Glow of a Rose (3/6)

[silkmoth101]

Part 1

Part 2

The ringing of the phone wakened Merlin rudely. Not that he had slept oh so peacefully after what had happened the day before, but still. “What the…” he groaned, fumbling blindly for the phone. “’llo?” With his other hand, he slapped at the lamp on the nightstand, and then glanced at the clock. Almost 3 am. “Hello?” He pressed the phone closer to his ear, but still, he couldn’t hear anyone speaking, just some weird rattling sound. “Hello?”

“… uh… I… I can’t…”

Merlin sat up. “Arth… John, is that you?”

“… uh, yes.”

Suddenly recognizing what that weird sound was -Arthur’s teeth were chattering- Merlin was already out of the bed, picking up his clothes. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“P… Prince’s sick.”

Merlin, buttoning up his jeans, looked out of the window. It was pouring again. “Where are you?”

“I’m just… sitting here.”

“All right. Stay put! I’m there in a few minutes, okay? Just… stay where you are!”

Merlin barely could hear the “Yeah,” then the line cut off. He put on a long sleeved shirt, grabbed his coat and his wallet, and then stood still for a second. With all his might, he resisted the overwhelming need that told him to just go, appear right next to Arthur out of thin air and forget about hiding his magic. But he couldn’t. Not only because there was apparently a huge, sick Great Dane that had to be transported to a vet in the middle of the night, no, there was also the fact that the nagging feeling in his neck about Arthur had just turned into warning bells coming from the protection spell. Arthur’s condition had become so bad that he was now in actual danger, and that meant he really needed the car. He had read everything on withdrawal symptoms and he was sure he could help with some of them, but he didn’t know what to do with things like hallucinations. Merlin would not risk driving Arthur into a psychotic episode by suddenly using magic in front of him. So he got his car keys, but didn’t resist transporting himself right into his car. He floored it, driving like a bat out of hell through the empty streets at night.



“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know. Doesn’t matter, I’ve already found a vet who’s on emergency call. No, stop, I’ll take him! You stay down there for a minute.”

Merlin heaved the dripping wet and badly coughing dog onto the backseat then rushed around the car, opened the trunk and got out two blankets. One he laid over Prince, the other was thrown on the passenger seat.

“Your seats…”

“My seats? Do I look like I care? And didn’t I just tell you to stay put?”

Damn the man! When Merlin had arrived he had found Arthur lying on top of his sleeping bag, rivulets of rain running over his face, eyes closed, dog in his arms. And for one terrifying second he had thought… Merlin bit so hard on his lower lip that he tasted blood immediately. In his mind, there was an endless circle going on, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Leave it to Arthur to make Merlin feel like the worst fuck-up ever, like a totally helpless fuck-up for the first time in centuries.

Seeing Arthur swaying badly, barely managing to stay on his feet, Merlin’s hands shot out and grabbed Arthur’s arms. “Come on, now…”

“Please, can I come with you? I don’t want to leave him al…”

Merlin suddenly decided he had enough, and simply exploded. “Who the fuck do you think I am? You think I would leave you here, so they can pick up your dead body from the street tomorrow?”

“I’m not dying so what are you...”

“You look like you’re dead already, man! And now get into the fucking car!”

“My bag…”

“I’ll get your bloody bag!”

Convinced that steam was coming out of his ears, Merlin manhandled Arthur onto the passenger seat, closed the car door violently, and then dashed over the slippery pavement to get the damned backpack. He threw it in the trunk, the whole time trying to get a grip on his temper. The Fates are laughing at me, I just know it, he thought grimly. I feel like I’m eighteen years old again. And this was not good at all; just like then, his magic seemed to be resolved to come alive on its own -it had, without Merlin wanting to, dried up Arthur’s hair and clothes as well as Prince’s fur. Merlin could only hope that Arthur was feeling too sick and too out of it to notice anything amiss.

