Surrender; Destiny's Waiting
-Merlin fanfiction
by Steamcraft
The moon let slip another mere mortal, contorting away the beast that lie in waiting. His howl ended as a yell, a cry in the open sky, that trailed off in a conscious remembrance he was alone. With the moon as his launch pad, he dived head first toward the pushing tides.
One caught Merlin's wrist, a fluke. Then, as he continued to fall, Merlin fell, twisting and becoming entangled in a hammock of strings. Long lines of cords of all sorts: yarn, thread, wire, silk, hair. All of them red, or of some variation. Crimson, pink, maroon, bright neon red... Merlin reached for one of these wrapping around his body but it snaked from his fingers, unwinding and leaving. He went for another, a sharp wire, and cut his hand as it zipped out of his grasp. He was lucky it didn't slice through him.
He kept falling, slowly, until he tried all of the lines touching him. They all left, eventually, just an outsider's view of what was around him, until Merlin finally had enough, didn't want to see the waves close over his head, and called out, reached out with his blood-wet hand for something to hold on to - something to catch him and give him a little faith in this bleak world.
A single white ribbon caught between his fingers, and Merlin swung his other hand around to keep a firm grip on his line. It wasn't going anywhere, and warmed at his touch if anything. His blood was seeping into the stark-white innocence of the ribbon, tainting it a bright, true red. Not dark, how Merlin was expecting. He hung there a moment in silent observation, before a gentle tug came from the ribbon. He held on fast, not letting a chance for this line to escape from him.
The tug came again, and it felt more coaxing than struggling. The redness began to spread further in one direction, away from the web of red lines not meant for him. A resigned sigh, and Merlin swung his body to follow the red that carried on like a guide.
There was nothing particularly unique about the ribbon. It was made from a fake silk material that reminded Merlin of the dress his mother wore sometimes; he liked it a lot, as it reminded him of the times his father took his mother out for dinner in memories that were more like childhood dreams than anything nostalgic.
A few times Merlin passed a thready spot, in which he would look at the ribbon hesitantly, questioning its strength, before steeling himself and continuing on with a new air of determination. Some scorches, a few rips in the fabric, but the ribbon continued to hold Merlin through.
The tugging became frequent, an encouragement. Excitement. Once or twice, Merlin tugged back in answer, and the redness spread onwards in a rush, giddy, and Merlin could see up ahead the destination, a ledge. Land. After a little more time, he reached the end, reached out to grab the cliff, and a strong hand reached out to meet his and held on tight.
Merlin, shocked, looked up.
/ - / - / - / *** / - / - / - /
He opened his eyes, and all at once really wished he hadn't. Merlin thought he might have passed out again from the sensory overload, but it was too bright to escape to any sort of welcoming darkness. He was very aware of the people in room, one voice belonging to his mother (it was very hard to ignore the chattering noises around, not even in the same room, crike did everyone suddenly develop labored breathing, or that normal intakes of air at a max volume of an infinity decibels?), aware of his stale stench, and his mother's, and aware that he wouldn't be able to speak with a tongue that felt swollen and leathery. Merlin's head flared in pain when he shifted. Touch was no better; everything itched or was too heavy.
Merlin collapsed against the pillows with a pitiful noise he barely managed to make.
"Merlin? Baby?" His mother's voice was strident and like a blare horn. He felt her touch his arm, and he flinched away.
"'ease..." Merlin whimpered.
Another hand touched him, fingers feeling his pulse while something cold pressed against his temple. Merlin cried out when a blood pressure cuff began to tighten around his arm, the nerves so sensitive that his limb began jerking. The hand held it down, and he curled his fingers tightly to prevent wanting to move.
"Please hold still," a nurse said. "Your doctor will be here in just a moment."
"It might be best for us to wait outside, Hunith." That was Kilhan, who spoke in quieter tones than the rest of them, but it was still too loud. "Waking up is pure torture the first time, and until the Full Moon comes again he'll be very sensitive to practically everything. He'll be here still, come on."
Merlin could hear her hesitate, sense her near the foot of the hospital bed. "Can we come back in later?" she asked the nurse aid, her voice wobbly. Anything, Merlin wanted to say, just get out of here soon.
"There shouldn't be a problem with it."
