Brandon Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
signofthetimes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2023-06-02 03:01 am
signofthetimes) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2023-06-02 03:01 am
"He has a father's heart..."
Who: Brandon Blake and Cillian O'Donovan
What: What the fuck?
Where: Upper East Side, NYC
When: After this
It was a short drive home from the hospital, but it was enough for Brandon to doze off when he made the mistake of closing his eyes while he tried to keep his head propped up with his hand. He was woken with a gentle pat to his shoulder from his driver who had been working with him for years now, so Brandon trusted him completely. Very much wasn’t the first time Brandon had crashed out on a journey. Definitely wouldn’t be the last.
“Thanks, Franklin,” he mumbled, peeling off his seatbelt and shoving it over his shoulder, giving his hand an annoyed shake when the belt tangled around his wrist. Franklin got out and came around to open his door for him. Pain radiated through his hip and lower back when he climbed out of the car and he almost fell, grabbing the door so he didn’t faceplant the sidewalk. Franklin had hurriedly held out a hand to help him but Brandon righted himself on the pavement with a wave of his hand, swinging the door closed behind him. “I’m okay, thanks. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just been a hell of a few days. Take the next few days off, bud. I’ll mostly be at the hospital with Merlin. I’ve postponed everything for work.”
He wasn’t really fine. All he wanted to do was get inside and take a warm bath with some muscle soak before going to bed and trying to get some sleep. Merlin was in good hands, he that — the best, really — and being taken care of at the hospital but the only reason Brandon wasn’t still there was because he definitely needed to bathe and if he didn’t come home to at least attempt to sleep, it would’ve caused another epic fight with Merlin, who basically told him he looked like shit and to fuck off until he got some rest. Turned out, Merlin post-anaesthetic wasn’t just a puke machine, but he was also seriously bitchy and feeling miserable, but who could spite him that? Brandon was struggling to keep up with everything that had happened in the past 48 hours and he was at the point he was so tired, sometimes his mouth couldn’t even get the right words out. Merlin just wanted to sleep because he was feeling terrible and got upset because Brandon was refusing to go home to rest too. Long story short, Merlin won that round, and fair enough too, after everything that had happened.
Going through the revolving door into the lobby of his luxury apartment block that he owned the penthouse of, Brandon gave a small wave to the doorman as he passed. “Hey, Kingston.”
Instead of just nodding with his usual polite greeting, Kingston jumped away from his post right as a guy in a wheelchair quickly pulled out towards Brandon from the waiting area across from the enquiries desk. “Mr Blake!” the wheelchair guy called out, trying to intercept him.
Of course, that also caused Brandon’s two security guys that always tailed him when he was out and about to swoop on the wheelchair guy and Kingston to run up with a hurried, “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to tell him you were unavailable and should leave, multiple times, but he insisted on waiting.” Wheelchair guy earned a significantly fierce glare from Kingston.
Brandon stopped short in the middle of the lobby, shooting them all an aggravated What-The-Fuck look. He paid a lot of fucking money to not be disturbed in his place of residence, so of course he would be aggravated when he was here, being disturbed, at one possible time he definitely did NOT want to be disturbed. “How do you know where I lived?” he asked the wheelchair dude who, now flanked by Brandon’s imposing-looking beefy security guys, Dex and Chester.
Wheelchair guy held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not a fan. I mean, that’s not why I’m here and if I was, I wouldn’t be turnin’ up at ya’ home to invade ya’ privacy. It’s Merlin I’m looking for. Please, just five minutes o’ya’ time. It’s all I need for ya’ to have all o’ the info ya’ need to understand why I want to see him,” he implored in what Brandon was noting was a thick Irish lilt like Euan, but not as strong.
Brandon rubbed his forehead with a sigh and then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “He’s not here. I can’t help you. I’m also not his keeper. You can send him a message at the theatre. He’s top notch at keeping on top of fanmail.”
“He’s been here some time, sir,” Kingston offered in his clipped British accent. “Quite some hours. I tried to explain…
Wheelchair guy nodded. “I understand. The gentleman here explained he was unavailable for visitors because he’d been taken ill. Just five minutes o’ ya’ time and I’ll leave the ball in ya’ court. Ya’ security can pat me down and listen to the whole thing if ya’ need. I know ya’ a big deal. Very big deal. I’m not here to cause any problems.”
Brandon closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure out how much he could regret his next move but he gave a wave of his hand to Dex and Chester. “Right. Okay. You can stand down, guys. It’s fine.” ‘Fine’ was basically his default autopilot response to absolutely fucking everything right now. Anything else took too much energy and his was zapped. He nodded over to the nest of white leather sofas skirting the waiting area and went over to sit down, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He had no clue what this was all about but he was looking at the guy expectantly as he wheeled over to join him.
Wheelchair guy cleared his throat and offered his hand to Brandon. “My name’s Cillian O’Donovan.” A paused, definite significant hesitation before he continued. “And I… think I might be Merlin’s father.”
This was one of those moments where instant shock hit Brandon. His gut felt like it dropped, his back felt like cold water was dumped over it, and his ears started with a faint ringing while his jaw dropped and he gaped at the other guy, speechless. Because of all that and because he was extremely sleep deprived and recovering from minor sedation for a couple of procedures, he completely forgot to reciprocate with the polite handshake with the offered hand. “Wait.” He scrunched his face up because wasn’t computing. “What the fuck? That’s not— How?”
“The very simple answer is he came up as a match on my AncestryDNA thing. I tried to send him a message through the website but I never got a response.” Cillian held his hand up to get Brandon to wait while he fished his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hurriedly brought up his profile on the website, then showed the match to Brandon. “It took a wee bit o’ Googlin’ to find that he’s now Merlin Blake, not Merlin Larson. I don’t want to bother him while he’s poorly, o’ course. I can come back. I can amend my return flight home. If he even wants to… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, I don’t know if he’s even aware there’s a chance I exist. I’ve watched enough Long Lost Family o’er the years. Just never thought I’d be a candidate for it.”
Brandon had taken the guy’s phone and was just staring, stunned, at the screen. 50% DNA match. Jeezus. He didn’t even realise Merlin had done the AncestryDNA thing. He hadn’t mentioned it but it might have come from the whole accidentally discovering he was adopted ordeal. “You came from Ireland to find him…?” he asked, bewildered.
Cillian nodded. “Aye, that I did. I was prepared to stay as long as it took. But the theatre o’er on Broadway understandably stonewalled me. I give them much kudos on their privacy policies. I couldn’t get tickets for the show with the lottery, so I waited outside the theatre for a couple o’ nights only to be told it’s been an understudy for the last few days. I was able to locate on Google the name o’ this apartment buildin’ as possibly where ya’ resided. Ya’ have some very, er, dedicated fans. So, I took a leap o’ faith, though it did mean resortin’ to bein’ a royal pain in the arse for ya’ doorman. Please apologise to him on my behalf. I was desperate. My next step was seein’ if a PI could help me track him down. If Merlin wants nothin’ to do with me, I’ll cop it and n’er bother him again. But I had to try.”
“He’s not here.” Brandon handed the phone back, not sure his brain had the capacity for this complete and utter mindfuck. “Um… sorry. I haven’t had a lot of sleep. There’s no fucking way I can tell him about you.”
“Oh.” Cillian looked crestfallen and gave a small nod. “Okay. Aye. Then I guess—”
“It’s not because I’m refusing to,” Brandon quickly clarified and flopped back into the sofa, forehead creasing when his jeans made a fart noise on the leather. “That wasn’t me, by the way.”
Cillian had to smirk. “Wouldn’t judge if it was. I’m a doctor. It’s natural.”
Brandon’s eyebrows shot up. “A doctor? What kind of doctor?”
“Qualified in Trauma Medicine, Aviation Medicine, and Aeromedical Evacuation but currently practisin’ as a GP,” Cillian answered, more than willing to cop any grilling.
“Jeezus.” Brandon couldn’t help but be impressed, if the dude wasn’t a complete scam artist and lying through his teeth, which is why he was eyeballing him now with close scrutiny. Fuck, he could definitely see some resemblance to Merlin in his face. Eye colour, hair colour, complexion, dimples, even the smile. What a fucking mindfuck. “Does that mean you’re a pilot? Ah… was a pilot?” He had no idea if someone in a wheelchair could fly a plane but he hoped not.
Cillian nodded again. “Was. I served fifteen years in the Royal Air Force. Did two and a bit tours before I was medically discharged.”
Brandon massaged the bridge of his nose and shook his head, because this was starting to give him a headache, though he couldn’t completely blame it on this guy. “Look, I can’t make any calls on his behalf. He’s my husband, as I’m sure Google advised you, but he’s in hospital unwell and will be there for the better part of a week, give or take. I didn’t mean that he shouldn’t know about you. I just mean that right now, we’re going through a lot and I don’t think he’s up to it at the moment. But if you’re not bullshiting me and this is legit, that you could be his biological father, then he would want to know. He knows he’s adopted but he’s never mentioned this Ancestry thing to me. I’d say maybe he doesn’t know of the match or he forgot he had it done. We’ve, uh… had a fucking lot going on.”
“Aye. It was hard to not go down the Google rabbithole. Ya’ have a challengin’ life. It was hard to believe it could be my flesh and blood son I was readin’ about. I had no damn clue he existed. That I’d, uh…” Cillian cleared his throat and went quiet, losing himself in his thoughts for a few moments before he regained his composure. “I don’t have any other kids and I can’t anymore. That’s why I’m here. It’s really the only reason. If there’s a chance these results are correct… I couldn’t ignore it. If there’s even a wee chance o’him wantin’ to know me, I had to try. Flyin’ by the seat o’ my pants here. I only did the DNA test about a month ago. This is really forward o’ me but… is he okay? The reason he’s in hospital, is it serious?”
