onceandfutureprat

Entry tags:

.023

[Spam for Merlin]

[The last Arthur remembered, he went to sleep in his room. The king pushed himself up on his elbows, scanning his surroundings. That was definitely not where he was now. For one thing, the bed he was on was... completely horrible and he only knew of one person that slept in this tiny, messy room. And that was--]

Merlin!

[Later; filtered to friends; one nice conversation rule applies]

I understand I... slept through a port. How are you doing?

[Private to Arya]

What did you do for the last week?

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[Entirely by coincidence, Merlin's just barely stumbled back into his cabin after a long infirmary shift. It's not been as bad as it could be - a lot of the Death Tollers seem principally interested in fleeing the Infirmary and licking their wounds elsewhere. Which is fine by him, frankly, so long as they don't pass out and concuss themselves later in the week. As much of his energy has gone on keeping the place secure against would-be thieves as it's gone on actually treating patients, but that's what he gets for volunteering to act as a healer on board a prison ship.

He'd just lock himself into one of the secure rooms and catch a few hours' sleep in the Infirmary itself, but he knows he wouldn't get any real rest and that way lies madness. So he's here, and the narrow lumpy cot Gaius uses for his patients has never looked more inviting -

Then he hears Arthur yell his name, and even as he flinches at the sound he's joyous. He crosses the room and takes the few steps up to the door, hauling it open without a second thought.]

Need something, sire?

[Arthur lifts his eyebrows at him for that, shifting his weight to one elbow so he can gesture around the room with his other hand.]

What am I doing here?

You fell into a coma, Arthur. This seemed the safest place to keep an eye on you. How're you feeling?

[He stares at him in response to that. He knows what a coma here is like, has heard of them before at least but he doesn't really feel like he'd been asleep for days. And it's just another thing here that makes him uncomfortable.

Arthur sits up fully.]

Fine. How long was I... like that?

About a week. I lost a few days as well, when the Barge made port. [He frowns.] I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep watch over Arya. [Not that she really needs it, terrifying tiny thing that she is.]

[Arthur's not sure if he would have been very surprised if Merlin had tried to keep an eye on her and she'd given him the slip. Since she seems to love doing that.]

We made port? Where?

An inn, somewhere in America, I think - some time in our far future. [He's quiet a moment.] It - the whole place was - alive. Some kind of magic, or spirit, I wasn't awake long enough to tell.

Well. [Arthur's not exactly upset to have missed that, but he hates the idea that there's some magic at work here, either by the ship or the Admiral himself that just causes people to be unconscious for days and there's nothing they can do about it.

It shows on his face as he alternates between scowling and then trying to hide it and then back to uncomfortable.]

Was anyone hurt?

[He nods, looking melancholy.] A lot of people. Hurt, or killed. This is the first time I've come away from the Infirmary since it ended yesterday.

[He hates this part too, the dangerous ports they end up in, that they're always powerless to stop. He turns his head to look away and winces a half second later because of the horrible crick in his neck.]

I'll leave. [Because he's really not going to insist on keeping Merlin's horrible bed to himself.]

[He smiles weakly.]

I doubt your pampered backside could handle another day in an ordinary bed anyway.

[But then his expression levels, and the look he gives Arthur is decidedly grateful.]

Thank you.

[Arthur rolls his eyes as he gets up.] I've slept against trees that are more comfortable than that thing you call a bed, Merlin.

[He nods as he stretches, acknowledging his servant's thanks with that.]

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.023

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