"Do you need the light to work?" Kilhan asked as he paused at the door.
"Go ahead." And with an echoing click that made Merlin think of bones snapping, the light became just bearable enough to squint his eyes open. The blinds that screened the windows might not have even been there, Merlin judged and compared the differences of Before and After; the streetlamp made his mother's face almost too bright to look at, but he tried for a quick smile at her concern. It felt more like a snarl.
Kilhan shut the door almost silently, and Merlin let out a sigh of relief he hadn't realised he was holding; his mother's body spray, which was always a familiar and comforting scent, drove him mad. It was just too much, overwhelming, he realised with her outside the room. Her breathing was distressing, and Kilhan's voice – a whispery baritone, made Merlin's teeth clench.
The nurse was moving as quietly as she could while she finished taking his blood pressure and left the room. When Kilhan and Hunith didn't enter again, Merlin relaxed further. No distraction of something else flailing around on his senses. He closed his eyes against the streetlight, tried to tune out the few hospital-at-night noises and swallowed thickly.
Merlin's head thrummed, pulsed a migraine, but most of all he ached. Nothing had ever hurt like this, skin feeling too tight, head going to explode from the hyper-sensitivity, and bones hurting down to the core. Merlin scrunched his eyes tightly and whimpered as he tried to let go of sensation, try to breathe evenly.
Belatedly, he realised his shoulder was on fire, itched, and flared with pain with each shift of fabric. He slowly lifted his arm to press against it and an unexpected gasp was wrenched out of him from the hurt.
- teeth clamped hard, the burn of saliva, tighter on his shoulder –
Changed, Merlin thought idly, gripping his wrapped shoulder. He let that sink in for a moment, then gripped tighter enough to make him sob.
Damn wolf, damn that phone call, damn this mess. Merlin took a long moment to move into a sitting position, and a roiling rage made his stomach hurt. He was angry, suddenly so angry and hurt and feeling so overcome with hatred that when he opened his eyes, he willed it to be dark and it was.
Merlin blinked in surprise, staring at the darkened window. The lamppost outside blew out in a bursting shower of sparks. A police car came moments later, siren silent, lights flashing. He didn't do that. He couldn't have done that. The machine copying his heart rate sped slightly.
The door opened, making Merlin switch his attention to the large man coming in. He wore a lab coat, and flashed him a smile. "Hello, I'm Dr. Perce Conway, your lycanologist. I'll keep the light off for comfort sake." He spoke quieter than Kilhan, barely even whispering. His scent was that of a werewolf, a natural wild aura. It wasn't anything like smelling an odor, but Merlin didn't have anything to hold it against.
When Merlin didn't so much as nod, the doctor asked with concern, "You can relax if you need to. Are you feeling alright?"
"What do you think," Merlin snapped. Perce paused slightly, looking at him, before sitting himself in a chair.
"Merlin, I understand that you are mad—"
"I didn't want this, that's for sure."
"Not everyone does, but its happened and there's no way to go back," Perce stated firmly, calmly. Merlin bit his lip painfully, glaring at the blankets in his lap. He won't ever be human again, and it's a fact that he will have to get over, he knew, but it felt so wrong. "Now, Merlin… Are you aware of the date?"
"No," he said sourly.
"Its February, the twenty-third."
Merlin looked at him, shocked. "I've been out of it for nearly six months?" Not only was he waking in a new year, but his birthday was last month. He was twenty-five now. The doctor nodded.
"Apparently you've had a nasty Reaction," he explained. "The more abilities you will be having as a werewolf, the longer your body needs to rest. I was informed that you are part of a Destiny by your family's Seer, but that will be the start of them. Have you felt any numbness, or have any strange or just odd thoughts you wouldn't call your own?"
"I feel like I've been hit by a fucking comet," he groused. "Lights are too bright, sounds too loud, my tongue is the strangest thing I've ever had in my mouth, and there's too much starch in the hospital gowns. Everything's abnormal right now, Dr. Conway."
A small smile lifted Perce's mouth. "That's to be expected until your first Moon, but we'll supply you with some available herbs until your new therapist makes adjustments."
