The Head In My Hands

Marley awakes feelings a bit blue, but it's a feeling that doesn’t last longer than an hour– with the help of a cup of tea and an envelope sitting on the kitchen counter.

He and his boss don’t often talk over letters, text messages are often enough, but Marley knows that the woman in the big chair prefers a paper trail, even with the invention of mobile phones and the already existing but readily improving carrier spells.

The letter Marley receives in response to the one he’d sent about Cerys is enough to rid the ache in him completely. (not truly, that would be ridiculous, but–)

His boss has some opinions on his interest, mainly positive, but opinions nonetheless.

Mandi’s glad that Marley has taken interest in a patient, and that even if for just this one appointment, that he would be welcome in the office. She says it's been quiet without him, he almost laughs at that. As if Marley was ever a loud or bright presence.

She writes that Cerys can’t come to the office often, and that currently, despite what had been written in her records, did not have a primary specialist for her medication. That if Marley was willing, and it wouldn’t bother his own illness too much, he would be given the opportunity to fill that position. Just for Cerys and just for her medication.

It was… something.

Marley had never been more excited.

He's grabbing a sheet of parchment and writing a response back before he's even properly set down his mug of tea on the desk, the ceramic cup teetering dangerously against the edge.

Marley would accept this opportunity. He didn’t get them often.

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He’d left long before Emrys woke up, leaving a note on the counter along with a bagged lunch like he tended to do when he wanted to appear apologetic. The sun had only started rising as he stepped out the door.

The walk to Merlin’s Rest is familiar, but in a way that was once bittersweet. On the outside, and from a distance, the clinic looks like any other hospital or medical building, but as most clinics in witch society, the closer you got– the more that appeared.

It is shrouded in autumn leaves, the trees arching over the building in a way that is not unlike the protective runes that actually do protect it. Cradling the concrete in natural shape.

He's wearing his old scrubs, the same ones he wore two years prior. They still fit, and Marley truly couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. What he could tell was that, like he remembered, the fabric they were made of left quite a bit to be desired, the thin cotton and polyester blend rubbing against the pleather weekender back he had thrown over his shoulder in a way that grated his ear with every movement.

Especially since he had to be careful with the bag, it was carrying precious goods–afterall.

The automatic doors clicked softly before sliding open, revealing a newly renovated waiting area. It hadn’t looked this nice back in 1998. The walls were a calming mix of beige and blue, accented with dark wooden baseboards that hinted at the clinic’s original structure. Plush, earth-toned armchairs were arranged in cosy clusters, each paired with low glass tables neatly stacked with magazines. A potted ficus stood in one corner, its glossy leaves catching the sunlight from the frosted windows.

The soft hum of fluorescent lighting overhead was nearly drowned out by the mellow instrumental music drifting from hidden speakers. A polished wooden reception desk sat near the far wall, scattered with a few clipboards and a sleek desktop computer, though whoever had been manning it must have just stepped away.

Marley felt oddly out of place, like a ghost as he walked past the waiting room, scanned his badge behind the reception desk—thankful it still worked—and made his way to the medical offices in the back of the east wing. The last time he worked here, back in 1998, he’d been in the west wing. He wasn’t sure how much had changed or if he even wanted to know.

His assigned room, 107, was down the right side of the hall. It was supposed to be empty all morning, giving him the time he needed. He smiled to himself, appreciating his boss for that small mercy.

“Marley?”

He turned to see Khairi behind him. How hadn’t he heard her? Her signature kitten heels always clicked against any floor, especially the smooth tile here. She held a clipboard and a stack of papers close to her chest.

“Hey Khairi, good to see you too,” he smiled, careful not to swing his bag too much as he turned.

She grinned, walking up to bump shoulders with him. “Not that I'm not excited to see you, but what are you doing here? I know for a fact you work from home.”

Marley readjusted the bag again. “I do, but I got special permission this time.” He held up his hands in mock surrender when she shot him a sceptical look. “Just one patient. Mandi called it a ‘passion project’ when I brought it up to her.”

Khairi laughed fondly as they began walking down the hall together. “That sounds like her. Sooo, you gonna be here long?”

