Hey guys! This update is coming a little early, as I probably won't be around Wednesday.
Enjoy!
~Rain
Previously...
"Go!" Gaius slammed his fist against the table and watched with stony eyes as Arthur jumped and fled.
He looked down at Merlin, and the physician mask slipped.
"Oh, my boy… What has he done to you?"
"...Gaius?"
It felt like only seconds before there was a tentative knock on the door and a soft voice calling his name through the wood. Gaius stood from the fireplace where he had been boiling water to clean Merlin's wounds. He had a fever, but Gaius couldn't figure out what was causing it until he could see the extent of his injuries.
"Yes, Gwen!" he called, moving towards the door. He shot a glance back towards Merlin. His breathing was still far too rapid and shallow, and Gaius feared it was more than just a damaged rib cage. He wouldn't know until he treated them. And he needed Gwen for that.
Gaius opened the door a crack and eyed Gwen. Her cheeks were flushed, from anger or running, he didn't know, and she seemed to be alone.
"Is Arthur with you?" Gaius asked through the crack. It was a habit that they and many of the knights had fallen into in the last month, as they all feared and loathed the king's paranoia and fury. Avoiding Arthur was safest, when Gwaine could barely go a few minutes without punching something and Gwen still refused to speak openly to him.
Gwen's face darkened at the mention of the King, just as it had every other time Gaius had mentioned him. Gaius liked to speak his anger; Gwen liked to swallow it. They'd learned a lot about each other since the execution.
The fake execution.
"No," she said, and Gaius could see the disgust in her eyes, "He ordered me to your chambers and ran off."
Gaius opened the door a little wider.
"That is probably for the best, Guinevere." Another habitual response, but this time the meaning was different, and Gwen knew it. Her brows knitted at Gaius's tone.
"Gaius?" She didn't need to ask if something was wrong, and Gaius didn't make her. They didn't always need words anymore; they shared their loss.
"I…" he trailed off, and Gwen tried to peek around his shoulder into the room beyond, worry shining in her eyes. Gaius moved to block her view. "I think it would be better if I forewarned you."
Gwen stayed silent, her eyes trying to read his as Gaius searched for the words to prepare Gwen for what she was about to see. When none came, Gwen spoke.
"Just let me in, Gaius. You don't need to say anything, just open the door. I'm ready for it."
"I don't believe you are, Guinevere," he whispered, but he pushed the door open anyway. "Arthur brought him in."
Gwen stepped in bravely. She was prepared to see Elyan lying on the cot, or Gwaine nursing a training wound. She steeled herself for the shock of a loved one lying injured-
And found the cot to be empty.
"I don't understand-?"
She was turning to ask Gaius what she was supposed to be looking for when she saw him.
In the corner, next to the vials of potions and racks of herbs, a child was lying on Gaius's kitchen table. He was dirty and pale and breathing unevenly, with limbs too long and skeleton too prominent. Gwen was immediately reminded of a beggar boy asleep in the streets, but it didn't quite fit. He seemed a little too old, somehow, although no adult would ever be so skinny. And there was something more familiar about him, something Gwen couldn't place.
It wasn't until she noticed the dark glint of a collar around the boy's neck that she registered that the boy was a sorcerer, and there was no doubt in her mind that Gaius had rescued him from the same fate Merlin had met. Her fists clenched.
It was probably even the same collar.
No wonder Gaius was so tense.
The kettle over the fire began to boil, and Gaius jumped up to get it, setting it on a stool next to the prone form of the boy. He made eye contact with Gwen. He seemed to be waiting for something, some sort of reaction from her.
Gwen's fists relaxed. They might have failed to save Merlin, but they could help this boy avoid the same fate. She grabbed a rag off a nearby shelf and gave Gaius a determined look. He seemed surprised for a moment, but then mirrored her, dipping a rag into the water and wiping some of the grime off of the boy's face.
To say Gaius was surprised by Gwen's actions was an understatement. He had expected more- more tears, more yelling, more questions- but instead, he saw grim resolve and determination. Apparently she was even stronger than he thought.
His hands were trembling as he worked, and when he started to lift the rag from Merlin's skin, he fumbled and nearly dropped it onto the floor. Gwen crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his arm.