Merlin shook his head carefully to not bother his shoulder. He had his grandfather who made the tinctures. No need for prescribed medicines, or a therapist to help him when Kilhan was around. Then there was his mother, there to help with what he couldn't think of. Instead of explaining this, he asked, "When can I go home?"
Perce was surprised. "We were planning after your first Moon-"
"When is that?"
He hesitated slightly. "The Full was just two nights ago."
"I'm not staying here a near month," Merlin said sharply. "I'm leaving in the morning. Against medical advice, I don't care, whatever. I want to go home. Laying here doing nothing for six months, I have a job and a life I need to go back to."
The doctor had something grim set in his expression. "I can't keep you, that's true, but it has been six months; I'm surprised to see you sitting up. You haven't moved much."
"I hurt a bit," huge lie, slap his wrists, so what, "but I will walk out of this hospital if I need to."
Perce didn't look convinced. "We'll see in the morning. I'm supposed to call the station when you awake so the inspectors can get a statement, but we'll wait until tomorrow. Hopefully before you discharge, we'll be able to find more of what your Reactions are, as well. Congratulations of your Destiny, by the way."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "I've got a future engagement, hurrah." Something odd crossed Perce's face, but didn't say anything. He yawned, even if he felt wide awake. "Is there anything else...?"
Dr. Conway stood slowly. "One of the nurses will be in later to up your meds. Are you okay?"
A shrug, and Merlin hissed in remembrance: "Yeah, one thing. Do you know any Edwins?"
Perce grimaced. "Was that the name of the werewolf who attacked you?"
"They didn't find-"
"I'm afraid your case is still open, Merlin, from what we last heard. I know of one, but..." His gaze became unfocused. Merlin wondered how the doctor knew his case was open; weren't hospital and force matters separate? "Give the officers your statement in the morning, alright? Sleep well."
He said as if it was likely. Merlin groaned and lied carefully back down on the bed, watching the red and blue flashes on the walls of his hospital room, until exhaustion finally shut down his mind.
The morning brought the sun and a mass of people, both which Merlin could have cared less for. Kilhan made a kind gesture of bringing sunglasses and earplugs, but they didn't deaden much of those senses and the medicine the nurses gave him more or less only numbed the want to cringe away.
Lance came in as soon as two officers – one Met, one SFU – left around midafternoon, and proceeded to slap him across the head. Gwen, behind him, didn't look any less pleased but more relieved that he was okay.
"All you have to do is hit send, eh?" Lance growled. Merlin shrank against the pillows unwittingly; Lance was thrumming with pissed off parental-authority, Merlin could smell it, and if he were in a wolf-form he imagined his ears would be lying flat on his head. "The wrath of your mother isn't any better; I was horrified when she contacted me."
Gwen nodded firmly. "Don't ever, ever think that we won't stop anything to make sure that our friend's safety is assured. That's rather selfish of you, Merlin. In a way, I mean." Merlin swallowed at her words, feeling a hot prickle of embarrassment on the back of his neck. He nodded silently.
After a long moment, Merlin finally spoke, "Who's Gwaine?" The radio station had a new voice on it when he flicked it on earlier.
"He's a member of my pack looking for some money," Lance explained. Hearing Merlin's unspoken question, he said, "Don't think you're off the hook, though; we want you back a week after your first Moon. Some of your listeners are worried about you."
"Did..." Merlin gritted his teeth in a flash of anger. "Did that werewolf ever call back?"
"No, but I know the people working on it," he replied vaguely. "I'll try to get some details."
Gwen wrung her hands. "You shouldn't obsess over it, though, Merlin," she said quietly.
"Oh, sorry, didn't realise I shouldn't be hoping that psycho is behind bars," Merlin snapped at her. Lance frowned, and Merlin felt the urge to apologise, but he couldn't he was so angry. His skin prickled as if the hair was standing on its end and his palms itched with heat.
"That's not what I mean," she said with an edge in her voice, eyes narrowed. "You should be focusing on getting out of here and getting better, so let the police do their job. They'll get him."
"So lie back and do nothing, yeah?" Merlin growled, "If I think back to that night, I can imagine his scent even if I couldn't smell it with my nose then. Its been six months, Gwen, and the SFU wasn't able to track him? He was bleeding, he would have left a trail, and if the sorcerers in the SFU couldn't find any trace-"
"What makes you think you could?" she returned sharply, and she ignored Lance's quiet warning. "And other than the obvious, I understand why you're put off, but you knew it was going to happen, the Changing. You're angry that you couldn't avoid it."