They stopped at a door, and Marley smiled as she unlocked it. “Probably not. Like I said, it's just one patient I’m working with, and I’ll only come into the office when they can.”

She nodded, pursing her lips a bit sadly as she set her things down. “Makes sense.” Then, turning to him, she pulled him into a hug. “But try not to overwork yourself, okay? I don’t know when you got here, but you look tired.”

Marley chuckled as he hugged her back. “Now I know you're just messing with me, I can’t always look tired.”

She shrugs non-committedly, sorting through the papers on her desk. Again, Marley feels ghostly, as if drifting through memories– where's that happy feeling?

"Mind if I ask—what about this patient caught your attention?" Khairi bit her lip, hesitant. "I know you tend to avoid patient reports when you can. What's different this time?"

Marley adjusted the strap of his weekender bag, wincing slightly at the sound it made. "It was an unusual order for me. I don’t usually get big orders—just complicated ones. So when this one came in, I was... curious. Especially given the type of potions. They weren’t the typical—"

Khairi cut in, "Just the amount of potions, then?"

"No, not just that. It was the quantity and the type. They’re the same ones I take—or used to take—for years. It looked like a desperation case, and... well, you know how I feel about those."

A quiet moment passed, the only sound being Khairi setting up her room for the day.

Marley shifted his weight as Khairi looked up at him. "Hit a little too close to home, huh?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. So, I sent a letter to Mandi—" Khairi smiled knowingly, "—and asked if I could deliver the potions personally."

He swallowed. "Mandi gave me the chance, and, well... here I am."

Khairi smiled, letting out a soft laugh. "That’s so like you."

He smiled back, maybe so.

“Look, I’ve got an appointment in 30 minutes and I’ve got to get it finished setting up. If you have time, we could have lunch together?” Khairi offered a sheepish look appearing on her face as she forced the conversation to a close.

“That would be nice.” He answers, standing up straight and heading for the door. “The appointment is at 9Am, and I’ll probably leave around 11, are you free then?”

Khairi shot a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and with that Marley left the room, closing the door behind himself gently, so as to not cause it to slam– as they tended to (or, at least, they used to.)

Khairis room was 097, so the office he would be using was only a couple of halls down. As he walked down the quiet hallway, the soft tap of his shoes blended with the hum of the overhead lights. He could hear some of his other coworkers shuffling around in their offices as he passed them– but as he didn’t know who was in which room, he didn’t bother knocking.

The office he’d been temporarily assigned to sat at the end, marked by a simple brass number plate, and the door creaked open to reveal a typical doctor's office that wasn’t all too different to Khairis and honestly not too different to the one Marley had left when he switched positions years back.

The walls were painted a pale, neutral green, designed to soothe rather than impress and there were posters detailing common ailments and healthy habits adorning the walls, their edges slightly curled from years of being tacked up. A sturdy wooden desk sat against one wall, cluttered with patient files, a few outdated medical journals, and an older desktop computer, the tower humming quietly beneath.

Next to it, a bulky monitor flickered faintly with a screensaver of floating, multicoloured shapes.

In the centre of the room was the examination table, covered in the usual crisp, crinkly white paper. A rolling stool was tucked neatly beside it, along with a set of cabinets lined with various supplies—bandages, gauze, and the like, all organised in plastic containers. A faint, medicinal smell lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of cleaning products.

Marley placed his bag on the desk, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He unzipped the bag and gently pulled out the potions he’d prepared earlier, each bottle glowing faintly in the dim light. The labels were meticulously handwritten, their ink a deep, forest green, detailing dosages and times.

He arranged them in a neat row on the desk, the glass clinking softly as he lined them up. Then, as was his habit, he began to double-check—no, triple-check—the labels, running a finger down the parchment to ensure each one was correct. His eyes scanned the list of ingredients, his mind flicking back to when he'd brewed them, making sure he hadn't missed anything. He didn’t typically make mistakes like that– only when severely fatigued, but it was good to be cautious.

Satisfied after the third pass, Marley leaned back in the creaky chair, exhaling slowly, and glanced at the door, half-expecting Cerys to walk in at any moment, the faint hum of the lights the only sound as he waited.