“It’s…” Brandon felt his protective hackles start to come up a little, wanting to shield Merlin from anything that might hurt him. He knew Merlin had an awful time when he found out he was adopted and his family hadn’t told him. It led to a fallout with both his parents and big brother but it did all work out in the end and he gained a second big brother out of it. This was all before Brandon came into his life. “Okay, um… fuck. Just so you know, if you go and sell his private information or any details about any of this to TMZ or some other asshole of the earth tabloid, I will sue the fuck out of you. Just so we’re clear. I’m taking you at your word and I hardly ever do that so don’t fuck me over, dude. My life is too fucking stressful right now to deal with more shit. I need you to be genuine and not fucking hurt him. Deal?”
Cillian nodded without hesitation and again offered his hand to Brandon. “Deal. If you need me to sign an NDA, I’m happy to comply. Anything you need.”
Brandon gazed at Cillian’s outstretched hand, still not quite believing this epic mindfuck of a plot twist was happening. Though his life recently had definitely furnished him with stronger resilience to cop unexpected blows from all angles. He didn’t shake Cillian’s hand straight away. Instead, he held up his to indicate to Cillian to wait and took his phone out, pulling up a number and hitting call. It took a good few rings for the call to connect. “Mark? It’s Brandon. Sorry if I woke you. It’s got to be, like, the ass crack of dawn over there… Oh, shit. There’s nothing worse. I’m hearing you… We got the news about Sash from Tori… We’re thinking of them both… Yeah, I need a quick favour. Can you take a verbal NDA over the phone for me and get something in writing later? To cover Merlin and me… Thanks, yeah. I appreciate it. Here’s the guy. Cillian O’Donovan.” He handed the phone over to Cillian. “It’s my attorney, Mark Campbell. I’m recording this.”
Cillian was trying to get his head around the enormity of the fact he was about to enter into a verbal NDA for a massive TV star who may or may not be his son-in-law. It felt like some weird dream but he took the phone, sticking to his word that he would do whatever it took to meet Merlin. “Justin Campbell’s father? Bloody hell, what a day this is turnin’ out to be…” He puffed his cheeks out, shaking his head in disbelief but took the phone from Brandon.
Brandon scrubbed a hand over his hand and watched Cillian conversing with Mark on his cell. Fuck, he hoped this was the right move but he needed to buy some time before he gave Cillian any sort of access to Merlin. Merlin needed to get through his surgery and be feeling a little better before this epic WTF got dumped on him. His guts were twisting with nerves about whether he was doing the right thing but he knew he was Merlin’s husband and if their positions were reversed, Merlin would be doing the same to protect him. Once the phone call ended and Cillian handed the phone back, Brandon put it back in his pocket. “Merlin has ulcerative colitis. We had to rush him to hospital in the middle of the night. He’s got bowel obstruction and waiting on surgery to fix it. They’re doing some… gastric rest, decompression something. I’ve been at the hospital with him all night. So, that’s where we’re at. And I’m sorry but he’s been under a lot of stress, which makes his condition worse so until he’s feeling better, I can’t talk to him about this. I will, but not yet. The timing is just really up the shit and… why are you looking at me like that?”
“My dad and uncle have ulcerative colitis, and so did my grandfather,” Cillian murmured with a shake of his head.
“Fuuuuuck me…” Brandon put his hands over his face, needing a few moments with this particular piece of information. “So, you just… randomly fucked a Southern American chick circa some twenty-one years ago? Not that I’m judging and it seems she made a habit of it but you’re freaking Irish. You live in Ireland, for fuck’s sake!”
Cillian drew in a deep breath, pressing his lips together with a sheepish shrug. “I would’ve been nineteen o’ so and in my early RAF trainin’ days. I spent some time in Charleston when I was posted to the US for some exercises. I spent time in a lot o’ places on trainin’ and exercises and… that time o’ my life was, er… colourful. Wild days. That’s really all I can offer about it. It could’ve literally happened anywhere. That’s the part I wish I didn’t have to admit to him.”
Brandon was struggling to keep his eyes open and he needed to take his medication because the pain was beginning to ramp up again. “Okay. Listen, I really need to get some sleep so I can get back to the hospital in a bit. I’m going to leave it up to him to decide how much or how little of his life he wants to share with you. And as much as I want to interrogate the fuck out of you about absolutely everything, it’s not my place. It’s his. If you leave me your contact details, I’ll talk to him about this once I gauge when he’s feeling a bit better to process it.” He pulled himself forward and stopped before getting up. “But I will fuck you up beyond belief if you’re actually here to hurt him in any way. I do realise I currently look about as threatening as a Mickey Mouse on crack right now but I’m wealthy and I’ve got connections, so I’ll pay someone to do it for me. He is the most amazing person to ever exist in this universe. He literally saved my life and went to hell and back with, and for, me. I’m not going to let you fuck with his head, so before you answer his call make sure you’re absolutely sure you want to be in his life, because just know if he decides to make it, it’s a massive deal. Otherwise, don’t pick up.” Then he stood, stumbling slightly before he caught his balance and this time, he was the one to offer his hand to Cillian.
