nodded in thanks at the woman as I took small sips from the glass she had handed me.
"You were brought here three days ago," she replied. "Do you remember what happened to you?"
I nodded. "I had an intense headache that day, but I had to film a talk show, so I powered through it. I met some fans afterward, just to say hello, when the headache intensified and… that's all I remember."
I lied about the origin of the headache because I knew no doctor would believe the truth, even if I were inclined to share it. I had decided long ago never to tell anyone about my future knowledge, and now, that conviction was doubly firm. I just wanted this whole thing to be over so I could go home.
"Where are my parents?" I asked.
"They just left an hour ago," she said with a grimace. "They've been here almost the entire time you were unconscious. Let me make a call—"
"Don't," I interrupted, glancing at the digital clock behind her, which read 9:00 PM. "Call them in the morning. Let them rest for now."
She hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay."
"What exactly happened to me?" I already knew, but it seemed like the logical question to ask after waking up from three days of unconsciousness.
Her face lit up at that. "It was one of the most fascinating cases I've seen to date. Your CT scan showed unusual neural activity patterns—hyperactivation of memory centers, as if you'd suddenly obtained years' worth of memories all at once. There was also abnormal synaptic density, suggesting your brain was building new neural connections."
The sweat on my brow increased tenfold at the realization. Would I be caught—all because of a CT scan?
"What was the fascinating part about that?" I asked slowly.
"The fascinating part is that it was inconsistent with other areas of your brain. If you had suddenly received some extra set of memories, your temporal lobe would show disruption, and you'd exhibit signs of neurological trauma, at the very least. But there was nothing."
She hesitated before continuing. "Usually we don't do it, but because of the inconsistent results, we did an MRI of your brain as well. This morning. And it shows your brain is completely normal now. My seniors concluded that the previous CT scan must have been faulty, but I think…"
"What?" I prompted when she fell silent for a few moments.
She shook her head. "I read too much science fiction. Forget it. The panel of senior doctors who've studied your case carefully concluded that you were just stressed. You had a nosebleed, which caused you to lose too much blood at once, leading to unconsciousness. They suspected you'd wake up by tomorrow at the latest—and you did. You'll be right as rain after a few days of rest, so there's no need to worry."
She stepped back from me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be unloading all this on you right now. You need to rest, and I need to call my senior to check on you."
She turned to leave, but before she could reach the door, I asked, "How bad is it outside? With the media and all?"
She grimaced and shook her head. "It's a madhouse. All sorts of conspiracy theories are going around. Some think you were poisoned, while some think…"
She didn't finish her thought because just then, an older man walked into the room.
"You're awake, Troy!"
The nice lady doctor exited the room, and I was left to tolerate the man, who was more or less kissing my ass.
(Break)
"Take it slow, okay?" Mum said for what felt like the umpteenth time.
"I'm fine, Mum," I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I casually walked over to the couch and took a seat. While I wouldn't say it out loud, I still felt a little weak. Three days of bed rest can do that to you.
I wanted to go back to my own place, but Dad insisted I come here instead, at least for a few days.
Mum and Dad sat opposite me, while Evan took the seat beside me.
"I think you should take a year off," Mum began. "You've been doing a lot lately. This would help ease all the pressure and stress you've taken on."
I saw this coming the day I woke up. It would be nigh impossible to convince my parents that this wasn't due to stress.
I decided to try anyway. "I'm not stressed. Those doctors don't know jackshit about what they're saying. Most of their conclusions are hit-and-trial guesses."
My parents exchanged a look, but they didn't contradict me, which was strange. I looked at Evan to confirm what I was seeing, and he asked the question they were clearly hesitant to bring up.
"Was it because you met your bio mum?"
"Evan!" Mum hissed. "We agreed not to talk about it."
"He's not a baby," Evan pointed out. "He doesn't have amnesia either that he'd forget about her."
"But—"
"I don't know," I cut them off before they could argue further. "Like I told you in the hospital, I had a sudden spike in my headache."
Then I hesitated before sharing the next part. "What I didn't tell you there was that Carla showed me a photo of her daughter. My sister."
From their lack of surprise, I could tell they already knew.
"We found out the same day you were hospitalized," Dad said. "She told us everything that happened between you two. And then…" He looked at Mum.
"I asked her to leave," Mum said defiantly. "I'm so sorry, son, for asking you to meet her. You were right all along, you don't ever have to see her again."
I shook my head. "I have to now. I have a sister. Carla is one thing to ignore, but not…" I hesitated. "I don't even know her name."
"It's Helen," Mum said. "Helen Blackwood."
"Helen," I repeated, tasting the name. "Like Helen of Troy? I like the name."
Evan chuckled beside me and poked my side. "Of course you would, you narcissist."
I shoved him back playfully before turning to my parents. "I don't know why I fainted, but it wasn't because of stress. Heck, I'd actually had a great—"
I stopped myself before I blurted out the details of my night with Anna just before the incident. She'd sent me dozens of worried texts after landing in LA.
"Anyway," I shifted gears. "What I'm trying to say is that I will see Helen, so it's inevitable that I'll see Carla again too. I won't faint this time."
Of course I wouldn't. The headache that used to flare up whenever her name was mentioned was gone now. It had probably been my memories trying to resurface all along.
I could see that Mum wanted to argue, but Dad had a tight grip on her hand, and thankfully, she restrained herself. They must've had quite a few discussions while I was in the hospital.
"By the way, what happened with [The Night Of]?" I asked curiously. "The premiere was scheduled for when I was unconscious, wasn't it? Please tell me they didn't postpone it."
I'd kill someone if they did. Postponing it would mean even more promotions. Since I'd produced the show, I had a personal stake in its success and couldn't just ignore it.
"Of course they didn't," Dad grumbled. "Those money-hungry assholes wouldn't dream of postponing—especially when they got so much free publicity. Every media house was talking about how you were promoting your new show when you collapsed. Guess what ratings we got for the pilot?"
"Eight million?" I guessed.
At his smile, I upped the number. "Ten?"
"Twelve million in the U.S.," Dad replied. "And thirteen in the U.K. These numbers won't necessarily hold through the season—some drop-off is expected—but it's a fantastic start. The reviews are through the roof. They loved your acting, and especially the direction and the story. I think congratulations are in order for one of the most successful miniseries of the year."
My eyes widened. Those numbers were unheard of for any debut show on HBO or BBC. If I remembered correctly, even [Game of Thrones] only started hitting those numbers around its seventh or eighth season—and that was a global phenomenon. Dad was right: it was probably the media hype that helped blow it up.
"Don't think too much about the numbers," Mum chided me gently. "Take care of yourself first."
"Before that, we need to decide what statement to release to the media," Dad mused.
"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'll handle it. I'll need your help, Evan."
"Whatever you need, bro," he promised.
He'd just need to edit a video for me. It was better to release a response directly on YouTube. Written statements were the most boring thing ever. People needed to see that I was okay—or they'd start speculating that something was being covered up.
"I'll also need to write to all those people who came to visit me while I was unconscious," I added.
And of course, there was my sweet little sister, Helen, whom I hadn't even met yet. I was excited about that. I finally had a younger sibling—something I'd always wanted.
_________________________
AN: Just in case it's not clear to anyone, the last chapter was Troy's first life. When he died in a car crash, he was sent back to his younger body. He didn't take over someone else's body, but his own. I thought it would be clear with the last chapter, but reading user comments made me realize that it wasn't as clear. Hopefully, this chapter and this note cleared it up. If you still have doubts about this chapter or the last, leave your questions in the comments.
Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver