Part 33: link
SUNDAY
Is that Gwen’s car? Arthur cranes his head, looking. The traffic light changes and he growls as he hits the accelerator. She dicho she was running to the market. That’s a café. He looks in the rear view mirror. That’s her car. I know it is.
He stomps into the firehouse minutos later, looking around. “Paul,” he calls. “Paul!”
“What?” the large man looks up.
“Can I borrow your car for a few minutes?” Arthur asks. Merlin looks up, puzzled.
“Um, yeah, sure, Chief. Your car in the shop?”
“No. I, uh… just need to go somewhere and I need to not be driving my car.” Guinevere knows far too much about cars.
“Okaaayyy… here,” he hands him the keys.
“Thanks, mate. I’ll be back before tu know it.” He spins around, almost knocking Wayne over in his haste.
“Whoa, there!” Wayne laughs.
“Sorry,” Arthur mutters, then snatches Wayne’s sunglasses from where they are hanging in the collar of his shirt.
“Hey!”
“I’ll bring them back,” he calls as he grabs a gorra, cap off the head of another firefighter on his way in before he disappears out the door.
Paul looks at Merlin. Merlin jumps up and sprints out the door. “Arthur! I’m coming with!”
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Merlin asks as Arthur drives back towards the café.
“I… I don’t know, Merlin. Gwen’s been acting… strange.”
Merlin arches an eyebrow at him. “Strange?”
Arthur tells him what happened Saturday morning, and now what he’s just seen on his way to work.
“Arthur, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” Merlin reassures him.
“Yes, like what, exactly? Look.” Arthur has pulled up siguiente to the café. He sees Gwen sitting at a mesa, tabla with someone, their heads close together. He can see Gwen clearly, but her companion’s back is to them.
“Could be Morgana,” Merlin says, looking.
“Yeah, if Morgana was a rugby player. If I hadn’t just bumped into him, I would swear it was Wayne.”
“Her brother, then?”
“Her brother has a shaved head.”
Merlin looks again. “Oh.”
Arthur parks the car, trying to peer into the large windows of the café. It’s definitely a man. Long hair, short beard. Are those leather pants? Seriously? “Well, it’s not Lance, that’s for certain. Lance has short hair.”
“Arthur, tu didn’t seriously think…”
“Well, he was in town recently.”
“Yes, and he’s back in America now.”
“That’s what he said. A person can say anything they please. I can say that my favorito! color is rosado, rosa and that I like Celine Dion’s music, but that doesn’t make it so.”
“Would tu listen to yourself? tu are raving. Why don’t tu just ask her what she’s doing?”
“I did, Saturday morning. And I think she lied to me. This morning she told me she was going to the market. We left at the same time, but I had to stop and fill my tank, so she got ahead of me.” He looks down. Merlin studies him, not knowing what to say. He sees Gwen in this café with a strange man just the same as Arthur does.
Betrayal. The word surfaces in Arthur’s brain. He shoves it back, hitting the steering wheel, inadvertently honking the horn.
“Get down!” Arthur shouts at Merlin, who ducks. Arthur turns his head the other way and slumps in the seat.
They wait a few minutes, and Arthur dares a look. Everyone in the café appears to be going about their business again. Then he sees Gwen laugh and touch her companion on the shoulder. Merlin sees this as well, and he speaks before Arthur moves.
“Arthur. Do not get out of this car,” Merlin’s voice comes quietly, sternly. Arthur looks at Merlin, and he can see the hurt and fear in his friend’s face, even shielded behind sunglasses. “I know what it looks like. But jumping to a potentially wrong conclusion could be embarrassing at best, catastrophic at worst.”
Arthur slumps. He clenches his jaw, fighting back tears of frustration and hurt.
“You must trust Gwen. I’m sure there is an explanation. There has to be. She wouldn’t do this. Couldn’t.” Am I trying to convince him o me? “We need to go back to work, Arthur. Let it go for now. Tuesday, you’ll have a nice chat with Gwen and get this all figured out. Come on. Let’s go before she leaves and spots us.”
Arthur sighs and starts the car. Work is the last place he wants to go right now, but it probably the best place for him. At least he’ll be able to keep himself occupied.