Knowing Brandon meant every single word he just uttered, Cillian took his hand and shook it firmly with a nod. “Understood.” He took his wallet out and plucked one of his business cards from it, giving it to Brandon for Merlin. “I know there’s no way I can reassure ya’ I’m genuine and the only reason I’m here is because I want to meet my son. But I will underscore it by sayin’ he’s the only chance I’ll ever have o’ bein’ a father. I don’t have the option anymore. I thought that was taken from me for good until AncestryDNA gave me this wee glimmer o’ hope. If the only thing I get to tell him before he decides he doesn’t want anythin’ to do with me is for him to know it was never because I wouldn’t have wanted him, then I’ll be okay with that. I could never just ignore a child I knew I fathered. Ever. I’d rather shoot myself in the head. Which is kind o’ what I felt like doin’ after learnin’ I couldn’t have kids, so…”
When Cillian said that last part, Brandon stared at him soberly. The guy obviously had a hell of a story to tell himself but so did Merlin. As much as he was trying to decide how Merlin might respond to all this, he couldn’t. Merlin had been extremely angry and hurt to discover he was adopted and his biological mother was his brother’s best friend’s mother, which denied him the chance of knowing Jesse was his biological big brother his whole life. Brandon knew it was the ultimate betrayal and he wanted nothing to do with her. But he hadn’t once mentioned wanting to search for his biological father. Was that why he got the AncestryDNA done, though? He got lost in thought and distracted from replying and before he could, Cillian continued.
“Aye. That’s it. I’ve said my piece. I’ll leave ya’ in peace so ya’ can get some sleep. Ya’ look like ya’ really need rest.” Cillian put his wallet back in his pocket and released the brake levers on his chair to get ready to leave.
Brandon snorted before he had the chance to stop it escaping and he put his hand up to his nose and mouth. “Sorry, that was not aimed at what you just told me. Just cynicism about the concept of having peace. It’s… yeah.” He waved his hand. “You’ve Googled, I don’t need to elaborate. I wish I could offer a timeframe of when you might hear from Merlin but it can take him time to emotionally process things. If he decides it’s too much and not what he wants, I’ll send you an email myself to let you know. I won’t leave you hanging. When do you have to be back in Ireland?”
Cillian shook his head. “Not until I receive that phone call or email. I’ve taken a leave o’ absence from my job. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Cheers for not havin’ ya’ Men In Black lads drag me out by the balls. I was anticipatin’ that a wee bit, to be sure.”
“Maybe next time.” Brandon smirked and gave Cillian a polite nod with a wave before heading towards the elevators.
“Brandon?” Cillian jumped in again before Brandon disappeared around the corner and when Brandon turned back to him, he said finally, “I hope ya’ both feel better soon.”
Brandon bit his lower lip and offered a helpless shrug. “Here’s hoping, dude.” He gave Cillian another final wave and headed for the elevators.
As soon as the elevator doors swung closed and Brandon was alone, he slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream or hit something but he didn’t have the energy. The desperate need for sleep was oozing through every inch of him and he knew if he let himself get inside his head too much, he wouldn’t sleep. He promised Merlin he would. The bath was probably off the menu now, even if his muscles and joints were aching, especially his hip and back after Tara arranged for him to have the lumbar puncture and bone marrow aspiration. She only let him go home and not keep him overnight to recover on the proviso he went home to bed.
At the door to the apartment, he only narrowly avoided setting off his entire security system by punching in the wrong code twice because his brain was mush. He took the third go extra-slow to get it right and but as he was doing it, his stomach started to churn again and his head was also thumping with a tension headache. “Fuck, no. Not now,” he moaned, in a panic to try to get the door open in a hurry. He wanted to at least be inside his home if his body was going to start trying to expel random bodily fluids from random orifices. You knew it was a killer of a day when you couldn’t identify if you felt sick, or tired, or sick because you were tired, or tired because you were sick or just plain fucking sick and tired. Of everything.
Whatever it was, as soon as he got inside, he beelined straight for the nearest bathroom, steadying himself with a hand on the wall because now he was starting to feel woozy too. He was pretty sure there were a couple of little voices in his head now sounding very much like Jesse and Tara with something akin to an ‘I told you so’ chant, just with a very kind and gentle bedside manner. He got to the sink, gripping the edge of it as he felt himself break out in a sweat and start to breathe heavily through the shitty feeling setting in. Trying to figure out if he should keep moving over to the toilet or stay there in case he was about to throw up, suddenly the floor felt like it tipped beneath him and stars shot through tunnels of his peripheral vision. “Oh, fuck—” he mumbled and then hit the bathroom floor in a heap.