"Guinevere-"
The door slammed shut. Lance and Gwen looked over their shoulders, just as the window gave a splinting sound and burst inwards, showering the room in glass shards. In a quick second, Lance had Gwen underneath him and shielded by the far end of the bed. Merlin was dusted by small pieces of glass, but watched with horror in his wide eyes until the tinkling stopped.
The machine next to him beeped his accelerated heart rate, and he met Lance's wary gaze.
All of a sudden, the door opened and in came Dr. Conway, a nurse, his mother, and Gaius. Perce looked from the window to the people in the room, and rushed forward to help Lance and Gwen off the floor. Merlin stared, throat tight.
"All right?"
"Baby, what-" Hunith made to come to him, but his grandfather caught her elbow, watching Merlin with an unrecognizable look.
Merlin felt dizzy, and he wasn't sure if that was from the adrenaline or if he was hyperventilating. He wanted to get out, walk - hell- run away, he wanted the ground beneath his feet, and he knew if he kept going pass the outer city, there was a wild wood that had wolves and, and...
he would run wild with them.
A light shined in his eyes, stunning him, before he wrenched his face out of Perce's hand to press the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Dammit," he hissed. When Merlin looked back up, he noticed with surprise that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Guinevere and his mother had left the room. Merlin felt a cold wash of shame.
"Is she okay?" he asked Lance quietly, unable to meet his eyes.
"She's fine, you know her," he replied mildly. "Just a shock."
"Another Reaction," Gaius noted needlessly. "Telekinesis." The more popular word was sorcery or magic with the younger generations, and what made the Special Forces Unit members so special. Most Changed with the sorcery Reaction went on to control their new power and work with the SFU.
Merlin didn't say anything, feeling small and achy.
To his surprise, Lance addressed his doctor. "Perce, do you think we can get Morgana? Merlin... Merlin's a close friend to me and Gwen; I want to keep this within the pack, if possible, especially if it's about them." Merlin looked between the two werewolves, the two packmates.
Perce was watching Merlin. "She does have an opening in her schedule," he said thoughtfully.
"Who is his assigned lycantherapist?"
"The hospital had listed Algain, but..." he trailed, sharing a glance with Lance. "I'll try to get Arthur, but I don't know if they'll let us with a biased opinion."
"If you wouldn't mind," Gaius cut in with his raised, suspicious eyebrow, "to explain what you're talking about. You said 'them.'"
Lance grimaced. "We can't go into detail."
"Then give us an idea," the older man stressed. "You're wanting to go through some extra precautions it sounds like, and precautions for what, exactly?"
"Merlin's almost like my brother, I want to make sure he's getting the best help possible," he paused, "and best protection. Like I said, I can't go into detail, but if this is the same Edwin we believe it to be, then we have to question why he attacked Merlin."
Merlin's mouth opened with a tacky sound. "I.. I remember what he said, that his pack's Seer told him where I was, and... and how "different" I sounded, like it was just a matter of time..." His head spun. "Lance, you said that the, the Essetir pack caused the majority of the attacks this year, could it be-"
"It's the possibility we're thinking," he answered darkly.
"Edwin is a sorcerer," Perce said. "That would have helped him escape, not to mention if he had help from his packmates."
Shakily, Merlin put his feet on the floor, and grasped the bedside table for support. "I'm going home before I meet any of these people, or I'm going to go crazy in here and make a dash to the woods." It sounded crazy to say, but it gave a hint of peace to his hurting.
"Get off that train of thought," Perce said immediately. "If you need to go home to calm down, we'll let you, but stay in sight of someone. What you're hinting at is called Wolfwalking; those before their first shift would allow the werewolf genes to take over completely and practically become a wolf."
Merlin froze, staring at his doctor. "How will I be able to stop it?" A dream he had while in his coma-like-state came to the front of his mind. I dreamed that I was chasing a pack of wolves, trying to belong.
