Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We should get married,” Mithian said.

Arthur looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading.

“Don’t you think?”

Arthur didn’t know what to say.

“I know it seems soon. We’ve only been dating a little over six months, but we’re both looking for the same things. I don’t see a reason to wait. And we’ve both been married before so we know how it works. No delusions.”

Mithian was lovely, and they did share the same vision for the future. On paper, she seemed the perfect match. Arthur knew he’d never find what he’d had with Merlin again… What he’d thought he’d had. That sort of love was just a fantasy. He had to accept that. Needed to move on.

“You’re right. It’s a great idea.”

Mithian leaned forward and kissed him. He should be happy, elated even; for the second time in his life, he was an engaged man. Inside, his heart screamed in protest, but he was done listening to his heart. Its decision-making skills had disappointed him too deeply to trust again. He had to make judgments with logic and reason alone.

“So what do you think? A small wedding?”

“Yes—”

His mobile rang.

He gave Mithian an apologetic smile and answered. “This is Arthur.”

“Yes, hello, Mr. Pendragon. This is Doctor Gaius Hall with the Kingsway Memorial A&E Department. I’m calling regarding a Mr. Merlin Emrys.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. He couldn’t take this. Shouldn’t have to. Merlin wasn’t his responsibility anymore. “Listen,” he said, “I don’t know—”

Doctor Hall talked over him. “Mr. Emrys was in an accident this afternoon.”

Arthur sat up straight, suddenly alert, his traitorous heart pounding with worry. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, reminding himself again that Merlin was nothing to do with him. “In that case, you should call his mother—”

“You are listed as his emergency contact. Says here that you are his husband.”

“Ex-husband, actually.”

Mithian wrinkled her brow in confusion. He waved a hand at her to indicate everything was fine.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m still going to need you to come down to the hospital. We need to have you sign off on some forms directing treatment.”

“Can’t you just have Merlin change the name on the form?”

“I would gladly do so, Mr. Pendragon,” the doctor snapped, “but unfortunately, Mr. Emrys is currently unconscious and in the operating theater.”

“Oh my God.” Arthur stood. He’d been envisioning stitches or a sprained ankle. “Why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place?! Is he going to be okay? What happened?”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, sir. It seems your husband was riding his bicycle when a car ran a red light and struck him full on.”

“How serious is it?”

“I suggest that you remain calm, but don’t delay. I recommend you call his mother as well while you’re on your way over and anyone else that you think needs to know.”

Arthur’s stomach gave a sudden, violent heave. What this man was saying… It sounded as if he thought Merlin might not make it. But Merlin couldn’t die. He simply couldn’t. Arthur wouldn’t be able to bear it. He’d already lost so much.

“I have to go,” he said to Mithian. “I’ll call you later.” And then he was out the door and on the street hailing a cab.

He told the driver his destination then dialed Hunith. She lived more than an hour away. She needed to know as soon as possible. She would drop everything, he knew, but what if it was too late? He clenched his jaw. He needed to stay calm.

He’d deleted Merlin’s number entirely, but Hunith’s he still had in his favourites. It was a good thing too, because his hand trembled. He relayed what little information he had and promised to do whatever she wanted regarding Merlin’s care.

“You make the decisions, Arthur,” she said. “I trust you, and it will be quicker. Merlin would trust your decisions too in this case, I’m sure.” Then she said the one thing he'd never expected her to say. “He still loves you, you know. Even after you broke his heart. I’m sure he would want you to be the one to make important decisions for him.” Arthur nearly scoffed, but reined himself in. He had no idea what Merlin had told her about what happened. Obviously, it was skewed, but Hunith was a kind woman and this was far from the time to worry about things like that.

He ran through the A&E entrance and up to the reception desk.

“I’m here for Merlin Emrys.”

“Your name?”

“Pendragon,” he said, out of breath. “Arthur. I received a call from Dr. Hall.”

“Ohhh, right.” The nurse spun in her chair slowly to collect a file from the desk behind her. She clearly didn’t understand that the E in A&E stood for emergency. “Here you are. I’ll page the doctor. You can have a seat over there.” She pointed behind him and to his left.

He didn’t sit. He stood, arms crossed, and refused to allow himself to pace.

After an unreasonably long wait, an old man with wispy white hair below his ears came up to him and introduced himself as Dr. Hall. Arthur recognized his voice from the phone call.

“Mr. Emrys is still in surgery,” the man said and lead him to a small room adjacent to the waiting area where they could talk privately.

The doctor went on after that, but it was hard to process everything he was saying. Arthur did his best, knowing he was going to have to repeat all this to Hunith. Among a plethora of less severe injuries, Merlin also had a broken leg, a few broken ribs, and a traumatic brain injury. The doctor showed him a few x-rays, but not all the injuries were obvious. The break in the femur was easy enough to see—they were going to have to piece it back together with a metal plate and screws, but at least the prognosis for the leg was good. The head injury was another matter. Even with the protection of a helmet, the impact had been hard enough that Merlin’s brain was swelling. The surgeon was currently removing a piece of Merlin’s skull to relieve the pressure. Mortality rates for people needing that level of intervention were as high as 1 in 4.

Arthur couldn’t think clearly enough after hearing that to ask for any more detail. He had to swallow the huge lump in his throat, answer a few questions, sign some papers. The doctor wanted to know what Merlin would want if things went badly and as much as Arthur knew that Merlin would never want to be kept alive by machines if there was no hope, he was young and strong, and Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of not giving him every possible chance if there was even a tiny bit of hope remaining.

After the doctor had all he needed, Arthur was sent back to the waiting room where he stared at the entrance. He stood as soon as he saw Hunith rush in. She hadn’t spotted him yet, and looked around anxiously.

“Hunith!” He raised his hand to draw her eye.

She turned at the sound of her name and made her way straight over to Arthur where she immediately pulled him into a tight hug. He wanted to pull away, not because of any unease about her being his ex-mother-in-law, but because the longer she held him, the more he felt his carefully composed calm slipping. When she finally let go, he ushered her into a seat and set about repeating all he could remember from his conversation with the doctor. He didn’t know what more to say after that and Hunith seemed to be busy processing all the new information, so they simply sat together in anxious silence until Dr. Hall finally brought word that Merlin was done with both of his surgeries.

Arthur said, “When can we see him?”

He hadn’t realized how inappropriate it was for him to ask that question at all, let alone for him to have asked with such anxiety in his voice. He might not have ever noticed but for the fact that Hunith took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Merlin was his ex-husband. Ex. He shouldn’t need to be constantly reminding himself of that fact.

The doctor, who wasn’t entirely ignorant of the situation, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He said, “You can visit in a few minutes—once the nurse has him settled—but not for long. He’ll be unconscious for some time yet. We’ve placed him in an induced coma to help facilitate healing.”

“But he’s going to be all right? The surgeries went well you said. He’s going to get better.” Arthur spoke that last with confidence. He needed it to be true. The doctor didn’t give him the reassurance he was looking for.

After far more than the promised few minutes—Arthur kept track, it was 41 minutes from the time the doctor left—Arthur and Hunith were finally guided back to Merlin’s room. The lights inside were kept dim, and Arthur held the door open for Hunith to enter before him. He saw her reaction before he saw Merlin for himself. She gasped, brought trembling hands to her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes. Arthur steeled himself, and it was a good thing he did. Merlin had a blanket covering his lower half, except where it had been pulled aside to expose a cast covering his right leg. An abundance of medical equipment flanked the bed, all sorts of tubes and wires connecting them to Merlin. The exposed portion of Merlin’s left arm was a mass of deep purples bruises and large patches of bright red road rash. Beneath his hospital gown was bound to be a lot more of that, plus, the doctor had explained, a little surgical cut in his abdomen where they were temporarily storing the piece of skull they’d removed until it could be returned to its rightful place in a follow-up surgery. Even knowing all that, it was the neck up that was worst. One eye was swollen shut and there were thick bandages around his head from his surgery.

Hunith went to Merlin’s side, picked up a hand that looked relatively unmarred. “Oh, my darling boy.”

Suddenly queasy, Arthur hovered near the door, afraid to move any closer.

Hunith looked up and beaconed him forward. Arthur felt his head shaking back and forth in fruitless denial.

“Please? For me, if you can’t do it for him?”

Arthur steadied himself and approached the bedside. He took a seat next to Hunith and kept his hands to himself, even when they itched for any sort of connection with the man he’d once expected to spend the rest of his life with.

Arthur worked a bit of moisture back into this mouth, said, “I never liked him riding his bike through the streets. Can’t trust drivers. So vulnerable out there in only a helmet.” Arthur paused, then continued when Hunith didn’t have anything to say. “He used to ride without one. I had to buy one for him. Made him promise me he’d always wear it. I guess…”

Hunith looked up at him, a question in her eyes. She couldn’t fill in the blank.

I guess it’s a good thing that he at least kept that one promise, though he hadn’t kept his others.

Love and cherish.

Till death do us part.

Arthur shook his head again. “I…” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He decided to go the safe route and said, “I’m sorry this happened, Hunith.”

“He’s going to be all right, Arthur. You’ll see.”

He hoped so. He really did. He was heartbroken, not evil. No matter what Merlin had done, he didn’t wish him permanent bodily harm. Lifelong guilt, that Arthur could wish on him, but not this.

They were only allowed to stay in Merlin’s room for about 15 minutes. Then a nurse came to usher them out. As though it made any difference to Merlin whether they were there or not.

The nurse explained the visiting hours. Since Merlin was in intensive care, it was a small window they were allowed. Before Hunith left, she leaned in and kissed Merlin on one of the few unmarked patches of skin, his right cheek. She said, “You get some good rest now, sweetheart. Arthur and I will be back to see you again tomorrow.”

Arthur hadn’t been planning on returning. Hunith could call him if he needed to sign more papers. He wasn’t needed here anymore. And what would happen when Merlin woke up? Merlin wouldn’t want to see Arthur any more than Arthur wanted to endure sitting by his hospital bed. But Hunith had always been so kind to him and he didn’t have the heart to contradict her. Not when her only son was so desperately injured.

As they walked out into the cool, early morning air, Arthur spoke without thinking. “You’ll be wanting to stay in London, I assume, while Merlin’s in hospital.”

“Yes.”

“You could stay at mine.” Hunith wasn’t a wealthy woman. Potentially weeks’ worth of hotel bills would pile up quickly. “I’m rarely home anyway.”

“That’s very kind of you, Arthur. But I think I’ll stay at Merlin’s. I do have his spare key.”

She said that like there was only one. “That won’t be… awkward for you?”

She turned toward him, puzzled. “No. And it will be easy for me to take care of Aithusa that way.”

Arthur wanted to say that Gwaine could take care of Merlin’s cat, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

“Of course.”

“My car is this way.” She pointed in the opposite direction from where Arthur was headed. “Do you want me to drop you off at your flat?”

“No. I’ll just call an Uber.”

“It’s really no trouble. It’s not much out of the way.”

Arthur felt he had no choice but to accept the offer.

After settling into the passenger seat, Arthur pulled out his phone and noted the numerous texts from Mithian. She’d left a voicemail as well.

Arthur played the message. She was worried for him of course. She never liked when the topic of Merlin was brought up. She knew how much it destressed him.

It was early, and she was likely asleep, but he called anyway with the intention of leaving her a message. She picked up the phone after the first ring. He gave her a brief summary of the situation, then encouraged her to try and get a little sleep before she needed to be up for her job.

When he set his mobile back down, he noticed Hunith glancing at him.

“That was Mithian.” God, this was awkward. “My girlfriend.”

Hunith frowned, looking troubled. “It’s a bit soon, isn’t it?”

All things considered, it was rather soon, but the sentiment was a bit rich considering it was her son’s fault they were divorced in the first place.

Arthur swallowed down his unease. “Actually, Hunith, Mithian isn’t just my girlfriend. She’s my fiancé.”

“I see.” Hunith concentrated on driving for the rest of the trip.

Despite having been up all night, Arthur could barely sleep when he got home. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Merlin, lying pale and unresponsive in that hospital bed. Knowing someone had needed to cut away a piece of his skull to save his life. Arthur dealt with the pain and anxiety the only way he knew how—by stoking his anger.

He hadn’t wanted to believe his father all those times he’d warned Arthur against his relationship with Merlin.

“He’s a gold-digger, son. He only cares about the money. Here, I’ve had my solicitor draw up a pre-nuptial agreement. Try getting him to sign it. That will show you his true colours.”

Arthur, naive and in love as he was, had torn the papers to shreds and ploughed headlong into the wedding. And things had been good—unbelievably good, and that should have been the first sign—for a little while. He and Merlin hadn’t dated long and had decided on an even shorter engagement, but it had been smooth sailing between them for nearly a year after the wedding. The biggest ripple, as far as Arthur was concerned, was Uther’s constant animosity. After Arthur had shredded the prenup, Uther had immediately set the solicitor to work on divorce papers. He’d presented them to Arthur in lieu of a wedding present.

As much as he could, Arthur had cut his father out of his life for it, but that hadn’t stopped him from sending updated papers in the mail every few months. He’d kept it from Merlin. Hadn’t wanted to upset him.

If only Arthur had listened to his father in the first place.

Chapter Text

By the time Arthur’s alarm sounded the beginning of a new work day, he’d been over the situation a dozen times in his head. He wasn’t going to go back to the hospital. That was decided. He’d fulfilled his responsibilities, and Hunith could handle things from here. Arthur was moving on with his life. He couldn’t afford to be looking back now. No good would come of it.

He showered, dressed, made coffee, went to work. The deadline for the Adderbury proposal was in two days. He met with Gilli to work out some discrepancies between the proposed scope of services and the associated fee estimate.

Midway through his meeting, Hunith texted to remind him of the visiting hours. He meant to send a reply telling her not to expect him, but he allowed himself to be distracted by something Gilli said. Before he knew it, morning visiting hours had ended, and she knew by then that he wasn’t coming.

When Arthur sat down at his desk with an unappetizing sandwich for a working lunch, he found himself glancing a little too frequently at his mobile. Regardless of how rude he’d been in not even replying to her last message, he’d expected another text from Hunith with an update about Merlin’s condition.

What if…

He tried to busy himself in replying to a few emails, but what if Hunith hadn’t texted again because Merlin was doing much worse today, and she was sitting alone, too distraught to even pick up her phone?

It’s none of my business anymore.

Then again…

Maybe I should just call to che—

At the sound of a soft knock, Arthur looked away from his phone.

“Arthur, do you have a few minutes?” Daegal, one of their youngest engineers stood wide-eyed in Arthur’s doorway, wringing his hands together. “Elena’s panicking. She says she just found a major constructability problem with the Tideway Tunnel plans, but they have to be submitted by the end of the day so the project can be bid on schedule.”

Arthur had only eaten half of his sandwich, but he tossed the rest in the bin—he was full anyway—and followed Daegal over to Elena’s office to see what was going on. As much as he hated problems popping up so close to bidding, he found himself a little grateful in this case. He needed a distraction. If he thought about Merlin any more, he might end up doing something he would regret. He needed to stay away from that hospital.

His conviction held until the end of the day. He typically used the Underground for his commute and today was no different. He’d intended to go straight home, but a few stops before he usually got off, it occurred to him that he was currently only a five-minute walk from Merlin’s hospital, and Hunith still hadn’t sent him an update about Merlin’s condition. She’d probably decided that he didn’t deserve an update, not now that she knew about Mithian.  He jumped out of his seat and, jostling a string of new passengers in his wake, dashed out of the carriage just as the doors were beginning to close.

At the hospital, he went straight to the lift and paused. What was he doing? He’d decided not to come. This was a mistake. He should go. He turned, took three steps and paused again. He was already here. It would be a wasted trip if he didn’t at least check on Hunith. Unlike her son, she’d never done anything to earn the indifference that he should have for Merlin. Then again, maybe she didn’t want him here.

Arthur let out noisy huff of frustration. He’d never been so indecisive in his life. His father would be ashamed.

Real men make a decision and stick to it, Arthur. You decided on your own that you wanted to take over the firm after me. Now that you have your undergraduate degree in engineering you can’t decide at the last minute to get a master’s degree in biomedical engineering instead of pursuing your MBA, just because you think it’s more glamorous. Civil engineering is a noble profession!

Uther always liked to preach dedication when it suited him and when it didn’t, he would fall back on the old standard: father knows best.

Arthur pulled out his phone to check the time. There were nearly twenty minutes left in visiting hours. He still had a little time to decide. He had to sit down, think this through rationally, but telling himself he shouldn’t worry about Merlin, no matter how logical, hadn’t helped so far. He had to approach it from a different angle.

He went back to the lobby and found a seat, started laying out all the variables and potential outcomes of his choices. It turned out to be an effective approach.

What if Merlin was dying right now? Just a few floors above him? When he finally considered it in that light, the answer came easily enough, because if Merlin died, he would always regret that he hadn’t gone more than he would regret going if Merlin was able to make a full recovery.

He strode back to the lift, pressed the up button, and checked the indicator light to find that the lift was moving in the opposite direction from what he wanted. It paused on the fifth floor. He waited, distracted himself a short while with the ugly painting on the opposite wall, looked at his mobile for the time again. There were only 9 minutes left before visiting hours ended. Merlin could by dying this very moment for all he knew, and the lift still hadn’t moved from the fifth floor. He would be in Merlin’s room already if he’d just taken the stairs instead. He waited impatiently for another 30 seconds but when the lift finally moved again, it was to go up to the sixth floor so he gave up on waiting and sprinted up the stairs instead.  He didn’t slow down when he reached the third floor but raced down the corridor.

He ploughed through the door to Merlin’s room, chest heaving. Hunith looked up from her seat at Merlin’s bedside. She held Merlin’s hand sandwiched between both of hers as if she’d been praying.

Arthur tried to calm himself as quickly as possible, said, “How is he today?” in a low voice.

“The swelling was worse this morning, according to his doctor, but he’s improved a little this afternoon. He’s fighting very hard, Arthur.”

Arthur moved further into the room. Merlin didn’t look any different than he had last night as far as Arthur could tell. The cast, the machines, the tube and wires, the bruises... It all made him a little nauseous.

He shouldn’t be here. What had he been thinking?

“Do you want to hold his hand?”

Arthur said, “I couldn’t,” but Hunith was already setting Merlin’s hand gently back on the bed and standing up anyway.

She said, “Of course you can. If you want to. I’m sure your fiancé would understand, given the circumstances. So long as she’s a compassionate person.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I’ll give you some time alone with him.”

Arthur tried to protest, but she’d made up her mind. She leaned over the hospital bed, said, “Rest well, Merlin. Arthur’s here to see you. He got held up at work again, but you know how he is.” Arthur bristled, taking the comment as a criticism. Merlin must have complained to his mother about how often Arthur worked late. He wanted to say something in his defense, but she continued on. “Always so dedicated.” She turned to Arthur, rested her hand on his arm for a moment, then left the room.

Arthur stood rooted in place for a long moment, unsure of what to do next. Hunith had left early to give him the opportunity to sit with Merlin alone. It would be rude to waste it. He took the seat Hunith had been using, stared at Merlin’s hand, resting just in front of him, palm up on the mattress, his fingers curled loosely. Arthur clenched his fists and leaned back as if it were a scorpion, ready to strike. He had to divert his gaze, took up staring at the heart rate monitor instead. The comforting repetition of the rhythm soothed his nerves a little.

Hunith’s voice from the previous night popped back into his head. He still loves you.

Somehow, despite everything, he found that he actually wished it were true. Wouldn’t that be nice? They might have had a chance to fix things if that were the case. He knew it wasn’t. If Merlin still loved him, he’d have reached out by now—with an apology or at least an explanation. He’d have taken a little time before signing the papers. He’d have fought for their marriage.

“Why did you do it, Merlin? Why did you have to ruin everything?” Arthur had never actually asked before. He’d been too angry.

What Hunith had said about his tendency to get home late from work… Thinking over her comment again, he didn’t think she’d meant it unkindly, but even if Merlin hadn’t complained about it, it seemed he’d at least been in the habit of making excuses for him. And Arthur couldn’t rightly blame him. He did work a lot of overtime. It was expected of him. He wanted to lead the company some day; it was only right that he work harder than anyone else. That was the way it had been for as long as he and Merlin had known each other. Merlin had never complained about it to Arthur, but what if it had bothered him? Had he felt neglected? Lonely? Maybe that’s where it had started.

Arthur thought back, considered for the first time that he might have contributed in some way to the breakdown of their marriage. But if Merlin had been unhappy, why hadn’t he just said something?

“If I were still your husband, I would have been here every moment I was allowed. Work be damned. You know that, right?”

He could distinctly remember Merlin once saying, “I’m proud of how you insist on staying late to help where you can when there’s a deadline, even when it’s not your responsibility. Your employees are lucky to have a boss like you.” But maybe that had been a lie too. Maybe he’d just liked the extra free time it afforded him away from Arthur. Then again, if that were the case, why had he ever said things like, “You’re not a machine, Arthur. You need rest.”

Well, Arthur had showed him. Since the divorce, he worked more overtime than ever, and he was doing just fine.

He took a deep breath, let it out in a rush. Now wasn’t the time for bitterness. He shifted up to the edge of his seat.

“You already left me. You can’t leave your mother, too. Do you hear me, Merlin? You have to get better.”

The clock on the far wall showed that visiting hours were officially over. Any minute now someone was going to be in to shoo Arthur out. Arthur stood, but found himself hesitating again. Merlin’s blanket barely came up past his waist. He never slept like that when he was at home. Arthur adjusted the blanket, pulled it up to cover Merlin’s chest, shoulders, and right arm, only leaving his left, which had his IV and blood oxygen monitor, exposed.

  -x-x-

The following week, just as Arthur was getting out of his third meeting of the morning, he got a call from Hunith.

“Can you come back to the hospital, Arthur?”

“You mean now?”

“Yes, please.”

Enough time had passed; he’d thought Merlin was out of immediate danger. “It’s not… Merlin. He’s not…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but Hunith managed to catch his meaning.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He’s awake. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Awake… That was good and not unexpected either. Hunith had texted two days ago saying the swelling had gone down enough for his follow-up surgery to return his bone flap to his skull. Yesterday, the update had been that the surgery had gone well and that they were planning to end the medications that were keeping Merlin in the induced coma. Him coming round this quickly should be a good sign. Except, consciousness didn’t mean a full recovery. With a head injury like Merlin’s, there was no telling what kind of damage he had until he was awake.

Hunith met Arthur in the hall outside Merlin’s room. She said, “Merlin’s been asking for you.”

“He has?” Not that he thought Hunith would lie to him, but the very notion was a bit unbelievable.

“Yes, but…”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the particular way she’d said, ‘but…’

“Arthur, I was out of the room when he fully woke up. He called the nurse and asked… for his husband.”

“You mean his ex-h—"

“No, Arthur. He thinks you’re still married. He doesn’t remember anything from the last 13 or 14  months.”

“I—"

“He’s under enough stress already. I don’t want him to have to deal with this on top of everything else. His doctor thinks he might regain the memories naturally with a little time so I just… I think it’s best if… Could you just play along? Just for a few days until we’re sure he’s out of the woods?”

This was crazy, like a plot line straight out of one of those ridiculous daytime soap operas. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Arthur, he almost died. If you ever loved him, please.”

Arthur’s ego rankled at the suggestion. Of course he’d loved Merlin. Loved him with his whole heart. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault they weren’t together anymore. “I’ll try my best, but Hunith…”

“That’s all I’m asking. I’ll go let him know you’re on your way in.”

Fuck! Arthur drew his hands across his face, then through his hair, not worrying about how messy it looked. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He paced. Hunith was waiting for him. Merlin was waiting. He steeled himself, clenched his jaw. Merlin wouldn’t remember the fight or the divorce, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the same person who’d betrayed him. He wouldn’t fall for Merlin’s act again. He just had to go in, say enough to calm Merlin down so he could rest, then get on with his life and not worry about how Merlin felt about their marriage falling apart.

He pushed open the door and for all his mental preparations, found himself reeling.

“Arthur,” Merlin croaked, “you look terrible.” It was a sad commentary considering Merlin was the one who’d nearly died and now apparently didn’t even have enough strength or energy to lift his head up from his pillows. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m going to be all right. I promise.” In spite of his condition, Merlin still managed to give Arthur that dazzling, beautiful smile that used to make him feel like the most loved man on the entire planet.

It’s all a lie.

“Come sit with me.”

No, I can’t. I—

“Please. It’s okay. I’ll show you.”

Hunith switched seats so that she was in the chair closer to Merlin’s feet and Arthur had the spot near the head of the bed. When Arthur sat down, Merlin instantly reached out for his hand. Arthur could feel Hunith’s eyes boring into him.

“The doctor already broke the news about my memory so you don’t have to… Hey. Are you getting your ring resized?”

“What?”

Merlin ran his finger over the spot where Arthur’s wedding ring used to sit.

Merlin always had been too clever for his own good. Arthur’s mind spun into high gear but the best it could supply him with was, “Resized?”

“You’ve lost weight. Have you been sick recently or have I just been that bad at making you take care of yourself in the last year or so?”

Arthur wanted to spill the truth. Tell Merlin how he’d lost that weight because nothing had sounded appealing for months after the divorce. How he still wasn’t fully recovered, but wasn’t going to let that stop him from ploughing forward with life because he’d already wasted too much time on Merlin.

“It’s been stressful lately,” he said, which was true. He tossed in a lie to explain. “You know, work.”

Merlin clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth in dissatisfaction.

Once Arthur got the initial deception out of the way, more flowed in. “And I’m not resizing the ring. I’m sure I’ll get back to my usual weight after things settle down a little more. It’s safe at home in my mother’s jewelry box.” All of that was technically true, just not the implication that once he regained his usual physique that he would be putting the ring back on. He should have sold it, but that would mean looking at it, thinking about it. Thinking about Merlin.

“You’re so tense.”

“I’ll go get some coffee.” Hunith left them alone.

“When I get out of here, I promise I’ll do a better job of helping you forget about work when you’re at home.” Merlin smiled, and he seemed so sincere, Arthur could almost believe him, but 13 months ago he’d probably already started his affair with Gwaine, so even if he didn’t remember the divorce, he at least knew he’d broken his vows.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

And that was it. The final straw. He’d been holding so much in since the divorce, getting by on anger alone. He’d never allowed himself to be sad over it. Now, he rested his head on the mattress and cried. Merlin brushed a hand through his hair, murmured soothing words, obviously thinking this breakdown was over worries about Merlin’s near-death experience.

And it just felt so real. Like it always had before. And what if… Arthur didn’t know exactly when the affair had begun. He didn’t know the full extent of Merlin’s memory loss. What if he really didn’t know? What if, in Merlin’s mind, they truly were still happily married? What if he never remembered? What if this was a second chance to make things right?

No. No, God damn it! His future was with Mithian now.

Arthur sat back up, wiped away the residual tears on his cheeks, said, “Sorry about that.”

Merlin shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. Has anyone told you yet that you saved my life?”

Arthur had to clear a lump from his throat. “How’s that?”

“My surgeon told me I’d be dead if I hadn’t been wearing that helmet you bought me.”

Arthur took in a sudden, deep breath. This emotional whiplash was exhausting. “I’m really glad you kept that promise, Merlin.”

“You know me. I always keep my promises.”

Arthur changed the subject before too much of the truth came out. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good considering. I’m doped up on pain killers at the moment though. They say they’re going to start weening me off tomorrow so it’s probably going to be a rough day.” Merlin took a quick look around the room. “I’m already tired of this place. I can’t wait to come home.”

Merlin was thinking about their flat—as it had been last spring. The decorative vase in the living room with a chip on the rim that Merlin refused to toss out because it had been a gift from a friend who passed away, the refrigerator that made a strange gurgling noise when you closed the door too hard, the bed they’d spent weeks shopping for before they could find a mattress they both agreed on. Arthur tried not to worry about it. Merlin would remember everything before he was discharged and it wouldn’t be a problem.

“You need to rest. Focus on recovering.”

Arthur had hardly seen Merlin, let alone spoken to him, since the papers were signed. Before the ink had even had a chance to dry, Uther’s legal team had taken over, pushing the divorce through as quickly as the law allowed and with as little input from Arthur—and presumably Merlin—as possible. It felt strange now, to be talking with him so casually. Arthur stood, ready to make his getaway as soon as possible.

