Author: Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)
Description: The Thames offer an escape but Merlin offers a new start. Surely the choice is easy?
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: Suicidal Themes
Rating: PG-13 to R
Word Count: 3174
Special Notices: Owe so much todraig_glas- grammar-nazi in training, with a degree in plot-hole find-and-fill.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, but if I did I would have Merlin, Chloe could have Arthur, and Dani would muck out my stables because she's never online! XD (I kid! You can have Lancelot hun ^_^)
The heart of London twinkled with colourful fairy lights, strung in disarray around buildings and bare trees. For the first time since the air turned chill snow was beginning to waft from the smudged grey sky but Merlin had no hopes of it sticking. There was too much slush flooding the street. Sure enough the flakes melted as they reached the ground but Merlin smiled to see the hands of Big Ben lightly dusted with glittering snow.
A sudden icy chill splashed across Merlin's shins and he stopped short, the brakes of his bike whined in protest. Just another slushy puddle. He shook his white-flecked head and pedalled on towards Westminster Bridge. Despite the frigid weather and the oncoming dark the bridge was still teeming with pedestrians and Merlin was forced to dismount and weave through the crowd with bike in tow.
A bawdy group of uni students – probably out celebrating for the holidays – jostled past him and sent Merlin stumbling towards the barrier. One of the more sober girls threw Merlin an apologetic smile but soon the group were too far away to notice his glare. He huffed out a misted breath and collected his toppled bike from the footpath. But as he straightened up, both trouser legs now thoroughly soaked through, Merlin caught sight of a lone man, all blonde hair blue eyes and classic action hero body. He stood with head drooping down, arms pressed to the barrier as he stared into the black depths of the Thames. Passers-by didn't spare him a glance. Just a tourist, they'd assume, with romantic notions of the River Thames. Merlin didn't assume.
Merlin approached the man none too subtly as his bike squeaked and clattered beside him. Still the man didn't look up. The crowd shuffled on unaware, but Merlin could see now, see the man's shoulders tensing under his overly expensive leather jacket. His knuckles were strained white on the railing.
"Urh… mate?" No reaction. "Mate!" Merlin called, nudging the man's foot with a slightly saggy tyre. That caught his attention and blue eyes drifted over to cast Merlin a lazy glance before he returned his gaze to the almost frozen water. This would need more than a friendly smile, Merlin realised, and so he wheeled his bike into place by the railing and joined the man, clasping his hands together as he wished for his fluffy gloves.
"You shouldn't bother," Hearing the man's voice so suddenly made Merlin startle. Not a second ago the man wouldn't deign to show him an expression. "Whatever you say, no matter how you phrase all the wonderful things in my life, I'm still gonna do it."
Well wasn't that a mood-killer. Not that there had been much to kill. Merlin stayed silent for a while, watching the water lap over the thin sheets of ice that were gathering on the edges of the river. Sickly promises of a brighter tomorrow and loved ones seemed out of the question. Craftiness was in order.
"What's your name?"
"Arthur."
"Arthur, how about this; if I can guess why you want to jump you have to promise not to do yourself in for just one more day. One day for me to prove you should stay alive."
"And if you guess wrong?" Merlin met Arthur's clear eyes and wondered what one might give a person who has lost all hope?
"A last request. Anything you like, be it Chinese food or for me to run naked through Trafalgar Square. Your choice entirely." Arthur fell silent, brows crinkled as he pondered Merlin's offer. He was a strong fellow. The muscles clearly showing through the leather jacket were more than enough proof of that. If he wanted to jump Merlin would be powerless to stop him, would be left watching as a complete stranger plunged to his death. Merlin wasn't worried. If Arthur was going to jump he'd never have bothered to talk.
"Okay, go ahead. I've got nothing to lose right?" Merlin smiled despite his panicking heart and turned to rest his elbows on the railing.
Now he could see better Merlin realised quite how handsome Arthur was. His hair wasn't blonde; it was sun-gilded wheat although he wasn't sure if that was a real colour. Everything about Arthur's face screamed nobility and pure-bred upbringing, everything except his eyes. Though they were dulled by grief and desperation Merlin could see the crinkles of laughter worn into the corners of Arthur's eyes, and the expressive lights hiding behind sorrow.