"Don't give up," he said simply. "If you feel like you just want to lay over and go in some kind of trance, or run with the wolves, go to the woods, whatever saying, you'll think it starts to feel like home or the easier choice. Get up, move around, talk to your family, do some work. Whatever you can to stay human."
A sardonic smirk. "But I'm not."
"Not to be political or anything, but there will be a time when werewolves and non-Changed people will fall under the same category as human, because even we have human rights. I'm allowed all my freedoms as a human being, aren't I? The only thing the law has separated differently between us and your grandfather here is that we have protection acts that keep us being singled out with segregation."
Merlin's mouth twisted. He never thought of it that way. They mostly all looked the same, all looked like humans, but there was still that mental block in his mind that separated human from werewolf. He was different, he had different genes, he could be an animal if he let himself. It didn't make sense.
"Sure," he said unconvincingly, to end the conversation. "Can I get my clothes?"
/ - / - / - / *** / - / - / - /
The first thing Merlin did when he got home was climb out of his window. When they had pulled up close to the house, Merlin had realised he completely forgotten about Will. How was he? Will couldn't shift out of cycle, and he'd put himself in danger against Edwin, was he okay?
He walked carefully on the shingles, his balance shaky. As he was making out of the hospital, Perce had said it would straighten out; as his ears are rather sensitive, so would his balance. It still made Merlin hesitate a moment before leaping the two-foot distance to the other sill. Merlin landed in a crouch to regain his balance, feeling a little dizzy still. The medicine the nurses injected him with eased his headache, but it wouldn't last too long.
Merlin stood and pushed open the window they've broken the locks to a long time ago.
A badly placed lamp on an unexpectedly placed desk fell; Merlin cringed but didn't hear the bulb shatter, at least.
He knelt on the windowsill, peering into Will's bedroom. It was as if he was looking into a completely different home. There was charcoal carpet where there once was old wood flooring that came with the house, new furniture that looked too expensive for either Will or Freya's taste, and who would ever paint their walls red? Doors had been placed on the hinges of the closet when Will had liked it open.
"Will? Freya?" Merlin called out hesitantly, sniffing the air. It became a real easy habit to pick up, as it told him more than he thought was actually around him, even with his eyes closed. He figured he know understood the phrase of following his nose.
But Will's bedroom didn't smell anything Merlin remembered of Will, cheap soap and pizza dough, or of Freya, wildflower. It smelled new - like new car, new - and mint clean, and there was a subtle heavy scent of something musky and permanent. Merlin frowned at that (permanent?), ran the choice of word through his head.
The word 'Territory' rang like an alarm, made him alert and fidgety now that he knew he was truly out of place and trespassing in a new werewolf's home.
"Shite," he muttered under his breath. He looked around the room once more before backing away carefully and crossing the ledges to the safety of his bedroom. Merlin reckoned he'd need a lock for his window now. He searched through his pockets for his phone and finally turned it on for the first time in six months. He felt thankful for his mother, for keeping up with his bills.
His phone alerted him of missed phone calls, text messages and voicemails, the majority of them from Will and Freya.
Dunno when ull c this, but pendragon's moved 2 close. I talked 2 freya about it and we r going 2 move by the end of this month with mith n pack. call me when u r awake.
"Merl, mate. Doctors said you weren't gon'a die, so when ya get this we need to talk. Wake the hell up and get back with me pronto! Anyway, I'll see ya, mate."
"Heya, Merlin, Freya here, giving you a voice to wake up to. We miss you, call us when you're better, okay? I'll be delivering next month, I think..!"
"Merl! Oh my god, its amazing, Merl, I'm a father, oh my god I'm actually a dad! Two of 'em, oh my god, they're wonderful and healthy and beautiful! A girl – we named her Cadi, then her brother Kent, after her grandda. You gotta see 'em, mate, come over sometime, 'kay?"
Merlin tossed the phone on his bed before following it carefully, stuffing his head under the pillow with a low noise. He wasn't going to think that he was "giving up", but he really needed sign to point him in the right direction; until he met his new therapist (or therapists? Did he need one for the sorcery?) or until his first shift as a werewolf, was he supposed to stumble along in misery? It wasn't right, or fair, because he was just Merlin, a radio DJ, and his life wasn't supposed to get any more exciting than getting the feedback to a new single being on the air for the first time.