Merlin frowned at him, clearly aware that something was amiss. “Would it make you feel better if I promised to never ride my bike on the road again?”

Arthur would have loved such a promise back when they were married, but now, not only did Merlin not owe him promises of any sort, Arthur couldn’t trust that he would keep his word anyway.

“You don’t have to do that. You love riding your bike.”

“I’d give it up for you, if it would ease your mind. Honestly, Arthur. I can see how upset you are.”

And there was the look that Arthur had seen dozens if not hundreds of times. Merlin’s I’m-in-pain-because-you’re-in-pain expression. This, this right here, was the Merlin that Arthur remembered. And he couldn’t stomach another minute.

“You’re tired. Get some sleep. I’ll check in on you again tomorrow.” He wasn’t sure if the promise of another visit was just an excuse to get Merlin to let him go or if he really meant it, but he put one foot in front of the other, making good on his escape.

“Before you go…”

“What is it?”

“No kiss?”

“Merlin…”

“I didn’t hurt my lips. Promise.”

Arthur stood, halfway between the bed and the door. He was willing to do just about anything to get out of here, but he couldn’t do that. He settled on a compromise, moved back to Merlin’s side, leaned in, and pressed his lips softly to Merlin’s unmarred right cheek. Arthur hadn’t intended to linger but he did—just couldn’t seem to pull his lips away. Not now, when he knew full well that this right here was the last time. That he would never kiss Merlin again.

“Arthur?”

Arthur pulled back, swallowed down all the treacherous feelings bubbling up from his gut in one painful gulp—feelings he knew he didn’t deserve, like guilt and despair.

“You’d tell me if something were wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would.”

Arthur had never felt so sick over a mere conversation in his life. His stomach literally ached with the stress of it all—a dull, burning pain.

Hunith was waiting for him outside the door, no coffee in sight. Arthur could tell she wanted to talk, but she didn’t say anything.

“Merlin never explained why we got divorced, did he?”

“All he ever said was that you didn’t love him anymore and that he wanted you to be happy. But Arthur, you don’t look happy. And I can see that you still care for him. Don’t pull that new fiancé of yours into something you can’t finish.”

Arthur knew life with Mithian would be work. Hard work. She knew that too. They both had the same opinion about marriage—that it wasn’t a matter of loving hard enough. It was just a matter of the honesty and commitment of both parties. That was why they would be able to make it work while he and Merlin, who he’d loved more than he’d even thought possible, had not. He and Mithian weren’t desperately in love, but at least they were honest about it. Mutual respect and a common vision—that was enough if you were both committed.

He needed to tell Hunith in no uncertain terms that his relationship with her son was over, that he was moving on. That he was going to marry Mithian. That he would be happy. Instead, he said, “How am I supposed to trust him, Hunith? He lied to me.”

“About what, luv?”

Arthur shook his head. She would never believe it. He hadn’t either, at first. But he had evidence. Proof.

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary Tuesday, the day everything began to fall apart. Arthur was reviewing invoices in his office when George dropped off an interoffice envelope. He knew what it was going to be before he even opened the bloody thing. Inside, just as he’d expected, were the latest set of divorce papers his father had ordered on his behalf. Arthur stood up, intending to take them over to the copy room and feed them through the shredder just like he’d done with all the others, but there was something else included this time—a pair of glossy photos printed on heavy 8” by 10” paper. Arthur immediately changed course. Instead of going to the shredder, he headed to the top floor, to his father’s office.

Uther’s door was closed when he arrived, but Arthur barged right in without knocking. He wasn’t concerned about interrupting anything. This was more important.

“What the hell is this?” Arthur slapped the packet down on Uther’s desk. The photos showing Merlin and Gwaine with their arms wrapped around each other, the awning advertising the entrance to The Dilly hotel clearly legible above them in the version with a wider view, slid off the main packet of legal paperwork and nearly fell into Uther’s lap.

“So you’ve finally decided to talk to me. Apart from a few mandatory company-related reports, I think this is the first time in nearly a year.”

“Father!”

“What’s there to be confused about? The boy is clearly cheating on your, Arthur. I always told you he was no good. Now you can see that for yourself.”

“No. This can’t be what it looks like. It’s impossible. Merlin would never do that to me.”

“Why? Because he says he loves you?” Uther snorted, rummaged through a pile of papers and picked up a thin report. He began reading, “12:14 p.m.: Subject meets man later identified as Gwaine Greene outside The Dilly hotel, pair embrace, proceed inside until exiting at 1:47 p.m. Total duration of stay 1 hour, 23 minutes.”

“What is that? You were having Merlin followed?”

“Good thing for you that I did.”

“What? No! They were probably just having lunch at the hotel restaurant.”

Uther raised an eyebrow.

“And as for the hug… This may surprise you, but people can hug for completely platonic reasons.”

“I believe the two of you have individual bank accounts as well as a joint account.”

Even before the wedding, Arthur had refused to speak with his father about his and Merlin’s finances, but considering everything else he’d done, Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised that his father knew about the structure of their accounts.

“Check his personal account, Arthur. That will tell you if he bought himself lunch or… well, something else.”

Arthur wasn’t going to do that—not that he couldn’t, Merlin had given him his password; he didn’t have anything to hide. This whole thing was ridiculous. There was no way Merlin was cheating on him. He didn’t even need to ask about it. Arthur trusted Merlin too much to insult him with accusations of infidelity.

-x-x-

Arthur downed the rest of his second cup of coffee for the day with a huge gulp and immediately began contemplating another. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, but he’d barely slept again last night. His mind kept replaying every little nuance of his visit with Merlin the previous evening—kept feeling Merlin take his hand, run his fingers through Arthur’s hair and down the back of his neck. Kept feeling Merlin’s skin against his lips. Kept hearing that horrible I-love-you lie falling so casually from Merlin’s lips. It twisted Arthur’s stomach into knots. And as if all that weren’t enough, he’d told Merlin he would visit again today. Just the thought of it had him mentally scrambling for a reasonable excuse to break his promise.   

A chime sounded on his computer to remind him to join his monthly meeting with the company’s CFO. He joined the video call hoping it would be sufficiently distracting to give himself a metal break from his personal life. It worked for all of 20 minutes. Arthur wasn’t halfway through his explanation of how he was going to get his problem projects back on track when his mobile buzzed with another call from Hunith’s number. He broke off midsentence and immediately ended his virtual meeting.

“Hunith, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Arthur,” Merlin’s voice said.

“Oh, Merlin. Why are you calling me at work? On your mother’s phone?”

“Mum said my mobile was damaged in the accident, so I’m borrowing hers. I didn’t mean to bother you at work but I wanted to hear your voice today. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Arthur ignored the question. “I said I would come see you.” Arthur said it like it was a given that he would go no matter his earlier debates with himself. Maybe it was. His track record on this topic was distinctly one-sided so far.

“I know, but my leg aches, it hurts to breathe, and my head is pounding so hard it’s nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. I’m trying to sleep as much as I can and you were so upset yesterday. I don’t want to add even more stress on you today. After work, you should go home, eat a good supper, and go to bed early. My mum’s here. Don’t worry about me.”

Arthur started to protest purely to be contrary, but Merlin cut him off.

“Sorry, Arthur, I’ve got to go. The doctor’s here to check on me. Love you.”

A spike of suspicion flared up at the sudden way Merlin ended the call. If it were really his doctor that was interrupting, Merlin could have put him on speakerphone so that Arthur could listen in. If Merlin really wanted to talk with him, he wouldn’t be telling Arthur not to visit in the first place. The more likely scenario was that Gwaine had come to visit, and Merlin, not remembering the divorce, didn’t realize that Arthur already knew all about their relationship—that there was no need to hide anymore.

Well, Arthur had his reasonable excuse not to visit now. He went anyway. After all, he’d said he would go, and Merlin was the one who broke promises, not him.

Merlin was asleep when Arthur showed up. Hunith must have stepped out for a break because she wasn’t in the room, but her purse sat on one of the chairs, half covered by her jacket. Arthur took the empty seat that remained.

A large vase overflowing with purple and white flowers on the table beside the bed drew his attention. From Gwaine, no doubt.

The bastard didn’t even know that Merlin didn’t like cut flowers. He would have much preferred potted flowers instead—something he could enjoy for more than just a few days. Arthur supposed he should be lucky that he only had to see the flowers and that he’d missed the man himself.  There was a card with the flowers, and it took several minutes for Arthur to work up the courage to read it. When he finally did, he found it wasn’t from Gwaine after all. It was from some other man. Someone named Lance that Arthur had never heard of. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.  Did this mean Merlin was cheating on Gwaine now too or had they broken up?

Hunith slipped in the door, her expression brightening at the sight of him. “Arthur,” she said in a whisper, “I’m so glad you’re here. Merlin’s been having a rough day.”

Taking the hint from Hunith, Arthur kept his voice low as well. “How so?”

Hunith moved her purse and jacket, sat down in the chair beside him. “He won’t admit to it, but I can tell he’s in a lot of pain today. I even asked one of the nurses if there was something she could do, but she said no. It’s so hard to watch him suffer like this. You being here will lift his spirits though.”

Arthur didn’t know what the right response was to that, so they just sat in silence for several minutes until his curiosity finally got the better of him.

“Do you know who Lance is?”

“Who?”

“The one who sent the flowers.” Arthur pointed as if there could be some confusion.

“Oh, Lance, right. Merlin always calls him Mr. Du Lac. He’s Merlin’s agent.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “He finally found an agent?” Merlin was as brilliant author. Arthur had never understood why he’d had so much difficulty in finding someone in the publishing industry who saw that.

Hunith nodded. “A few months ago. He said he’ll be able to find a publisher for Merlin’s latest novel before the end of the year.”

“That’s—!” Arthur said, louder than he’d intended. Merlin stirred in his sleep, made a pathetic little whimpering sound. Arthur’s initial bust of pride and excitement was immediately followed by disappointment that he’d missed the news—he’d always had big plans for celebrating such milestones in Merlin’s career—then frustration at all his previous feelings because he wasn’t supposed to care one way or the other anymore. He returned to whispering. “That’s great, Hunith. I always knew he could do it.”

She gave him a gentle smile in response that looked suspiciously like sympathy.

Arthur redirected the subject back to his initial concern about the flowers. “It’s a rather elaborate arrangement, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Merlin says he’s very kind. Though I think the flowers were more his wife’s idea.” Hunith took a moment. “Her name was Gwen, if I’m remembering right. They stopped by for a visit this morning, but Merlin wasn’t really up for socializing, and they only stayed a few minutes.”

Arthur let out a deep breath, relieved, despite himself that Merlin didn’t seem to be close with this other man. He leaned back in his chair and simply watched Merlin sleep for a time, but even that turned out to be more nerve-racking than it should have been. Merlin shifted about, occasionally making a short grunt or more of those pathetic whimpers from before—as if uncomfortable even in his sleep. The longer Arthur watched, the more restless Merlin became until finally blinking his eyes open. He stared at the ceiling long enough that Arthur wasn’t sure if Merlin had even noticed him.

“Merlin.”

Still not looking at him, Merlin said, “What are you doing here?” his words slurring together with the remnants of sleep. “Told you to stay home.”

“You did. I ignored you.”

“Aithusa’ll be missing you.”

“Me? Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.” It had taken Merlin’s cat several months to warm up to him in the first place. She’d probably forgotten all about him by now. Arthur wasn’t so lucky. It hadn’t taken long after Merlin moved out—taking Aithusa with him—to realize that he missed the way she’d greeted him at the door when he came home from work, how she’d curled up between his and Merlin’s legs on cold nights, how she’d purred loud enough to be heard across a room when he rubbed the spot under her chin. “She hasn’t seen you in a week. It’s you she’s missing.”

Arthur expected some sort of reply, but Merlin didn’t have anything to say. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling, jaw clenched. Feeling awkward, Arthur cast about for a safe topic.

“Are you feeling any better than when you phoned me this morning?”

Arthur waited.

“Merlin?”

“I just want to go back to sleep. You shouldn’t have come.”

Arthur shared a brief, concerned look with Hunith before returning his attention to Merlin. “You’re in pain?”

Merlin took a few moments to respond, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was deciding what to say—whether or not he was going to lie—or if he was simply building up the capacity to reply. “A bit. Won’t kill me.”

“Why don’t you ask your doctor for more pain medication?”

Merlin took a few measured, but shallow breaths. “Docs know what they’re doing.”

“Merlin…” Of all the ridiculous things… Arthur had never thought Merlin the type for pointless displays of machismo. “Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin turned his head slowly, said, “…’m fine.” But when he blinked, a tear spilled over and raced down the side of his face and onto his pillow.

Arthur stood abruptly. He’d seen enough. “Clearly not. You can’t even carry on a normal conversation.”

Merlin called his name, but Arthur ignored him. He strode out of the room, found the nearest nurse, and spent the next 10 minutes getting things sorted.

The first thing the nurse said to Merlin was, “Sorry, hun. Did we back down your dosages too quickly?” She continued in a stage whisper. “I think your boyfriend is a keeper. He threw quite the fuss out there.”

Merlin’s attempt at a smile came off more as a grimace, but he said, “I think so too. Guess that’s why I married him.”

When the nurse spoke again, she sounded as if she were suppressing a smile. “All right, Mr. Emrys. Like before. I need you to rate your pain from zero to ten with zero being no pain at all and ten being the worst pain you can imagine.”

“Maybe a seven or—"

“Be honest,” Arthur said, his tone firm.

“Or an eight…” After a quick peek at Arthur’s expression, he amended, “… point… five.”

“Round, Merlin. For Christ’s sake, that’s a nine! One step away from… I don’t know, getting your arm cut off or being burned alive or something!”

“It’s not quite that bad.”

“Oh, I’m sure that extra half step away changes everything. Stop downplaying your own suffering! You think your mother and I like seeing you like this?”

The nurse shot him a look that somehow managed to be part reprimand, part pity, and Arthur snapped his mouth shut. He waited while the nurse gave Merlin a few pills to swallow, added some notes to his chart, and left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, Arthur was off again.

“What is wrong with you!? Is your brain more damaged than we thought? You don’t have to just accept whatever you’re given. God, Merlin! Advocate for yourself a little! I’m not always going to be around to—"

Arthur broke off when he realized what he was saying, but it was too late.