Guilty but desperate to succeed Merlin prodded his way into Arthur's mind to grasp at whirlwind thoughts. A beautiful woman with honey-hair and a child like face instantly flashed before his eyes insistently. Girlfriend troubles then. Next came an older man with features strikingly similar to Arthur's, certainly his Dad, and a goddess of a woman, all pale skin and flowing black hair and sharp blue eyes. Not his sister, definitely not, but important for sure. They were shouting something, garbled and confused in the havoc of Arthur's head. They disappeared as quickly as they came to be replaced with a wrecked apartment, deflated balloons and empty beer bottles strewn all over the place and the honey-haired woman running out to a handsome dark skinned man, large suitcases in hand. It was more than enough for Merlin to guess.
"I've got it!" He declared after a lengthy pause, wouldn't do to seem to quick, "You got a new girlfriend, completely besotted with her I bet, but your family didn't like her. Hated her even. You stayed with her anyway but she left you for someone else and nicked a load of your stuff from your house. Oh, and she decided to drop the bomb on your birthday. No offence mate, but what a bitch."
Arthur stared with wide eyes as Merlin recounted the last few weeks of his life without flaw, and Merlin tried not to let the guilt curling in his stomach affect him. This was to save a life, a necessary evil as his mother would say.
"So now your family is giving you the cold shoulder and you've been left alone and heart-broken for Christmas." Neither confirming nor denying the tale Arthur turned to face Merlin properly and stared appraisingly. Merlin's face morphed into a bland mask. He couldn't give away his secret.
Finally Arthur flopped back onto the barrier and tugged his coat close around his chest. A silent admittance of defeat. Merlin's breathed out a sigh of relief and watched it float, white and opaque for a moment before it dissolved. Beside him Arthur looked as if Merlin had kicked a litter of new born puppies and thrown them to the deadly waters, and the relief wisped away with his breath.
"Look, Arthur, it's not so bad. One day is all I ask, then if you still wanna jump I promise I won't stop you. 'Kay?" Arthur carded a hand through his hair and tugged at the haystack strands. Upset he nodded and Merlin grabbed his hand without warning.
"Good lad, now come on! I've only got a day to cheer you up." Arthur tried to protest and even went as far as to hold Merlin's bike hostage, but Merlin dragged man and metal along regardless. Now they drew attention from the crowd, now that Arthur was perfectly safe of course. The suspicious gazes convinced Arthur to calm down lest someone call the police and he followed Merlin with a sullen frown on his face.
NEW STUFF FOLLOWS
Merlin jostled through the crowd with both Arthur and bike in tow, grasp tight on Arthur's wrist for all the good it would do against Arthur's strength. He didn't know if there was a place that could fix this but standing around hoping for inspiration would be a waste of time and so Merlin guided them over the bridge, glad to be rid of the siren call of ice water. Now his steps faltered. Ice. Arthur was glancing at him warily but Merlin shook it off with a lopsided smile.
With purpose in his steps now Merlin lead Arthur through the well travelled streets of London, past Waterloo Road to the sounds of joyful parties seeping through the cracks in the terraced houses, past the grandeur of the Old Vic and along Union Street. The wind bit at their faces and Merlin shook with cold, his damp trouser leg now frozen to his skin. After a cold-slowed fifty five minutes they reached London Bridge and Merlin jumped to life. Their walk so far had been silent save for the raucous glee sounding all around them, but with the water so close Merlin's lips spoke faster than his brain could tell them to.
"We're almost there now, I'm sure you're gonna like it mate. And then afterwards… well I'm not really sure, maybe we'll just get something hot to eat yeah? We ought to keep to the season though, turkey curry aye?" Arthur wriggled his hand into Merlin's and squeezed too tight. Merlin swiftly shut up.
Across the bridge – with no small amount of relief – Merlin began the last haul along Lower Thames Street, all the while glaring suspiciously at the black river. Beside him Arthur rolled his eyes and made no comment but frown lines creased his brow. Why did a stranger care so much?
