Title: Dare You To Move: Welcome To The Fallout
Author: Arisprite
Summary: It all came down to either act or do nothing, and really the alternative was too horrible to contemplate. There wasn't a choice really, no matter the consequences.
Word Count: 8,372 (Whole thing)
Warnings: (General) Wounds, blood, gore, potentially dangerous, and perhaps not thoroughly researched medical practices, tiny bit of swearing. No slash intended, but friendship can look like more from the outside. You're free to take my words however you like. (This part) Description of wounds and treatment, some torture, a bit of swearing.
Disclaimer: Obviously I am not the owner of BBC or Shine. I'm a college student! Title and song lyrics are from Switchfoot's "Dare You To Move".
Series: Part 5 of the Physician's Apprentice Series (formerly titled Five Times Merlin Had To Heal Someone Else, and One Time He Had To Heal Himself). Merlin has gotten tired of never knowing what to do in emergencies, and heaven knows his healing magic is unreliable at best. So he begins to study medicine under Gaius, just in case.
A/N: This part became a monster, and is much longer than any of the others, so it will be broken in chapters. Please, read, review and enjoy!
Thank You: To my sister, Kate-7h, who is awesome, and is my unofficial beta in all things Merlin. I owe you a treat!
Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
Tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
Arthur looked as if Merlin had slapped him in the face. His head was shaking in denial.
"You can't. Magic is evil." Arthur was so sure of his facts, but hearing those words from Arthur, yet again, made Merlin shake his head, mouth working in anguish.
"No, it's not."
Arthur stared at him. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to shake Merlin, make him see sense, but Merlin was a few paces away, and Arthur's weakened body couldn't manage even that.
Merlin realized that revelations aside, he was failing in his duties as a servant and a physician's apprentice. Arthur was extremely ill and injured, and if he did not find shelter and supplies soon, then it wouldn't matter Arthur's reaction to his magic, for no one would ever hear of it.
"Arthur, we have to leave. Find shelter."
"No, you are telling me what you mean by magic!" Arthur said heatedly. Merlin stood and came closer to Arthur, trying not to notice how Arthur's sick body reacted instinctively to his distrust, and slight fear, making him tense and retreat at Merlin's movements. He gripped Arthur's arms, being careful of his back, and pulled him up.
Arthur came with him, if only because he couldn't stand by himself. Merlin winced as he felt the heat of Arthur's fever through his ripped shirt, his arm across Arthur's shoulders in an attempt to avoid pressing against the whip marks.
It didn't work. With a cry of pain, Arthur tensed, and then relaxed into a faint so suddenly that Merlin was hard pressed to keep them both from slamming into the ground.
Merlin staggered, and managed to lay Arthur down gently, his body limp against the forest floor. Merlin knelt beside him, panting as he surveyed his options. There was no way he could carry the king, not the way his breath was already coming in gasps, and his emotions were rolling causing his head to feel light. His thoughts threatened to spin away into panic at recalling the cause of his emotional distress...No.
Shaking his head, he looked at Arthur beside him. Whether or not the king hated him for betraying him all these years, he needed help. Arthur would die if he was not tended to soon, and that was something Merlin would not let happen.
Standing shakily, Merlin raised his hands and muttered a spell. His stomach clenched at the thought that Arthur was right there, and could wake at any moment to see Merlin so obviously performing magic on him, but there was no time to waste, and Merlin needed a way to transport the unconscious king.
Arthur's body began to lift from the ground, as if supported by a giant invisible hand, the shreds of his shirt dangling down underneath him. Merlin's hands guided the movements, and soon Merlin was walking quickly away from the bandit's cave, Arthur floating gently along with him.
Some time later, Merlin wasn't quite sure how long, he stumbled out of a particularly thick patch of brambles, Arthur's hovering form in tow, and was startled to see a tiny cottage. They were on the edge of a small clearing, and Merlin stood there a moment, catching his breath. Cottages meant people. People meant either help or danger, and Merlin knew which he'd prefer. Exhaustion was pulling at him, his earlier light-headedness had given way to a permanent dizzy spell that had him hanging onto trees to keep upright. Arthur was little better, he'd not woken since his faint, but his rest was anything but peaceful. He was lucky the levitation spell wouldn't allow him to fall, or he'd have been on the ground multiple times by now. His face a flushed with fever, and Merlin was sure that if his wounds weren't infected before, they definitely were now.
They needed help, and Merlin prayed that this cottage would be that for them, or else Merlin didn't know what to do.
