3-12-13

Damaged at Best

Post 'But One Side'

A/N- I wrote this to follow "But One Side," although it's only loosely related. All you need to know is that this is set shortly after Arthur's return centuries later. I imagine that Merlin has a house near Avalon, and this takes place in the living room. Arthur's POV.

Also I stole a line from the song 'Broken' by Lifehouse for the title. While not a songfic, the song did in part inspire the fic. I.e., I was rediscovering the song when the image of Merlin telling Arthur with resignation how he's changed sprang to mind.

Please tell me what you think! Constructive criticism welcome! ;-D

He's an incongruous image right now. The rocking chair is something used more by older people. He tells me he's just gotten used to it, but now he would appear out of place there until you saw his eyes. They look as old as time itself, and there's such a deep pain there, one that festered for so long that the cure may never fully heal it.

Since my return, I've done everything I could think of to help him restore the youth that he's lost. I've come to accept that I'll never quite manage it. Though ancient myself, I'm surely a mere child in Merlin's eyes now; my life's experience is so inferior. What can I possibly tell him that he's not already heard at some point in these last fifteen centuries?

In spite of everything, though, he sometimes acts just the way he used to, and the distance between us is closed. But there are these times, too. Right now, he stares straight into the fire, rocking slowly in a never changing pattern.

For the two of us, it's become a routine of sorts to sit here by the fire after dinner, and try our best to remember everything of Camelot and our old lives. It upsets me to find how much he's forgotten. Many things- from the layout of the castle to the personalities of our friends- are a blur to him. I wondered how, after so much change, he'd never forgotten why he chose to live through centuries alone.

"How could you be sure you'd remember me, Merlin?" I asked him earlier this evening.

He stared at me for a long time before answering. "Your death was the cause for everything I did afterward, Arthur," he replied, and shook his head. "That was the one thing that couldn't change. You couldn't change, whereas…" His eyes then turned to the fire, and have remained since. I'd have asked him to complete his thought, but I know where he was going.

I'm not sure we've been silent in each other's presence for this long a time since I came back. After another look at his haunted eyes I reach out, clutching his hand where it rests on the arm of his chair. He starts at the contact and looks at me almost as if he'd forgotten that I was there.

I smile sadly at him. "What's wrong?" I ask, watching his reaction with caution. It's difficult to read him these days. While some of the things that bother me now provoke little response from him, I've learnt that the simplest reference to my death can upset him horribly.

Upon my question, his face shows a kind of median between the two. While what he's trying to say is hard for him, he's somehow resigned to it as well. "It's… a terrible thing," he tells me, "To lose oneself."

We've gone down this road before. I already knew that I've not managed to convince him otherwise. Until he believes me, I should be ready at any time to repeat myself. Tonight, though, I just don't have the will to argue about it. "Please don't say that."

Eye contact falters and Merlin frowns. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "But when you ask me why I'm not… being myself… it's because I'm not. I'm not as you knew me before, Arthur, and you need to understand that."

"No, you need to understand," I urge him. "Just because you've changed doesn't make you a different person. Maybe you can't remember, but I do. Why are you so determined to tell me otherwise?"

While sympathetic, Merlin's eyes hold determination. "Because you don't deserve to be fooled, Arthur." He bites his lip, and for a moment we both try to think of the right thing to say.

"Sometimes I have such… horrible dreams, Arthur." His expression is meaningful. "Memories, really. Of before you returned. And I have to see you after that, to make sure you're still really here." Merlin shakes his head at himself, wiping away a stray tear.

"Merlin," I say softly, rubbing his hand. I didn't know he still had those nightmares.

"Sometimes you'll walk into a room making a joke, and it's all I can do to go along with it when really, I'm just trying to get the hang of humor again," he continues hurriedly. "I'm so often startled when I hear you in the next room, and I have to question my sanity again and again-"

"Merlin," I stop him. "So, you've been lonely- and such reactions… they're perfectly understandable."

"People think I'm crazy, Arthur."

"Well, you're crazy not to listen to me," I tell him with a weak smile. He studies my face as if wishing to copy the expression, but he doesn't want it badly enough. "It'll take you time to get used to… just living again."

"…You were dead, Arthur. I lived, but only half a life. Roaming the earth alone was my punishment for failing to save you."

"You can't believe that," I say, but I know that he does, so I go on. "I should have known what was really wrong when you didn't accompany me to Camlann." I recall what reasons I had for my false assumption that Merlin had declined the journey through fear. I'd been betrayed so many times by people who I'd thought I could trust. I should have known that I could trust Merlin, and not doing so may have been what caused things to collapse in the way that they did. "I should never have assumed you were a coward when so much experience told me otherwise."

"I was a coward," Merlin claims, as tears begin streaming down his face to drip off his chin. He's already choked up when he next speaks. "I should have told- told you about my magic- Arthur. Sh-should have- would have a long time before if I'd hadn't been s-so afraid."

"Hey- Merlin, come sit here beside me," I prompt him, and he joins me on the couch, leaning against my shoulder where I wrap my arms about him. Unconsciously, I begin to rock us back and forth a bit, and then I realize why he's really used the chair all these years. The comforting motion must have reminded him of the time when he wasn't alone. It's such a sad thought that a cold wooden chair was among his greatest comforts through that solitude.

"Please," he stammers out now, "just don't act like n-nothing's changed… when everything's different, Arthur."

"…Many things are different," I agree with him, "things that will never change. Camelot, Gwen, and Gaius- people and places that will never come back. …All that we really have is each other now. I can't afford to let you think that you're different; that you're not the same person you always were."

"But I am damaged, Arthur," Merlin replies. "I can't see the world as you do. I thought having you back would… restore everything I lost, but half the time, I can't believe that you're really here-"

He shakes his head, and I lay my hand over it to hinder the movement. "Then tell me how to convince you, Merlin," I ask of him. I know it's mostly in this head, this change he speaks of, and if I can just get it out of his head, I'll have solved our problem and perhaps paid back a small part of the debt I owe him.

"I just… need to ask you to be patient with me, Arthur," Merlin replies. My heart lightens to hear it. "If I do ever regain my old self… it'll take time."

"We have time," I assure him. "And you're the one who will need to be patient." I tilt my head, trying to see his face, but I'm certain that I don't see any humor portrayed there. I'm afraid to tell him that this saddens me, but I also want to share the truth with him.

"I've become so… cynical. So scared," Merlin whispers. I can tell he's wanted to say this for a while. "I miss the way I used to be. And how once we could laugh about nothing at all. How casual we were with each other before such a cruel and horrible fate befell us. Do you, Arthur?"

Yes. I miss the days when you weren't constantly afraid I'd disappear, when you could jump at a loud noise and then laugh at yourself for it. When you weren't so sad.

And I can never say these things to him, as they're would only serve to deepen his misery. "The only thing I have to miss, Merlin," I tell him instead, "is your smile." I stroke the dark, wavy hair beneath my hand. "…I'll get you to smile again, if it's the last thing-"

He grips my arm suddenly before I can complete the phrase.

"I will see to it that you smile again," I state. "Really smile, like you used to."

Merlin's hold relaxes and he rests more comfortably against me. "I've never known you to go back on your word," he replies, and though tearful, his voice holds something akin to joy.

I know it's only a first step, but it's behind us now at least.

3-13-13