Finally, a good hour and fifteen minutes later from when they began ("Eighteen minutes actually," Arthur corrected when he check his watch for the four hundredth time) they arrived at the Tower of London. The old breaks were frosted in ice and chips of stone lay at the base of the building, soon to be patched up with the change of season. And there, the ice rink. The sky was pitch black but for the orange glow of city lights and the first wisps of lighter grey on the horizon, so it was no surprise to find the rink empty.
Uncaring of small formalities like trespassing Merlin clambered onto the rink and promptly fell onto his bum with an indignant squawk. Merlin muttered and grumbled as he stood, brushing flakes of ice from the seat of his trousers. Then he realised. Arthur was laughing. Deep throated chuckles that carved into the creases around his eyes and threw them into stark relief. Merlin beamed and clutched to the railing as he toed off his trainers.
"You coming in or what?" He challenged and slid back along the ice. The cold stung through his worn-thin cotton socks, the toe that poked through the hole already numb, but he ignored it because now Arthur was joining him, swearing a streak at the chill of ice through his own cotton clad feet. Together they raced over the ice, mostly on their rears rather than their feet but what was such a minor detail as sore bums when Arthur was smiling? Too soon the chill left them panting and so they lay back on the rink with heads cushioned under their crossed arms to stare at the Tower of London looming over them.
Merlin frowned at the orange sky that hid the stars away. He should have been in Ealdor this Christmas where the stars filled the sky to overflowing, unhindered by the dark of the countryside. He couldn't regret being stuck at work for the holidays, the warmth of Arthur's body beside him now, the steady rise and fall of Arthur's chest that he, Merlin, was responsible for was too precious to regret.
"Merlin?" Arthur murmured under his breath as if he didn't want Merlin to hear him at all.
"Yeah?"
"I, I just wanted to say…" Arthur stumbled over his words and Merlin closed his eyes and remembered the shooting stars he saw last year as he lay beside Will in a field of frost-crusty grass, wishing on those memories for the 'thank you' that would secure Arthur's life. At last Arthur sighed.
"I can't feel my butt." Oh. Merlin slumped in on himself and pasted a brave smile on his face again. Together they stood, slip-sliding along the slick ice and darted away over the railing when a passing security guard called out to them. Their lungs seared with freezing air and unstoppable laughter and together they staggered down the street uncomfortably close to the Thames until their stomachs growled a demand.
The only place nearby was The Lightship Restaurant and Merlin had a brief moment to wonder if it was tempting fate to dine on the river before Arthur snatched his elbow and pulled him towards the boat restaurant. Of course they were closed. It was Christmas morning for sure by now and no where would be open. While Arthur read the menu framed on the off white wall Merlin called for a taxi and tried to remember if there was enough bread in the kitchen to make two sandwiches. Probably not. The cab arrived and Merlin led a disgruntled Arthur away – "But I wanted to try the Ferry-killing!" – and into the shocking warmth of the car, bike and all.
"You chaps look frozen!" Merlin smiled at the cabby and nodded, eyes heavy now in the lulling warmth. He found the presence of mind to give the cabby his address and shimmied down in his seat with a narrow rubber wheel pressing uncomfortably into his ribs. He didn't even notice when his head flopped onto Arthur's shoulder. Nor when Arthur's arm curled over his shoulders. Or even the amber-eyed cabby's deep laugh as he peered at them through the mirror.
The drive to Merlin's apartment was far from dull. The bike wobbled in its awkward spot next to Merlin, wedged up against the window, and Merlin nuzzled Arthur's neck in his sleep. The cabby – a Mr John Draig as Arthur had learnt during the drive – chuckled to himself and selected a track from one of the handful of CDs in his taxi; Two Sides by The Carpenters. Arthur was sure John was sending him a meaningful gaze through the mirror but he couldn't hope to understand it.
Arthur was surprised by quite how long the journey was. A full twenty minutes even with deserted streets and well-versed cabby behind the wheel. They pulled up outside a set of apartments, all pale honey coloured bricks and garishly coloured doors. Arthur paid the fare and gently shook Merlin awake without jostling the bike too much. Merlin woke with a grumble and rubbed his heavy eyes with pale fists. Together they stumbled into the chilly early morning air and wrestled the bike out of the cab with much clinking of chains. A last smile to Mr Draig and they turned for the apartment.
