Many thanks to everyone who has favourited, followed or commented on this so far! There is nothing more motivating and encouraging!
The story is almost set up. We just need to see now what Arthur is up to!
And one more abbreviation:
FYEO file = for your eyes only file
A few days later
TIRED.
The five letters are written in capitals and cover the complete page on the note pad in front of Arthur. He stares at the word as if it has some hidden agenda. Stares at it until the letters blur before his eyes and the word reverberates in his brain all over again and again.
Tired. Tired. Tired.
There doesn't seem to be any room for anything else. It's that word and a huge vacuum where other thoughts, emotions and ideas should roam freely. Arthur rests his head wearily on both his hands and tries to make sense of this moment in time.
"Of course you are bloody tired." Gwaine had laughed at him earlier. "A night out on town and four pints of lager would do that to anyone!"
Yes, true. He did have too much alcohol the previous night and taking that dark haired fit bloke whose name he has forgotten, was it Barry or something, to his usual hotel room afterwards has undoubtedly not helped. He had hoped in vain that sex and alcohol would do the trick for him one more time and relax him enough to find some sleep in the aftermath. It was a pattern he had relied on for the last two years after all. But it had let him down big time last night.
Still, Arthur knows fine that this is not the true reason for his exhaustion. It has always been there. Okay, "always" is obviously an exaggeration because the proof that there was time when he felt like a normal human being is right before his eyes. His gaze gets drawn to the picture on the side of his momentous, oak desk. It shows a little blond boy giggling in the arms of an equally fair haired woman. He is supposedly five in that picture and his mother is tickling him. It is such a happy, carefree moment.
Not that he can consciously recall it, but he loves everything about it. The warm smile on his mum's face. Her hands all around him in a teasing, but protective manner. His joy and laughter, and the happiness that comes with feeling secure.
Arthur's lips twitch into a sad smile.
"Wish you were here, mum." He mutters and lovingly thumbs over her face.
Even if he cannot remember the occasion when this picture was taken, Arthur's pretty sure that he was healthy then. His eyes sparkle so vividly of joy – there's no way that he felt awful then.
When it all started? It is a mystery he's often tried to solve. To no effect. And he will not solve that puzzle now either because he's unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall on his chest slowly. The thumping inside has not stopped for hours. No matter what. It has made every thought an effort, every move a carefully constructed action. It's time for the pain to stop.
He opens the top drawer of the desk without looking and grabs the packet of painkillers. He pops two in his mouth and swallows them without water. It is quite a technique he has developed over the course of time. When he puts the tablets back his hand pushes against a bottle of hypospray.
Arthur sighs reluctantly. He should probably take this as well, while he is at it. It is his "happy spray". That's what he called it when he started taking it at the age of six. Or was it his father who named it to make it easier for him to get used to it? Arthur can't remember. In any case the name stuck and it sounds a hell of a lot better than "the ever present reminder of an incurable illness that is crippling his daily existence."
"This will help you to feel better." Edwin, the family doctor, had said and smiled at him when he had come home one day from primary school, complaining from a really sore head. And Arthur had reluctantly put his arm out to let the doctor administer the quick burst of medication through his skin. It had tingled but it had not been as sore as Arthur had expected.
He has been taking it ever since.
The hypospray became a daily routine from then on, a habit just like washing or getting dressed. And Arthur was glad of it because it worked well for many years. It seemed to calm him and enable him to focus better.
All that changed one day when he was twenty-five. When suddenly, from seemingly nowhere and for no particular reason he was plagued by headaches day after day. That was before the nightmares started. And the fatigue. And the irritability.
His father ordered Edwin to change the composition of his medication straight away –and there was a slight improvement to his symptoms to start with, but then it seemed to level off.
Arthur remembers those days as the beginning of the end of his life as he knew it. It is when his body started to fail him - at least this is how he perceives it.
So Arthur stopped taking his "happy spray" overnight out of protest.
"No point taking this when it doesn't work anyway!" He'd shouted in frustrated resentment at the doctor. God, had he been angry then! It was like being consumed by impotent rage – a rage directed at himself, at the doctors, at his father, at the world, but most of all at the hopeless situation he found himself in.