LOG, COMPLETE
What: What the fuck?
Where: Upper East Side, NYC
When: After this
It was a short drive home from the hospital, but it was enough for Brandon to doze off when he made the mistake of closing his eyes while he tried to keep his head propped up with his hand. He was woken with a gentle pat to his shoulder from his driver who had been working with him for years now, so Brandon trusted him completely. Very much wasn’t the first time Brandon had crashed out on a journey. Definitely wouldn’t be the last.
“Thanks, Franklin,” he mumbled, peeling off his seatbelt and shoving it over his shoulder, giving his hand an annoyed shake when the belt tangled around his wrist. Franklin got out and came around to open his door for him. Pain radiated through his hip and lower back when he climbed out of the car and he almost fell, grabbing the door so he didn’t faceplant the sidewalk. Franklin had hurriedly held out a hand to help him but Brandon righted himself on the pavement with a wave of his hand, swinging the door closed behind him. “I’m okay, thanks. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just been a hell of a few days. Take the next few days off, bud. I’ll mostly be at the hospital with Merlin. I’ve postponed everything for work.”
He wasn’t really fine. All he wanted to do was get inside and take a warm bath with some muscle soak before going to bed and trying to get some sleep. Merlin was in good hands, he that — the best, really — and being taken care of at the hospital but the only reason Brandon wasn’t still there was because he definitely needed to bathe and if he didn’t come home to at least attempt to sleep, it would’ve caused another epic fight with Merlin, who basically told him he looked like shit and to fuck off until he got some rest. Turned out, Merlin post-anaesthetic wasn’t just a puke machine, but he was also seriously bitchy and feeling miserable, but who could spite him that? Brandon was struggling to keep up with everything that had happened in the past 48 hours and he was at the point he was so tired, sometimes his mouth couldn’t even get the right words out. Merlin just wanted to sleep because he was feeling terrible and got upset because Brandon was refusing to go home to rest too. Long story short, Merlin won that round, and fair enough too, after everything that had happened.
Going through the revolving door into the lobby of his luxury apartment block that he owned the penthouse of, Brandon gave a small wave to the doorman as he passed. “Hey, Kingston.”
Instead of just nodding with his usual polite greeting, Kingston jumped away from his post right as a guy in a wheelchair quickly pulled out towards Brandon from the waiting area across from the enquiries desk. “Mr Blake!” the wheelchair guy called out, trying to intercept him.
Of course, that also caused Brandon’s two security guys that always tailed him when he was out and about to swoop on the wheelchair guy and Kingston to run up with a hurried, “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to tell him you were unavailable and should leave, multiple times, but he insisted on waiting.” Wheelchair guy earned a significantly fierce glare from Kingston.
Brandon stopped short in the middle of the lobby, shooting them all an aggravated What-The-Fuck look. He paid a lot of fucking money to not be disturbed in his place of residence, so of course he would be aggravated when he was here, being disturbed, at one possible time he definitely did NOT want to be disturbed. “How do you know where I lived?” he asked the wheelchair dude who, now flanked by Brandon’s imposing-looking beefy security guys, Dex and Chester.
Wheelchair guy held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not a fan. I mean, that’s not why I’m here and if I was, I wouldn’t be turnin’ up at ya’ home to invade ya’ privacy. It’s Merlin I’m looking for. Please, just five minutes o’ya’ time. It’s all I need for ya’ to have all o’ the info ya’ need to understand why I want to see him,” he implored in what Brandon was noting was a thick Irish lilt like Euan, but not as strong.
Brandon rubbed his forehead with a sigh and then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “He’s not here. I can’t help you. I’m also not his keeper. You can send him a message at the theatre. He’s top notch at keeping on top of fanmail.”
“He’s been here some time, sir,” Kingston offered in his clipped British accent. “Quite some hours. I tried to explain…
Wheelchair guy nodded. “I understand. The gentleman here explained he was unavailable for visitors because he’d been taken ill. Just five minutes o’ ya’ time and I’ll leave the ball in ya’ court. Ya’ security can pat me down and listen to the whole thing if ya’ need. I know ya’ a big deal. Very big deal. I’m not here to cause any problems.”
Brandon closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure out how much he could regret his next move but he gave a wave of his hand to Dex and Chester. “Right. Okay. You can stand down, guys. It’s fine.” ‘Fine’ was basically his default autopilot response to absolutely fucking everything right now. Anything else took too much energy and his was zapped. He nodded over to the nest of white leather sofas skirting the waiting area and went over to sit down, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. He had no clue what this was all about but he was looking at the guy expectantly as he wheeled over to join him.
Wheelchair guy cleared his throat and offered his hand to Brandon. “My name’s Cillian O’Donovan.” A paused, definite significant hesitation before he continued. “And I… think I might be Merlin’s father.”