Merlin stepped back into the shadows of the trees, and lay Arthur down gently, releasing the spell only when he was firmly on the ground. The spell finished, and Merlin felt a sudden rush to his head, causing him to nearly fall over, before standing up straighter than before. He hadn't realized how much that spell had been draining him, but he felt stronger, though not exactly well.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin turned, and started towards the cottage alone. Help or hurt, this was their only hope.
He knocked on the front door, trying to decide in his mind what he could say to ask for help. But no one answered.
"Hello?" He called out, and there was no response. Merlin knocked again, and then tried the door handle, pushing the door open. "Hello, anybody here?"
There was silence in the little house, and the room was darkened and cold. No one home.
Then Merlin's nose caught a familiar scent, and he took a look around. Medical supplies, like Gaius though not quite as extensive spread over the back tables, and hung upon the wall. A cleared table, and a large fireplace made this clearly some sort of healer's hut.
Tears came to Merlin's eyes, ones of pure gratitude. Thank the gods!
Merlin hurried back out to where Arthur lay, and carefully lifted him again with magic, bringing him inside the cottage. There was a cot near the fire, and Merlin lay Arthur there. Then he set to work, for there was much to be done, no matter how his eyes pulled with tiredness, even through his elation at finding the place.
Merlin used magic to light the fire, fetched water from the well outside and set it to boil, and then removed Arthur's armour, and shirt (no small task as he was limp as a boned fish, and not very helpful). Finally, Arthur lay on his front, back exposed to the warming room, and his thigh was tilted to the side, allowing Merlin to examine them both.
The leg was bad. It had been a long time since he'd received it (hours? days?) and the wound was inflamed, weeping blood and fluids. Ugly redness surrounded the edges, and had started to creep outwards, a fact that filled Merlin with fear.
Turning towards the supplies that were stocked behind him on the wall, table, and in various cupboards, Merlin began sifting through them, looking for things he might use.
There was vinegar, and alcohol in pure form, an astringent to the wound. Honey will help with infection. Yarrow, mint, saffron all helped with infection and wound treatment. Willow bark and cloves for the pain . Merlin grabbed them all, and rushed back over to Arthur.
The king was tossing his head, moaning in his sleep. Sweat coated his hair to his brow, and his eyes were sunken, face pale and deathlike. Merlin frowned, and laid out his supplies on the bedside table.
Merlin mixed a tonic for pain and infection, and then he turned Arthur, and lifted his head gently to pour it into his mouth. Arthur spluttered, but got it down. The drink calmed him. and he stilled, though he stilled breathed shallowly.
Merlin poured the alcohol and vinegar over the wound, wincing as Arthur moaned, and then cried out, twisting away from his ministrations. A hand on his brow stilled him for a moment, though his face frowned in pain.
"Shh, Arthur. It's alright." Merlin murmured, pulling his hand away, wincing at the temperature he found there. Merlin turned to the cleaned wound, washed it again with just hot water, and prepared the waxed thread, and linen bandages. Stitching a wound, since those days on the battle field, was easy and Arthur's wound closed with small sure stitches. Then he bandaged the leg, and turned his attention to the whip welts on his back.
Arthur tensed as he washed these, then his eyes fluttered open.
"M'rlin..." Arthur mumbled, furrowing his brow, and glancing around in confusion.
"I'm here, Arthur." Merlin continued treating the wounds on his back, making note if any needed stitching or the like. Arthur groaned, then started shifting. "Don't move, I need to take care of your back."
"M' leg..."
"I know." Merlin replied, frowning. He turned back to the table of supplies and found a mint salve that would help the welts on Arthur's back. He dabbed it on, and felt more than saw Arthur relax at the touch of the cooling lotion. The king sighed, and fell back into sleep; proper sleep this time, and not unconsciousness. Merlin finished treating the whip marks, and then bandaged the whole thing, using magic to lift Arthur up in order to wrap the linens around his torso.
The last spell was too much for Merlin, and once Arthur was down, Merlin had to catch himself against the edge of the bed. His head spun in crazy circles, and he had blink a few times to edge the blackness back from the sides of his eyes.
Merlin himself was not well, bruised, beaten and exhausted, not to mention near panic when he thought about Arthur's reaction to his magic. He stumbled backwards, finding a chair only by mere luck, saving him a trip to the floor. Shaking hands covered his face, and he took a deep breath, and then another.
What happens now?
Merlin awoke to Arthur's moaning, mumbling nonsense, and tossing on the bed. He blinked, and got up, his back cracking from having slept in the chair. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he had to admit he did feel better for it. Merlin moved forwards, and placed a hand on Arthur's brow, wincing at the heat that emanated from it. Arthur's fever had risen.
The light was dim, the sun was lowering in the sky, so Merlin guessed it had been a few hours. He prepared another drought of willow, hoping to lower the fever and take some of the pain, but it didn't seem to help. * Arthur continued to moan and toss his head, even with the cool wet cloths Merlin lay on his forehead.