"You can't afford to give it up, Arthur." Edwin had tried to appease him. "Your condition won't allow it!"
"And what condition is that?" Arthur had shouted back at the top of his voice. "It hasn't even got a name!" He'd glowered at Edwin trying to will him into explaining what the fuck was wrong with him. But what was Edwin supposed to say?
"Please yourself." He'd eventually shrugged his shoulders and left him to it.
His refusal to continue his treatment resulted in Arthur ending up in bed for five days, oblivious to the world and in absolute agony.
Arthur smirks while the few thoughts in his head seem to tumble around in ever decreasing circles. Nothing has changed in the way he feels about all this now. Just that he's learnt the lesson that he can't afford to leave the happy spray out.
Over the years the feeling of intense tiredness has crept up on him like a stealthy predator out for a kill. It has tightly wrapped itself around him and his life and has slowly squashed everything that could have made his life enjoyable. Fun and laughter are things he hardly remembers because he's too bloody tired to appreciate them. And things get to you more easily when you feel permanently drained.
Of course there's the occasional smile, a snort, a giggle. But Arthur can't remember laughing out loud, right from his belly, from the bottom of his heart, and meaning it, for a long time. No wonder he's getting the reputation of being an arrogant, grumpy ass. It's obvious that his staff try to avoid him when it becomes clear that he has a really bad day. He is well aware of it and feels even more put out by it because there's nothing he can do to make himself feel better.
Arthur has tried to fight it. In fact he is fighting it on a daily basis. He loves sports and, at one time, he was the best Polo player in Albion. The exercise invigorated him and made him feel alive even if it was only for a short time and he had to suffer the consequences afterwards. Like dizziness and nausea.
Two years ago he had to give up Polo because of it. He took up the gym instead and attends with iron determination three times a week because he likes keeping fit. Unfortunately it doesn't change that he feels like a man of a hundred at the age of thirty two.
He knows that he pushes himself to his limits when he is at the gym. Not to show off, as some of his friends believe, but to simply prove to himself that he can make his body do things men at his age can, and that he's not as rotten on the inside as he continually feels.
No matter how many doctors and specialists he has seen over the years – none of them could ever determine what was actually wrong with him. Not one was able to give that bane of his life a name. On paper his test results told him that he was as healthy as the next man and that was what the doctors had confirmed again and again. It is unbelievable. In a way it's a cruel joke.
The five letters of the word in front of Arthur get blurrier and blurrier as drowsiness sets in. Arthur wants to drown that feeling of eternal insomnia and that he's lost in the middle of a maze with no way out.
And then, finally, Arthur drops off as his body demands the rest it so desperately needs. It is pure relief when his eyes eventually close completely and his head sinks onto the desk while his mind closes down. He will have this minute. Just a minute…..
"Arthur!" The accusing voice of his father rips Arthur cruelly out of his sleep.
"Get a grip of yourself, for Goodness sake." Uther stands in front of him, eyes piercing and brows furrowed.
Arthur drowsily sits up in his chair, automatically straightens his tie and, like on the push of a button, replies. "Sorry, Father."
"Alcohol last night?" Uther enquires coolly, and Arthur, knowing better than to lie and far too drowsy to whip up a believable fib, nods reluctantly.
"Sex, too?" Uther continues and Arthur just sighs, which in itself is answer enough.
"Did the tabloids get any pictures? Damn. Arthur rebels on the inside.
This is like a blooming inquisition. He thinks grumpily. He manages to shake his head to answer his father's question and reminds himself dutifully that after being at the centre of at least three major scandals in as many years in which Arthur has been lovingly nicknamed "Party Arty", his father is probably entitled to give him this lecture.
Uther audibly grits his teeth. "Look, Arthur. You know, I don't care what you do in your own time. I think I've been quite … generous with your … preferences and excesses over the years." Uther stops in order to breathe in deeply.