Merlin’s focus zeroed in on him. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing, just… Speak up if there’s something you need. No one can read your mind.”

Arthur had more to say on the topic, but couldn’t trust that the words that would come out of his mouth would be the ones he wanted. He stood beside Merlin’s bed, fairly quivering with anger and feeling increasingly nauseous.

Hunith put a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s all right now, Arthur. Why don’t you sit back down, okay?”  

Arthur let out a heavy sigh and took Hunith’s suggestion. She mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”

Despite his best efforts to calm himself, a bit of acid bubbled up in the back of Arthur’s throat. He had to swallow hard to keep it down, which sent him into a brief coughing fit.

Merlin’s focus was still locked on him. “Are you all right, Arthur?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, stunned at Merlin’s blatant stubbornness. “Check your priorities, Merlin. My little cough is nothing. You need to worry about yourself. Please!” Arthur rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and slumped to the side, supporting his head with his hand. He continued in a more resigned tone. “What were you thinking putting yourself through that all day? Do you think you deserve to suffer?”

“Wasn’t as bad this morning.”

“That is not an answer.”

Merlin gave a half-hearted little shrug. “I can’t go home until I get off the IV meds. There’s caps on the oral dosages they’ll send me home with too.” Merlin closed his eyes for a long moment. “I just want to go home.”

Home… home with Arthur, he meant.

“That’s no reason to make yourself suffer. So what if you have to stay in hospital an extra day or two? You can come home when you’re truly ready, not before.” It wasn’t until after the word was out of his mouth that he realized he’d misspoken. He’d meant to say “go home” not “come home.” He hadn’t meant to lie, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Okay. Okay, Arthur.” Merlin was clearly just saying that to appease him, but after a long pause, he sounded much more sincere. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you should be.”

“Not for—well, not just for what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh? You have something else to apologize for?”

“I did a terrible job of not worrying you today,” and he sounded so miserable, the part of Arthur’s brain that constantly warned of manipulations and betrayals finally quieted down, allowing the last bits of remaining anger to evaporate. Arthur scooted forward in his seat, leaned closer to Merlin, rested his arm on the bed. “Try to relax.”

Merlin nodded, wrapped his hand over Arthur’s wrist, his grip anything but relaxed. He squeezed tight enough to impair Arthur’s circulation, but Arthur barely noticed. The only pain he felt was in his chest, as if it were his heart that Merlin squeezed instead.

Merlin studied him in silence and Arthur couldn’t look away without raising suspicions. He should say something—try to distract him—but what would he talk about? Arthur did the only thing he could think of. He put his free hand over Merlin’s, said, “You’ll feel better soon.”

Around the time that he began to notice Merlin’s grip on his arm loosening, Hunith said, “Is the medicine working yet? You look more relaxed.”

Merlin hummed in agreement. “It’s much more tolerable now. Down to maybe a 6 or 7.”

That still sounded overly high to Arthur, but there was no doubt that Merlin looked more comfortable.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Weak though it was, for the first time that night, Merlin gave him a smile. “I’m so lucky. What would I do without you?”

-x-x-

Arthur waited until Merlin fell back asleep, then left for his usual Thursday evening activity—supper with Mithian. Arthur routinely worked long hours, and Mithian had both her job and her training to account for.  She hadn’t been much into sports before, but as part of her concerted effort to move on with life after her divorce, she’d taken up distance running and was now preparing for an ultramarathon. Between his overtime and her intense training schedule, they were really only left with Thursday evenings and Sundays to spend time together in person. Some might lament the lack of spontaneity, but Arthur appreciated the consistency, knowing exactly what was expected of him and when.

Mithian’s training affected more than just when they met up. It also affected how. She wanted to be in complete control of what she ate in order to optimize her running performance, and that was much easier to do when cooking at home. As a result, they rarely ate out, opting instead for home cooked meals and a few hours of television.

“You look tired, Arthur.” Mithian said as he helped to set the table. “Did you go see Merlin again today?”

“Yes.”

“Was it very horrible?”

“Yes.”

“No improvement to his memory, then?”

Arthur shook his head, sat down at the dinner table. “Not today.”

“You should just tell him the truth. It’s like we’re always talking about, isn’t it? It’s better to know the truth as soon as possible, even if it hurts. The longer you wait, the more it hurts later.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s not my decision anymore. As long as Merlin is in hospital, I’m going to defer to Hunith’s judgement about what’s best for him.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment, said, “I know you’re only trying to do the right thing,” and took her seat on the opposite side of the table.

Like all meals Mithian cooked, the nutrition was perfectly balanced, with the health of the meal taking precedence over everything else, even taste. Not that her cooking was ever bad, it was just a bit on the bland side. Always baked or steamed, never fried, never any added sugars, and so on.

It wasn’t what Arthur would have picked on his own, but he didn’t mind. Mithian thought it helped her running and that was good enough. He fully supported her new hobby. He understood her need to throw herself so completely into a new endeavor, and it was nice being able to celebrate each of her successes. And besides that, he always seemed to feel a little better after one of their dinner and telly nights. It was a subtle thing, probably all in his head, but anymore it was about the only thing that seemed to help. As if the universe were trying to tell him that he was making the right decision.

Arthur had to be so careful. The way Merlin was acting now, everything he’d said over the past couple of days… Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Arthur was simply falling back under Merlin’s spell, but he was honestly starting to believe that Merlin, in his current state, was still in love with him. He couldn’t be lying all the time. No one could. It didn’t change anything though. They were still divorced. Arthur was still engaged to someone else, and he still didn’t know what had gone wrong with their marriage in the first place. So even if Merlin never regained his memories of the divorce, it would just happen all over again. Merlin would fall back out of love. Arthur couldn’t go through that again. Once had been bad enough.

And as his father had so often reminded him during those months after the papers were signed and before the divorce was finalized, while Arthur still had the opportunity to back out, “Such a betrayal of trust is impossible to recover from.”

Mithian was all he had now. Well, Mithian and his father, but he hardly counted. He’d been insufferable since being proven right about Merlin. Mithian, on the other hand, had been nothing but supportive. She was the only friend that hadn’t abandoned him when Merlin left. Everyone else had sided with Merlin.

Until last night, he’d always assumed that Merlin had told them all whatever lies he’d told Hunith, but she’d claimed he’d never said anything more than that Arthur didn’t love him anymore. Merlin must have had more of an excuse than that though, because no one who knew him at all would think that was why they’d divorced. Certainly Merlin, who until the accident had known more of the truth of the situation than Arthur ever would, couldn’t have believed it. But then, that was just one more lie stacked on top of all the rest.

He and Mithian hadn’t been close before, but they’d known each other for years. And she’d been going through something similar, so when she’d asked him on a date to celebrate the legal end of their marriages to partners who’d failed them, it only seemed logical that he should say yes.

After supper, they moved to the living room. Mithian took her usual spot on the couch along the far wall and Arthur sat in his favourite chair on the opposite side of the room near the window.

If they got married… No, Arthur had to correct himself. When they got married, every night would be like this. It would be perfectly tolerable. It was certainly better than spending the rest of his life alone. In his current living situation, he didn’t even feel equipped to bring an animal into his home to keep him company. He didn’t spend enough time there. It was something he’d thought about before—and immediately dismissed—but Merlin’s comment today about Aithusa brought the idea back.   

Arthur didn’t have enough time to care for an animal on his own, but with Mithian added to the equation…

“What do you think about cats?” Arthur said, without any lead-in.  

“Oh, I love cats!” Before Arthur could move on to a suggestion that they adopt one as soon as they moved in together, Mithian continued. “But I’m terribly allergic. I can’t even tolerate the hairless kind.”

“Ah.” Arthur let the subject drop. There was no reason to feel disappointed. The idea had only just occurred to him. Nothing had changed.

Mithian didn’t ask about the reasoning behind his random question. She turned on the TV and queued up the murder mystery series they’d been watching lately. On the screen, the protagonist made a visit to the morgue to speak with the medical examiner about the cause of death of the latest victim. As the medical examiner pulled the victim’s body out of storage, all Arthur could think about was how close Merlin had come to being stuffed into in one of those refrigerated drawers.

He shifted in his seat. He needed to stop thinking about Merlin. Merlin was resting comfortably now. Arthur didn’t have to spare him any additional thought. He tried for the next hour to pour his attention into the story unfolding before him, but found little success. His mind was still back at the hospital.

Chapter Text

‘Has that lying husband of yours confessed yet?’ the text read.

Arthur had to work to avoid rolling his eyes. He typed out a quick, ‘I don’t have a lying husband. I only have Merlin,’ jabbed the send button, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He shouldn’t have even looked at his mobile when it pinged. He was meant to be enjoying a night out with Merlin, not arguing with his father. And of course, Merlin immediately noticed something was off.

“Everything all right?”

“Fine,” Arthur said, trying not to sound as upset as he felt.

The line he and Merlin were queuing in for film tickets moved up a space and the two of them both took a step forward. It wasn’t enough of a distraction to divert Merlin’s train of thought.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He could never tell Merlin about all the awful things his father said about him. There was nothing either of them could do to stop it—Uther Pendragon wasn’t a reasonable man—and it would only serve to make Merlin feel bad about himself. That was the last thing Arthur wanted. He plastered on a reassuring smile. “It’s just work.”

Another text notification chimed in, this time on Merlin’s phone. Always the wiser of the two of them, Merlin ignored his.

“Not going to check yours?”

“Nah, probably just spam again anyway. Come on. What do you say we both turn our phones off for the rest of the night?”

“Good idea,” Arthur said as he followed Merlin’s advice. “You know, maybe you need to get a new number. You get more spam texts than anyone else I know, and it’s got even worse recently.”

Merlin shook his head. “I bet there’s some sort of fee to change numbers. It’s easy enough to just delete the messages.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile fondly. His father was so wrong about Merlin. His initial objection to their marriage was that Merlin must be a gold-digger—as if money were the only reason someone would want to be with Arthur—but Merlin was the most frugal person he knew. Not only was it better for the environment to repair what you already have and buy only what you truly need, but Merlin liked to save money just for the sake of it. It was a holdover from how he’d grown up. If Merlin were to have an affair, he certainly wouldn’t have chosen to pay for a lavish hotel room for a short tryst. He didn’t even like eating at upscale restaurants. Arthur had to practically drag him to anything that would cost more than £15 a plate and even then, he only agreed to make Arthur happy.

Now that Uther’s gold-digger angle wasn’t working out, he was moving on to this equally ridiculous affair nonsense. Well, Uther could shout his conspiracy theories from the rooftop if he wanted. Arthur would carry on as he always had and ignore him.

-x-x-

Friday afternoon Arthur got a text from Hunith’s phone. ‘Merlin again. Mum took my mobile to the repair shop near the hospital. Could you pick it up on your way to visit after work?’

Arthur didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the pretense of still being happily married, but of course Merlin was going to automatically assume that Arthur would visit every evening until he was released from hospital. He was daydreaming about Arthur taking him back to a home that no longer existed. Well, he’d survived a couple of visits already; he could do one or two more. If he plead fatigue, he could probably get out of it tonight, but that would mean Hunith would have to run the errand instead, and he didn’t want to put any additional burden on her.

Merlin’s mobile looked brand new when Arthur picked it up, though the model was several years old. At least this went to prove that Merlin hadn’t lied about everything when they’d been together. He was still as frugal as ever. Most people would have taken this opportunity to upgrade their phone.

Arthur was entering the hospital before it occurred to him that what he held in his hand was going to ruin Hunith’s plans for allowing Merlin time to remember on his own. He was going to unlock his phone and see… Arthur didn’t know all what. Texts from Gwaine. Photos of him and Gwaine together. Emails about the divorce… This was going to be a disaster. Maybe he could just give the phone directly to Hunith and leave. Let her deal with it.

It wasn’t that Arthur meant to snoop, but the sudden feeling of impending doom lodged in the pit of his stomach compelled him to try Merlin’s passcode—the one Merlin had given him before they’d even got engaged. Arthur shook his head. Merlin needed a lesson about cybersecurity. The code still worked.

The background of the home screen was a photo of Aithusa laying on her back, front paws held close to her chest like she was pretending to be an otter. That, at least, was safe enough.

Arthur’s eye caught on the messaging app and the little circle announcing that there were 23 unread messages. Without thinking, his thumb moved to hover over the icon. With just a few clicks he could find out just how badly things were going to go once Merlin got hold of his mobile. As a bonus, maybe he could stop thinking about Merlin if he read some of the recent messages between him and Gwaine. Arthur hesitated, then the moment of weakness had passed and he relocked the phone. He just couldn’t bring himself to intrude on Merlin’s privacy like that.

Hunith was stepping out of Merlin’s room as Arthur arrived.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m glad I caught you.”

Her tone was light enough that Arthur’s mind didn’t immediately jump to worries about Merlin’s physical health for a change. She probably wanted to intercept him before he could return Merlin’s repaired mobile to him.

“You just missed Merlin.”

“Missed him?”

“They’re moving him to the step-down unit.”

“That’s great news.” After how yesterday had gone, Arthur hadn’t thought he would be moved so quickly.

“I’m running across the street for some takeaway. Merlin’s tired of hospital food, and I thought this might be a nice little celebration. I’ll pick up enough for you, too.”

Arthur tried to protest, but Hunith wouldn’t hear of it and shifted topics. “He’ll likely need to spend a few more days here, but it’s getting me thinking about what comes next.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. Merlin would be sent home. His responsibilities would finally be over.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but you’re the only one I trust well enough. Would you…” She paused for a long moment, clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “Would you be willing to let Merlin stay with you to recover when he’s discharged?” She continued on in a rush. “I’d stay longer, but my boss called this morning demanding to know when I’m going to return to work. I’m afraid if I take off much longer, I’m going to lose my job. I can’t afford not to work.”

“Hunith, I…”

“And Merlin’s flat is up on the first floor, and there’s no lift. I don’t like the idea of him trying to go up and down a flight of stairs on crutches. With a head injury. I’m sure he wouldn’t complain, but…”

“Hunith—"

“I’d bring him home with me, but all his doctors are here, and—"

Arthur sighed and finished her thought, his stomach starting to act up again. “—a three hour round trip for each appointment isn’t really practical.” It really was a step too far, but Arthur didn’t know how to tell her ‘no.’ Not when she laid out her case so logically. He said, “Just until he’s recovered enough to take care of himself.”