When Merlin climbed into the car, he threw a quick glance at Arthur and saw him shiver all over, no matter the already dry clothes, no matter the motor had been running the whole time or that the heat was turned on all the way, sending waves of hot air over them. Arthur didn’t notice Merlin at all; he just stared seemingly at nothing, shaking like a leaf. He was beyond pale now, and the alarm sounds from the protection spell -that for some reason always had sounded exactly like the warning bells in Camelot- reached a crescendo.

Muttering again “fuck, fuck” under his breath, Merlin dived for his bag and pulled out a bottle of water and two pills. “Here, take these,” he ordered, shoving the pills into one of Arthur’s hands and then opened the water bottle.

Arthur startled out of his state and looked at him, wide-eyed, asking, “What are these?”

“It’s just Tylenol,” Merlin answered and added inwardly, with a bit of magical oomph. “I won’t give you anything else, you know that.”

Arthur didn’t move a muscle, just continued to stare at him, and Merlin lost it again. “Goddammit, Arthur, for once in your life, do as I say and swallow them, or I swear to the Gods I will shove them down your throat myself!”

Staring some more, Arthur finally nodded, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” and swallowed the pills. Merlin barely waited until he saw Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobbing twice, then he reached over, took the bottle away and laid his hand on Arthur’s forehead. Losing consciousness immediately, Arthur sagged against the side window. Merlin drew him back close frantically and let his magic roam freely over and through Arthur’s body. He pushed down the rapid heartbeat and increased the too low blood-pressure as far as he dared, and also managed to calm down Arthur’s more than upset stomach and bowels. Merlin couldn’t do much against the fever at the moment; he needed his potions for that, so he hoped the magically enhanced Tylenol would do the trick, at least for a few hours.

Exhausted, more from being scared than anything else, Merlin slumped back into his seat for a minute, just to straighten up again at once when he heard the rattling coughs coming from Prince. He twisted around to pet the dog’s head, and Prince tried to lick his hand with a too hot and too dry tongue. “You will be fine,” Merlin croaked. “You both will be fine, you hear me?”

Turning back, Merlin started to drive into the direction of the vet’s office, and it wasn’t until he parked in front of it when he remembered that he had called Arthur ‘Arthur’, instead of ‘John’.



Totally drained, Merlin drove the car down into the underground garage of his house. He turned off the lights and pressed another button on the remote, hearing the garage door click shut behind him. Then he allowed himself to close his eyes in the utter darkness around him and to just breathe for a few minutes.

The last hour had been arduous, to say the least. Not that there had been any real problems; the lady vet had been very nice, once she had found out that it was indeed an emergency. Prince had pneumonia; he apparently had been already ill at the shelter, and the following vaccinations had lowered his immune system so the bronchitis had worsened into said full blown pneumonia. The vet had been quite angry about her colleague who had obviously administered the inoculations without examining Prince thoroughly. Anyway, Prince was now in good hands, hanging on an IV-drip at the vet’s office, getting the antibiotics and fluids he needed. He hadn’t been happy to be left there in a cage again; Merlin had reassured him a few times he could come home in a few days, much to the vet’s amusement and to Merlin’s utter mortification. Finally, he had said his good-byes to the vet and Prince and practically run back to his car. The whole time he had been in the office, Merlin had been afraid Arthur’s condition would worsen or he would wake up, leave the car and become road-kill. Fretting over Arthur, monitoring him and at the same time having a halfway intelligent conversation with the vet had taken everything out of him, so Merlin was beyond glad to be finally at home.

With a sigh, Merlin acknowledged that there wasn’t any true reason for relief yet. Not. At. All. Sighing once more, Merlin left the car and turned on the garage lights. Then he opened the door to the basement, turned the lights on there, too, and stared for a while at the very steep stairs that lead to the hall of his house. He wondered if he should just float Arthur up there into the living room or better straight to the bedroom on the second floor but then decided against it. No magic, not yet. It would be just his luck if Arthur woke up while hovering four feet above the ground. Well, that left him with the not so nice challenge to wake up the ill man down here and somehow drag him upstairs.

