Disclaimer: As much as I might wish otherwise, Merlin belongs to the BBC, not me.

They met at night, the first time. Coincidence? Fate? Chance? Merlin was pretty sure he didn't know; but he was certain of one thing – life was so much better now.

He walked slowly across the station, the wind blowing through the open doors and the moon shining as bright as a star – everlasting,alightinthedarkness – and wondered what had possessed him to come here so late at night. Maybe it was the fact that his rented flat was lonely and empty – no longer was she there with him, her bright hair spinning, her feet twirling and dancing across the floor. Or perhaps it was because he was going somewhere, though where he could not say. Gaius told him once that 'everybody is on a journey every single day of their lives. You never know where you're going to end up'. Right now, however, the dark haired, skinny, subdued young man just wanted to have a direction.

"Yes?"

"Um- I- A ticket to . . ." he stuttered at the man in the ticket office. Where did he want to go? "Where is it that the next train that's leaving is going to?"

The man rattled off a place somewhere far enough away and small enough that Merlin had never heard of it, and he nodded.

"That train, then, please," he said. The man looked at him oddly, but handed him a ticket after a few seconds.

"Platform 9," he said helpfully.

"Thanks," Merlin replied, smiling slightly. Then stood still. When was the last time he had smiled?

"A ticket to Raynes Park, please," the next man in the queue ordered. Merlin shifted out of the way, and the man looked at him sneeringly. Merlin shook his head, and walked away. Now where was platform nine?

Merlin shivered, looking nervously around the train station two nights later. He'd arrived back at his flat at some point in the afternoon after leaving on a strange train, and had immediately collapsed on the broken sofa that held so many - beautiful, flying – memories. He didn't awaken until the next day, and here he was again, unable to stand being on his own for a moment longer.

There was nobody around. The empty station was cold and threatening like this, and even the ticket man had left, presumably having a night off. Merlin started to wonder if his flat wasn't a safer place to be after all, even if . . .

"Here again?" an amused voice asked him. Merlin spun around, his mouth open, ready to defend himself if necessary.

"Yeah," he replied softly, recognizing the sneering man from the station the last time he came.

"Must be for something important. Most people are in bed right now"

Merlin shook his head, his throat clogged up. "No reason really," he said, looking at the floor. If he hadn't, he would have seen the man's eyes softening, and a compassionate look pass fleetingly across his features.

"Arthur," he said, holding out his hand. Merlin jerked his head up, and startled, shook the hand.

"Merlin"

"Have you got anywhere urgent to be?" the man – Arthur – questioned gently.

"No," Merlin replied quietly.

"Coffee?"

Merlin hesitated, common sense warring with a desperate need not to be alone. Finally, the man's calm blue eyes persuaded him, and he nodded.

"Sure"

Merlin wasn't sure how they got from having coffee to being at his flat, but there they were. He was telling Arthur to sit down on the old sofa – her sofa – without being properly aware of what he was saying and he sat down next to him and simply breathed and tried to forget that just a few months ago he'd been here with her and that this was their place, Merlin's and hers, not Merlin's and his.

And Arthur was smiling, laughing, his short blond hair so different from her long dark ponytail, and his eyes crinkling with joy, so unlike the tears that screwed up her features and washed rivers down her face.

"Morgana, my half sister – wait, sister – she grew up with me. She used to insult me the whole time; headstrong doesn't even start to describe her. 'Prat' was her favourite word, I think. Or maybe 'idiot'," Arthur mused, squeezing Merlin's hand and smiling beatifically at him. "What about you? Brothers? No, wait, let me guess, younger sister?"

Merlin shook his head. "No," he murmured, and turned his head away. Maybe he was being a coward, but he couldn't look at Arthur sitting there, just like her, but still breathing, living, laughing, hoping. And Arthur had a future, maybe even with him, and she didn't. She would never, ever, ever have the kind of future Arthur - God, even he himself - took for granted. At least, Merlin had taken it for granted until- until- it all happened.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked softly, strangely perceptive, and weirdly kind.

He nodded, closing his eyes. "It's late," he said quietly. "You better get back home; don't you have work in the morning?"

"Yeah," he agreed, and Merlin attempted not to glance at his crestfallen face. "Will I see you again sometime?"

"You never know," he answered, and showed Arthur to the door. Arthur stepped outside, then reached back and grabbed Merlin's wrist carefully.

"I'd- I'd like to meet up again soon, though," he said awkwardly, "not just by chance. Meet at the train station on Monday evening?"

