Beyond Recall

A/N: Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter out; crazy Friday night! Thank you for the reviews, as always; they're great to read and I really appreciate them.

I've realised that I haven't mentioned the new series of Merlin here, but (without mentioning any spoilers) I'm really enjoying series five! Colin Morgan and Bradley James are such good actors and they really get to show it this time round! Just wanted to say.

Here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 4

Arthur lay on his bed, both arms curled around Guinevere as she sobbed into his chest. He kissed her hair and pulled her closer, all the while trying to stave off his own tears. But it was a fight he was loosing. He buried his head in her hair, his body shaking as he tried to swallow down the cries that threatened to burst from his throat.

He had hated everything about the day, everything. From waking up in the morning and feeling pain tear through his chest so quickly as he remembered the events of the previous day, to coming back into his chambers as night fell to find Guinevere all but screaming the agony of her emotions.

He had woken that morning to the sound of the knights packing up the camp. They hadn't woken him and he was glad for it. He was grateful for the few extra minutes of oblivion, even if they did nothing to numb the grief that tore through him as soon as he reached full awareness. The first image that went through his mind as he woke was the one of Merlin falling. It snapped him awake instantly and he scrambled to try and fill his mind with other things, but in the end he had to wait out the sudden onslaught. He lay there, gasping and taking deep steady breaths until the wave of grief passed.

They left the camp quickly, but not before Arthur took one last trip down to the river's edge, hoping desperately that he would find the one thing that he was looking for. But the waters didn't reveal anything. So it was that they began their trek back to Camelot in the bright morning light. Arthur wanted it to be grey and wet and miserable, but the sun shone selfishly, bringing Camelot into view on the horizon far sooner than Arthur had expected. Far sooner than he had wanted.

That last hour had been terrible. The ache in Arthur's chest was joined by a gnawing in his stomach at what was to come, at the news he would have to share with the people up ahead of him. He didn't want that job; he didn't want to be the one to destroy the people who loved Merlin so unconditionally, but he was the King. He was Merlin's master; he was Merlin's friend. He had been the last one to see him and the first one to scream in denial. He had to do this.

He hadn't planned anything as he approached the gates. He had started to, but he didn't want his words to sound rehearsed; didn't want that detachment to echo in them. Of course, he had to remain professional; he didn't have the luxury of breaking down in Camelot's court yard -his people could not be allowed to see the inner turmoil- but he wasn't about to deliver the news like some distant master who didn't feel the pain.

Even so, Gaius' reaction had nearly ripped away his façade of acceptance. The old man had been waiting in the courtyard, having seen the party approaching. Arthur knew the moment the physician noticed his ward's absence, because he dropped his arms to his side and took several panicked steps forwards. As Arthur got closer, he offered no smile, nothing that would give false hope, and he watched the man's face grow pale and fearful, so that by the time Arthur dismounted from his horse, Gaius was trembling in front of him, his hands clasped tightly together.

'Sire?' he asked, his voice struggling with the word. Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn't come out. Instead, he shook his head and took several deep breaths to free his throat. Even so, when he spoke, his voice was not strong.

'We lost him, Gaius. I'm sorry.' He swallowed as the man visibly flinched at the words. A look of confusion and disbelief crossed his face and Arthur knew he was going to argue. He continued before that could happen; he didn't want to have to answer any questions. 'His horse was spooked by a snake along the top of the Aldon ravine; it threw him off. He went over the edge.' The trembling in Gaius' hands spread to his whole body and his breathing suddenly accelerated. 'Gaius, I'm sorry,' Arthur continued, feeling his control wavering. 'We tried to find his…we tried to find him, but there was no trace.'

Around him, Arthur became aware of shocked whispers. Other servants had been in the courtyard and had heard what he'd said. Their faces were stony; their expressions full of disbelief and sorrow. Everyone knew Merlin, Arthur was well aware of that. His loss would ripple across the castle. But Arthur's attention was soon pulled back to Gaius. The man had taken a few steps back, his face still etched with confusion, but a moment later, he backed up to the steps of the castle and sank down onto them. He said nothing, made no sound, but Arthur felt his heart wrench as tears began to flow down the man's face. They had no accompanying cries, but each one that fell to the ground pounded into Arthur. Gaius' grief was building up inside; the only outward sign being the tears that had forced their way to the surface.

Arthur wanted to comfort him, but he needed to get to Guinevere. She couldn't hear about Merlin from the servants. Instead, he left Leon and Gwaine with the physician, hoping they would be able to offer a small measure of comfort.

He had found Guinevere in their chambers, preparing for a council meeting that had been scheduled for that morning to coincide with their arrival. She turned at the sound of the door opening, a smile spreading across her face instantly. She rushed over to him and flung her arms around him.

'Arthur! I've missed you. I wasn't expecting you for another few hours.' He held her tightly, revelling in the feel of having her close to him again, of being able to touch her and see her, but in the familiarity and comfort of her embrace, he felt his carefully placed barriers beginning to crumble. She began to pull away, but he didn't let her go. Instead he held onto her even more tightly, never wanting to be parted from her. He felt the tension rise in her instantly.