Merlin opened the passenger door as silently as possible, freed the limp body from the seat belt and laid a hand on Arthur’s forehead. Shit, he was still burning up. The rest of Arthur’s condition seemed to be… well, not all right but in manageable parameters; Merlin’s magic still had a good grip on his metabolism. But the same had seemed to be true yesterday, Merlin thought, So don’t get too complacent, old man. It was the truth, of course. The day before, Arthur had been feeling well, even good when Merlin had left him in the evening. Merlin had hoped his magic would be able to somehow heal Arthur on its own, maybe even completely; otherwise he wouldn’t have left Arthur at all. Hope and Foresight. You should know better by now.

Merlin’s hand slid down to Arthur’s left cheekbone, noticing the fine sheen of sweat covering his whole face. “Hey. Wake up, huh?” He said quietly, not wanting to spook Arthur. When he didn’t react, Merlin let a bit of magic flow through his palm, pushing a little. “Hey.” Dark blond eyelashes fluttered, then Merlin looked into confused blue eyes. “It’s all right now, you’re home.”

“Merlin?”

For a moment, Merlin thought he would go down, fall on his knees. The fingers on his left hand clawed at the roof of the car, desperately looking for something to get a hold on. He closed his eyes against the threat of tears and thought, Not now, not now! Later. Get a grip, don’t scare him! Blinking rapidly, Merlin smiled. “Yes, Arthur. You have nothing to fear now.” Arthur smiled back at him, a bit dopily, eyes still locked on Merlin’s face, and nestled his cheek against Merlin’s hand.

Merlin swallowed hard. He was of course aware of the fact that Arthur was not in his right mind. He didn’t need to see the wildly dilated pupils or feel the heat under his palm to know that Arthur would probably not even remember what had happened this night. But still, whatever might come, whatever might befall both of them in the next, so difficult days, this was the moment Merlin had lived for. Centuries, Ages waiting for this voice to call his name.



As thin as Arthur was, he was still damn heavy. The moment Merlin had managed to drag him up to the hallway, he gave up on the thought of getting him straight to the bedroom; he just pushed Arthur into the living room where both of them crashed onto one of the couches. Merlin closed his eyes for maybe a second, but the heat he felt coming from Arthur’s body got him moving again.

“Please stay here for a moment, all right? I’ll get you something for the fever.”

Arthur glanced up at him and nodded, but he didn’t look like he had understood what Merlin had said… he actually looked like he would fall asleep again in no time.

“Hold that thought,” Merlin said inanely and left for the kitchen, smiling a bit. So far, things had gone smoother than he had thought; the warning bells were silent, his magic seemed to do wonders for Arthur’s condition - as it always had back in Camelot.

Opening one of his freezers that held the more exotic ingredients he needed, Merlin was just about to prepare a potent, fever reducing potion that stank to high heavens but would make Arthur feel better in no time, when he was rudely reminded that The Fates loved to fuck with content souls. There was a sudden yelp coming from the living room, followed by a crash and the unmistakable sounds of retching. By a hair’s breadth, Merlin avoided dropping the cup with the half-finished potion in it; he sat it down quickly on the kitchen table, grabbed a bowl, a bottle of water and towels and ran back to Arthur. When he arrived, a pungent odor hit his nostrils and he almost puked right on top of Arthur, who still hung over the armrest, choking.

So much for having a grip on anything, Merlin thought, breathing through the mouth. Arthur had not only lost control of his stomach but also of his bowels, and, to top this, the horrified look on his face told Merlin that Arthur had come out of his stupor as well, which was really awesome timing. Keeping a tight hold on his powers that wanted to jump on Arthur immediately, Merlin got a bit closer to help, noticed the reason for the crashing sound he had heard -the glass table in front of the couch had toppled over and broken- and managed in the last moment to prevent Arthur falling amidst the shards when Arthur shrank back from him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Take it easy, okay?”