Merlin rummaged in his pocket for a loose silver key and slotted it into the lock of the corner apartment with the royal blue door that was peeling slightly in the grooves. A few quick shoves jarred the stiff door from its frame and Merlin wheeled the bike up two sets of darkened stairs, Arthur followed the rusty squeaks. The jangle of keys told Arthur they were at Merlin's door and then there he was. Merlin flicked a switch and the room was bathed in a soft yellow glow. Furniture was sparse; a raggedy bottle green sofa sat facing the small window with an old television set on a wine crate below the wooden window frame. Jumble and crossword books sat in a teetering pile on the arm of the sofa. The kitchenette was all lino flooring and chipped white tiles, appliances that hummed and rattled for no reason at all including a fridge covered in photos tacked up with colourful alphabet magnets.
There were two doors on the living room wall opposite to the kitchen. One door was open and led to a bathroom with similar décor to the kitchen, off white tiles and matching facilities, with a smudged mirror above the sink. A mess of toothpaste, floss, toothbrushes and hair gel sat on the rim of the sink. The other door was closed but Arthur knew by now it must be Merlin's bedroom.
Merlin set his bike to lean against the bare wall closest to the front door and the room looked that much fuller for it. Merlin himself shuffled his feet and rubbed at the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turned pink. Embarrassed.
To break the silence Arthur coughed and strode into the kitchenette, guided by his stomach which still rumbled for 'Ferry-killing'.
"So do you mind if I have something to eat? I'm starving." Merlin nodded and joined him in the kitchen – which quickly became cramped with two bodies – and rummaged about for bread and cheese. Arthur couldn't pretend not to notice the almost empty fridge and the now entirely empty bread bin.
With a sheepish smile Merlin passed Arthur a plate with a cheese and pickle sandwich perched on top. It was easy for Arthur to smile back and reach past Merlin for a knife to slice the sandwich in half, insistently shoving the ever so slightly larger half into Merlin's hand. They settled on the sofa, short of words but not uncomfortable, and watched a grainy re-run of Mission Impossible on the battered television.
The sandwich was gone in mere moments and the film was quickly drawing to its end. Merlin shot glances at Arthur every few moments, searched for sorrow or indifference on Arthur's face. All he found was crinkled eyes and a beaming smile every time the memorable Mission Impossible theme tune rang out of the tinny speakers. Time to risk all.
"So, did I convince you?" Merlin tried to look nonchalant when Arthur turned to look at him but sleepy and full on thick bread and cheddar he found it impossible to mask his feelings. Desperation shone from his stormy blue eyes and Arthur smiled wryly.
"Just about. If nothing else, I want to live long enough to find out what Ferry-killing actually is." Merlin barked out a laugh and grinned into his hand, Arthur beaming back at him from across the squashy sofa cushions. When Arthur's face turned serious Merlin's smile dimmed and something wriggled in his gut; was Arthur about to change his mind?
"Just… thank you."
"It was my pleasure, except the falling on my arse bit."
Personal boundaries dissolved after that and Merlin son found himself snuggled into Arthur's strong grip, both stubbornly refusing to actually acknowledge the intimacy of the moment and instead speaking raptly of the action packed movie as real men do.
The sun was high in the sky as Merlin and Arthur finally began to drift into sleep, Arthur's nose nestled against Merlin's forehead and Merlin's arms sprawled over Arthur's chest and the side of the sofa.
"What did you say your name was again?" Arthur rumbled into Merlin's fringe.
"I didn't, I'm Merlin." Arthur leaned down and brushed his lips lazily across Merlin's, scarcely a kiss at all yet both boys flushed.
"Nice to meet you Merlin. We should do this again sometime."
Quick Author's Note: No Ferries were harmed in the making of this fic. Ferry-killing is in fact the Scandinavian dish Feriekylling and this was tweaked to suit Arthur's stubborn english pronunciation. ^_^