'Arthur? Arthur what is it?' she asked.

'I just need you to stay here for a moment,' he whispered.

'Arthur, you're scaring me.' She pushed him back gently and looked at him. The change in her expression was instantaneous. Arthur didn't know what it was she was seeing as she looked at him, but it was enough to bring fear flooding into her features.

'What's happened? What is it?' she asked more firmly, her fingers digging into his forearms where she clung to him.

'Merlin,' Arthur managed to tell her.

'He's hurt? Is he alright?'

Arthur shook his head, pressing his lips together when he realised he wouldn't be able to speak, but Guinevere understood straight away.

'No, no, no,' she whispered, shaking her head fiercely at Arthur. 'That can't be…' she took several deep breaths, searching Arthur's face, pleading with him to allay her fears, but he couldn't. 'Arthur,' she whispered, but she said nothing else. What else could be said?

He had stayed with her for as long as he could, but he had searches to organise, a council meeting to chair and a meeting of the round table to run. In the end, he had left her with a maid and had called Elyan up. That was all he could do at that moment, as much as he wanted to stay with her and cry with her.

Then had been the organisation of the searches. Percival had begun to gather the men, but in an attempt to get things started as quickly as possible, groups were dispatched as soon as they arrived in the courtyard. It meant that Arthur had to repeat the instructions to them over and over again, had to tell them over and over again what had happened. It was hard, too hard in the end; he found the detachment creeping into his voice; he couldn't help but employ it if he wanted to be able to keep himself going. That in turn had heaped guilt on him. He had said he would not become detached, but the necessity to function made that promise impossible to keep. He couldn't continue without the distance; the minute he brought himself closer to the situation, he knew he would break down. He knew the grief was there, stored away, ready to surge forth at any moment and he had to delay it.

And so it was that the council meeting and the meeting of the round table were conducted with only a fleeting mention of Merlin. Everything else was about the success of Arthur's trip through Camelot's outlying regions and the progress they had made with the people. It was about new guard rotations and how they would affect the watch duties that were currently being undertaken. It was about the knights' training program and how the new candidates were faring. Everything was about avoiding speaking of Merlin and so, in the end, everything became about him; whether it was in the looks that were being directed at him by those gathered, or the way his closest knights kept on drifting off into their own thoughts, or the absence of his manservant just behind him, water jug in hand, barely managing to conceal sighs of boredom.

Arthur felt himself drifting further and further away from the situation, just to be able to continue as he knew he had to, because a King did not let grief stop him from performing his duties. He would never have that luxury.

By the time the day drew to its close, Arthur had rethought his stance on detachment to the situation. If today was anything to go by, then detachment was his only option.

But then he had walked into his chambers and seen his wife lying on their bed, curled in on herself, a pillow clutched to her chest so tightly that he was surprised she could breathe, and her cries echoing around the room. She had looked up as he came in and all he could do was lie down next to her on the bed and hold her, all the while feeling himself being pulled closer and closer to his grief once more.

It took a very long time for her to drift off to sleep and when she did, Arthur found that he couldn't. His mind was too full of Merlin, much as he tried to empty it of his manservant. But he soon realised that would be impossible; how could he ever cast from his mind someone who he had seen nearly every single day for the past six years? Practically every memory that Arthur had of the recent past was linked to Merlin, and as the future was distinctly hazy at the moment, he was unable to look ahead to a time that Merlin wasn't a part of. He didn't want to look ahead to a time where Merlin wasn't there. He couldn't face that… not yet.

But with no future ahead and the past being so painful to recall, Arthur found his thoughts turning to the accident itself. He knew it was a mistake to start considering it, but once the idea was there, he found he could do little to control where his mind took him.

He should have got off his horse sooner. That was what everything came down to in the end. He had hesitated, believing that dismounting would make things worse, but it would have been Merlin's salvation. It would have meant a terrifyingly close call rather than the horrendous tragedy that had unfolded. It would have been the difference between life and death. That was the conclusion Arthur came to; a conclusion which could only be followed up by one thing.

This was his fault.

Arthur had assumed that Merlin dying would be the hard thing, and it was -there was no doubt there- but it soon became clear to him that the living which came after the dying was much more difficult. In death there was a suspension of everything normal, just for awhile. Where emotions were not expected to be so shielded, where duties and responsibilities could be lessened slightly, for a time.

But then came living. The inevitable movement forward into a world that, despite all expectations to the contrary, did carry on much as it had before.

Living was what Arthur found hard. And sometimes laughing. And sometimes breathing. Other times it was easy and he began to believe that maybe he too could carry on as he had done before. But then the grief would catch up with him -often at unexpected times- and he found it difficult to believe that things could be normal again. Because they weren't normal. Not the old normal, anyway.

A new, emptier normal began to take shape for Arthur.

