So this was originally meant as a response to a drabble challenge for the Heart of Camelot, but I went a little overboard (specifically, 99 words overboard), so it's a tiny little one-shot instead. I may continue it, but it's doubtful. Also, Claire is a shout out to one of my favorite OCs of all time. She is wonderful, and she belongs to MoonFox. Love you girl!
Prompt: 'Resurrection':Choose any character who has lost their life on the show and bring them back from the dead.
The first thing he saw was blue. It was the first thing he had been seeing for a while, actually—hospital walls that encompassed his vision and the steady beep of a monitor dragging his sorry ass back to the living. The small nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he should be grateful for a sister who cared enough about him to drag him to the doc after a relapse, but all he could see clearly in his mind's eye was her terrified face when she found him passed out in his own vomit, barely twitching on the living room floor. He couldn't remember if it had been broken bottles or empty needles surrounding him, just that he hated seeing Claire like that and it was all his fault. He felt the incident join all the others, buried into a festering pool of self-hate and new meds that was his life. He could still remember the days when they used to laugh, when he would pull her hair and she would yell at him for calling her 'Claire', the hated nickname, long before she started dating that dick of a rich boy and he got hooked on sin.
He tried to move, and his head spun.
Shit.
Distantly, Gwaine heard a voice calling out in alarm, but his fuzzy brain couldn't process it, and he fell into darkness.
It was a full week before his release. A grand record for time spent soaked in blue and for number of tears from Claire. He left the hospital free, ready to walk the streets of London a new man, liberated of alcohol and drugs, and he intended to keep it that way, for his sister and for himself.
Two days later, a blond haired beauty caught his eye. Two hours after that, a browned-capped luxury slid down his throat while his new companion straddled him, blue eyes burning with lust. A night and a few drinks later, it was a handful of pills sliding down his throat, as he tried to erase the sick feeling in his chest. He didn't even hear the sirens coming.
Blue. Familiar, but foreign, odd. Gwaine distantly realized that the blue was eyes, eyes widened in worry and shock. He remembered the blond from before, and tried to move away, then stopped, feeling his chest burn and hearing the monitors beep. Confused, he attempted to focus on a blur, and found the face of a man, a doctor, with shaggy black hair and striking blue eyes. His hands were shaking.
"Doctor Morgan?" The man moved away towards a nurse standing at the door. Gwaine realized with a jolt of guilt that his sister was with her.
It was many hours later, after the sobbing and screaming and new meds, that Gwaine finally remembered what was so odd. At the very center of the doctor's eyes, quickly fading back into blue, was a flash of gold.
Gwaine slept.
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