A/N: Warning-for blood and stitches? I don't know, so just to be safe.
Alright, so technically I'm gone this very moment camping and cave exploring, but I finished this before I left and my sister's posting it for me. So, in short, I'm a nice person. Your welcome.
9.
"Mr. Emrys. Mr. Emrys? Sir, are you—my, that doesn't look good," a worried, hurried voice wakes him. Merlin squints up at a curly-haired fellow, looking concernedly down at him. Or, more specifically, at his skull.
"Whmm?" Merlin mumbles, bracing his arms against the ground to get up. He feels dizzy, a little nauseous too. But the stabbing, piercing pain doesn't come till he sits up—and then there are throbbing darts, hitting against his skull. "What . . . " What the hell?
"Looks like your head got split open by something," the man Merlin now recognizes as Leon says, picking up a sharp-looking, plum-sized stone. A small bit of red is smeared on its surface. "This, probably," he holds it up higher, grimacing as he glances at Merlin again. "Let's get you back. You'll probably need stitches."
The back of Merlin's head is pulsing the whole ride down the hill and up to the higher-raised estate. On their drive down in his ride-mower Leon explains he was about to mow the lot, and found Merlin lying unconscious there. Merlin has no idea how long he's been there—though the sun looks lower in the sky, the shadows more elongated. At least an hour, as well as he can guess.
"This is Leon sir," Leon says, phone to his ear as they drive. Merlin really does feel like a dudemar right now, in distress and rescued by a knight in plaid armor, carried off to safety in the knight's trusty, gas-guzzling steed. How romantic.
Leon is all business as he explains the situation to whoever's on the other line, however, and Merlin guesses by the irritated cadence of the voice that it's Mr. Pendragon himself. By the time they drive up to the back of the estate, Gwen is there waiting for them. With one hand she's keeping her blowing curls out of her eyes, and the other is wrapped around her waist tightly. As they near he can see the concern in her eyes, the tight press of her lips as she approaches.
"Arthur called Gaius up; he'll be here any minute," she says, shouting over the loud wind. Leon nods, helping Merlin down and towards the house. Gwen quickly moves to Merlin's other side, hand on his arm. He looks down at her, and her smile looks sorry. Not sure if its about their abruptly-ended conversation or just his injury, Merlin smiles back anyway.
"The lounge, that'd be best," she says, and once through the main back door she directs them to a room on the main floor, full of comfy couches and chairs and a flat-screen if you could believe it. Merlin must have missed this one in his exploring earlier.
Gwen pulls a towel out of thin air and has Merlin press it against his head, calling into the hallway for ice. A blond girl comes with a bucket of it, half a minute later, and then Merlin pulls the towel away for the ice and WOW THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD. The towel's soaked through where he's been pressing, and dizziness he's been feeling so far intensifies alarmingly at the sight.
An old man walks in about ten minutes after, the handle of a large clear plastic bin in his hand. Gwen breathes a sigh of relief, though she's been assuring Merlin for a while now that the bleeding is slowing down, and directs the man in. Leon left long before that; apparently Merlin is not alone when it comes to the sight of blood.
"Hello there," the old man says politely as Gwen leaves them, looking down at Merlin where he sits. "My name is Gaius; I'll be attending to your head." He raises an eyebrow when Merlin grimaces, knowing this likely means stitches.
"Right. Where do you want me?" he asks, and the old man frowns as he glances around the room.
Merlin ends up lying with his head on the arm of the couch, Gaius on a chair facing it. He can hear the man click open the kit behind him, uncapping something.
"So," Merlin says distracting himself, "You can't live far, can you, seeing as you got here so quickly?"
"I live not too far off, no, near the lake," Gaius replies, and something cold dabs Merlin's head. It stings.
"I'm Merlin," he adds when the man says no more, reaching his hand up behind him. After a moment, he feels a cold, gloved hand shake it lightly.