True, father. Arthur admits inwardly. We've never talked about me being gay. Never. I don't even know what you really think about it. All Arthur does know is that Uther has never questioned him about it. Strange really considering that Uther must want to continue the Pendragon line. And yet he's never mentioned marriage to Arthur or going out with some well-connected young lady.
Not that Arthur would complain about that. But he has often wondered why his father kept this eerie silence. For now though Uther's seeking his gaze and then continues.
"BUT... " and Arthur feels a really big "but" coming on. "What you do outside your job cannot affect your performance right here. Or drag the reputation of this government and our family into the dirt. I've no idea how often I have to repeat this to get it into your head?"
Uther gives his son a side way glance and he inwardly cringes. Arthur's handsome face is pale and his red rimmed eyes are heavy and darkened by deep shadows underneath. It looks as if he's lost weight again. A pang of guilt, even if it just lasts a short second, runs through Uther's heart. Maybe he is too hard on the boy, pushing him like this when he knows that the illness is getting to him and that his actions are in some way a means of desperation?
Uther dismisses the thought as quickly as it has appeared in his head. He's got some of his closest people working on his son's medication all the time. And eventually Arthur will be fine. All he can do is keep him on track until then. That is what he believes. It is what he has to believe because anything else would be inconceivable. Everything will work out in the end.
But in his current state of mind Arthur can't help to feel like a five year old that has been told off. He knows at the bottom of his heart that his father has a point and that so far, he has been lucky that the public has seen his slip ups more of an amusement rather than taking it against him. And he's mature enough to realize that his reason for being annoyed has to do with the fact that his father has put his finger on a sore spot.
As if Uther has read his mind he carries on in a much more lenient way. "You're getting too old for behaving like that, Arthur. At least when you're out there, in the full view of the people and the press. The public have been forgiving so far, but it's getting to the stage where they want to see what leader they'll have in a few years' time. They'll want to know that they're safe and in good hands in the future. We don't want to rattle their belief in this government."
Ouch. Now that hurts. In his defence Arthur notes mentally that he HAS been more careful in how much he drinks and who he has taken to bed since the last show down with the media. He's also kept a much lower profile than before, but obviously not low enough.
"But you know that I need…." Arthur starts, but his father cuts him short.
"Look, son." He starts, puts his hands on Arthur's shoulders and turns the young man round to fully face him. "I understand there are things you need to get the relaxation your body requires, but please, just try to keep your …. activities private. Right?"
Arthur nods quietly. Of course his father is right. His way of life has been getting out of hand recently and even though he's made some effort to keep it under control he can't afford to look like an irresponsible drunk to the citizens of Camelot any longer.
He has been brought up to love Camelot and Albion. And he does. More than anything else. And his work means everything to him.
"Look." Uther says. "This is the kind of stuff the public want to see more of." And he tabs a couple of buttons on the interactive glass screen of Arthur's computer. "This has just been on the news."
"Safety chip set to reduce petty crime by 20 percent within weeks!"
Arthur swallows. It's not often his father gives him praise, particularly not when they have been "discussing" his life style just a minute earlier. And he appreciates it and mumbles a "Thanks." in Uther's direction.
The chip has been his baby and he's infinitely proud of it. It is a quick and easy way to call the police for support by a voice activated device and it should make Camelot a safer place to stay. The first batch of chips will be out on sale within the next week and he's looking forward to seeing it improve people's lives.
"You know that I only want the best for you?" Uther mumbles quietly and a bit embarrassed because emotions are not a topic high on his list.
"I do, father." Arthur gives a small smile. "I just feel so bloody awful, it …"
Uther awkwardly claps Arthur's shoulder and interrupts his son. "Yes, yes. We have been through this before."
"Anyway, just here for a short social call." Uther adds and then makes to leave. "And I sent you the file with the latest cases before I came. I need them sorted by the end of the day." And then he is gone.
Arthur runs his hands through his hair and rubs his eyes and sighs. Why does he feel like shit now? His father does care about him and worries about his health continuously. He has Edwin and his team working on his medication permanently, trying to find a cur,e and he looks after him in every way. "Maybe that is it?" Arthur wonders for a second. "Maybe his mollycoddling is getting to me?"