Merlin breathed in, willing the image flashing behind his eyelids to disappear, and inclined his head. "Ok," he said, in a small voice. "Ok."

"Don't be stupid, Merlin," she laughed, "I won't abandon you to go and work in the US, no matter how much they pay. I said I'd never leave you, remember?"

Merlin didn't go to the station on Monday, or the following day, or the next. Instead, he spent his week up in Liverpool, working with Gaius and assisting the medical staff where Gaius worked.

"What's wrong, Merlin?" Gaius asked, at the end of his week in the city.

"Nothing," he muttered. "I don't know what you mean."

"Merlin, I may not have even met you until you were fifteen, but I know when something's not right. Please tell me."

"Nothing important," Merlin replied, and stood up. "Though, I have some things I should be getting back to in London soon. If it's ok with you, I'll leave tomorrow morning?"

"That's fine," Gaius sighed, "but you better visit me more often this time. And, who knows, maybe I'll come and see you one day."

"Maybe," Merlin said softly, and walked to his room.

"Oh Merlin," the old man murmured, "When will you ever stop running?"

It was with a heavy heart that Merlin traipsed into the station at eleven o'clock, exactly a week after the time he'd arranged to meet Arthur. He had tried to stay away, but with the memories falling thick and fast upon his tired mind, he had needed to get out, and had no where else to go other than the station. The streets around his flat weren't the safest in the world.

He sat on a bench and watched as people flooded slowly through the station, listening to the fragments of conversations he could hear.

"No, I'm not free that night, annoyingly. Friday?"

"He went to the doctor's for a blood test yesterday-"

"She keeps on saying that she didn't kiss him, but honestly-"

"I promise, I'll come the next time-"

There were so many people that had no idea what a gift they had; so many people that would never understand.

"I wondered if you'd turn up at some point," a voice next to him said. Merlin jumped, and guiltily looked around when he recognized Arthur's voice – the man he had stood up for no reason whatsoever.

"Let's hear the excuses then," Arthur sighed.

"I'm- I'm sorry," Merlin muttered.

"What, no explanation? Most people spend at least an hour making one up," Arthur said, with a bitter edge to his voice.

"I shouldn't have stood you up"

"No," Arthur agreed, "you shouldn't have."

Merlin looked down, and wondered whether apologising was the best thing to do. Maybe it would be better to walk away now and have a clean slate. But no, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't seem to let Arthur go. It was this subconscious desire, perhaps, that had led him to coming to the station as soon as he returned from Liverpool.

"Sor-" he started to apologise again.

"Coffee?" Arthur interrupted, with a hand outstretched. Merlin looked at him, and, for once, he didn't see her, just Arthur, with his calloused, firm hand, short blond hair, and stocky body. Merlin just saw him.

Merlin reached out, and took his hand.

"How long will you keep running for, Merlin?" she asked. "How long is it going to take for you to realise that running never solves anything?"

This time it was Arthur's flat they went to, a place that was considerably nicer and larger than his.

"Wine?" Arthur questioned, with a glass held out.

"Um- No. No thanks,"

"Fair enough," he said, and sat down with a glass of red wine, handing Merlin a coffee. "Am I ever going to know why you stood me up?"

"I- I- I don't know, I guess," Merlin said, wringing his hands.

"Fine," Arthur sighed.

"I- I'm sorry"

"I know, I get it." He shrugged. "At least answer me this, are you going to do it again?"

Merlin looked away.

Arthur breathed out heavily. "Maybe you ought to go," he suggested quietly.

"No!" Merlin said, panicked at the thought of losing this one man that was all that stood between him and total loneliness. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just-"

"Don't want to commit to anything?" Arthur said, the trace of bitterness back in his voice.

"No- I'm- I- I don't know," he admitted softly. "I guess, I'm-" He took a deep breath. "I'm scared."

Merlin didn't look at Arthur, afraid to see his reaction.

"I guess I can understand that," Arthur said finally. "But I don't want a relationship – of any sort – with someone who's going to treat me like dirt. I've already had one like that, and it took all of Morgana's determination to get me out of it."

"I'm-"

"Sorry, I know," Arthur finished. "There's a reason I'm not at home in the evenings. It's lonely with no one else there, isn't it?" he said, watching Merlin carefully.

Merlin closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he said softly, trying not to show how much that admission had cost him, when he'd never confessed any weakness to anyone before.

"You can stay the night here, if you want?" Arthur said, almost nervously. "You can sleep on the sofa . . ."

Merlin focused on breathing for a few seconds. "Thank you," he whispered, and accepted the offer.