“Of course, of course. Yes. Thank you, Arthur. So much. I really am terribly sorry to trouble you with this.” She stepped forward to pull him into a hug. He leaned down to accommodate her.

“But, Hunith, if he’s going to be recovering at my flat, I really can’t continue to keep him in the dark about the divorce.”

Hunith drew a deep breath, nodding in reluctant acceptance. “It’ll break his heart all over again, but I suppose you’re right. It has to be done. If he hasn’t remembered on his own by the time he’s discharged, I’ll explain everything to him.”

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to do it, but it felt like this was his responsibility. “I should be the one to tell him.” Arthur was already mentally bracing himself. The conversation, if it could be called that, had been hard enough the first time.

“Arthur, I don’t mean to interfere, but…” Hunith looked as though she wasn’t sure whether or not she should finish her thought. Eventually she said, “Well, I don’t mean to interfere,” then she gave him Merlin’s new room number and went on her way.

Merlin’s new room wasn’t much different in size, but it seemed less cluttered with equipment, and the space had a brighter, more open feel to it. Merlin was back to sitting up and smiling at the sight of him.

“You’re looking more chipper today.”

“Of course. I still ache all over, but I’m one step closer to going home. Did you remember my mobile?”

Arthur had been so distracted by his conversation with Hunith, he’d forgotten his worries about Merlin’s mobile. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Arthur handed the phone over expecting Merlin to immediately start scrolling though it and ruin the illusion of peace between them. He didn’t. He set it beside him on the mattress, said, “How was your day?”

Arthur fell into a summary of what was going on at work, the way he had hundreds of times before, back when they’d been together. He gave extra details about the recent hires who Merlin knew nothing about, though Merlin assumed he was learning the information for a second time. It probably wasn’t helping—for Merlin to be actively trying to recall memories that didn’t exist—but it was only for a few more days at the most. Arthur tried not to worry too much about it.

Arthur hoped that if he could keep the conversation going until Hunith arrived with Merlin’s supper, it would be enough of a distraction that Merlin would forget about his mobile until after Arthur had gone home.

Time stretched out. It couldn’t possibly take this long to pick up takeaway, could it?

Inevitably, there was a natural lull in the conversation, and Merlin picked up his mobile, began scrolling about. Arthur held his breath.

Less than a minute later, Merlin was pushing the phone back to Arthur saying, “Ugh, no, this screen is making my headache worse. Can you type out replies to my texts for me?”

“Oh, ermm….” He wouldn’t be handing it back to Arthur if there were blatantly incriminating texts, would he? Had he already deleted everything he didn’t want Arthur to see? Had he even had time for that? “Okay.”

Arthur made sure he was looking at the most recent message and started reading, “Your agent says he has a meeting on Monday with someone named Annis at Caerleon Publishing, but not to worry about it. ‘I have everything covered,’ he says. ‘I’ll let you know how it goes.’”

“Tell him thanks, and that I’m looking forward to getting back to work.”

“All right.” Arthur started typing the message.

“Mr. Du Lac seems really nice. I must have got lucky.”

Arthur huffed. “It’s got nothing to do with luck, Merlin. It’s all down to your hard work.”

Merlin’s only response was a warm smile, and Arthur had to look away. He cleared his throat.  “Looks like there’s a few more from him from before he found out you were in hospital. No need to reply to those.”

“Okay. What’s next?”

“Elena says, ‘Haven’t heard from you in a while. Just wanted to check in.’ Arthur went back to the main message window and scrolled down. “There’s a couple more messages from other people with a similar sentiment.”

“Oh, Arthur,” Merlin said, sounding more fond than irritated. “Didn’t you think to tell our friends that I was in an accident?”

Arthur scrambled for a response. One that wouldn’t be instantly recognizable as a lie. Merlin was the quick-witted and creative one. Not that Arthur wasn’t clever, but his intelligence was more focused on logical decision making. He liked to be given all the facts, have adequate time to deliberate, take counsel from those he trusted, then decide. This wasn’t like back in his school days with football where his body knew what decisions to make in a split second due to years of practice. Lying effectively was Merlin’s domain. That realization probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise the way it had. After all, Merlin used words to bring lies to life for a living.

“It’s all right. I know you’re under a lot of stress with this whole situation. Let’s type up a generic message and you can send it to everyone.”

Arthur typed up a draft, making several revisions as he went, then read it back to Merlin, who had revisions of his own. When Merlin was happy with the result, Arthur started sending out the message. It would have been easier to make one big group text and send it to everyone at once. Arthur sent individual messages instead, and only to those who’d reached out to Merlin since the accident. And if that meant Gwaine didn’t get the update, well, that was his fault for not texting—or Merlin’s for deleting the more recent messages—not Arthur’s. Arthur double checked just to appease his conscience. The last message from Gwaine was three weeks ago and all it said was, ‘The whole gang is going to miss you. We’ll be here if you change your mind.’

Replies started coming in quickly. Arthur read them out loud, though they were mostly the same thing with slightly different wording—fairly generic well wishes. Freya’s message was a little different.

“She wants to know if she can come and visit.”

“Erm… Sure.”

“I’ll check with the nurses when I leave to get your new visiting hours. I’ll send her a message when I get home.” That way, he would be able to warn her about Merlin’s memory issues. Make sure she was on board with Hunith’s plan.

In all the rush, Merlin didn’t notice the extra ping—the one message Arthur couldn’t bring himself to read aloud. It was a wall of text, and Arthur couldn’t believe what he was reading. He had questions about every statement. Starting with, why on Earth is Father texting Merlin in the first place?

‘I have been informed of your accident,’ the message began. How had he found out? Arthur certainly hadn’t told him. He’s not still having Merlin followed, is he?

‘Since you finally decided to do the right thing, I feel comfortable in wishing you a full and swift recovery.’ What a backhanded way to wish someone well. The way he’d phrased it made it sound as if, had Merlin and Arthur still been married, Uther would be… Arthur wasn’t quite sure. Wishing him a slow and agonizing recovery? Permanent disability? Wishing he hadn’t survived at all?

‘In case you’re thinking to use this situation to your advantage, I think it only fair to inform you that I fully expect to have a grandson this time next year.’ That’s where Arthur really lost it because a) He hadn’t told his father about his engagement to Mithian yet, b) He and Mithian had talked about wanting to be parents someday, but hadn’t talked about timing, and c) The assumption that any grandchild would automatically be a boy felt… weird. Wrong. Everything about Uther’s statement was extremely presumptuous. Still interfering even now. How typical of him.

Uther had written more but Arthur stopped reading and deleted the message without saying a word about it. No need to bother Merlin with that.

Merlin yawned, said, “Leave the rest for later. I want to look through some of my photos. Can you pull up my favourites?”

Great. Photos had the potential to be far worse than texts. “You’re tired. You should rest a little before Hunith gets back.”

“Not yet. Just a few pictures first. Maybe they’ll help jog my memory.”

Arthur tried to hand Merlin back the phone, but he said. “No, no. You just show me the best ones.”

Swallowing down his nerves, Arthur tapped on the photos icon. He had to scroll past the Recents album to get to the one labeled as Favourites. On the row below, Merlin had another album called Rubbish. Something about that niggled at Arthur’s mind, but he was more focused on his task and quickly forgot about it.

Arthur skipped past a few random pictures—a purple flower, the silhouette of a large tree against a colourful sunset, the model number tag from some sort of home appliance which Merlin must have marked as a favourite simply so he could find it easily—and landed on a picture of himself. If it had been an old photo, Arthur would have explained it away as laziness—something Merlin hadn’t bothered or got around to deleting yet—but this particular photo was fairly recent. It showed Arthur in black tie formal wear, shaking the hand of a woman whose name he couldn’t recall as he accepted an award for work. Arthur had seen the photo before, posted on all his company’s social media sites. Why would Merlin have this? He hadn’t been there. He must have downloaded the picture off LinkedIn or one of his company’s other social media platforms. Shouldn’t unfollowing Pendragon Engineering and Land Surveying have been one of the basic things Merlin did after the divorce to clear Arthur out of his life? Maybe… What if Merlin regretted how things had turned out? What would Arthur do if Merlin wanted him back? No. He didn’t have to worry about that. More likely, Merlin had decided to save the photo to remind himself why he’d left.

Arthur turned the screen so that Merlin could see, suddenly curious about his reaction.

“Is that the annual BCIA gala?”

“Yes.”

“Which award did you win?”

“You know this award was for the whole team, not just me.” The British Construction Industry Awards were the most prestigious awards in the civil engineering industry, but they were for projects that took many people to plan, develop, and execute. No single individual ever won. Merlin knew how it worked. “Environmental Project of the Year for the Ealdor pump station project.”

“Wish I could remember this. You worked so hard on that project. The deadlines were crazy, but you managed to keep everything on schedule. Bet I was beaming with pride from the audience.”

For a moment, Arthur imagined it as Merlin did—that when he’d stood up on that stage, award in hand, he’d looked back out at the audience to see not simply as sea of colleagues, competitors, and strangers, but all that plus Merlin. Dressed in a black tux, he would have looked much as he had on their wedding day. Arthur’s imagination supplied him with the image of Merlin, his gaze fixed on Arthur, rising to give a standing ovation while everyone else remained seated. It was just the kind of display of support that Merlin had made a habit of during their marriage—overt without being over-done. That’s how it should have gone.

Arthur made a non-committal grunt and swiped the screen to move to the next picture.

“Aww, Aithusa being cute.”

Arthur gave a small huff of laughter. She was getting her white fur all over Merlin’s clean laundry, having decided a basket of neatly folded clothes would make a great place for her to nap.  

Arthur skipped past a few more photos. Another swipe brought up a photo of Eleya, Freya, Gwaine, and Percival sitting with a row of half empty glasses on a table in front of them and a blurry wall of liquor bottles barely distinguishable in the background.

“Pub night with our friends. Should have had you squish up with everyone else so you could be in the photo too.” Of course, that wouldn’t have been possible. Arthur hadn’t been there.

“None of this is looking familiar?”

Merlin shook his head slowly, then winced. “I am trying, Arthur.”

“It’s all right. Don’t stress yourself.” Arthur locked the phone and set it aside. It would certainly make things easier for everyone if Merlin could remember things on his own, but whether he liked it or not, there was a part of Arthur that didn’t want Merlin to try. That right there should have been reason enough to leave now and never look back. He stayed in his seat, said, “That’s enough for today.”

With Hunith still not back with Merlin’s supper, Arthur said the first thing that came to mind. “You’ll need a new case for your phone. I can pick one up for you tomorrow before I visit.” Being around Merlin so much was really starting to mess with his head. "Do you want navy blue again?” He tried to tell himself that offering to run this errand was an excuse to have more time away from the hospital, but the truth was that he was starting to fall back into old habits.

There had been no proof of infidelity in Merlin’s texts or photos. This whole situation felt disorienting in the strangest way—like he’d somehow been magically transported to an alternate reality where the affair had never happened. But Arthur couldn’t be swayed. It’s not like he’d asked for the divorce on a whim. And it hadn’t just been one or two little things either. There’d been a mountain of evidence, some of it straight from Merlin’s lips.

While Merlin closed his eyes for a little rest, Arthur forced himself to relive the moment the tide had shifted for their relationship.

-x-x-

Arthur didn’t know what time it was. Late enough that he’d usually be deep asleep by now. Most nights he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He called it his super-power. Merlin said it was because he was chronically overworked. The only reason tonight was any different was because of his unrelenting frustration with his father. After he and Merlin had returned home from their night out, Arthur found several more texts from his father, all with the same baseless accusations against Merlin.

Arthur was imagining what he’d say to his father the next time he saw him when Merlin’s mobile rang from its spot on the far nightstand. Arthur felt inclined to ignore it and was about to suggest to Merlin that he let the call go to voicemail. Before he could get the words out, Merlin had already picked up.  

“Gwaine!” Merlin hissed quietly. “You can’t call at night like this. What if you woke Arthur up?” There was a pause as Merlin listened, then, “No, I’m not coming to see you now. I don’t care if you think its urgent.” Another pause. “Gwaine, that is not urgent. You can come over tomorrow while Arthur is at work. Just come early enough that you can be gone before he gets home. If you ruin this… Okay. Fine. Yes. Goodnight.”

Merlin had the audacity to stroke his brow after that, tell him tenderly, “Never mind all that hubbub, Arthur. Nothing to worry about.” Then more to himself, he muttered, “Good thing you’re a deep sleeper.”

Arthur laid there, willing his body to stay relaxed so that Merlin wouldn’t know he’d overheard, trying desperately to come up with an explanation for the conversation other than the one his father had offered. It sounded bad, but it simply could not be what it sounded like.

The next morning, Uther had texted. 'You should monitor him closely for signs. There’s bound to be several. He’s obviously hiding things from you.'

Still in denial and determined to prove his father wrong, Arthur decided to do something he’d never before considered. He would check Merlin’s bank account in secret.

-x-x-

Merlin had fallen asleep by the time Hunith arrived back, but the sounds of her coming in and organizing the various takeaway containers woke him.

“Can’t believe how much I’ve been sleeping,” Merlin said.

It had always amazed Arthur how a man so brilliant at so many things could be such an idiot about others. “You were in a coma a few days ago. Of course it’s going to take time to build your strength back up. Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“I’m wide awake now. This food smells great. You’re the best, Mum. Thanks.”

“Where’s it from?” Arthur asked more as something to say than actual curiosity.

“I asked Mum to get us Wu’s because I know you like it so much.”

Arthur did, but he really wasn’t all that hungry.

Arthur turned to Hunith. “I thought you said you were just running across the street.” She’d also said she didn’t want to interfere, but it felt a little like she was—purposely leaving him alone with Merlin for so long. Hoping they’d reconcile or some such. Wu’s was technically across the street, but it was also down the road a fair way.

“It was no trouble, dear,” Hunith said, handing him a pair of chopsticks. “I hope I got your favourites right.”

Arthur banished the thought. He was just paranoid after that text from his father. Hunith was nothing like Uther.

“I’m sure I’ll like anything you got.”

