Mostly because dead people don't talk back

15: Restless

[A/N: Lance is now living elsewhere, AND I'M WRITING ABOUT THAT IN ANOTHER BOOK! please check that out, it is called "Welcome to Parenthood". The first two chapters are up now!]

He knows that he won't be able to fall asleep for a while.

If the previous night has anything to show for itself, it's that he doesn't know how to care for himself. The knight stays up drinking until close, is still stable enough to get to his quarters, but cannot fall asleep? Are you joking?

(He keeps himself from reaching for his personal ale for that last kick into sleep. He doesn't want to waste it for multiple reasons.)

The long night of tumbling and turning rears its ugly face, and Gwaine has to bear the consequences of caring. That is, for multiple things. Himself, yes, but moreso caring for his friends. He tends to drink because he worries so much, and he's been drinking because he's trying to lessen the worries he has over his friends.

He'll always worry. Gwaine wonders if he'll ever stop drinking.

For now, his worries included the question of "would Merlin be okay" even if that particular servant has returned safely.

He is safe and alive now. Of course, he is. But at the same time, Merlin came back when Lancelot left. His friend left Camelot. And the castle feels less, not fully there, unlike a full painting and more of a portrait without the final touches. Something incomplete.

Gwaine has settled with this fact, he has.

It's not really hard to understand that things have happened to Camelot and will continue to happen. That's more of a constant in his lifestyle now.

Still, he cannot sleep. The sun rises, and soon a feeling rises in Gwaine's chest like his torso has confined his heart too long.

Still, there is a lingering wrongness with the noble knight being gone during patrol.

He breathes in deeply and it's just a bit too tight. His ribs cage his heart, they cage the feelings of loss and guilt.

Still, the sun rises.

.oOo.

Gwaine starts each day with whatever is put in front of him: Usually, that's his feet.

Anyway, this particular Thursday starts quite well other than a slight headache behind his eyes. Thankfully, there's not much required of him today.

Gwaine eats a nice breakfast of bread and fruit, simple enough that he doesn't feel bad to give a leftover crust to a street cat. You can always find them, even in kingdoms like Camelot. It's a chance that the protection against sorcery taboos is great, but the instincts of a feline are grander.

The late winter sun spies down on him as he makes his way through town. An itch sits on the back of his tongue, the air seeming too dry when he buys a few knickknacks in the daily market.

Gwaine takes a deep breath off to the side. Okay.

Now, might as well get some things to be irrationally protective over... or to give to a friend later. With thinking that, he sees Gwen make her way into the same quarter.

The knight takes this as an opportunity to hand her a small, carved wood dog. "I think you'll like this," Gwaine nods, turning around her and then walking away just slow enough to hear a small aw .

Good. She'll have a nice day then.

Gwaine avoids a couple of streets where he knows people will nag him about something he's probably done but doesn't know because he never goes there.

With one last purchase (a painted rock), Gwaine eats an apple he'd purchased over an hour previous. He makes his way back to his chambers for only a moment of silence.

It's that kind of day.

Sure, his room gives him a moment for himself, but sometimes, sometimes, it's too much quiet.

He puts his purchases away.

Gwaine looks down at himself with all his armor, with his sword, and with chainmail on and questions, how?

Why, how, who is he to be here?

Gwaine doesn't know what he's done to be knighted. He knows that, yes, he's fought in battles and battled against foe for the prince. However, in day-to-day life, he's not really devoted to the crown. Why should he be?

Who would want to almost battle a dragon, almost die several times, or get past those horrible wyverns for goodness sake!

Not Gwaine. He was still tending to a headache from a hangover, so that might have to wait.

He makes to leave, but his bed catches his eye. Something on it is different.

A brain slower than a normal one doesn't help Gwaine understand any faster. It doesn't make sense either way.

There's a cat on his bed, and he doesn't have one.

.oOo.

Arthur, although being royalty all of his life, has not owned any animals other than horses and dogs. He's never known why and never questioned it either. Cats were associated with sorcery, and with a father like Uther...

Merlin, oh, country-boy Merlin, had helped a finch heal from an injury before. That's the closest he's gotten to having a pet. (Kilgharrah is more like an overbearing... something than anything)

Gwen and Elyan had no pets, raised in an area with so many animals on the streets that everyone as a collective just helped and fed them. The animals weren't theirs, but they were partly everyone's.

Out of the rest of the knights, Gwaine and Lance had at least a dog.

But, now, as Gwaine pets the little black fluff-ball on the back, he wonders why he hasn't had a cat.

It's purring, a simple rumble, but it's consistent. Gwaine adores it.

Little paws are stretched upwards, stopped halfway through coming back down. The fur is purely black and is feather-light to the touch.

The feline has also reclined onto Gwaine's lap. He hasn't moved in a while. It's fine.

.oOo.

Merlin zones out during every training, every single day.

What is he going to be doing between handing over waters, weapons, or being made to act like a dummy? Would he read or finish other work? No. His life is already so weird that any break is welcome.

He wants to zone out so badly now.

Anyhow, Gwaine is late as usual and that means Merlin has to spar. If he does not, the knight's grouping is uneven when Arthur wants to fight. Which, he could just stop doing– for one second. He is the prince and could do that.

Merlin continues to be knocked around with a shield.

The missing knight's timing is so great that he is done being hit by the time he arrives.

"Couldn't wait to smack a sword around 'til now?" Merlin greets, eyebrows raised while putting away his shield.

"Absolutely not, I was enjoying the weather on my walk here."

Merlin shoves him lightly, ready to spit some words back if needed. "Pff. Enjoying it all day, have you?"

There's a large shrug in response. Then, Gwaine is off with a sword and a mind set on beating up his friends.

.oOo.

Later, Gwaine remembers to give Merlin what he bought for him that day.

The most expensive thing he had gotten was also the thing that gave Gwaine the most piece, even if he knows that Merlin can protect himself just fine:

A single, plain, throwing knife.

With no weapons, Merlin gave Gwaine a heart attack every passing week (nearly every day now). Maybe this would help.

(Nope.)