This was one of those moments where instant shock hit Brandon. His gut felt like it dropped, his back felt like cold water was dumped over it, and his ears started with a faint ringing while his jaw dropped and he gaped at the other guy, speechless. Because of all that and because he was extremely sleep deprived and recovering from minor sedation for a couple of procedures, he completely forgot to reciprocate with the polite handshake with the offered hand. “Wait.” He scrunched his face up because wasn’t computing. “What the fuck? That’s not— How?”
“The very simple answer is he came up as a match on my AncestryDNA thing. I tried to send him a message through the website but I never got a response.” Cillian held his hand up to get Brandon to wait while he fished his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hurriedly brought up his profile on the website, then showed the match to Brandon. “It took a wee bit o’ Googlin’ to find that he’s now Merlin Blake, not Merlin Larson. I don’t want to bother him while he’s poorly, o’ course. I can come back. I can amend my return flight home. If he even wants to… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, I don’t know if he’s even aware there’s a chance I exist. I’ve watched enough Long Lost Family o’er the years. Just never thought I’d be a candidate for it.”
Brandon had taken the guy’s phone and was just staring, stunned, at the screen. 50% DNA match. Jeezus. He didn’t even realise Merlin had done the AncestryDNA thing. He hadn’t mentioned it but it might have come from the whole accidentally discovering he was adopted ordeal. “You came from Ireland to find him…?” he asked, bewildered.
Cillian nodded. “Aye, that I did. I was prepared to stay as long as it took. But the theatre o’er on Broadway understandably stonewalled me. I give them much kudos on their privacy policies. I couldn’t get tickets for the show with the lottery, so I waited outside the theatre for a couple o’ nights only to be told it’s been an understudy for the last few days. I was able to locate on Google the name o’ this apartment buildin’ as possibly where ya’ resided. Ya’ have some very, er, dedicated fans. So, I took a leap o’ faith, though it did mean resortin’ to bein’ a royal pain in the arse for ya’ doorman. Please apologise to him on my behalf. I was desperate. My next step was seein’ if a PI could help me track him down. If Merlin wants nothin’ to do with me, I’ll cop it and n’er bother him again. But I had to try.”
“He’s not here.” Brandon handed the phone back, not sure his brain had the capacity for this complete and utter mindfuck. “Um… sorry. I haven’t had a lot of sleep. There’s no fucking way I can tell him about you.”
“Oh.” Cillian looked crestfallen and gave a small nod. “Okay. Aye. Then I guess—”
“It’s not because I’m refusing to,” Brandon quickly clarified and flopped back into the sofa, forehead creasing when his jeans made a fart noise on the leather. “That wasn’t me, by the way.”
Cillian had to smirk. “Wouldn’t judge if it was. I’m a doctor. It’s natural.”
Brandon’s eyebrows shot up. “A doctor? What kind of doctor?”
“Qualified in Trauma Medicine, Aviation Medicine, and Aeromedical Evacuation but currently practisin’ as a GP,” Cillian answered, more than willing to cop any grilling.
“Jeezus.” Brandon couldn’t help but be impressed, if the dude wasn’t a complete scam artist and lying through his teeth, which is why he was eyeballing him now with close scrutiny. Fuck, he could definitely see some resemblance to Merlin in his face. Eye colour, hair colour, complexion, dimples, even the smile. What a fucking mindfuck. “Does that mean you’re a pilot? Ah… was a pilot?” He had no idea if someone in a wheelchair could fly a plane but he hoped not.
Cillian nodded again. “Was. I served fifteen years in the Royal Air Force. Did two and a bit tours before I was medically discharged.”
Brandon massaged the bridge of his nose and shook his head, because this was starting to give him a headache, though he couldn’t completely blame it on this guy. “Look, I can’t make any calls on his behalf. He’s my husband, as I’m sure Google advised you, but he’s in hospital unwell and will be there for the better part of a week, give or take. I didn’t mean that he shouldn’t know about you. I just mean that right now, we’re going through a lot and I don’t think he’s up to it at the moment. But if you’re not bullshiting me and this is legit, that you could be his biological father, then he would want to know. He knows he’s adopted but he’s never mentioned this Ancestry thing to me. I’d say maybe he doesn’t know of the match or he forgot he had it done. We’ve, uh… had a fucking lot going on.”
“Aye. It was hard to not go down the Google rabbithole. Ya’ have a challengin’ life. It was hard to believe it could be my flesh and blood son I was readin’ about. I had no damn clue he existed. That I’d, uh…” Cillian cleared his throat and went quiet, losing himself in his thoughts for a few moments before he regained his composure. “I don’t have any other kids and I can’t anymore. That’s why I’m here. It’s really the only reason. If there’s a chance these results are correct… I couldn’t ignore it. If there’s even a wee chance o’him wantin’ to know me, I had to try. Flyin’ by the seat o’ my pants here. I only did the DNA test about a month ago. This is really forward o’ me but… is he okay? The reason he’s in hospital, is it serious?”