Arthur didn’t want to raise Merlin’s suspicions or waste Hunith’s efforts after she’d gone to all that trouble to get something that he really would love on just about any other day, so he tried some of everything and ate far more than he wanted considering a small bowl of plain white rice was the only thing that actually sounded appealing. Maybe Mithian was rubbing off on him. All the food left him feeling over-full and faintly sick. When he got home, he’d take a few antacids and everything would be fine.

-x-x-

Early Saturday, Merlin texted to say that he expected to be busy most of the morning. He had more x-rays to make sure his bones were healing properly, a checkup from his neurologist, and a session with a physical therapist. He ended his message by instructing Arthur not to come visit until after noon. For once, Arthur did as he was asked. Since his divorce, he’d spent most Saturdays at the office trying to catch up on all he’d meant to get done during the week and hadn’t had time for. Today, he slept in.

He took his time getting around and headed out to run the errand he’d promised about an hour before Merlin expected him back at the hospital. The selection of cases for Merlin’s repaired mobile was limited considering the model was outdated, but there was a nice forest green that Arthur felt sure Merlin would like more than his previous blue anyway. While he was at it, he purchased a new screen protector and a pair of wireless earbuds as well.

As Arthur was about to drive off, he noticed a bookshop across the street and took a few minutes to pick up something there as well. Merlin wouldn’t approve of him wasting money on a copy of a book he already owned, but it was Arthur’s money and he could spend it how he liked.

Merlin was suitably pleased with the phone case Arthur has selected for him, and Arthur applied the screen protector and put the phone in the new case while Merlin told him about his morning.

“I, erm, got you some new earbuds, too.” It was a stupid thing to feel nervous about. It wasn’t really a gift, after all. It was just a practical purchase, but for some reason, Arthur felt compelled to explain. “Thought maybe you’d be able to rest better if you could block out some of the hospital noise.” He ended by preempting the obvious question. “I wasn’t sure where you’d left yours,” which was technically true. Merlin could have them anywhere at all in his flat or they could have been on him at the time of the accident and been tossed in the rubbish bin when the doctors had been forced to cut his clothes off to treat his injuries.

Merlin didn’t complain about the waste of money. He said, “Thanks, Arthur. That’s very thoughtful.”

“And one more thing. I brought a copy of your favourite book. I thought if you weren’t up to reading it yourself, I could read it to you.” This plan had the notable benefit of reducing the amount of time Arthur had to converse directly with Merlin.

“That book looks brand new.”

“It is.” Arthur had known this was coming.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find my favourite book either? On the bookshelf? Where it always is?” Merlin was smiling as he said it, clearly only intending to tease. He wasn’t trying to expose the massive hole in the fiction Arthur and Hunith had tried to maintain over the past few days.

“I didn’t think about it until after I’d left the flat.” This was technically true as well and maybe Arthur was finally figuring out the key to successful lying. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

Merlin laughed a little, which was something he’d done precious little of lately. It only served to remind Arthur of how much he’d missed it. He hadn’t realized a person could be homesick for a sound.

“I love this idea. You have to read it properly though. Do all the voices and whatnot.”

“Of course.” Arthur scoffed in mock offense. “I’ll do an amazing job. I could have been a famous voice actor, I’ll have you know.”

This time Merlin’s laugh was fuller and brighter, and Arthur laughed with him—at least, until Merlin descended into a groan, clutched a hand over his ribs.

“Sorry,” Arthur said, suddenly subdued.

“No, don’t apologize. I think I needed that.”

“More pain? I’d have thought you’ve had enough for a lifetime.”

Merlin opened his mouth for what would have no doubt been a witty retort, but there was a knock at the door and Freya stepped in. Arthur had to fake a smile. He’d been hoping to miss her visit. As it was, he had to sit through more than half an hour of their chatting. Occasionally, she gave Arthur an assessing look, but she kept to Hunith’s rules and didn’t say a word about the divorce.

As Freya’s conversation with Merlin was winding down, she said, “So Arthur’s been taking good care of you then?” her tone deceptively innocent.

“Course he has. Here,” Merlin motioned her closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She leaned in. Merlin tipped his head toward Arthur with a smile. “He loves me.”

Freya paused to consider, said, “I suppose maybe he does.” She didn’t sound particularly happy about her conclusion. Maybe it wasn’t Gwaine that Arthur needed to worry about. The thought gave him a start. He wasn’t supposed to be worrying about any of them!

Hunith arrived as Freya was leaving and after Merlin repeated the story of his morning adventures for Hunith’s benefit, Arthur jumped into his book reading idea. He didn’t even make it half an hour before his vocal cords began to protest. He soldiered on a short while longer until Hunith offered to take over.

“If you’re thinking about changing careers,” Merlin said, “we’re going to have to work on your vocal stamina.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t comment. When Hunith needed a break from reading aloud, Arthur offered to take back over again but Merlin said, “That’s enough for me today. You should rest a bit instead, Arthur. You look more exhausted every time you come to see me. If you won’t take my advice and go home and sleep, why don’t you try and get a little rest here? I already asked the nurse for an extra pillow.” Merlin pointed to the far wall where a minimalistic sofa with thin cushions sat below the window. A neatly folded blanket and a standard hospital pillow rested in a small pile in the middle.

Hunith nodded in encouragement, and Arthur didn’t even try to protest. Napping, after all, was easier than talking, and even with his morning lie-in, he still was rather tired. Once Arthur got situated, he fell asleep within minutes and didn’t wake for hours. By the time he did, it was nearing the end of visiting hours.

Before Arthur left for the night, there was one more thing he needed to say. He cleared his throat and gathered up his courage. “I’m not going to be able to visit tomorrow.” He made sure not to include an apology. It took a conscious effort, but he always spent Sundays with Mithian and it didn’t make sense to cancel an appointment with his fiancé to spend the day with his ex-husband. Merlin didn’t ask for an excuse, and Arthur tried not to feel disappointed about that.

Even if Merlin never remembered the divorce, he would find out about it soon anyway. Once he did, whatever love he might hold now for Arthur would disappear. These might be Arthur’s last few days to experience a Merlin who cared for him. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept the afternoon away after all.  

-x-x-

“I suppose we should set a date.”

“For what?” Arthur said, pulling his mind back from bad memories of his final days of marriage to Merlin. He looked up to see Mithian giving him an expectant look.

“The wedding, of course. Our wedding?”

“Oh. Right. That.”

“Arthur,” she said, sounding every bit as fond as Merlin had the day before. “I can tell when you’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve been distracted all day. You’re thinking about him again. You shouldn’t have ever gone to that hospital.”

“I had to. He could have died and they needed—”

“Okay, fine. That first time was fine. I’m not saying this because I’m mad or jealous. I’m saying this for your own mental wellbeing.”

This wasn’t something Arthur had wanted to talk about today, but it was best to get it out in the open. “I know you’re only telling me what you think is in my best interest, but when he gets out of hospital, he’s going to have to stay at my place—”

“Arthur!”

“At least for a little while. The logistics just don’t work out for him to stay at his flat or his mother’s house.”

“Some other friend then.”

“Yeah, we’ll look for someone.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“I talked it over with Hunith. It’s already decided.”

Mithian’s frown deepened, and she canted her head to the side in a look of deep sympathy. “Have you considered that none of this is real?”

“You can’t fake brain surgery, Mithian.”

“No, no. Not that, of course. I mean the memory loss. He just conveniently forgets your divorce? Maybe there’s nothing wrong with his memory at all. Maybe he’s playing you.”

“Can’t be. You think both me and his mother could be fooled?”

“You called him a master manipulator, Arthur. Those are your words. Not mine. And his mother… If you’re so certain she would see through his act, then she’s probably covering for him.”

“No.” Arthur stood. “No, you can say whatever you like about Merlin. I know he deserves it. But Hunith, she’s never been anything but kind to me. Even after… With Merlin being in hospital, the worst she’s ever said is that I broke Merlin’s heart, and I don’t doubt Merlin told her just that and that she believes him. I’ll not hear a bad word about her.” He left the room, but it wasn’t enough. Despite the spacious layout, Mithian’s penthouse felt suddenly suffocating. Fresh air, that’s what he needed. He slid open the door to the private terrace and stepped out into the cool night air.

The bustle of the city was dulled from this high up. A strong breeze tugged at his shirt and slipped through the fabric to chill his skin. This business with Merlin… He really did seem so sincere. God, what if this really was a second chance? Arthur had forced himself to dismiss the thought before, but what if Merlin wanted him back even after he found out about the divorce?  He couldn’t bear it if he tried again and lost a second time. It had nearly broken him the first time. He still didn’t feel fully mended. Maybe he never would, but wasn’t not quite mended better than permanently shattered?

The balcony door slid open, and Mithian stepped out beside him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.”

“I just keep thinking about what I would do, if it were me and Peter.”

“Your ex-husband hit you. It’s not really a fair comparison.”

“I don’t know. He hurt me. He was drunk and apologized as soon as he sobered up, but he couldn’t take it back. I healed. Physically, I healed in just a few weeks. If he’d only agreed to get help with his drinking, I might still be with him. Merlin hurt you, but he hurt you in a way that doesn’t mend up as good as new the way a black eye does. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Arthur took a deep breath, let Mithian move close enough to wrap her arms around his middle. He tried to return the hug, but couldn’t relax. If anything, her proximity made him even more tense. He’d always been able to ignore that before, had assumed he was simply being overly cautious after the painful way his marriage with Merlin had ended—that it would go away with time. He’d been so caught up in trying to smother the pain of his divorce, the betrayal that had caused it, he’d have taken just about anything resembling compassion. And Mithian was so much more than that. Wasn’t she? She should be perfect for him. Maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough.

“This thing with Merlin. It’s only for a few weeks, until he’s a bit more independent.”

“What about his lover? The one he left you for?”

“Haven’t heard a single word from him. He hasn’t been to the hospital once that I know of.”

“Maybe they broke up.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Arthur left Mithian’s place earlier than normal without any more wedding talk. Maybe it was for the best to delay any important decisions for a time. Between Merlin and work, he already had enough to worry about. A small delay shouldn’t hurt anything. When Mithian had suggested marriage in the first place, she’d said, “Why wait?” which had made sense at the time, but maybe the better question was “Why rush?” If it was the right thing to marry now, it would still be the right decision in another year or so. He and Merlin hadn’t waited and look how that had turned out.

-x-x-

Arthur was sitting in his car in the hospital carpark a half hour before Merlin was scheduled to be discharged when he finally summoned the courage to confront Gwaine. He dredged up an old group text with Gwaine’s number and pressed call before he could talk himself out of it.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said when he picked up. Understandably, he didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

“You know Merlin’s been in hospital more than two weeks, right?”

“What? Oh my God! What happened?”

“He was hit by a car while riding his bike.”

After a long moment of stunned silence, Gwaine said, “Well, is he all right?”

“He’s going to be staying with me while he recovers.”

“Really? That’s… great. I mean… maybe that’s great? As long as you don’t toss him to the kerb when you get tired of him again. Seriously, man. You screwed up. You hurt Merlin again and—"

“And what? Like it’s my fault? I want you to stay away from him. Okay? Just... don’t visit. Don’t call. Don’t even text.”

“You’re policing Merlin’s friends now?”

“No, of course not. He can be friends with anyone he wants.”

“Does he know you’re doing this? You sound nuts, mate.” A pause. “Wait a second…” Gwaine gave a nervous sort of chuckle. “Arthur, this is so stupid I can’t believe I’m about to say it, but you don’t thi—”

Arthur ended the call, not wanting to hear any excuses. Gwaine immediately tried to call back. Instead of answering, Arthur blocked his number, though he was a bit more reluctant about it than he thought he should be.

Nothing about that conversation had gone the way Arthur had expected. They must have broken up after all. Maybe Merlin had regretted the affair and ending things, then been too ashamed to ask Arthur for forgiveness.

-x-x-

Arthur found Merlin sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, a pair of crutches leaning on the mattress beside him. For the first time in weeks, he wore something other than a hospital gown. It was just a red tee shirt and a pair of post-surgical, tearaway trousers over his removable cast, but the additional colour went a long way toward giving Merlin a healthier appearance despite the abundance of still visible bruises and bandages, large patches of scabbed over scrapes.

“Merlin, there’s something we need to talk about before you get discharged.” Arthur paused. Why had he ever agreed to be the one to do this? He might sick up right here. “I know you’ve noticed that I’ve been acting a little strange this past week.”

Merlin nodded as if he’d known this was coming. “So we’re finally talking about that.” He grimaced and his voice wavered a fraction as he said, “Is it cancer?”

“What?”

“All the weight you’ve lost. And the way you’re acting so distant. Like you’re keeping a secret. A painful one. From me. Because you want me to worry about myself and getting better. But I’m not worried about myself. All I can think about is you and what could be so terrible that you’d feel the need to hide it from me.”

Arthur had thought he would be able to do this. He’d practiced it in his head over and over—what he needed to say. How he had to be blunt. Keep to the facts.

He had to sit down, take a moment to regain his composure.

“No, Merlin, it’s nothing like that. I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not. I can see it. I know you.”

“I’m not sick. No one has died or is going to die. Not any time soon. It’s nothing like that.” Keep to the facts. “But something did end. Merlin, we’re not living together.”

“What?”

“You have your own flat now.”

“I don’t understand.”

Be blunt. “We’re not married. We got a divorce.”

“This can’t be right. Arthur… Why would we do that?”

“You tell me, Merlin. I thought we had everything. I thought we were happy. You signed the papers without a question. You didn’t even take five minutes to think it over.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. That can’t be… Why are you saying this?” Fat tears spilled over onto Merlin’s cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. Didn’t even seem to notice they were there.

Arthur didn’t have an answer. Not one that would make any sense to Merlin without his memories of the event. Arthur’d had a year to think it over and it still didn’t make sense to him either.

A long silence stretched out and Arthur could see Merlin thinking through the issue.

 “Oh.” Merlin’s posture slumped. “I see.” Another pause. “There’s only one reason I would do that.”

And here it was. Finally, Arthur would get the full explanation he’d been wanting all along. He balled his fists tight enough that his well-trimmed nails dug into his palms.

“I still just don’t understand one thing.”

Or maybe not. “What’s that?”

“Why are you even here? Since you don’t love me anymore, why are you doing any of this?”