"Good to meet you, Merlin," he says, and Merlin waits as he hears a clicking of metal against metal. "I'm putting three staples in your head, now." Merlin nods, bracing himself as he feels two fingers pinch his scalp together. "I've been the family doctor of the Pendragons for quite some time," he says conversationally, placing something against his skull. Merlin blinks through the quick pain of the first staple. "But I don't believe you and I have met before."
"You're a family doctor? You mean you come here, they don't come to you?" When the old man hums in affirmation, Merlin lets out an amused breath. "Little old-fashioned of a job, don't you think?"
Another staple.
"I'm actually retired. Or, well, the Pendragons kindly pay for my retirement, and in return I come for whatever help they require. They like they're privacy, you see," he says before punching another staple in Merlin's head. He winces.
"So I've noticed," Merlin agrees, thinking of Arthur and his vehemence about Merlin not telling anyone what he was doing here. If only I could figure that out for myself. Though Merlin is, he admits, slowly getting there.
The man wipes something else on the wound, and after the sound of stretching rubber—Gaius pulling off his gloves, no doubt—Merlin feels a light clap on the shoulder. "You're done," the old man says, and Merlin sits up, watching as he re-sterilizes the stapling device and puts it away. Gaius looks up at him, smiling wanly. "Would you like a lollipop?"
A host of images burst at Merlin in a large splash, like a water balloon to the face. One second, it's a bald little girl smiling up at him, then seeing him, younger, at the watcher's funeral, then a whole room of people on their deathbeds, Gaius attending to each, then dozen or so other occasions, watching him care for loved ones.
The dead love him. The dead honor him.
Its a unanimous voice in his head; a chorus of deceased. "Definitely," Merlin says, to the old man's surprise.
He gets a root beer dum-dum—not his favorite by a long shot, but it'll do—and glances over at Gaius when the old man sighs, having completely packed up his tools. "Two more things," he tells Merlin, and then Merlin notices what his old hands are holding. "First, for the pain," he explains, holding over a pill bottle, "and to fight off infection, once a day." It's Neosporin, and Merlin stands up to take both. When he reaches for them, however, Gaius puts the medicine down and grips his wrist instead.
It exposes a corner of the tattoo on his forearm, and Gaius pulls up his bunched sleeve even further, looking down at the dark ink. Three spirals, curving out from the same center. A white eyebrow raises as Merlin jerks his arm away, feeling a strange urge to pull his sleeve down. But most people, most normal people, don't look twice at the symbol.
"That was the second thing," he adds as Merlin backs away, scrutinizing the old man. His watery blue eyes look up at Merlin knowingly, like he's seeing him. Merlin swallows. "As to the rock that hit your head, young man," Gaius says solemnly, "It looks almost as if you did not fall on it—more like it was thrown at you. How do you explain that?"
"Nothing to explain," Merlin answers, confused and still slightly unnerved by the man. "It was thrown at me."
Gaius' eyebrow rises further. "Is Arthur lying, then? He said you tripped, and your head hit a rock, in the family cemetery."
Merlin is .01 seconds from rage, fists flying and curse-spitting at Arthur Pendragon, when he remembers quite vividly the moment they first met. Merlin, arms swinging through the air as he righted himself from tripping—on seemingly nothing. Of course Arthur would assume that is what happened in this case as well.
His face burns, mouth tight as he says, "I'm sure Arthur thought it a funny image."
A man appears at the doorway just then, at the edge of Merlin's vision. "What do I think is funny?"
10.
Merlin's head snaps to the left, where Arthur Pendragon is leaning against the doorway—red tie loose and suit jacket gone. His eyes are tired, but amused as he looks from Merlin to Gaius.
Gaius recovers first. "Arthur," he says, rising hastily, "I've just finished. Merlin has been an excellent patient, and—"
"And it's nearly dinner time. Won't you join us?" Arthur implores, raising both eyebrows. Gaius sighs, smiling slightly.
"Of course, sir." He nods, and then the old man passes Arthur through the doorway with his case, grasping his shoulder minutely before disappearing into the hall. Merlin's medicine rests on the chair where he sat.