Arthur gets up and stretches and then goes into the bathroom attached to his office to splash cold water onto his face. He has no idea how long he's slept. His account of time is generally quite dodgy when he feels like this, but he must have had about an hour. Enough to keep him going, anyway.
When Arthur returns to his desk he checks the files George, his father's PA, dropped off earlier. Arthur's not surprised that they're all neatly presented and in order and he chuckles somewhat bitterly. George has listed the case files meticulously and attached little notes at the side of each document telling him in detail what he's supposed to do with it. As if he doesn't know.
Arthur grumbles. He may not be running on one hundred percent at the moment but this is an insult to his efficiency and intelligence, in his opinion anyway. How is he supposed to grow into the leadership role he will inherit from his father one day if he gets smothered with condescending "advice" all the time?
"Hi, boss. You alright?" Gwaine sticks his head round the corner with a cheeky grin, wiping his flowing brown locks out of his eyes. Arthur notices the concerned look in his face which defies the chirpiness in his voice, but chooses to ignore it.
"As alright as it gets, Gwaine." Arthur grins at his friend. "Perfect timing as usual."
"Yeah I saw Uther leave." Gwaine retorts good heartedly and sits down on Arthur's desk.
"Look what has just been broadcast." He fiddles on his tablet with a wide content grin on his face.
Athur watches the news clip about the launch of the Keep Safe chip for the second time within minutes.
"It looks great, Gwaine. That's why my father's just been here."
Gwaine pulls up his eye brows in pretend shock. "Uther's come to compliment you? Wow."
"Not me. Us. You played a vital role to get this done."
There's no way Arthur's going to take the credit for chip alone. It would have never happened without Gwaine who is not only a loyal friend and the most outrageous flirt Camelot 's ever seen – well maybe him excluded – he's also the nerdiest computer geek Arthur has ever known. The man's pure genius and has the touch of a god when it comes to computer technology.
"But you're the one who's come up with the idea." Gwaine smiles warmly and chuckles.
"Get off it, Gwaine. We both know how much time and effort you invested in this." Arthur's eyes are smiling now.
"To change the topic slightly, have you checked all my mails and appointments for the rest of the week?" Arthur throws him an apologetic look.
"Sure. Everything's under control, Arthur." Gwaine nods. "You know I don't mind helping out while you are searching for a new PA, but …. We have had the emergency with the alarm system at Lamia Farm and they really need me there if you want it sorted before the end of the week."
Arthur guiltily blushes and mumbles something like, "Really sorry, mate," under his breath. It is after all his fault that Gwaine is kind of doing two jobs at the same time at the moment. Not that he does not get compensated generously, still…
"I've sent out adverts at the beginning of this week. Shouldn't be long." He tries to comfort his friend, but Gwaine just chuckles.
"You reckon you will get any applications after the way you treated the last three?" He teases.
Arthur looks genuinely astounded. Surely there are thousands of people out there in Albion who would kill to get a top job like being Arthur Pendragon's PA? No matter what.
Gwaine seems to have read his thoughts and interprets the surprised look on his face correctly. "As much as I hate to take it to you: You've got yourself a reputation out there, Arthur."
"Arse!" Arthur throws the pen in Gwaine's direction and lets out a short snort. "I am NOT that bad." And, as an afterthought. "What reputation?"
Gwaine shakes his head in exasperation. "Face it, Arthur. You're the ultimate nightmare. Either you destroy your PAs' confidence with your moody arrogance or you shag them until you've had enough of them and send them off to a better life far far away. Neither makes for a very good image."
Arthur sighs. And again. He's not quite sure why his recent PAs have been such a disaster. Timothy had been great at his job, but then appeared one day with tears in eyes mumbling "I can't take this anymore", virtually threw his letter of resignation at Arthur and then disappeared never to be seen again.