Arthur sucked in a deep breath. Maybe he should have, considering what Hunith had said, but that… That was not the response he’d expected.

“I…” He couldn’t say it. He needed to. Knew he had to. He’d said it a thousand times to himself in the time since their divorce. But now, confronted with the question, he couldn’t bring himself to say those five magic words that would end this nightmare forever. ‘I don’t love you anymore.’

Arthur chose not to answer. He said, “You’re still coming back to mine to recover.”

“I can’t let you do that. I won’t be a burden to you.”

“You’re going to climb a flight of stairs up to your flat with your leg in a cast?”

“I can manage.”

“Up and down several times a week for doctor’s appointments and physical therapy?””

“Yes.”

“What about Aithusa? How are you going to take care of her?”

Merlin began to protest, but Arthur forestalled him. “Most other cats, I suppose, could just be feed on the worktop if their owner couldn’t bend down to put the food on the floor, but you know Aithusa can’t jump up that high. And even if she could, how would you clean her litter tray without bending your knee?

Merlin was quick with a response. “I can get a chair or stool, have my leg extended out, lean to the side—”

Arthur snickered at the thought. “Uh-huh. Sure. You’ve still got factures in a couple of your ribs, remember, but okay, I'll generously allow you that one.” Arthur kept pushing the Aithusa angle because he knew, eventually, it would work. Merlin might put himself at risk, but he’d never endanger her.

Before Merlin had allowed Arthur to meet Aithusa for the first time, he’d insisted on giving a whole speech about the proper way to interact with her. ‘Let her come to you, Arthur.’ And, ‘Let her sniff your hand, but don’t try to pet her yet.’ He’d gone on and on. ‘If she’s swishing her tail, that means she’s agitated, not happy. People that have only been around dogs don’t seem to understand that cats have different body language.’ At the time, he’d assumed Merlin’s fierce protectiveness was a side effect of the condition he’d found her in—a tiny kitten only a day old with her umbilical cord wrapped tightly around her back foot. The lack of circulation had killed the appendage, and once she’d grown enough, Merlin had been forced to have the leg amputated higher up so that she wouldn’t continually injure herself hauling around a limb she couldn’t use properly. Then Arthur’d got to know Merlin better and learned that was just how he was with everyone he loved. Arthur had thought Merlin felt that way about him.

“What if there’s an emergency and you have to take her to the after-hours vet? Even a minute could be the difference between life and death.”

Merlin pressed his lips together and said nothing. A clear indication he’d given up. It wasn’t an expression Arthur’d often had occasion to witness.

“You’re going to need someone to help you and,” for better or worse, Arthur thought bitterly, “that person is me.”

“Arthur—"

“It’s all settled, Merlin. Hunith and I have discussed it. She’s getting your things now, bringing Aithusa too. She’ll met us at the flat.” Athur stood back up. “Wait here. I’ll go let the attendant at the nurses’ station know you’re ready to leave.”

-x-x-

Merlin wanted to walk out of the hospital under his own power—he’d been practicing with the crutches for several days—but the staff insisted he be pushed out in a wheelchair.

The drive home was silent. Arthur didn’t know what to say, and Merlin didn’t fill the gap like he usually did.

Arthur was barely two steps into the flat when Aithusa came up to him with the distinct hopping gait she had to use to walk, her tail held to the right side to offset the weight imbalance from her missing back leg. She gave his trousers a tentative sniff, then began rubbing herself against his legs and weaving between his feet in a way that made it nearly impossible to walk. He set Merlin’s hospital bag on the floor and picked her up instead. She immediately began to purr.

“Hey there, Aithusa.”

Once in his arms, her greeting was no less enthusiastic. She bunted her head against his, rubbed her cheeks over his face. He had to turn his head to the side to avoid getting cat hair all over his mouth.

“Looks like she missed you a lot,” Merlin said, his tone a cautious neutral.

“Sorry, girl. I missed you, too.” He brushed his hand across the top of her head, rubbed at the back of her neck. “All right. Calm down.” He tried to sound exasperated, but didn’t really succeed. She hadn’t forgotten him after all.

Merlin’s neutral tone slipped into scolding. “You could have at least visited her.”

Arthur turned to face Merlin. “You didn’t want to see me.”

“I can guarantee that’s not true.” He headed toward the living room but was met by Hunith, who’d come to greet them. “Mum, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I was so hopeful that you’d remember on your own. It would have been far less stressful for you that way.”

Merlin didn’t seem to be angry about it, just resigned. “You should get on the road. You’ll want to be home before dark.”

“You’ll be all right staying here?”

“Yeah, Mum. No matter what happened, I’m sure Arthur’s still a good man. I know he’ll help with anything I need.”

“All right,” she said, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow to check in.”

Once Hunith was gone, Arthur carried Merlin’s bag into the spare bedroom, which formerly served as Merlin’s office. The desk and bookshelf were gone now, replaced with a matching four-piece bedroom set. Merlin followed behind on his crutches. He had to maneuver awkwardly to get in the door and around the wardrobe, which was a bit too big for the space.

“I should have put you in the master bedroom.”

“No. I’d rather be here. Well, to be honest, I’d rather be at Mum’s. I know you don’t want me here. You just feel obligated. But you shouldn’t. You got rid of me months ago. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Merlin… About that. About… the divorce. You’re talking about it like… like I’m happy that it happened. That’s not true.”

“It is. Or it never would have happened.”

“You may think so now, but that’s not how you felt at the time.”

Merlin sat down on the end of the bed, turned away from Arthur to look out the window.

Merlin wasn’t going to believe anything Arthur said about the divorce so he didn’t even try. Searching for an easy exit to the conversation, he said, “I’ll go make supper. What would you like?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I’m tired. I want to rest.”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a long few weeks.

Chapter Text

With Merlin back in the flat and in need of assistance with certain tasks, Arthur swore off overtime only to wish he were back at the office once he got home. Merlin didn’t want to see him, didn’t want any help. He went out of his way to avoid Arthur altogether. Whenever Arthur entered the same room he was in, Merlin would apologize and leave as soon as he could, go back to the guest room, close the door, quiet as a mouse. Everything about it made Arthur want to scream. Maybe throw an innocent object or two against the wall.

Arthur had to start entering rooms by saying, “No, don’t get up,” then offering an excuse for why he wasn’t going to be there long. “I’m just on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.” Or, “I’m leaving as soon as I grab my mobile off the end table there.”

On the third day with Merlin back, Arthur came home from work to find that Merlin had given himself a haircut. He must have dug out the clippers Arthur had stashed in the back of the bathroom cabinet because he’d buzzed off almost all his hair, leaving only short stubble behind. Arthur started at him. First of all, because Arthur had never seen him with such short hair and second, because Merlin had also taken off the last of the bandages. It was Arthur’s first time seeing the full extent of the surgical scar on his skull. The sight of it stirred up the acid in Arthur’s stomach, sent it bubbling into the back of his throat. He was out of antacids, had to walk to the chemist’s down the street to pick up some more.

Merlin had retreated back to the guest room by the time he returned. Arthur knocked on the closed door.

“Yes?”

He stepped into the room to find Merlin sitting up in bed, his laptop to his side, an abundance of hand written notes strewn around him. He must be brainstorming a new novel.

Arthur stared a bit longer and when Merlin didn’t prompt him, he finally said, “What’s this all about?” pointing to Merlin’s head in case his meaning wasn’t clear.

Merlin shrugged. “I thought it would look less awkward like this compared to having one shaved patch from surgery. Now at least it’s all the same length.”

“You did that yourself?” Arthur had assumed that was the case, but thinking about it again, he could have gone out to get it done.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Couldn’t have been easy on your own. I would have helped. Could have done it for you.”

“I’m not going to bother you with such petty things, Arthur. I promise. You don’t have to worry. I won’t be an inconvenience while I’m here.”

Arthur clenched his fist, had to will himself to relax. “You’re staying here so that I can help you. That’s the whole point. It’s got nothing to do with convenience or a lack thereof. So if there’s something you need, tell me.” Arthur waited there expectantly. “Well?”

“Oh, erm, then… Close the door on your way out? If it’s not too much trouble.”

Arthur kept on with his staring, trying to decide if Merlin was being genuine or purposely obtuse.

“Or I can do it myself.” Merlin began shuffling his papers to the side.

Arthur turned around slowly, careful to keep his expression blank. He closed the door with a soft click behind him, and clenched his jaw tight to muffle his growl of frustration.  

-x-x-

Arthur woke Saturday morning to find Merlin wearing a watch cap around the flat. When asked about it, he said, “My head’s cold. Not used to the new hair cut yet.”

Arthur thought he detected a lie.

“You could turn up the thermostat.”

“Waste of money.”

That sounded like something Merlin would genuinely believe, but if he were actually cold, he wouldn’t have his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Arthur decided to press the issue. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“Fine,” Merlin said, his tone suddenly defiant. “I’m not cold. But it makes you uneasy—my scar. I can feel it radiating off you every time you look at me. This way, you don’t have to see it. There. Are you satisfied now? Do you like the truth better?”

Arthur did like the truth better on principal, but in this case, he also didn’t like it because Merlin had only been trying to be kind with his lie, and Arthur had forced him into exposing it. Not to mention the fact that it was his fault that Merlin was even doing this in the first place. Merlin had managed to pick up on Arthur’s discomfort—despite his best efforts to appear unaffected—and had made a conscious effort to ease Arthur’s mind.

The whole situation left him feeling like a bit of an arse. He wanted to apologize, but at the same time, he didn’t want to have to actually say the words. There had to be some easier way to make it up to him. After a bit of thought, he settled on something simple. His cooking repertoire was abysmally small, but there was one thing he was good at—a flavourful vegetable stew that Merlin had always loved.

Arthur had to run out to the supermarket to get a few of the ingredients, most notably the peppers that gave the stew its perfect balance of heat and flavour, but he didn’t mind the inconvenience. It felt good to be doing something that felt productive outside the office for a change. Arthur hadn’t made this recipe in over a year. It wasn’t well-suited for only one person. The sheer number of ingredients meant it was impossible to make a small batch, and the flavour was too bold for Mithian’s palate.

It wasn’t until Arthur had called Merlin to the dinner table that he realized his mistake. Merlin had been taking most of his meals in the guest room—away from Arthur. Insisting he wouldn’t be a bother, he would make a sandwich or some other simple meal for himself, wrap it up, and stuff it into the front pocket of his hoodie so that he could take it back to his room without assistance. A bowl of stew wasn’t something that could be so easily transported by a person on crutches. Arthur should have just made a tray and taken it to Merlin himself. Now he’d gone and dragged an injured man out of bed for no good reason, and this was supposed to have been an apology.

Irritated with himself, he let his temper slip, said, “Sorry, but you’re just going to have to eat at the table with me like a normal person.”

He half expected Merlin to turn around without a word, half expected a biting retort. Instead, he hobbled around to pull out a pair of chairs, leaned his crutches on the wall behind him, and slowly lowered himself into one chair while resting his broken leg on the other.

Merlin had finished two bowls before he decided to say something.

“Thanks, Arthur.” A short pause. “For the stew.” A longer pause. “I think my taste buds can tell I haven’t had this in a long time. It tastes particularly good today.”

“I’m…” sorry, about before. “…glad you still like it.”

Merlin opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it without saying anything. Assuming he was once again trying not to be a bother, Arthur said, “Still hungry? There’s plenty more.”

“No thanks. I’m full.”

Arthur nudged a chunk of tomato with his spoon, scooped up a bit of carrot and moved it to the opposite side of the bowl. What was Merlin thinking? There was clearly something on his mind. He wasn’t normally the type to hold things in. After several minutes of fruitless rumination, Arthur realized he was being silly. He could ask.

“If there’s something you want to say, just say it. I’m not going to be offended or inconvenienced or whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

Merlin still hesitated, but it looked more like he was trying to figure out how to word it than he was trying to avoid saying anything at all so Arthur tried to be patient. Finally, Merlin gave up on being diplomatic, said bluntly, “Arthur, I think you need to see a doctor.”

Arthur nearly laughed. “I’m fine, Merlin.”

“No, you’re not. You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not saying that as an insult. I’m saying it become I’m worried—because you look like you’re in poor health, and I don’t see you doing anything about it. Maybe you can’t see it because it’s been coming on gradually, but to me, you’ve lost more than a stone in the blink of an eye. And now I’m watching you pick at your food like a fussy toddler refusing to eat.”

“You’re making it sound like I have an eating disorder or something.”

“Do you?”

“No!” Arthur shoved a bite of stew into his mouth just to prove how ridiculous this whole conversation was.

“Would you admit it if you did?”

Arthur set down his spoon. “I used to share everything with you, Merlin.” A pang of guilt flitted through Arthur’s chest because technically, that was a bit of a lie, but he’d only ever kept things from Merlin to spare his feelings—to protect him from Uther—so surely that didn’t count. It was like Merlin lying to him about the purpose of his new hat. Isn’t that what he’d learned from this whole debacle?

“I know you did. That’s how I know something is wrong now. Don’t test me on this. If you’re not going to make an appointment for yourself, I’m going to do it for you.”

“I said I’m fine. Just leave it.”

“I won’t. You’re clearly not fine.” Merlin leaned forward. “I know you don’t care about my opinion anymore. Try thinking of this as an opportunity to prove me wrong.”

“Merlin—"

“I’m going to put it on my calendar. Noon Monday. If you don’t have an appointment by then, I’m getting you one with Dr. Alice. Broken bones or not, I’ll drag you to the surgery myself if I have to.”

“Merlin, we’re not married anymore. You don’t have to take care of me. It’s not your responsibility.”

Merlin shot him a hard glare, said, “Then you’d better make the appointment yourself!” clambered up awkwardly from the table, and as much as he was able to on crutches, stormed off. A few moments later, the door to the guest room slammed shut. Thinking through the logistics of how a person would produce such a loud slam while incumbered by a broken leg meant Merlin had done it quite on purpose to further highlight his displeasure.  

Arthur sat at the table, shifted his gaze from his nearly full bowl of stew to Merlin’s empty seat, then in the direction of the spare bedroom as if he could see Merlin’s tense figure through the walls, and back to his stew. So he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry at the moment. It hardly warranted such a response from Merlin.