"I can do this," she said, accepting his rag as well as her own. She moved her attention towards Merlin's face, pulling the cloth away from a sunken cheekbone and eye socket.
And promptly dropped the rags on the floor.
"G-G-Gaius-" she stuttered, reeling back and falling against his chest.
Oh, Gods, Gaius thought, had she not realized-?
Immediately Gaius moved and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and stroking her hair.
"It's okay, it's okay," he whispered, though his own voice was shaking.
"But...But that...it's- it's-"
Gaius closed his eyes. Gwen found her voice.
"It's Merlin," she gasped, breaking out of the hold Gaius had on her and flinging herself against the table. Her hands came up to touch his face, gently cupping his hollow cheeks and running her thumbs along his cheekbones.
"Merlin…?" She whispered. He didn't respond. She tilted his head to the side. "Oh my God."
A long gash ran from his temple to his jawbone, barely missing his ear. Both of his eyes were bruised black, his lower lip was split, and bloody grime was still caked to the parts of his face that Gaius hadn't cleaned.
But there was no mistaking him.
It was Merlin.
"What… what happened? How-?" She was looking straight at the warlock, but she didn't believe he was there. "Gaius, but he's- he's dead. He died. He died five weeks ago. I-I saw it. You saw it! He was burned! He was..."
She suddenly seemed to notice the ligature marks around his wrists. She released his face and gingerly lifted one of his hands.
"What... What are these?" She asked.
She knew the marks; Gaius knew she'd seen them before. But they had always been on other people; they seemed entirely different when they were wrapping their way around Merlin's wrists, and she refused to comprehend their meaning.
He was supposed to be dead.
Gaius stooped and lifted the rags off of the floor. Gwen wasn't the only one who was trying to avoid thinking about where Merlin had been and what he had been put through in the last five weeks.
They both knew the signs. They both knew what made marks like that. They both knew why they were there. But they couldn't say it, not yet. Because this was Merlin, the most innocent of them all.
The same Merlin who died a month ago.
The same Merlin who had been accused of powerful sorcery.
The same Merlin who had been imprisoned and burned at the stake before anybody could even get to his cell to comfort him.
The same Merlin who had betrayed Camelot to save the very king who betrayed him back.
And if they gave what happened to Merlin a word, someone would be responsible. And that person would be Arthur.
They didn't want to think about whether or not Arthur and Merlin could survive living with what had been done, and Gaius and Gwen couldn't grieve two more people, let alone the same person twice.
So they carefully avoided the subject for a few long moments as Gwen pretended to not understand the marks on Merlin's wrists and Gaius busied himself with fetching new rags from the cupboard.
And then, as if in answer, Merlin shuddered and whimpered and broke their fragile ignorance.
And they knew.
Torture.
Gwen's eyes filled with tears, but Gaius didn't stop moving. With acceptance came urgency, and Gaius knew he needed to focus now.
Gaius the physician knew how to help.
Gaius the father didn't.
So he let the physician side take over.
"You should sit down, Guinevere," Gaius said gently, pulling a few more rags from the shelf along with a scrap of parchment. He had already waited far too long to begin his examination, and God only knew what had been done to Merlin over such an extended period of imprisonment. Gaius needed to know every detail if he was going to keep Merlin alive, and it needed to be documented. He took a deep breath, dunked another rag into the bucket of water, and began.
As layers of filth peeled away, it revealed things that were even uglier. The dirt had only masked the damage.
Burns. Contusions. Hemorrhage. Atrophy. Infection. Starvation.
New bruises overlapped old ones. Atrophy ate away at his limbs. Vomit stained his chest. Urine and excrement stuck to his legs.
Gaius began to get a fuller sense of what had been done to his ward. Merlin's last five weeks were written into his body for all to see, and Gaius read them all with a heavy heart.
Gwen helped by fetching and boiling water. She stared into the dirty buckets as she walked through the halls in silence, trying to find meaning in the swirling crimson mess. It was only when she returned for the third time that either of them spoke.
She walked in and was surprised to see that Gaius was standing a few feet away from the table, grasping the back of a chair with a white-knuckled grip. Merlin's left arm was dangling over the side, and all but that arm seemed to be clean. Before she could ask why, Gaius realized she was there. He turned his head to stare at her, rage flushing his cheeks as he ground out two words:
"Iron dust."