"Merlin Emrys," Arthur says, and Merlin's eyes flick from the medicine to the man's gaze. "Good to see you alive, I suppose. Are you sure you can handle Pendragon Estate? Not a day in and you've passed out." He smirks, and Merlin wonders why he couldn't see the family resemblance in Morgana earlier. In looks they are quite polar, but in demeanor the similarities are uncanny.
He's not about to take that jab without a gripe, though. "Yeah, can see why you're gone all day, seeing as you can't handle it yourself."
The edges of Arthur's smile turn bitter. "I could be gone much longer, easily. Believe me." He sighs, scratching the back of his neck with a grimace. "Just—try not to get knocked out starting tomorrow, right?"
He looks tired, like the day has drained him, but Merlin can see the hints of amusement in the corner of his eyes again. "You got it, sir," he replies, grinning, and when Arthur's face cracks into a smile Merlin adds, "no guarantees for the rest of today, though."
Arthur is still shaking his head at that by the time they all sit for dinner, Merlin freshly showered and grinning at him. Arthur sits at the head of the table, of course, Leon to his right and Gaius to his left. That leaves Merlin sitting next to Leon and Gwen, on the other end of the table—and Morgana directly across from him.
There's an even grander dining room—dining hall being more accurate—somewhere else on the first floor, with about two dozen places, and Merlin is glad the Pendragon household uses this smaller one, even if it's farther from the kitchens. The food arrives precisely at six anyways, a broth-ey soup that everyone sips in-between conversation.
"How's school coming?" Leon asks Morgana politely, and she shrugs, replying "Good" with a slightly tense smile.
"And where is Mordred?" Gwen inquires; Morgana sighs, her smile turning warmer.
"He fell asleep. Figured I'd let him and deal with the repercussions later," she laughs, soft and melodic. "Turns out it was meant to be, seeing as we have an unexpected dinner guest." Merlin flushes, but then he sees her eyes move to Gaius.
"Glad to be here, Morgana. And always good to see you," he says, and the corners of Morgana's smile twitches slightly. She holds it steady as Gwen inquires about Gaius's garden and the two exchange stories about daffodils and chrysanthemums, though after a drink from her glass it's gone. Her eyes catch him watching, and Merlin looks down at his noodles quickly.
"I can't decide," she says. When Merlin glances up is Morgana tilting her head to the side, looking at the top of his head. He raises an eyebrow. "Your hair, I mean. It looked positively intimidating this morning, all sharp and edgy. But now its softer, hits the sides of your face just right, un-styled." The corner of her mouth tugs up.
Merlin indeed has not styled it; he didn't have time before dinner after his shower, plus he is known to get lazy if his hair on occasion lays down right. Because, hey, if it wants to lay flat, than great. But if it doesn't—well, than none of it is going to lay flat.
Morgana sighs, looking quite torn. "And I just can't decide."
"Must we really discuss the different states of Mr. Emrys's hair?" Arthur grumbles, and Morgana shrugs, smirking at Merlin.
"I haven't heard the story yet," she announces later as their bowls are cleared and plates set in front of them. Everyone looks up from the steak and rice, Merlin included, and he finds her eyes on him again. "What exactly hit you so hard in the head?"
She looks almost like she's testing him; Merlin, a little intimidated, deflects. "A really good idea?" He suggests, and both Gwen and Leon laugh.
"Suppose it would have to hit hard, to get through a thick skull like yours," Arthur puts in with a Pendragon smirk, and the face Merlin pulls at his employer stops short when he notices everyone else's expressions. Wide-eyed, like the words were foreign coming out of the man's mouth.
Gwen manages a light, comfortable laugh a moment later and the second-long silence breaks; Morgana smirks and Gaius shakes his head.
"Alright, if we're all done making fun," Gwen rolls her eyes, then gestures to Merlin.
He clears his throat, knowing that the truth can get ugly. But that's never stopped him before. "I was exploring the grounds for a bit after lunch, and I came across your cemetery," he raises his eyebrows at Arthur, who nods mid-chew. "It was empty at first, but then I ran into—well, an old friend of yours, perhaps. A man named Gwaine."