Okay, so he was feeling a bit melodramatic, and still felt angry at what Gwen had said. Changing was something he had tried avoiding, because he liked how he was. Merlin never differed from that view as a child, and tried not to talk about it lightly like some people did who thought it was the new thing. It was hinted at him throughout his life that he had a Destined mate, and he always knew that one day his life would be…Changed.
He supported the werewolf community, just didn't find himself being a part of it.
With a final sigh, Merlin willed himself to calm down and relax and hopefully sleep the rest of the day away.
In retrospect, Merlin should have realised that recovery wasn't going to be daises and sunshine.
The next day, early morning by what his phone flashed at him, he felt like he'd been run over by a freight train, four-hundred-and-sixty of its cars, and left for dead. Finding he can't breathe through his nose, Merlin dragged himself painfully into awareness. A dog barked outside, and it was the equivalence to a blow horn right in his ear. He groaned and rolled over ever so slowly to hide his head under the pillow again, but every wrinkle in the sheets and his clothes was a cactus pine. Merlin whimpered and opened his eyes very carefully, then immediately regretted it: he would sell his soul for the sun to burn out right at that moment. Being completely off the morphine brought a whole new level of pain.
"Crike," he breathed, and even that sounded like he'd been put on an amp. If Merlin thought first waking was horrible at the hospital, he was now grateful for drugs and wondered if his grandfather could make a similar substance.
"Long night?"
Despite every fiber of his being protesting every breath he took, Merlin shot up in bed and worked his eyes open, using a hand as a shield from the sun pouring in the open window, which made his shoulder ache like the devil. His eyes watered and weren't very helpful in trying to see. His head began to throb from over-sensitivity, and Merlin gave up trying to see the man and listened to every shuffle he made at the foot of the bed.
"Haven't you heard of using the front door?" Merlin asked balefully.
"I could ask you the same," his neighbor, familiar in voice, said good naturedly, and Merlin groaned sufferingly; he should invest in earplugs for the rest of his life. The pair he wore home fell out during sleep. "Do you make habits of intruding your neighbors' bedrooms?"
"Can you perhaps talk quieter? Like, this quiet," he barely even said. "It was a mistake, I'm sorry. That used to be my best mate's house, and I didn't realise he'd move until I saw the room."
Merlin heard the amusement in his neighbor's voice, not once toning down. "Some best mate you are."
"I was hospitalised, man, give me a break."
"Damaged liver?"
"Wha- no, you ars-" He heard his neighbor choke on a laugh, and Merlin flushed in embarrassment. This was not the sort of impression he wanted to make. Climbing into his window wasn't the sort of impression he wanted, either, but that wasn't his fault. "Oh, god, ignore me, I'm in pain. I'm usually not like this, insulting people I meet."
"No, seriously, how much fun did you have last night?"
"This might be the reason why I don't drink at all," Merlin grumbled more or less to himself. "Uhm, can you do me a favor and on that hanging shelf over there, there's some aspirin, can you toss me the bottle?" The man didn't reply and took his time reaching the wall with the shelf on it. Merlin wished he could open his eyes to at least see what he looked like. After a quiet moment, his neighbor got the bottle down and turned it over in his hand; the pills shook at the movement.
He heard the bottle being thrown before his neighbor said, "Think fast!" Merlin almost missed the pills completely by how noisy they were and how fast they were thrown, but he caught the container hard in both hands. His palms stung. The man made a sound of acknowledgement. "Changed? Your scent is very weak, still morphing about."
"Out of the hospital yesterday," he replied before contemplating dry swallowing the entire bottle. He fished three out instead. "I'm Merlin Emrys."
"Ah! So you are the Wizard Lance has told me about! Gwaine Strong, at your service," and his feet shuffled a little, and to his credit he spook much softer. Merlin was imagining a little bow being performed, and he grinned despite himself.
"The packmate short on some cash, I thought I recognized your voice. Nice to meet you, Gwaine," Merlin replied. "You know, when I first smelled the markings in your room, I thought you'd be a territorial arsehole."
Gwaine laughed in a surprised burst of laughter, hard and straight from the gut. Merlin clapped his hands tight over his ears and waited for him to calm down. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, oh, ha-hahaha! That's the funniest thing I've heard all week."
