I am so sorry it has been so long! Hope some of you are still reading
Pain filled haze of white and sterility and gods, more pain. Sharp, stinging, agonising PAIN. It was all that could occupy Merlin's mind, he had no idea how much time passed, even his vision had blurred a long time ago – not that being able to see would help, the white room had no windows and therefore gave no indication of sun rise. Gods, he didn't even know where the hell he was and how the hell he'd got there...and why oh why was there was so much PAIN...what had he done wrong, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deser-
'This has nothing to do with what you deserve boy' the cold voice coming from the doctor that had been torturing him without mercy cut through the pain filled haze that was his mind. How did he know what I was thinking? Did he read minds as well? It wasn't until that moment, with his eyes screwed shut tightly that Merlin realised he had been speaking out loud. Repeating his thoughts over and over in a mantra, as if voicing it could help him. He didn't deserve this.
Dr Fara surveyed the boy. Thick manacles surrounded his wrists, connected to a thick chain which joined onto the wall through a hoop. The position of the hoop meant Merlin had to stretch his arms above him in a painful manner, restricting most of his movement. His head was flopped down onto his chest, he no longer had the strength to lift it, but Dr Fara could still see the tears mixing with blood as they ran down his face. The boy was so pathetic. Didn't he see he was just making it hard on himself? He was trying to help. The stupid whelp didn't even know who he was. Sighing, the doctor glanced at the tray of sterile instruments that had been provided for the 'session'. Most of the metal contraptions were strewn across the tray in an unorderly manner, covered with blood. Dr Fara ignored all these this time, and instead decided a much simpler route was to be taken. He reached for the small knife before turning back once again to Merlin.
'Now, once again, repeat after me...Your name is Emrys'
This can't be poison, Gaius realised. No poison could do this, or at least not one he'd ever heard of. It wasn't the fact that Merlin started moaning in his limp unconscious state that made Gaius realise this, it was the fact that along with all the symptoms of a poisoning Merlin had started to receive more physical symptoms, such as knife wounds and broken ribs. It was as if he was being beaten up – but Gaius had been here the whole time, his ward had not moved from the bed. It hurt Gaius to see Merlin go through this, but it hurt even more that he knew that he couldn't do anything to help except research, and Gaius feared their wasn't enough time for this.
Arthur had not been back to see Merlin yet, however the news of his deterioration reached him through a sobbing Gwen. He longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but it didn't feel right – he just...couldn't. Not when Merlin was ...ill. Not dying...ill. Arthur refused to think of him as dying. It couldn't happen – and Arthur was trying his hardest to see that it wouldn't happen. The problem was this was much easier said than done. Merlin had been poisoned, or not poisoned (he didn't even think Gaius knew any more) so logically the first step in discovering a cure to this poison, or not-poison, was to find the person responsible. And so Arthur set out to talk to every single person that Merlin can come across that day.
Sorry again for making everyone wait! Review?