“It’s…” Brandon felt his protective hackles start to come up a little, wanting to shield Merlin from anything that might hurt him. He knew Merlin had an awful time when he found out he was adopted and his family hadn’t told him. It led to a fallout with both his parents and big brother but it did all work out in the end and he gained a second big brother out of it. This was all before Brandon came into his life. “Okay, um… fuck. Just so you know, if you go and sell his private information or any details about any of this to TMZ or some other asshole of the earth tabloid, I will sue the fuck out of you. Just so we’re clear. I’m taking you at your word and I hardly ever do that so don’t fuck me over, dude. My life is too fucking stressful right now to deal with more shit. I need you to be genuine and not fucking hurt him. Deal?”
Cillian nodded without hesitation and again offered his hand to Brandon. “Deal. If you need me to sign an NDA, I’m happy to comply. Anything you need.”
Brandon gazed at Cillian’s outstretched hand, still not quite believing this epic mindfuck of a plot twist was happening. Though his life recently had definitely furnished him with stronger resilience to cop unexpected blows from all angles. He didn’t shake Cillian’s hand straight away. Instead, he held up his to indicate to Cillian to wait and took his phone out, pulling up a number and hitting call. It took a good few rings for the call to connect. “Mark? It’s Brandon. Sorry if I woke you. It’s got to be, like, the ass crack of dawn over there… Oh, shit. There’s nothing worse. I’m hearing you… We got the news about Sash from Tori… We’re thinking of them both… Yeah, I need a quick favour. Can you take a verbal NDA over the phone for me and get something in writing later? To cover Merlin and me… Thanks, yeah. I appreciate it. Here’s the guy. Cillian O’Donovan.” He handed the phone over to Cillian. “It’s my attorney, Mark Campbell. I’m recording this.”
Cillian was trying to get his head around the enormity of the fact he was about to enter into a verbal NDA for a massive TV star who may or may not be his son-in-law. It felt like some weird dream but he took the phone, sticking to his word that he would do whatever it took to meet Merlin. “Justin Campbell’s father? Bloody hell, what a day this is turnin’ out to be…” He puffed his cheeks out, shaking his head in disbelief but took the phone from Brandon.
Brandon scrubbed a hand over his hand and watched Cillian conversing with Mark on his cell. Fuck, he hoped this was the right move but he needed to buy some time before he gave Cillian any sort of access to Merlin. Merlin needed to get through his surgery and be feeling a little better before this epic WTF got dumped on him. His guts were twisting with nerves about whether he was doing the right thing but he knew he was Merlin’s husband and if their positions were reversed, Merlin would be doing the same to protect him. Once the phone call ended and Cillian handed the phone back, Brandon put it back in his pocket. “Merlin has ulcerative colitis. We had to rush him to hospital in the middle of the night. He’s got bowel obstruction and waiting on surgery to fix it. They’re doing some… gastric rest, decompression something. I’ve been at the hospital with him all night. So, that’s where we’re at. And I’m sorry but he’s been under a lot of stress, which makes his condition worse so until he’s feeling better, I can’t talk to him about this. I will, but not yet. The timing is just really up the shit and… why are you looking at me like that?”
“My dad and uncle have ulcerative colitis, and so did my grandfather,” Cillian murmured with a shake of his head.
“Fuuuuuck me…” Brandon put his hands over his face, needing a few moments with this particular piece of information. “So, you just… randomly fucked a Southern American chick circa some twenty-one years ago? Not that I’m judging and it seems she made a habit of it but you’re freaking Irish. You live in Ireland, for fuck’s sake!”
Cillian drew in a deep breath, pressing his lips together with a sheepish shrug. “I would’ve been nineteen o’ so and in my early RAF trainin’ days. I spent some time in Charleston when I was posted to the US for some exercises. I spent time in a lot o’ places on trainin’ and exercises and… that time o’ my life was, er… colourful. Wild days. That’s really all I can offer about it. It could’ve literally happened anywhere. That’s the part I wish I didn’t have to admit to him.”
Brandon was struggling to keep his eyes open and he needed to take his medication because the pain was beginning to ramp up again. “Okay. Listen, I really need to get some sleep so I can get back to the hospital in a bit. I’m going to leave it up to him to decide how much or how little of his life he wants to share with you. And as much as I want to interrogate the fuck out of you about absolutely everything, it’s not my place. It’s his. If you leave me your contact details, I’ll talk to him about this once I gauge when he’s feeling a bit better to process it.” He pulled himself forward and stopped before getting up. “But I will fuck you up beyond belief if you’re actually here to hurt him in any way. I do realise I currently look about as threatening as a Mickey Mouse on crack right now but I’m wealthy and I’ve got connections, so I’ll pay someone to do it for me. He is the most amazing person to ever exist in this universe. He literally saved my life and went to hell and back with, and for, me. I’m not going to let you fuck with his head, so before you answer his call make sure you’re absolutely sure you want to be in his life, because just know if he decides to make it, it’s a massive deal. Otherwise, don’t pick up.” Then he stood, stumbling slightly before he caught his balance and this time, he was the one to offer his hand to Cillian.
