Arthur knew what "dead" meant. It meant you never woke up.

He vaguely wondered if Merlin was dead, watching as the warlock's chest rose and fell with a steady beat. Merlin hadn't woken up yet, and it had been two weeks.

Frowning, he placed his small hand on his babysitter's chest, feeling the thump thump thump of his heart. Shaking his head, Arthur replaced his hand with his head.

Merlin was making sounds. Granted, the sounds weren't coming from his mouth, like talking, but from inside him. Sure the thump thump thump of heart was still there, but now, with his ear pressed against Merlin's chest, he could hear odd gurgling noises that were probably intestines moving and a rushing noise that was probably blood. And the breathing noise, was, well, breathing.

Arthur supposed Merlin was alive.

Slowly, he lifted his head up and stared at Merlin's pale face.

"Not a dead man?" Merlin asked with a small smile. Arthur rolled his eyes, hiding his concern.

"You're not going to die, Merlin. Don't be such a coward."

His manservant cocked his head, seeming genuinely curious. "If I do die, will you call me a hero?"

Arthur nodded, trying not to look at Merlin's chest. The wound may have been covered, but that didn't mean it wasn't there.

He pondered the question briefly. He could say yes; forgoing all titles and honor and his damn pride. He could say no; acting like the uncaring king.

Merlin didn't deserve the aloof attitude that was usually thrown at him, and Arthur knew it. He knew Merlin deserved better. Occasionally, he wondered if the servant secretly hated him, or worse; would prefer to be someone else's – to serve someone else.

So, playing it safe; protecting his pride but showing that he cared for Merlin, he answered seriously, "Probably."

Arthur shook his head at the memory. Memory. Was that what it was? He had a dream like it once.

It felt like a memory, though. But it didn't make sense. In this "memory" he had been the same age as Merlin, maybe a bit older. And why would he be so mean to Merlin? Alright, he wasn't exactly mean to Merlin in that "memory" but he hadn't let himself be as concerned as he should have been for the warlock. He hadn't even told Merlin to get better in the "memory!"

A sharp intake of breath from Merlin brought him out of his thoughts. He waited, hoping his babysitter would wake up.

No such luck came his way. He waited for, like, a bajillion minutes (little kid time) and Merlin did not wake. He felt his heart crush. Gently, he reached out his hand, taking Merlin's in his, carefully avoiding the bandages and IV needle.

"Arthur." At his name, the four year old turned his head, never letting go of his babysitter. It was his father. His eyes narrowed.

"Hello," he said curtly.

"Arthur, it's time to go home." Uther's eyes raked over his son's face, then to Merlin's. If Arthur didn't know better, he would've said his father looked guilty.

The little boy turned back to Merlin. "But what if he wakes up and I'm not here?"

"He'll be fine."

"But I'm the only one that loves him. He'll want me here."

"Arthur-"

"No!" the four year old whipped around, a fire burning in his eyes. "I do love him and he loves me, okay?!"

Uther sighed and nodded. "I know."

"No, you don't get it! Merlin does love – wait, what?" Arthur cocked his head to the side with an incredulous look on his face.

"I know how you two feel about each other." Uther walked towards his son and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "And I'm sorry."

For what was probably the first time, Arthur looked at his father with something other than contempt. "You're sorry?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for firing Merlin, I'm sorry for keeping you two apart," his father said with remorse in his voice. "And I'm sorry Merlin got hurt."

A small smile split across the four year old's face. "Thank you."

"Ready to go home?"

Arthur sighed and looked at Merlin one last time. "Let me say goodbye first."

Uther nodded and back out of the room, leaving his son and babysitter alone.

"Alright, Merlin, just get better, 'kay?" The little boy sighed and squeezed the warlock's hand. "You promised to stay forever, so I'm counting on you." He leaned forward and pressed the best kiss a four year old could give to the warlock's cheek. "I love you."

He stood up then, trying not to jostle his own arm that was in a sling. In an afterthought, he added to his plea from earlier.

"Merlin, get better. That's an order. Good manservants are hard to come by."

Arthur then left, unsure of what he just said.


Merlin's foggy mind processed one thing; light. There was too much of it. In the corner of his mind, he wondered if he was dead. Then he remembered with some bitterness and relief that he couldn't die.

Suddenly, everything came into focus; the room, the machines, the blinding light. It took him a minute to realize he was in a hospital.

He accessed the damage to his body quickly. Leg in a cast, a few dark bruises visible on his arm, a pain with every breath; broken rib, maybe two, probably some scrapes on his face, and, well, he had been unconscious.

What the hell had happened?

His heart monitor suddenly went berserk as it came rushing back to him. Arthur, the car…

"Oh shit," he breathed out. "Arthur."


It was ten o'clock at night and Uther had just gotten Arthur to bed. Again. Originally, the little boy had been put down a seven thirty but had woken up with nightmares almost every hour.

The phone ringing made him jump before he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, . I am calling on the behalf on a Mr. Merlin Emrys. There's news on his condition."

Uther's heart sank at those words. Merlin was dead. Oh, hell, how was he going to tell Arthur?

"Mr. Pendragon, Merlin has woken up."

Uther sucked in a breath and nodded, even though the person on the other line couldn't see. "Yes?"

"He's in stable condition. If you would like to come and see him –" the woman couldn't finish her words as he slammed down the phone and ran to his son's room.

Nearly kicking down the door, he got to watch Arthur sleep for a moment before gently shaking him awake.

"Hmmm…? What, Merlin?" The little boy blinked blearily a few times before his face masked into a look of disappoint. He still wanted Merlin waking him up. Uther couldn't really care at this moment.

"Daddy? What's going on?"

Uther smiled. "Your Merlin has woken up."


A/N: I know, I know, all of you are probably like "WTF?" right now. I'll explain EVERYTHING in the next chapter.

And, ummm...that really wasn't the reaction I thought I would get for the last chapter...I expected everyone to be like, "Oh shit, Merlin was run over by a car. Oh whale." Well, let's just say I got a lot of "NOOOOO MERLIN!'s" and "Please/YOU MUST update soon's" with some people like "I love this fic!," some emoji's, comments on the ending, a threat of plot-bunnies (don't worry, they've already attacked) and then "I HATE UTHER's" and a promo speech and a threat to eat someone (Hmm...now I wonder what people taste like...*looks at arm* om nom nom nom...) and someone called me amazing *blush* (TAKE THAT MOM!) and the there were a lot of comments of how I wanted to hit Merlin a car. (Should I feel flattered by all of this? 'Cause I am.) Anyways, I thought you guys would just shrug it all off.

Whale, hope the magics are in your favor. Until the next chapter...(beware of muffins)

(And, yes, my hatred of muffins might carry to this story.)