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so sorry and…”

“Nah. Couldn’t stand the table anyway… and I hated the rug. Now…”

“Please, don’t.”

Merlin crouched down beside the mess on the floor, setting down the bowl, towel and water -he wouldn’t need them anyway- to be able to look at Arthur and not down at him. “What?”

“Please, I… I can’t go to a hospital. I can’t. Please.”

“I promise you. Hey!” Merlin laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder to get his attention; Arthur was looking anywhere but at him. “Listen to me: No hospital, okay? I promise you!”

“I… I…”

“I know. It’s all right; none of this is your fault. We’ll deal, okay? How’s your stomach now?”

He got his answer when Arthur’s eyes widened; the bowl was needed after all.



Merlin threw the ratty jeans and boxers into a plastic bag, knotted it up and took it out to the trash can. After some consideration, the socks went in there, too. He itched to also throw away the t-shirt, sneakers and jacket but knew he couldn’t just decide what happened to Arthur’s clothes. Going back inside, he flung shirt and jacket into the laundry basket, washed his hands and started on the potion again; the other one had gotten cold and therefore congealed. He tried to keep his thoughts on the rather mundane task, but had no luck. What he really wanted to do was to hit something… or someone.

By now, Arthur was clean and safe in Merlin’s bed, bowl and chamber pot at hand - and wasn’t that the joke of the century, that Merlin needed to deal with chamber pots again?- but what had happened in the bathroom before, had Arthur mortified and Merlin exhausted. It wasn’t a hardship for Merlin to clean up Arthur, neither was it disgusting. He had fallen back quickly in the mindset he had had while working as Gaius’ apprentice; and in Camelot, there had been much dealing with feces and other body fluids. What had been exhausting was trying to keep Arthur comfortable… which had been impossible. This wasn’t a new experience to Merlin either; Arthur had always hated it when he hadn’t been able to care for himself, no matter how sick or tired he had been. The difference now was that Merlin couldn’t just use magic to help and protect Arthur’s pride. Arthur hadn’t called Merlin by his name again, and even if he had… Merlin wanted Arthur lucid and he wanted to know Arthur’s story before he would show him who and what he was.

But Merlin had been really shocked when he had seen the state Arthur’s body was in. There were far too many scars for a guy that young, far too many bruises -and where the hell had he gotten these bruises? Merlin had been there the last week, hadn’t he?- and, the worst of it all, how goddamned thin Arthur was. The Arthur Merlin remembered, the older Arthur, had always whined about how much weight he gained by only looking at food… and how much he had resented Merlin for eating like a pig and staying lean. But this Arthur? Only bones. Ribs, collarbones, hipbones… everything was sticking out as if trying to poke through Arthur’s skin. Damn it to seventh hell, Merlin thought. I was never that thin, not even when I was fourteen and there hadn’t been a thing to eat in Ealdor thanks to crop failures.

Sighing, Merlin shook his head, took the cup with the potion and a pot with chamomile tea and carried it upstairs to the bedroom. It would be quite some time until he could feed Arthur solid food; it would be hard enough to make sure he kept the needed fluids down without being too overt in using magic. Maybe he’ll believe in that insane Reiki story again.

Merlin entered the bedroom quietly, not wanting to startle Arthur if he should be asleep, but one look told him that Arthur was wide awake and… agitated.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“The hell.” Merlin put down pot and cup quickly, and then took hold of Arthur’s arms… or he tried to. He managed to grab the left arm, but Arthur drew back his right one and swung his fist at Merlin’s face. Merlin blocked it and shoved Arthur back on the bed with both hands; then, he had to jump back fast to avoid a kick from Arthur’s legs.

“Stop that shit, dammit!”

“Let me go!”

“No. The only place you’re going is to the bathroom, if you think you can make it there. Apart from that, you’re staying in bed. You fever is up to 104, where do you think you’re going? To a cemetery?”