He’s going to be a complete bastard for the siguiente 48 hours, Merlin thinks as they drive back to the station.
TUESDAY
“Tonight? Does it have to be tonight?” Gwen says into her phone. She gets up from her escritorio and closes the door to her office.
“Yes, I know. But… it’s just… Cedric, may I speak, please?” She sits.
“Arthur’s off work in 45 minutes. That means he’s inicial tonight.”
“You know why, I’m not explaining it again.”
“Yes, him. Yes, I know I’m being ridiculous. But it’s just… important to me.“
“Right after I’m done here, then. No, I can’t leave early today. I’ll come up with something. Yes, I promise.”
Gwen puts her head down on her desk.
Get it together, man. You’ll simply ask her what’s going on. Don’t give away that tu stalked her. Be calm. Be calm. So, Guinevere, what have tu been up to while I’ve been at work? Been to any good cafés lately? Snogged any scruffy men wearing leather pants lately?
He paces the floor. He looks at the clock. She should be inicial soon. His phone beeps, and he picks it up, irritated. Going to be a little late tonight. Will bring cena home.
He flops down onto the sofa. He stands up. He walks to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then closes it. He goes to the bathroom. He walks into the bedroom. That fireman oso, oso de is staring at him with its shiny black accusatory eyes.
That’s it.
Arthur drives toward the library. It’s completely dark inside. Bloody hell. He stops the car, trying to collect his thoughts. Morgana. I need answers, and surely she’ll have some for me. She’d better have.
He pulls out and points his car toward Morgana’s. What. The. Hell. Halfway there, he sees Gwen’s car parked outside an unmarked building. Without thinking, he parks his car, slams the door and storms inside.
“Excuse me, sir, tu can’t go back there,” a woman says, standing. Arthur ignores her, stalking through the door.
He stomps into the room, eyes blazing, seeing nothing around him, looking only for Guinevere. He keeps moving, and skids to a stop. She is in a far corner, standing in a slip with the mysterious man from the café close by, his hands on her hips.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands.
Gwen turns. “Arthur?”
Part 35: link
SUNDAY
Is that Gwen’s car? Arthur cranes his head, looking. The traffic light changes and he growls as he hits the accelerator. She dicho she was running to the market. That’s a café. He looks in the rear view mirror. That’s her car. I know it is.
He stomps into the firehouse minutos later, looking around. “Paul,” he calls. “Paul!”
“What?” the large man looks up.
“Can I borrow your car for a few minutes?” Arthur asks. Merlin looks up, puzzled.
“Um, yeah, sure, Chief. Your car in the shop?”
“No. I, uh… just need to go somewhere and I need to not be driving my car.” Guinevere knows far too much about cars.
“Okaaayyy… here,” he hands him the keys.
“Thanks, mate. I’ll be back before tu know it.” He spins around, almost knocking Wayne over in his haste.
“Whoa, there!” Wayne laughs.
“Sorry,” Arthur mutters, then snatches Wayne’s sunglasses from where they are hanging in the collar of his shirt.
“Hey!”
“I’ll bring them back,” he calls as he grabs a gorra, cap off the head of another firefighter on his way in before he disappears out the door.
Paul looks at Merlin. Merlin jumps up and sprints out the door. “Arthur! I’m coming with!”
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Merlin asks as Arthur drives back towards the café.
“I… I don’t know, Merlin. Gwen’s been acting… strange.”
Merlin arches an eyebrow at him. “Strange?”
Arthur tells him what happened Saturday morning, and now what he’s just seen on his way to work.
“Arthur, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” Merlin reassures him.
“Yes, like what, exactly? Look.” Arthur has pulled up siguiente to the café. He sees Gwen sitting at a mesa, tabla with someone, their heads close together. He can see Gwen clearly, but her companion’s back is to them.
“Could be Morgana,” Merlin says, looking.
“Yeah, if Morgana was a rugby player. If I hadn’t just bumped into him, I would swear it was Wayne.”
“Her brother, then?”
“Her brother has a shaved head.”
Merlin looks again. “Oh.”
