Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC.

Notes: Okay so I have a dilemma. One reviewer is dead set against Gilli/Merlin and another really wants it – nothing heavy because this is a Merthur fic, obviously they are the OTP of 'Merlin' but I really would like other peoples opinions, please and thank you.

Um... the chapter number has gone up AGAIN so we are now on a grand total of 23 chapters.

I realise that there has been no mention of Vivian in this so far, but don't worry I haven't forgotten about her.

Anyway, enjoy.

PS To find out about any new fics I may be planning, I have started writing updates on my profile, if you are at all interested. If not ignore this and on with the story :] Hope you all have pleasant day.

First [Drink]

[3/4]

Hazy. Spinning. The taste of fruit in his mouth – how? When? Where? There is a spongy, damp something soaking through his trousers, but he doesn't care. Why should he care when his mother is gone? Gone forever.

Fucking abandoning bitch.

No! No, wait. He doesn't mean that. He doesn't – he loves her. Loved her. Loves her. Past tense. Present tense. What does it matter now when he can't hear him anymore?

He opens his mouth to speak, can't find the words and closes it again. There is a body beside him, close enough to touch yet far enough away that he can't properly feel the heat – why does that disappoint him?

"Merlin..." in inability to move his mouth properly results in an elongated 'R' sound, even as his bleary eyes take in the silhouette beside him.

MerlinMerlinMerlin. Nice Merlin – always there for him. Even when he has been a dick. Always a dick.

"Arthur." There are no oratory problems for Merlin. Arthur giggles a little at that. Oral. It strikes him as funny for some impossible reason and he giggles – but the giggle catches in his throat and bleeds, brokenly, into a sob.

"She's gone..." He goes to lift the second bottle of wine (stolen in passing, not that his dad will notice) to his lips. He's never really drunk before and this wine has gone straight to his head.

"I really think you should stop now, Arthur." Merlin, fucking Merlin is telling him what to do – like he is his mother or something.

"My mother is fucking d-dead, don't try... to–to..." the alcohol is muddling his brain, scrambling the words he wants. "Don't try to tell me... what to do, you bastard." His words are slurred, mispronounced and a bugger to say. Merlin barely bats an eyelash and just takes the bottle from Arthur's hand.

"I'm not," he says in that quiet, soothing voice – trying to calm a frightened animal.

It infuriates him.

"Fuck you Merlin," he hisses, shoving away the hand his friend tries to touch him with. "Fuck you." He watches his friend close his eyes for a moment, as in prayer before they open again. And then Merlin is touching him again and pulling him into an awkward hug.

"Scream, cry and insult all you want, Arthur. You can't bottle this up – it's not healthy."

Arthur attempts a snort but it is just another sob. "What d-do you know, M-Merlin?" He feels the shrug. They lapse into silence, Arthur trying in vain to keep the tears and choking sobs anchored inside. The alcohol makes it impossible.

"She w-was in a car accident, you know." He does – the whole fucking country knows after it was reported in the news. The barely healed anger creeps up his skin. And he shoes a little away from Merlin, focusing with a bit of difficulty on his friend. Who stares earnestly back at him. "The fucking Sun put it after the page three model – how fucking dare they? My mother deserved better than The Sun*, bastards."

He settles back again, heavily falling against the smaller Merlin to struggles to catch them both. "Car crash...died on the operating table..." his eyes closed, exhausted from the day and Merlin's heartbeat is a strange kind of lullaby. "Mum's friend, Nim-Ni-Nih... Nimueh – was meant to save her. Save her. She let her fucking die, stupid goddamn bitch.

She killed my mother..." Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. "She fucking killed her...my mothers' dead – what do I do now?"

Sleep sounds good. Merlin chest is rising and falling in steady breaths, his heart beating out a melody. Stupid girly thoughts – god, he shouldn't drink. He becomes a girl. He giggles a bit, a strange choking giggle that doesn't feel humorous at all.

His mother could help him. His mother could help him with everything.

But she's gone, she's gone, she's gone. No one else here.

Except alcohol.

"No, Arthur. You have had enough."

"Shhhh-ut up Merlin. You know nothing."

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Arthur feels himself getting hoisted upwards and an arm wrap around his waist. His legs feel like jelly and he leans heavily on his friend. Walking seems like such a chore... he staggers a bit and Merlin grabs at him, clutching him so he can't wander off.

When up in his room, Merlin makes quick work of Arthur's jacket and tie.

"Trying to take...hmmm... advantage Merlin?" a joke in bad taste, really, but Arthur's mind is too fuzzy to notice. He doesn't notice either how suddenly Merlin spins away from him or how long he takes simply hanging the smart suit jacket up in the wardrobe and finding a place for the black tie.

All he notices is the black that threatens to swallow him – fear, sorrow and sleep. He doesn't want to sleep – he fears what might be there, waiting for him in the dark of his unconsciousness. He doesn't want to wake – sad his mother won't be there to greet him. He wants to sleep forever and block out reality, surrender to his dreams and memories.

There is a hand on his shoulder jolting him from his thoughts. "I'm going to find mum and leave now. Sleep it off, Arthur. I'll call you in the morning."

Arthur goes to open his mouth, panicked but only an unintelligible sound tumbles out and he is forced to grip Merlin's wrist in the weak fist of the drunk. No! Nonononononono!

"Don't leave me..." drunken vulnerability – an out for the weakness inside of him. He hates the taste of the words somewhere where his pride is located, but the alcohol induced panic of being alone overrides all pride and he tugs Merlin a bit. "Please..." There is a sigh, and he can just barely make out Merlin nodding his head.

"Okay, okay, lie back and go to sleep. I'll stay with you."

And Arthur does, trusting Merlin – MerlinMerlinMerlin – who stays even though Arthur has been such a bad friend, will be there when he wakes.

*Not sure if you guys have this is America, but it's a newspaper with the reading age of a 7 year old. Which I sorely dislike aha. If you do, ignore this aha.