"Come on, Arthur..." Merlin muttered, wiping the cloth over his face again. Merlin wasn't sure what he was hoping for, but Arthur did not comply whatever it was. He checked and rechecked the bandages, finding them the same each time. There was little he could do but sit and keep the cloth cold and damp.
The light dimmed, and Merlin tried to keep busy to avoid thinking, stocking the woodpile, stoking the fire, and refilling the water bucket. Yet, thoughts kept popping into his head, ones of Arthur's betrayed face, and his own unease at Arthur knowing. Thanks to his nap, he no longer felt as if he were going to fly away into a panic, but the thought that his secret was out made his stomach churn in fear and nervousness. Perhaps because Arthur's reaction hadn't been the best (though certainly not the worst; he hadn't tried to kill him on the spot, though there was no telling what Arthur would do in his right mind, and full strength) or because Merlin himself hadn't been prepared to tell him yet. The relief he had thought he would feel hadn't shown up yet in any case.
Merlin swallowed, and looked over at Arthur. He still didn't look good, and his fever hadn't gone down any.
Merlin spent the next few hours preparing and then forcing a thin broth down Arthur's throat. He felt bad at cadging the food, but the owner of the hut was not there, and Merlin would not let Arthur starve. In any case, Arthur was the king, and they were still in Camelot. The one who lived here was Arthur's subject, and the food technically belonged to Arthur. Merlin didn't like that argument, and he really didn't think Arthur would either, but he was prepared to use it if the cottage owner came back and was hostile. The king wouldn't starve because someone was too greedy to share.
Not that Arthur could eat that much. Merlin only managed to get a bit down before he started coughing it up. Merlin wiped away the excess, gave him some water, then medicine and let him sleep. He'd try again in a while.
The time passed, a day then two, and while Arthur's wounds looked better and better, he did not wake. Merlin did his best to keep him hydrated and fed, while looking after the place, and resting himself. The owner of the hut did not return, and Merlin felt a stirring of worry for the unknown person who's kindness they were intruding on.
It turned out that this unknown person was as much of a book hoarder as Gaius, and with hours of free and silent time on his hands, and thoughts he did not want to think, Merlin spent the time reading. There were an unimaginable breadth of topics stacked on the shelves. The ones that weren't about medicine were about philosophy, history, mathematics, languages he'd never even heard of, and many other things. There was also a secret corner, which Merlin had found by accident, which held a number of books on sorcery. These Merlin devoured, took notes to try spells and incantations later, and resolved to keep a secret from Arthur. No need to get someone else in trouble. Merlin found he was well occupied, and as his mind grew calm with learning, his body healed.
As did Arthur's and finally on the third morning, Arthur blinked his eyes open. Merlin, who was engrossed in another book on Astronomy, jumped when Arthur cleared his throat.
"Arthur! You're awake!" Merlin said, shutting the book and leaning forwards. Arthur winced at the level of volume, and Merlin quieted his next question. "How do you feel?"
Arthur shifted and winced, then blinked up at him blearily. "Sore..."
Merlin looked at him, the tension he'd been able to forget about, returning. "Do you remember what happened?"
Arthur seemed to consider, his eyes heavy. He frowned. "We were...captured? Slavers... we escaped..."
Merlin saw the moment Arthur remembered, and braced himself. Arthur paled, and stared at Merlin, shifting backwards away from him.
"You-you fought them, with-with magic?"
Sad, but truthful eyes met Arthur's and Merlin could only nod. No more lying. Arthur shook his head, starting to breath quicker.
"But, you can't- it can't be!" The hurt and anger was resurfacing, and Arthur was staring at him like he didn't even know him.
"Arthur, calm down," Merlin said, leaning forwards. Arthur scuttled back, though it must have hurt on his half healed whip welts. Merlin flinched, and sat back again, sitting straight and unmoving in his chair. "Please, let me explain?"
"Why should I let you explain? It will just be more lies!" Arthur snarled, trying to raise himself up on his elbows. His body, however, had not yet regained its strength, and he fell back onto the cot with a grunt.
"No more lies, I promise." Merlin said, pleading.
"The promise of a sorcerer means nothing! I thought I could trust you!" Arthur snapped, his voice angry but weak. He coughed, and his head went limp on the pillow, though his eyes were still fixed furiously on his servant. Merlin lowered his head, and took a deep breath. It took everything he had to lift it again, and meet Arthur's gaze.
"I'm sorry..." Merlin whispered.
Arthur closed his eyes, either anger or weariness taking over, and Merlin fled.