All this recent friction in their relationship was such a strange thing. They’d got on well from their very first meeting. It was one of the things that had given Arthur such confidence in their short courtship. It had felt, at the time, as if they were made for each other. They’d had disagreements of course, but never outright arguments. Merlin’s anger, those few times Arthur had seen it in the past, had never really been directed at Arthur himself. Not even when Arthur showed him the divorce papers. After the initial play at confusion, he’d been more resigned than anything else. Arthur had always attributed the reaction to guilt. Guilt and apathy.

-x-x-

Merlin spent most of the day Sunday in the guest room, so when Arthur left for Mithian’s per his usual schedule, he didn’t even have to offer an excuse.

“How’s Merlin doing?” Mithian asked first thing when he arrived. “Still keeping to himself?”

“He did leave the guest room door partially open today. Probably just an oversight on his part. I heard the clacking of his keyboard as I walked past. He can get pretty zoned out when he’s working.”

“Good.” She gave a curt nod. “It’s good that he’s trying to be productive and not reliant on you. He understands the situation. Doesn’t see this as a way for him to get you back.”

She was probably right. Arthur told himself it was for the best, that he didn’t even care. He had no business feeling disappointed by Merlin’s lack of interest in repairing their relationship.

“And how are you holding up? I know this must be stressful for you.”

Arthur’s initial reaction was to brush the concern away, say he was fine, but he did have a favour he wanted to ask her and this might be the least painful way to broach the topic.

“It is stressful, having him back in the flat. Confusing sometimes, too, but mostly, it’s just been frustrating. It’s like one battle after another. I think it may even be affecting my appetite.” Because maybe Merlin did have a point about his eating. He’d scrutinized his appearance in the mirror that morning, noticed for the first time that his weight loss hadn’t been restricted to his body, but had impacted his face as well, lending him a slightly gaunt look when compared with his former appearance. “But it will all be over soon. Maybe we should put off the wedding planning until then. It will be a lot easier to make decisions once everything gets back to normal.”

Mithian hesitated just a moment before responding, but her expression didn’t betray a single hint of irritation. She said, “All right, Arthur. If you think that’s best.”

“Thanks.” He could breathe a little easier now. “I can’t believe how understanding you’re being about this whole situation. You’re amazing.”

“You know, I’d been planning to bake salmon today, but maybe we should go out to eat instead. A little something different. Take your mind off your troubles with your ex.”

“Sure.” It sounded like a nice idea, but the alfredo he ordered didn’t sit well in his stomach, and he didn’t get that little boost of wellness that he usually felt from spending time with Mithian.

She wasn’t satisfied with her meal either. The cook staff hadn’t incorporated her requested substitutions, but she didn’t want to make a fuss with sending her food back. “It’s fine,” she said, but Arthur knew she was wishing they’d stayed in.

Arthur wanted to write off his own discomfort as just a bit of heartburn, something everyone suffers from every now and then, to believe that Merlin was blowing the issue out of proportion, but he’d already conceded that something was different. It wouldn’t hurt to talk with his doctor, so he finally admitted defeat and called for a doctor’s appointment as soon as he got to work the next morning. He sent Merlin a text to let him know that he could back off—that he didn’t have to follow through with his threat to make the appointment himself.

Merlin was waiting for him in the chair closest to the door when he got home from his appointment. He stood to ask, “How’d it go?”

“Dr. Alice thinks I have a peptic ulcer. She wants to see me back in two weeks. Happy now?”

“You’re sick and in pain. Why would I be happy about that?”

Arthur wanted to say, ‘Because you were right?’ Given the circumstances, he wisely kept his mouth shut. Even if it had felt like it at the time, he supposed Merlin hadn’t fallen out of love with him with the expressed purpose of making him suffer. Merlin might be a cheater and a liar, but he wasn’t vindictive.

“Did you get any medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Have you taken your first dose?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, then. Now I can relax a little. I’ll research some recipes that will be gentle on your stomach while you recover.” Apparently feeling this was the end of the conversation, Merlin headed back to the guest room.

Before Arthur could finish his reminder that none of this was Merlin’s business, Merlin raised his voice enough to be heard clearly over the creaking and clacking of his crutches and despite the fact that he was facing the wrong way. “I’m not listening to you.”

Arthur slept poorly that night and woke in a bad mood, which only went further downhill when he found Merlin waiting for him in the kitchen with a bowl of oatmeal for Arthur’s breakfast. He’d artfully arranged sliced banana and a drizzle of honey on top as if that would somehow make the monochrome mush look more appetizing.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself. I’ll just have coffee at work.”

“No, you’re going to sit down and eat something. And you’re not going to have anything with caffeine until you’re healed.”

“I hate drinking plain water.”

“I didn’t say you had to have plain water. Have some herbal tea.”

“When have you ever known me to drink herbal tea?”

“Never. That’s the point. If you drank it all the time, I wouldn’t have to suggest it, would I?”

Arthur turned his glare from the porridge to Merlin. “Why are you being like this? Are you trying to irritate me on purpose?”

“You say you brought me here to recover so that you can help me. I’m just returning the favour.”

Arthur muttered a quiet, “Doesn’t feel like it,” under his breath.

“Yeah, well, like it or not, for the time being, we’re living together. You insisted. Remember? I’m not going to just sit around and watch as you neglect your health.”

Arthur knew when he’d lost an argument. Resigning himself to a gloopy, unappetizing meal, he took a seat and started in.

He managed to get most of it down and when it settled in his stomach better than expected, his mood lifted a little. He finished getting around for work—grabbed a tie for an important client meeting he had in the afternoon, brushed his teeth—and popped his head into Merlin’s room on his way out. “Sorry I was snappish with you about breakfast. I think the porridge did help.”

Merlin gave him a soft smile at that. It wasn’t fair that Arthur’s natural instinct was still to return it. He barely caught himself in time, plastered a resolute frown on his face in defense. Merlin’s smile faltered for only a moment, then he was forcing his expression too, manipulating his features back into a poor semblance of his earlier smile. The effort only managed to make him look pained. When he spoke, his tone magnified the effect. “I’m glad. Try not to undo my hard work by eating things you shouldn’t at lunch, all right?”

Arthur felt the sudden but familiar compulsion to do something to boost his spirits. All he could manage was to say, “Yeah, all right. I promise.”

Arthur half expected Merlin to text him around lunchtime to check in—make sure he was keeping his word—but no message showed up no matter how many times Arthur checked his phone. After that, he wasn’t expecting any more effort on the subject from Merlin. He was wrong. He came home to find Merlin maneuvering awkwardly around the kitchen on his crutches.

“Sorry supper’s not quite ready yet. I hadn’t thought my condition would slow me down as much as it did.”

“Merlin, what are you doing?”

“Cooking you an ulcer friendly supper, of course. Or rather, an ulcer slaying supper, seeing as the idea is to get rid of it.”

“If you hurt yourself cooking for me, it will defeat the whole purpose of you being here. You know that right?”

“I’m being careful. And besides, I’m tired of resting all the time.”

Arthur snorted. “I know you haven’t actually been resting. I woke up last night around 2:30 and your light was still on. You’ve been obsessed with some new project.”

“Fair point. I’ll rephrase. I’m tired of sitting still.” Merlin moved a dirty pan to the sink, waved a hand at a pair of plated meals sitting on the worktop. “Why don’t you make yourself useful instead of just complaining? Take those to the table and get us something to drink, would you?”

Arthur complied without argument, and did a quick mental assessment of the meal. It looked an awful lot like the kind Mithian always prepared. There was baked chicken, plain rice, and steamed vegetables. Balanced nutrition, sure, but also terribly bland.

With the table set, Arthur took his usual seat and waited as Merlin situated himself in the opposite chair. Merlin picked up a fork, looked over the table, and groaned. “I knew I forgot something.”

“Ah?”

“Sorry, but can you bring in the saucepan that’s sitting on the back hob? I’d do it myself, but—”

“No, stay where you are,” Arthur said, rising immediately. He paused before heading back into the kitchen to ask, “Some other side dish?”

“Not exactly. I wanted to make gravy but all the websites said you should be eating no dairy and low fat so I wasn’t sure how to make a proper roux.”

Arthur regarded the meal in front of him. A bit of gravy would go a long way. “I doubt the little bit of butter it would take to make gravy would bother me.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to risk it. Not when you’re just starting to heal. I thought maybe I could just use corn starch instead, but the container was essentially empty. So it’s really just a seasoned broth.”

“So more like an au jus?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that, but I suppose so.”

Suddenly feeling a lot less pessimistic about the meal, Arthur returned to the kitchen, pulled a pair of small cups out of the cupboard and filled each one with a generous helping of the au jus, before heading back to the dining room. He put one cup in front of Merlin’s plate and the other beside his own then sat back down.

“There. This is nice.”

“Don’t say that until you try it. I put some herbs in the broth that should help the healing process along. You might not like it.”

Arthur tried a spoonful of the broth on its own. “Could use a little more salt but otherwise…” Otherwise, it was damn near perfect. Whatever herbs Merlin had used helped to enhance the flavour without being overpowering. Arthur was going to put it on everything—use it as a dip for his chicken and vegetables, spoon it onto his rice.

“Sorry. You’re supposed to limit your sodium intake, too. Didn’t Dr. Alice explain any of this to you?”

“She gave me a list. I haven’t had time to read through it yet.”

Merlin shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.” He speared a piece of carrot with his fork, but let it hover over the plate as if debating whether he really wanted it or not. “You know, maybe it’s a good thing I got in that accident, if only so I could be here now to save you from your own complacency.”

Though delivered in a more insulting manner today, it was the kind of statement he’d heard from Merlin throughout their marriage. He’d believed them at the time. More or less, anyway. Not that he hadn’t thought Merlin would be willing to risk his life for him. Arthur would have done the same—if the situation called for it, he probably still would—but the idea had been to grow old together, not for one of them to get themself killed in a tragic display of devotion. Arthur had taken those statements as hyperbole—as genuine, if overly dramatic, ways of expressing his affection—because otherwise, they made it sound a little too much like Merlin didn’t have a proper regard for his own welfare. After the divorce, he’d decided they must have been outright lies. He didn’t know what to think now.

“Don’t say things like that, Merlin. You can’t mean it. You almost died. You had multiple surgeries and were in a coma for a week. I need to take a few pills. These things aren’t remotely comparable. Don’t offer them up as if they are.”

“You know a person can die from complications of an ulcer, right? Intestinal perforation, internal bleeding, multiple organ failure. The list goes on.”

“I’m not anywhere close to being that sick, so don’t sit there and tell me how happy you are that you were nearly killed.”

Merlin set his fork back on his plate with a clank, said, “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”  

“No, I wasn’t—” Arthur didn’t bother trying to defend himself. Why did he so often feel like an arse when talking with Merlin lately?  How was that fair? He was the one who’d been wronged.

Merlin let out an audible sigh, said, “I don’t want to argue with you. I know you’re just worried about me.” He took his time wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin, rearranging the cloth back on his lap. “It’s nice, actually. To know that despite everything, you still care. Makes it a little…” Merlin struggled for the right word. “Easier, I guess. To accept how things turned out.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so for several long minutes, the only noise was the clatter of utensils against their plates, a glass being set back on the table, Aithusa having a random burst of energy in the next room. Silences between them used to be comfortable. This was agonizing. Arthur searched for something, anything, to say and landed on, “Thanks for cooking for me. I’ll do the washing up.”

It was a poor choice. All he got from Merlin was a neutral, “All right.”

Arthur took a bite of chicken and made another attempt. “Did you have another headache today?”

Merlin shrugged. “It wasn’t any worse than yesterday. What about you? The meal’s not upsetting your stomach, is it?”

Arthur took a moment to assess. He was starting to feel a bit full already, but there was no burning ache in his stomach, no nausea, no acid in the back of his throat... “Actually, I feel pretty good. I—” He felt just like he did after a meal with Mithian, and it wasn’t until that very moment that he put two and two together—made the horribly belated realization that it was those bland meals he ate with her that had been helping him feel better, not just physically, but mentally as well, because of course he would be in a better mood when he wasn’t nauseous or in pain. It had never been anything uniquely special about Mithian herself. His stubborn side wanted him to believe it was his new medicine that was helping today except that Dr. Alice had specifically told him that since he’d already been sick for months, he shouldn’t expect improvement for at least a few days.

“You what?” Merlin said, waiting for Arthur to finish his thought.

“Oh, uh,” Arthur cleared this throat, mind still trying to come to terms with how much of a disaster his relationship with Mithian was, “nothing.” He’d known all along that it wasn’t true love between them. That hadn’t even been what he’d wanted out of their relationship. That sort of feeling couldn’t be trusted, and plenty of successful marriages throughout history had been based on little more than the mutual respect of both partners. A few short weeks ago, he’d been willing to accept so little. Now, it felt like that was setting the bar too low. If he was going to marry her, there needed to be more to the relationship than an agreeable friendship and a sense of wellbeing that he could accomplish on his own with a few simple changes to his diet.

Arthur’s brain finally supplied him with something reasonable to say. “Just that I’d better read that list Dr. Alice gave me before I go to bed tonight.”

Merlin nodded his agreement and, as if encouraged by Arthur’s plan, took his turn at attempting to make conversation.

“So, I was looking out the window while I was working this morning, and I seemed to recall the view from another window—a large, old oak tree with a pair of robins nesting in its branches. I can’t tell if it’s an actual memory or just something I dreamed once. Do you think I’m remembering the view out my office window? At my new flat, I mean.”

“I couldn’t say. I’ve never been there.”

Any prior enthusiasm in Merlin’s voice disappeared. “Oh, right. Of course.” He paused, considering for a moment, then pulled out his phone, his tone turning practical. “I’ll ask my mum.”

Merlin typed out a quick text and set his mobile face down on the table. He used to always say they should put their phones away when they had meals together. Maybe Merlin really was starting to regain his memories. What else was going to change about him as he remembered more?

Hunith responded within minutes. With his eyes still moving across the screen, Merlin said, “Mum says there’s a tree exactly like I described at my flat.” He looked to Arthur, gave him a subtle, but encouraging smile. “See, Arthur? I’m going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about me at all.”

This should be great news. He shouldn’t want Merlin to have any permanent damage from his accident, and yet, a sudden tightness squeezed at his chest, and it had nothing to do with his ulcer.