Title: These Are Our Lives

Fandom: Merlin

Rating: K

Pairings/Characters: Merlin and Merlin

Spoilers: None

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: If you're looking for the owners of Merlin in this corner, I'll tell ya right now: go fish.

Summary: "Why did your parents name you Merlin?" "I don't know. Maybe they liked the name. Why did your parents name you Merlin?" "Maybe they liked you,"

AN: There. I've finally written it. This story is dedicated to the memory of my Uncle Merlin. Never actually met the guy, but seriously: how can I be a fan of this show and not think about him? Anyway, this one of those Immortal!Merlin fics. It's set in the 1930s.

Chapter Three: Namesake

Wyoming was an interesting place, if by interesting you meant 'boring'. It reminded Merlin of England back when he was a kid: mostly small towns with a whole lot of nothing in between them. The Depression had livened things up for a bit, but now the whole world had settled into a rut, Wyoming with it.

The train only came through once a day, so missing it was a bad idea. Merlin had never been one to be on time to anything, especially important things, but he thanked his lucky stars for his landlady, for while he was usually annoyed at the loud sounds of her making breakfast at seven in the morning, today it had been a boon. Not only was he ready to leave in time, he was five minutes early. And he hadn't even had to run.

Merlin scanned the station for a place to sit, and spotted a bench that was empty but for a young boy. He stepped up and asked: "May I sit here?" The boy raised his fair head and nodded mutely.

Merlin had scarcely sat down when the boy said: "Beautiful day. Where are you off to? Cheyenne?"

The warlock nodded. "I'm on business. And you?"

"It's summer vacation!" the boy cried in jubilation. "I'm catching a ride to Larimie, to visit my grandmother."

He indicated the small bag that sat by his side. On it sat a book. Merlin smiled when he saw it was a translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

"You like those stories?" he asked.

The boy's head went up and down vigorously, and his smile broadened to a grin.

"Love them! You know, I think my parents must have known I would enjoy them, because they named me after one of the characters!"

Merlin laughed. "Let me guess: the great King Arthur himself!"

"No, silly," the boy said, "Merlin!"

The warlock blinked, and then, before he could stop himself- "But my name's Merlin too!"

The boy - Merlin - suddenly looked very serious, and he nodded as if he'd known this all along. "Yes, you looked like a Merlin," he said. "Our parents must have seen something . . ."

He paused, momentarily distracted by a whistle in the background. The train was approaching.

"Why did your parents name you Merlin?" he asked.

Merlin blinked. "I don't know," he confessed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe they liked the name. Why did your parents name you Merlin?"

The little boy tipped his head to one side and smiled a little. The train was rolling into the station, and Merlin barely heard his response. "Maybe they liked you," he said, then grabbed his pack and raced over to the tracks, watching with an excited eye as the train drew nearer.

Merlin frowned. There had been something very strange about the boy's response, almost as if he knew who Merlin was.

The boy looked back for just a moment as he boarded the train. There was something in his eyes. An age-old secret.

He winked. Just between you and me, the wink said.

"Meeting a namesake is one of the most delicate and most brief surprises."

― Michael Chabon

This story is not meant to give any accurate information about my uncle, other than his name, LOL. In fact, it's very possible that he was named after someone else whose name was Merlin;)

Also, Bollywood fans may have noticed that I patterned the scene off of a conversation from one of the movies. That was intentional.

Please review! I do appreciate your insights.