"Being called a territorial arsehole is funny?"
"No," Gwaine snickered deviously, "You calling my Alpha a territorial arsehole is fucking hilarious. That's his room across the alley."
Merlin bit his tongue. "Oh, damn, there goes my mouth again-"
"No, you got Arthur down to a tee." Arthur, wasn't he to be his therapist if Perce got his way? Merlin played with the thought of saying Aglain would be just fine.
"Er, he's not pissed about the lamp, is he?"
"He was livid," Gwaine informed, cheery. "Was. I said it was me, but I don't think he believed me; he's got a pretty good nose, no matter how much mint he has in his room." He chuckled. "Listen, I gotta get going, Merlin. That asprin's not going to kick in, just to let you know, so make sure you talk to your doctor about getting some herbs. Your new therapist might sell some, but they're getting finicky lately about what's considered natural herbs."
Merlin groaned and collapsed against the bed, tossing the bottle onto the floor. "Greaaat. Thanks. I'll be seeing you then?"
"Definitely, but I promise to knock on the front door next time," he said and crossed to the window. "Have a good day!"
"Bye..." Merlin replied without heart. "Urrrgh..." He slowly rolled over and literally crawled out of bed, squinting his eyes against the sun. "Worst day ever."
Somehow, he stripped out of his outermost clothes, found the pair of sunglasses and his expensive silencing earphones and made his way down stairs to hope for the survival of his fifth sense. If he couldn't eat, the Merlin might as well starve.
Kilhan didn't make a comment over the newspaper, but Merlin felt the need to give a warning glare at him, anyway. His mother was cooking bacon, he inspected as he got closer, even if he absolutely could not smell or breathe with his nose at all. He laid his chin on her shoulder, making a pitiful noise.
"Feeeeeed meeeee, Muuuuuum."
"You would starve without me, wouldn't you?" she asked softly, fondly, and Merlin was reminded of the conversation they had before his last day of work. It seemed as if he wasn't the only one, he noticed, as he watched her expression turned forlorn and sad.
"I'm sorry, Mum."
"Hush, baby," she chided, patting his cheek. "None of this was your fault. We all knew it was going to happen, didn't we? We just didn't take the easiest route." There was a point when Merlin was growing up that Kilhan had offered to Change him, but Gaius and Hunith were point blank against it, wanting him to live a 'normal' life as long as possible, but "no offense".
Kilhan had shaken his head. "None taken, Hunith, I was merely trying to spare him from several roads I rather him not take."
He said nothing, listening to the bacon sizzle. "I scared you yesterday, didn't I. At the hospital, being able to smash the window."
Hunith put down her turning fork before turning around and embracing him tightly. Even if it felt too tight, Merlin didn't push her off, and returned it just as fiercely. "No, Merlin. That was the least of my scares," she said, her throat sounding choked. "I rather have you awake doing strange and new things than staying asleep and leaving me wondering when you'll wake up."
"Mum…" he tried.
"Quiet for a moment," she said, half teasing. "Let me hold you for a while."
And the shocking revelation to Merlin was that this was the first time he felt his mother hug him in six months.
Later that day, Hunith stood in front of the fridge with her arms crossed, staring her son down who was currently stuffing a clean tissue up his nose after it started bleeding an hour ago. Gaius had come home with earplugs and an herbal mixture that was to be brewed in tea to help his headache. It ended up spewed in the sink with no lessening effects to his head.
The bacon from breakfast immediately ended up in the garbage, as did the toast and eggs and coffee and cereal. He had given up on breakfast, then waited for lunch, and nothing tasted right, nothing tasted like it should; Merlin gagged on the floury taste in bread, choked on the fatty flavor in cold cuts, and fruits were too tart or too sweet, and when he thought a banana was safe, well obviously it wasn't.
He went through half of the fridge, with Kilhan smirking slightly from the other room. He knew the older Changed was very amused by the whole situation when Merlin wasn't being a downright angst novel. He had even said himself earlier: "If four-out-of-five of your senses were out of sorts, what made you think your taste buds were any safer?"
"No more," she said sternly. "I just went shopping the day before last, and you're just throwing everything away, anyway. Either ask Kilhan or call Lance to ask what you should do. Gaius is almost done with some more remedies, so you know."