The new normal involved sharing looks with Guinevere several times a day, silently asking if she was alright; silently pleading with her to tell him that he would be. The new normal involved waking up every morning and being given a few seconds of forgetful bliss before reality reasserted itself.

The new normal involved carrying out duties that suddenly seemed a lot less important; there was a grim determination behind them, backed up only by the knowledge that he needed to carry them out, not the keen desire to carry them out that had been part of his old normal.

It involved going to visit Gaius' –and Merlin's- quarters every day, only to find them empty. The old physician had asked for permission to go to Ealdor and stay with Hunith for a few weeks. Arthur had granted it without question, adding his own letter to be given to her. He told himself that he'd allowed the court physician to go because the man needed to, but Arthur knew deep down that it was because he couldn't bear to see the sadness on the man's face.

According to Leon, Gaius had asked question after question about the accident in the days afterwards. He had needed to know every little detail, though he hadn't asked Arthur. He was grateful to the physician for understanding the difficulty that would have posed.

New normal meant being waited on by a servant who was the complete and utter opposite of Merlin. Arthur had chosen his new employee himself, picking him out of the candidates based entirely on the fact that he was the furthest from Merlin that there was.

The boy was young and nervous. He had a stockiness to him that enabled him to carry out all the heavier tasks that his job required, but he was several inches shorter than Merlin. He said nothing aside from the supplications that were expected off him, and he carried out his tasks without comment or complaint. He was all but invisible and Arthur preferred it that way. He made no effort to talk to the boy, aside from giving him instructions and thanking him for a job well done, and the boy showed no interest in adding more to their interactions.

The new normal was lonely. Arthur quickly became very aware of that. He had not felt lonely before. Yes, he had often told Merlin that being King was lonely, but he realised now that he hadn't had a clue what he was talking about. Because how could he ever have considered himself lonely when Merlin was right there next to him through everything? No, the new normal was lonely. Of course there was Guinevere, but he was trying desperately to be strong for her. She had encouraged him to talk, and he had shared some of his thoughts, but he knew how much it pained her to listen to him talking about Merlin, mostly because –as she had said once or twice- she knew how much the loss affected him. He didn't want to increase her pain by forcing her to bear the burden of his as well, and so, for the most part, he kept his thoughts to himself.

He had considered, at one point, talking to the knights, but for all their friendship, he was still their King and leader. It was not good to show too much of his anguish. And besides, each of them seemed to be dealing with their grief in their own way. Leon had taken to sharing much more of the leadership roles with Arthur than he had done in the past, and Arthur had done nothing to stop him; knowing that he needed the extra support. Percival had thrown himself into continuing the searches for Merlin until Arthur had decided to call them off four days after their arrival back in Camelot. Elyan had taken to spending lots of time with Guinevere, for which Arthur was grateful, and Gwaine had all but disappeared. He turned up for training and duties, but when he wasn't required for those, he left the castle. Arthur didn't know if he was drinking himself into a stupor every night, or just roaming the streets, but he hadn't got the courage to face him, not least because the man's words about making Merlin's death count rang round his head every day. He still didn't know how he could do it.

Yes, the new normal was many things, but the worst thing about the new normal was what it wasn't. And it wasn't compiled of Merlin. He was in people's thoughts every day -Arthur knew that. But he wasn't there.

Arthur missed him. Missed him more than he ever would have thought possible -and he had thought that it would be a lot. And in many ways, it wasn't the lack of constant bickering that he had always enjoyed because it made him feel like he wasn't just a King, but a person; it wasn't the sarcastic comments or feigned complaints or stupid jokes that Merlin had constantly voiced, much to Arthur's concealed amusement. It wasn't those things that Arthur missed –as much as he longed for them.

He just missed Merlin being there.

He missed the companionship that his friend had provided. They had spent so much time together that often they could walk or ride or sit in silence for hours –though Merlin had always thrown in some conversation- just at ease with the fact that the other was there. Because Merlin always had been there. In everything: in the background; shouting his protests; offering his support. In fact, Arthur realised very quickly that he had never once expected Merlin not to be there.

And now he wasn't.

To Arthur, it felt like something was missing from him. Not missing: something had gone, never to be reclaimed. Yet, at the same time, Arthur could feel the expectation in him. He had thought this feeling would go after the memorial service for Merlin –a service that Arthur just about managed to conduct and struggle through- but even with that closure, the expectancy didn't disappear. He knew he was waiting for Merlin to come back; he could feel it, despite the absurdity of the thought. He was waiting to see him again; waiting to wake up to his overly-cheerful 'good mornings'. Waiting for him to make it clear once more that he would be at Arthur's side regardless.

That was what Arthur was waiting for, and that was the false hope that was slowly beginning to die with each silent exchange between himself and his new servant, with each absent sarcastic remark, with each trip he made outside the castle with only his knights by his side.

It would be gone soon, of that Arthur was sure, and he didn't know what he would do then.

All he knew was that somewhere along the way, new normal would just have to be normal, and there was nothing that he could do to change it.

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