“I’m not…”

“What? You’re not ill, your fever is not up through the roof, you can stand on your feet without falling over? You’re all of that! You may be still able to kick me, but believe me, you wouldn’t even make it downstairs without breaking your neck! So calm down, okay?”

Arthur stared at him out of huge eyes, and Merlin relented immediately. “Look, I know you feel like shit right now. I can help you. Now, what you need are a few days to get over the worst of it and I need a bit of trust from you. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I can’t do this.”

Merlin sighed. “In my opinion, you…” he hesitated for a moment, then carried on, “… you can do anything you really want, Arthur.”

Arthur, looking even paler than before, shook his head. “That’s not my name.”

“I think it is your name.”

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Merlin’s inner voice yelled at him. But for some reason -while Merlin was still sure he couldn’t tell Arthur now about who John Emerson was- he knew with all he was that being John Smith wouldn’t help Arthur now. It might not be the time for the whole truth, but a bit of truth couldn’t hurt.

“You’re crazy.”

“That is entirely possible,” Merlin answered and sat down on the bed, carefully watching Arthur. “Now, do yourself and me the favor, and drink this to get the fever down.” He held out the cup to Arthur and could see the exact moment when the odor of the potion hit Arthur’s sense of smell. Arthur reeled back, his face became actually green, and Merlin thought, Fuck it! His left hand shot out and landed on Arthur’s stomach; his magic, which had been almost impossible to hold back for quite some time, flew forward almost greedily. Arthur’s whole body jerked wildly under his hand, and then Arthur looked at him, eyes full of shock and wonder.

“What… what did you do?”

“I’m helping you. Now drink this.” Merlin held out the cup again.

Seemingly against his will, Arthur took a swallow and almost choked on it. “Jesus!”

Merlin nodded, hand still on Arthur’s stomach. “I know it’s awful. But drink it now; believe me, the colder it gets, the worse it tastes.”

“This can’t get worse.”

“Do you want to eat it with a spoon? It congeals.” He had to smile a bit at Arthur’s horrified look, and then his smile became broader when Arthur gobbled the whole thing down without stopping to breathe. Arthur gasped, hand on his throat, and for a moment, Merlin wasn’t sure if the brew wouldn’t come up again, magic or not, but after a few tense seconds, Arthur relaxed against the pillows behind his back. He looked down a bit nervously at Merlin’s hand that was still resting on his body. “Now what?”

“Now there will be tea,” Merlin answered, took the cup and filled it with the chamomile tea from the pot. Then he leaned down, got the salt shaker he had kept out of sight and sprinkled some salt into the cup and gave it back to Arthur. “Drink!”

“Did you just dump salt into… oh great… chamomile tea?”

“Yes, your body needs it. And it was only a little bit, you shouldn’t taste it. Drink it, please? If I can’t get enough fluids in your body, I’ll have to hook you up on an IV-drip, and I’d rather not.”

“I’m drinking, I’m drinking!”

Merlin watched Arthur swallow the tea, refilled the cup at once and then he slowly withdrew his hand. “How’s the nausea?”

“Better.”

“Good.” Merlin looked Arthur over one more time and then stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just getting some water and towels. I’ll be right back.”

“Look, I… thank you.”

Merlin sighed. “Don’t thank me yet. I have the feeling you will really hate me in no time.”



“I can’t. I… I can’t! Please!”

“Of course you can. You will see.”



“Let go of me! Let… Oh my god, STOP THAT!”

“I’m not doing anything. Please try to relax.”

“GET THEM OFF ME!”

“Arthur, nothing is on you. You have to…”

“PLEASE!”

“Sleep.”



“Drink this.”

“No.”

“Arthur…”

“No! I will get sick again!”

“Drink it!”



“It will be all right. Shhhhh… I promise you, Arthur, you will be all right. I promise you.”



Part 4