Title: ABCs

Author: Arisprite

Summary: Arthur decides to do something about it.

Disclaimer: Do I really have to write this again? You know I'm not the BBC, right?

A/N: A continuation of the previous ficlets, Mute, Peaceful and Weeks of Silence, wherein Merlin has lost his voice in an accident, and is struggling to deal with it. What can I say, I love torturing the poor boy... I'm also playing fast and loose with the signs, so I apologize to all who know better than me about them.

"Merlin," Sunken eyes swiveled to look at Arthur, sitting at the table. "Come here, I want to show you something."

A black eyebrow rose, and Merlin left off where he was half-heartedly scrubbing at a boot, and stood. Arthur unwillingly noticed that he looked much thinner than usual, his clothes hung off him worse than a scarecrow, and his cheek bones looked about to jut out from the pale skin. Merlin shambled over to where Arthur sat, with books and papers strewn over the surface. Arthur flung out a hand.

"Take a seat."

Merlin sat, a disgruntled and confused look on his face. Arthur knew that before he would have been grumbling about something or other...but it would not do to dwell on the past.

Arthur put his fingers together, and leaned back, studying Merlin, unable to resist baiting him a bit. Merlin fidgeted under Arthur's gaze, and Arthur saw the exact moment when his nervousness and uncomfortableness became anger; Merlin's face was surprisingly easy to read, when one knew what to look for. Arthur had never noticed before.

Arthur looked away before Merlin got really angry, spreading his hands over the books.

"I've been doing a bit of reading." Merlin snorted, and Arthur had to fight a smile at the familiar response. "Don't look like that Merlin, I know what you want to say, and shut up."

Merlin's fingers scrabbled for a lead stick, and a scrap of parchment (Arthur had taken to leaving such things around in easy access, for they were Merlin's only form of communication...currently).

Not that I can actually say it. Merlin wrote out, a bitter look on his face. Arthur sighed, wanting to get back on his task.

"You thought it though. Now, as I was saying, I've been reading up on hand signals. Namely, ones used for communication."

A look of understanding was beginning to show on Merlin's face, and Arthur pressed on.

"There are books that outline full alphabets, and other signals that can all be used to say what ever comes into that head of yours."

Arthur finished, sitting back with pride at finding a solution to the matter at hand. Merlin, however, looked anything but happy. In fact, he was shaking his head.

"What's the matter?"

Merlin scribbled on the parchment, before shoving it over to him.

What's the point if no one else can understand it?

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'll be learning it with you, Merlin. And Guinevere, Gaius and the knights and anyone else who cares to try. It can't be that hard."

Another furious scribble. It's a whole other language!

Arthur shrugged. "It might take some work, but..." Arthur trailed off as he saw Merlin shaking his head petulantly. "What? You don't want to?"

Merlin looked away, staring at the ground.

"Why not?"

An angry breath, and Merlin clenched his fingers together.

"Do you want to be stuck scribbling things on paper for the rest of your life?" Arthur grabbed Merlin's parchment, and waved it around. " I'm trying to help you talk!"
Merlin flinched, and stood from the table, nearly knocking his chair backwards.

"Merlin!" Arthur stood too, gripping the edge of the table. "What's your problem?"

All of a sudden, Merlin whirled around, grabbing one of the books, and hurling it across Arthur's chambers, sending it skidding to the floor. The stack of papers followed suit, and then the last book flew, hitting the wall with a crack. Arthur watched this display of temper slack jawed; he'd never seen Merlin loose control like this. Finally, breathing hard, Merlin sank to the floor, bending over his knees. He wasn't quite sobbing, but Arthur still approached warily; the threat of tears still frightening to him, since the years of growing up with Morgana, and knowing tears meant he was about to get punished.

Merlin seemed to be calming now, as Arthur stepped closer, grabbing the scrap of paper and lead from off the table as he went. Slowly he knelt in front of Merlin, and pushed the paper towards him. Merlin's shaking fingers took them from him, and held on.

"I want to help you." Arthur said softly, his earlier anger and frustration gone in the wake of Merlin's rage.

Merlin sucked in a shaky breath, and then wrote out a single sentence.

If I learn, it's real...

Arthur's eyes widened. Of course. Merlin was still living in the hope that his voice would return. Arthur imagined him each morning trying to speak, and each day being met with disappointment. He bowed his head for a moment.

"Merlin...you may never speak again, but I'll tell you now. You're still Merlin. Not being able to speak doesn't change anything, not anything that matters."

Merlin looked up at him, still hunched over, but listening. Arthur didn't know what else to say, but suddenly he remembered one of the signs he'd practiced before calling Merlin. He did it, a sharp move to his head, his lips quirking in a smile. Merlin, curiosity getting the better of him, even as a knowing look filled his eyes, mouthed 'what?'

"It means 'idiot', idiot." Arthur said, ruffling Merlin's hair. Merlin snorted, the only sound of amusement he could still make, and it made Arthur laughed out loud.
Then standing, he put down a hand and lifted his mute manservant off the floor.

"Now, will you at least try?" Arthur said, scooping up one of the books, and wincing internally at the damage to the binding. Geoffrey was going to kill him. Merlin, scuffing his boot against the ground, slowly nodded. Arthur smiled in response.

"Good. We'll start with the A-B-Cs."