Gerard and Jarid had been different. Maybe not as organized and efficient as Timothy, but incredible fit and rather … forthcoming on what they were prepared to do for him. Unfortunately Gerard had been lured away by the press and had to be bribed into silence while Jarid had thought that Arthur was as much in love with him as he was. Once he started talking of setting house up together Arthur had had no choice but to finish it before his delusions could ruin him completely.
So okay, he can see Gwaine's point but surely his bad luck with PAs was not his fault only.
"I promise I will find someone and get you back to your own office asap." He does try to sound apologetic and Gwaine gets it.
"No need to grovel, mate! But your word in my ear!" Gwaine is almost out of the door when he turns round again. "Did you get any sleep?" He asks quietly and smiles at Arthur when the blond nods.
"Good on you." Gwaine sounds relieved. "And try to get more because you are turning into a right grumpy bugger!"
"Thanks, Gwaine. Now that's really comforting to hear." Arthur pulls a face and expects his friend to leave. But Gwaine is hanging on, suddenly looking at him quite earnestly.
"Seriously though, Arthur. People have started talking about your moods and your touchiness." And when Arthur throws him a look indicating that this is what employees have always done, he adds gingerly. "More than normal, you know."
Arthur holds his breath. This is not good. Real rumours can be extremely damaging if you're playing in politics, and once they start spreading it might not be possible to stop them. There's a difference between people complaining jokingly and viciously trying to damage your reputation.
"Just a word of warning. That's all." Gwaine winks at him trying to take the edge of his comment, but Arthur takes it for what it was. The advice of a loyal friend who doesn't like to see him getting into trouble. And he's grateful for such honesty.
"Thanks, mate." Just before Gwaine's out of the door, Arthur asks, "You put the staff meeting into next week's schedule?"
"Yes, sir!" Gwaine shouts with fake reverence and as he closes the door behind him there's a ping on Arthur's PC screen. It's a message from Uther.
"Scheduled five candidates for PA. Interviews tomorrow. Starting 10 a.m. Names and details attached."
Arthur freezes and then his temper flares. He can't believe that his father has taken the liberty to dump five people for an interview in his office without giving him the chance to take a pick of the long list first. Assuming there was a long list.
He hasn't even been informed that Uther got involved in this. It is yet another example of how Uther shows him that, in the end, he is the one who has the final say in things that matter. Despite how well Arthur has done in his job, despite the fact that the public love him, scandals and all, and despite the obvious loyalty his staff show him. Well, so far at least.
Arthur grits his teeth and speaks an acknowledging mail on to his computer. There's no point of arguing over this. Maybe it's for the better anyway. His record with PAs can't exactly be commended.
Arthur sighs for the umpteenth time. His father means well, he's sure of it, even if he shows his affection in strange and unexpected ways at times. He probably perceives taking charge of Arthur's employment problems as a favour to his son, not as the intrusion it actually feels like.
Then Arthur returns to the files Uther has transferred and starts processing them. Each folder contains the details of one criminal that's been convicted within the last week. It states the Court's verdict, lists what the punishment entails and finally makes a recommendation in which Correction Institute the prisoner should go.
He opens the FYEO file, types his password and enters all the data to create a record for each person. It's been an unusually busy week for crime. There has been a couple of thefts, one break in and one bank robbery. But all these pale before the incident where a man freed a family of MUs who were on their way to Lamia House.
Arthur tabs on the personal details button of the man, curious to see who had enough guts – or insanity - to confront a lorry full of highly trained security guards. The photo of the criminal pops up and although he's seen the man in the docks during his trial, the picture startles him.
Arthur checks out his features and gets caught in the intense blue of the man's eyes. Strange how much strength and determination glow in them. And how much kindness. The man looks almost regal in the way he holds himself. And there seems to be an air of quiet assurance and inner strength around him. Odd for a man that is facing the most severe punishment Camelot can bestow on someone. Very odd.
Arthur shakes off the weird uneasy feeling and reminds himself to concentrate. Eagerly he types in the name and address of the man:
Balinor Emerson, 25 Ascetir Drive, Ealdor Estate, 37785 Camelot
So there we go, ready for Arthur and Merlin's worlds to collide!
I am always grateful for any comments you might have! :)