Arthur parks the car, trying to peer into the large windows of the café. It’s definitely a man. Long hair, short beard. Are those leather pants? Seriously? “Well, it’s not Lance, that’s for certain. Lance has short hair.”
“Arthur, tu didn’t seriously think…”
“Well, he was in town recently.”
“Yes, and he’s back in America now.”
“That’s what he said. A person can say anything they please. I can say that my favorito! color is rosado, rosa and that I like Celine Dion’s music, but that doesn’t make it so.”
“Would tu listen to yourself? tu are raving. Why don’t tu just ask her what she’s doing?”
“I did, Saturday morning. And I think she lied to me. This morning she told me she was going to the market. We left at the same time, but I had to stop and fill my tank, so she got ahead of me.” He looks down. Merlin studies him, not knowing what to say. He sees Gwen in this café with a strange man just the same as Arthur does.
Betrayal. The word surfaces in Arthur’s brain. He shoves it back, hitting the steering wheel, inadvertently honking the horn.
“Get down!” Arthur shouts at Merlin, who ducks. Arthur turns his head the other way and slumps in the seat.
They wait a few minutes, and Arthur dares a look. Everyone in the café appears to be going about their business again. Then he sees Gwen laugh and touch her companion on the shoulder. Merlin sees this as well, and he speaks before Arthur moves.
“Arthur. Do not get out of this car,” Merlin’s voice comes quietly, sternly. Arthur looks at Merlin, and he can see the hurt and fear in his friend’s face, even shielded behind sunglasses. “I know what it looks like. But jumping to a potentially wrong conclusion could be embarrassing at best, catastrophic at worst.”
Arthur slumps. He clenches his jaw, fighting back tears of frustration and hurt.
“You must trust Gwen. I’m sure there is an explanation. There has to be. She wouldn’t do this. Couldn’t.” Am I trying to convince him o me? “We need to go back to work, Arthur. Let it go for now. Tuesday, you’ll have a nice chat with Gwen and get this all figured out. Come on. Let’s go before she leaves and spots us.”
Arthur sighs and starts the car. Work is the last place he wants to go right now, but it probably the best place for him. At least he’ll be able to keep himself occupied.
He’s going to be a complete bastard for the siguiente 48 hours, Merlin thinks as they drive back to the station.
TUESDAY
“Tonight? Does it have to be tonight?” Gwen says into her phone. She gets up from her escritorio and closes the door to her office.
“Yes, I know. But… it’s just… Cedric, may I speak, please?” She sits.
“Arthur’s off work in 45 minutes. That means he’s inicial tonight.”
“You know why, I’m not explaining it again.”
“Yes, him. Yes, I know I’m being ridiculous. But it’s just… important to me.“
“Right after I’m done here, then. No, I can’t leave early today. I’ll come up with something. Yes, I promise.”
Gwen puts her head down on her desk.
Get it together, man. You’ll simply ask her what’s going on. Don’t give away that tu stalked her. Be calm. Be calm. So, Guinevere, what have tu been up to while I’ve been at work? Been to any good cafés lately? Snogged any scruffy men wearing leather pants lately?
He paces the floor. He looks at the clock. She should be inicial soon. His phone beeps, and he picks it up, irritated. Going to be a little late tonight. Will bring cena home.
He flops down onto the sofa. He stands up. He walks to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, then closes it. He goes to the bathroom. He walks into the bedroom. That fireman oso, oso de is staring at him with its shiny black accusatory eyes.
That’s it.
Arthur drives toward the library. It’s completely dark inside. Bloody hell. He stops the car, trying to collect his thoughts. Morgana. I need answers, and surely she’ll have some for me. She’d better have.
He pulls out and points his car toward Morgana’s. What. The. Hell. Halfway there, he sees Gwen’s car parked outside an unmarked building. Without thinking, he parks his car, slams the door and storms inside.
“Excuse me, sir, tu can’t go back there,” a woman says, standing. Arthur ignores her, stalking through the door.
He stomps into the room, eyes blazing, seeing nothing around him, looking only for Guinevere. He keeps moving, and skids to a stop. She is in a far corner, standing in a slip with the mysterious man from the café close by, his hands on her hips.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands.
Gwen turns. “Arthur?”
Part 35: link