For three weeks, they settled into a routine. Every Monday night, they would meet at the station, go for a coffee, then go home to one of their flats and stay the night. Their relationship was strictly friendship, but it was comfortable. For one night every week, they could both pretend that they weren't alone; that there wasn't a crippling weight of loneliness, and tiredness that never seemed to fade away, hanging over them.

"Coffee?" Arthur would ask, every Tuesday morning.

"Please," Merlin would say, every Tuesday morning.

The kettle would boil, the coffee would be made and drunk, and the two would part ways for another week, until the next time they would meet up and do it all over again.

Comfortable.

But not enough.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice called. It was a Wednesday night, and late enough that everyone else at the station had left, apart from a few stragglers and the usual drunks.

"Hey, Arthur," Merlin replied from his position on the floor by the ticket machine.

"What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep," Merlin shrugged, "so I came here. You?"

"Pretty much the same," Arthur confessed. "Coffee?"

"Why not?" Merlin said, and climbed to his feet.

And so the routine changed. Every night, they would go to one of the flats and spend the night. Arthur's was more comfortable, definitely, but Merlin wasn't ready to let his flat go.

"One day, Merlin," she said quietly, "I hope you'll be able to let me go."

"Merlin!" Arthur called at seven o'clock one morning.

"What?" a grumpy, tousled haired Merlin answered.

"It's time to get up, idiot!"

"Argh," he said, and flopped back into his original position, lying on the bed.

"Up!" Arthur laughed, and pulled him out of bed. Unfortunately, the resulting scramble left Merlin on the floor and Arthur lying on top. Merlin saw Arthur's eyes widen slightly, and watched him bend his head downwards. He was powerless to stop him, and was instead captivated by the blue eyes that had always inspired trust in him.

And when Arthur's mouth touched his, he found himself staring into those eyes, and wondering if it was possible for him to be in love. For a long time, he had thought that the answer was no, that he was too scarred and too hurt to ever be capable of falling for someone.

But then, Arthur was always the exception.

"Are you ever going to tell me where you go every Wednesday morning?" Arthur asked one day, lying next to him on the sofa. Merlin smiled, and kissed him lightly on the lips. So far, in the two weeks since they'd been - going out? Boyfriends? – they hadn't gone any further, and Merlin was ok with that.

"It's a secret," he whispered.

"You have too many secrets," he joked, "you must be a spy or something." Merlin could see the hidden hurt in his expression though, and knew it was high time he told Arthur.

"I lied to you before," he began, "I have – had – a sister. Freya, her name was." He looked away, blinking his eyes rapidly. Arthur took his hand and squeezed it.

"She- She was two years younger than me, and I always looked after her. Our parents died when we were small, and we drifted in and out of care homes and foster families and even the streets at one point, but I never allowed us to be split up. Then we found Gaius, who fostered and then adopted us. He pulled me out of the trouble I was in, gave me an insight into having a family for the first time in my life, and helped me get my life straight." He took a deep breath.

"Freya and I moved out when I was eighteen, but Gaius used to live nearby. Then-"

He blinked again, swiping at his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me, you know," Arthur whispered, threading an arm around his shoulder.

Merlin ignored him. "Freya- She got ill. Badly. She had some tests done, and it was discovered she had cancer – leukaemia. She stayed at my flat for most of the time, although she was in and out of hospital. We knew almost from the beginning that it was going to be fatal, but she was-" he gave a small sob. "She was brave, the whole time. And then she died, a year ago. I visit her grave every Wednesday."

"Merlin, I'm so, so, sorry."

"Everything I see, it reminds me of her. I couldn't- I didn't know how to let someone else in after she died, and Gaius moved up North to join some amazing medical research team or something, and I just- I couldn't cope for a long time. I'm sorry I stood you up, before."

"Merlin, it doesn't matter, I promise you," he said softly, his face compassionate and worried. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Merlin's, and soon they were kissing; passionate, fiery, just wanting to forget everything and everyone but each other and just willing to live for the moment and enjoy this day because soon enough, they both knew they'd have to face reality.

But, for now, reality could wait. Neither knew what might happen in the future, but who does? They had each other, and, for that moment, that was all that they could ask for.

"I'm not asking you to forget me, Merlin, but I am asking you to live without me. I love you, remember that, and you love me. But that doesn't mean you can't ever love someone else.

"I want you to live, Merlin, not just survive."

Here we go, my first ever Merlin fic, despite the fact that I have been in love with this fandom and the TV show for a long, long time. I hope you enjoyed it, and it met your standards. Please take the time to review, constructive criticism is always welcome.

ForeverChasingDreams