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An ambulance came to wait beside the one already there. Several police cars were haphazardly parked all around the building entrance, and more were coming. Police officers, some in uniform, some in plain clothes, waited and stared. It looked like one of those scenes in a film. Only, this one was real.
For had been reported a hostage situation within the building and some witnesses had declared to have heard two or three shots. And at that moment one of the assailants, or maybe just the only one, stood in front of the door holding a terrified woman at gunpoint.
Merlin had been in one of the first cars to arrive. He and his partner had been in the middle of their shift, a slow and dull one. But when the alert had come through the radio, Merlin’s heart had stopped for a moment. He knew the location. He knew it very well because he had been there many times before.
Sometimes Merlin had gone to lunch at a nearby restaurant. Or he had just waited in the car before heading home. And many more he had gone inside just to drag Arthur away from his work.
Now he waited as tense and nervous as his colleagues, although he was not on duty anymore. He was too attached to the case, according to his chief. Merlin refused to see that as an inconvenience, but his opinion had been ignored.
Everyone held their breath while the negotiator tried to reason with the assailant. By now, it was clear that the man was not a professional criminal. The reasons behind his actions were not clear, although Merlin had a vague idea.
Some years ago Uther Pendragon, owner of the building and many more across the city, had been targeted by a group of magic-users focused on eliminating one of their most determined antagonists. Merlin, even when he shared some of the group’s ideals, had been assigned to the case. Was then when he met Arthur, and after a tense first encounter, they had ended dating not long after the case had been closed.
That had been the first time, but not the last.
This man was no magic-user, of that Merlin was sure. His magic felt weird, contained as Merlin was forced to watch. As time passed, Merlin was growing more and more frustrated.
Finally, the paramedics were admitted inside the building. Some minutes later they left in a rush, someone hurt in the stretcher. Merlin, far away from the scene as he was, was able to see a head of blond hair and felt his world crumbling down.
Someone, Merlin did not know who tried to hold him. But Merlin did not care anymore. He let his magic loose and ran toward Arthur. He managed a glimpse of Arthur as he was taken into the ambulance. He could only see blood.
It took hours before Merlin was allowed to see Arthur. The surgery had gone for so long that Merlin lost all sense of time and reality. He could only think of Arthur and pray for him not to die.
Pale and quiet, Arthur was asleep, still under the effect of the anaesthesia. Merlin sat gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle Arthur. The constant beeping of the machine monitoring Arthur was the only signal in the room.
“Oh Arthur,” sobbed Merlin, “what have you done?” Because Merlin knew now that Arthur had tried to save his colleagues from their assailant. And in the fight, he had been shot. “And you’re the one always telling me not to be a hero,” went on Merlin. “And here we are. I promise you, Arthur, you’re really getting a telling off once you’re awake. Now you just have to promise me you’re going to wake.”
And Arthur woke up, disoriented and in pain, after the longest night Merlin had ever lived. But Arthur was alive.