Knowing Brandon meant every single word he just uttered, Cillian took his hand and shook it firmly with a nod. “Understood.” He took his wallet out and plucked one of his business cards from it, giving it to Brandon for Merlin. “I know there’s no way I can reassure ya’ I’m genuine and the only reason I’m here is because I want to meet my son. But I will underscore it by sayin’ he’s the only chance I’ll ever have o’ bein’ a father. I don’t have the option anymore. I thought that was taken from me for good until AncestryDNA gave me this wee glimmer o’ hope. If the only thing I get to tell him before he decides he doesn’t want anythin’ to do with me is for him to know it was never because I wouldn’t have wanted him, then I’ll be okay with that. I could never just ignore a child I knew I fathered. Ever. I’d rather shoot myself in the head. Which is kind o’ what I felt like doin’ after learnin’ I couldn’t have kids, so…”
When Cillian said that last part, Brandon stared at him soberly. The guy obviously had a hell of a story to tell himself but so did Merlin. As much as he was trying to decide how Merlin might respond to all this, he couldn’t. Merlin had been extremely angry and hurt to discover he was adopted and his biological mother was his brother’s best friend’s mother, which denied him the chance of knowing Jesse was his biological big brother his whole life. Brandon knew it was the ultimate betrayal and he wanted nothing to do with her. But he hadn’t once mentioned wanting to search for his biological father. Was that why he got the AncestryDNA done, though? He got lost in thought and distracted from replying and before he could, Cillian continued.
“Aye. That’s it. I’ve said my piece. I’ll leave ya’ in peace so ya’ can get some sleep. Ya’ look like ya’ really need rest.” Cillian put his wallet back in his pocket and released the brake levers on his chair to get ready to leave.
Brandon snorted before he had the chance to stop it escaping and he put his hand up to his nose and mouth. “Sorry, that was not aimed at what you just told me. Just cynicism about the concept of having peace. It’s… yeah.” He waved his hand. “You’ve Googled, I don’t need to elaborate. I wish I could offer a timeframe of when you might hear from Merlin but it can take him time to emotionally process things. If he decides it’s too much and not what he wants, I’ll send you an email myself to let you know. I won’t leave you hanging. When do you have to be back in Ireland?”
Cillian shook his head. “Not until I receive that phone call or email. I’ve taken a leave o’ absence from my job. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Cheers for not havin’ ya’ Men In Black lads drag me out by the balls. I was anticipatin’ that a wee bit, to be sure.”
“Maybe next time.” Brandon smirked and gave Cillian a polite nod with a wave before heading towards the elevators.
“Brandon?” Cillian jumped in again before Brandon disappeared around the corner and when Brandon turned back to him, he said finally, “I hope ya’ both feel better soon.”
Brandon bit his lower lip and offered a helpless shrug. “Here’s hoping, dude.” He gave Cillian another final wave and headed for the elevators.
As soon as the elevator doors swung closed and Brandon was alone, he slumped against the wall and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream or hit something but he didn’t have the energy. The desperate need for sleep was oozing through every inch of him and he knew if he let himself get inside his head too much, he wouldn’t sleep. He promised Merlin he would. The bath was probably off the menu now, even if his muscles and joints were aching, especially his hip and back after Tara arranged for him to have the lumbar puncture and bone marrow aspiration. She only let him go home and not keep him overnight to recover on the proviso he went home to bed.
At the door to the apartment, he only narrowly avoided setting off his entire security system by punching in the wrong code twice because his brain was mush. He took the third go extra-slow to get it right and but as he was doing it, his stomach started to churn again and his head was also thumping with a tension headache. “Fuck, no. Not now,” he moaned, in a panic to try to get the door open in a hurry. He wanted to at least be inside his home if his body was going to start trying to expel random bodily fluids from random orifices. You knew it was a killer of a day when you couldn’t identify if you felt sick, or tired, or sick because you were tired, or tired because you were sick or just plain fucking sick and tired. Of everything.
Whatever it was, as soon as he got inside, he beelined straight for the nearest bathroom, steadying himself with a hand on the wall because now he was starting to feel woozy too. He was pretty sure there were a couple of little voices in his head now sounding very much like Jesse and Tara with something akin to an ‘I told you so’ chant, just with a very kind and gentle bedside manner. He got to the sink, gripping the edge of it as he felt himself break out in a sweat and start to breathe heavily through the shitty feeling setting in. Trying to figure out if he should keep moving over to the toilet or stay there in case he was about to throw up, suddenly the floor felt like it tipped beneath him and stars shot through tunnels of his peripheral vision. “Oh, fuck—” he mumbled and then hit the bathroom floor in a heap.
LOG, COMPLETE