"His phone's off," Merlin simpered, refusing to go to Kilhan just yet and not wanting to think about vile herb tastes. "You know that, he's at the station." His stomach clenched in hunger, so in turn he clawed at his stomach. "Nothing's tasting right, or I don't know what I'm hungry for, and I really, really think you picked up some bad milk. Please, Mum? Will you let your only child starve in his time of need?"
She pursed her lips, but her gaze softened. "The milk is fine, but we'll try something simple and light, okay? Broth."
"Vegetable broth?"
"Vegetable broth." His mother moved from the fridge and warmed up the stovetop again.
When it was done, it still didn't set exactly right on his stomach and tasted like crud, but Merlin choked it down anyway; as his mother used to say, it's better than nothing. Sort of.
Kilhan was found in the usual lounge, in his usual chair, reading a familiar leather bound novel. Merlin was too big to sit on anyone's lap, but he still waited to be noticed before talking.
The older man closed his book and laid it upon the table next to him, his eyes flicking over Merlin expectantly, and said before Merlin could speak and left him frozen, "There were many worse outcomes than what happened to you. I had Seen the death of William Ealdorn in that fight. I had Seen Edwin Muirden following Lance du Lac in his vehicle and causing an accident that would have left your friend in a coma, you paralyzed, and the police no closer in finding the werewolf that caused it.
"If you had walked home, I foresaw an attack on not just you, but your mother and grandfather and myself. You might have not gone into work that day, called off, but you would have crossed paths with another member of his pack and would have ended your future permanently just later that day. Or, had you not wished to go to the corner store for Hunith, then the next week you would have met a real monster of the Essetir family, met your Destiny, and died in their arms in the same day without knowing their importance to you."
Kilhan paused, watching the young werewolf with a near haughty look, and finally Merlin sucked in a shuddering breath that left him shaken.
"Shall I go on, Merlin?"
"No, but—"
"Stop this, you foolish boy," Kilhan said tersely, and Merlin snapped his maw shut. "You wanted a 'normal life', whatever that is, and you think you can't have it anymore? You don't think you are living one now? There are plenty of people that would just manage to yawn at your existence; they would be so bored to walk in your shoes. There is nothing different, young Merlin; you only have to give yourself what you want."
"And what should I want?" Merlin asked, feeling like he was finally given answers he desperately needed to know.
Golden eyes stared at him, looking at him with as much secret wisdom as kindness. What Kilhan knew to what Merlin didn't could fill books, and Merlin could have started reading and he wouldn't be able to finish them in this lifetime.
"Happiness, I believe, is what people usually want." Kilhan smiled gently. "You reap what you sow, isn't that the saying?"
Merlin stayed quiet as he went and sat down in another armchair, mulling this over. It didn't change his outlook, wanting to be human, but it eased some tension from his shoulders. From the list of outcomes Kilhan gave him, this was definitely the least of his worries, wasn't it? He had his mother, grandfather, closest friends – Will was alive with babies to take care of – and he had a job he enjoyed, house over his head, and food to fill his (currently protesting) stomach.
He was pretty damn lucky, all things considering. Merlin cast his gaze to the floor, feeling once again ashamed with himself. Despite being Changed, he was practically living the same life he had before the attack.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and belatedly wondered if his attitude had offended his long family friend. "Its just… it was quite sudden, you know?"
"I could have warned you," Kilhan nodded, "but knowing what I know would have been just as chance-taking. I'm glad you came to this point, and would not tell you, still, if I had another opportunity."
In another moment of quiet, Merlin glanced at the older man from the corner of his eye, before very unsubtly asking, "What can you tell me about Edwin or the Essetir pack?"
But with that, Kilhan picked up his book, opened it to the page he was on, and said, "You'll find out in enough time, if you keep seeking the answers with your newfound resources."
"What resources?"
"There are a whole variety of roads to choose from now, Merlin, if you're so persistent on that trek. Happiness end in many of those outcomes, surprisingly, but I'm not too sure about normal," he stressed the word as if it was a term he couldn't even begin to understand. Merlin stood and went to the door, finding no real answer any longer in Kilhan's favorite pastime of riddling.
"But who wants that?"