Title: These Are Our Lives
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: K
Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Hunith.
Spoilers: None (Modern AU)
Warnings: None, really.
Disclaimer: You don't understand! I coulda owned Merlin. I coulda been a producer. I could've been somebody, instead of a fanfiction writer, which is what I am.
Summary: It starts out normal, but then there's missed appointments and staring at people and cryptic statements. And then there's the , no matter what Merlin says, makes no sense AT ALL.
AN: Repost: This is the start of me moving my one-shots into this collection. I actually really like this story . . . Hopefully you do to, even those that have read it before (and don't worry, I saved all the lovely reviews; you people are so nice to me:)
Chapter Six: Songgaar
Arthur has come to the same coffee shop for the past three years. It's always crowded (because the drinks are good), but he doesn't mind; it's a good routine. He doesn't even need to say his order anymore, because all the staff know him.
One day, as he walks into the shop, breathing in the heady mix of coffee and cake, someone plows right into him. Hot drink falls everywhere.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" says the other man, and together they mop up spilled coffee. The only thing Arthur is really annoyed about is the spill on his coat; Gwen had given that to him for Christmas, and he gloomily dabbed at the dark spot.
"Yeah . . . sorry about that," the man says, and Arthur gets his first good look at him. Dark hair, blue eyes . . . hang on . . .
"Merlin?" he asks incredulously.
Merlin blinks a few times, then recognition dawns. "Arthur! Well, fancy meeting you here!" The two haven't seen each other for almost two years, since they'd graduated from college.
"I thought you left the country," Arthur responds. "Went to Thailand or something for research."
"I did!" Merlin tells him. "But I'm back now. Working at a lab now, studying viruses. And you? Did you ever work up the courage to ask Gwen out?"
Arthur laughs. "We're married now, for almost a year and a half! You really have missed a lot, Merlin!"
Somehow they find an empty table and exchange stories over their coffee. Merlin tells of his work at the lab, and Arthur relates how he and Gwen finally got together.
They're both late to work, and agree to meet there the next day.
Gwen is ecstatic when she hears who Arthur has found, and comes with him to see Merlin as well. She doesn't come all the time they meet, but enough that Arthur knows she and Merlin would get on just fine even if he wasn't there. They talk of all sorts of things; school, work, friends, family, old classmates, politics, the weather - there were no end of subjects, but they usually end up arguing and calling each other names . . . at least until they dissolve into silent laughter. Sometimes they sit in companionable silence and don't say anything.
One day, about a month or two into their little arrangement, Merlin is late, and he seems a little off to Arthur. He keeps on looking around the coffee shop like he fears he's never going to see it again, and he doesn't seem to want to leave.
"You'll come to tomorrow, won't you?" he asks Arthur almost desperately as the former stands to leave. "You're coming?"
"Here, you mean?" Arthur asks in surprise, and Merlin nods. "Yes, of course, why wouldn't I?"
Merlin shifts uncomfortably. "I don't know. You might . . . forget."
Arthur stares at him for a moment, then says, "I won't forget, Merlin," and leaves before the conversation can take a turn to the even weirder.
He does, indeed, come the next day, and Merlin acts even stranger. Today he seems to be completely apathetic about everything. He doesn't drink his coffee, or talk much. He winces at loud noises, and Arthur thinks he might have a hangover.
"What's the matter with you?" he asks bluntly, after five minutes of basically talking to the chair. "You're not yourself this morning, and as much as I hate to admit it, you usually provide some stimulating conversation. So out with it."
Merlin lifts his eyes from his muffin. He looks . . . there's no other way to describe it: hopeless.
He says suddenly: "My uncle died."
Arthur startles; this was not what he was expecting. "I'm sorry," he says awkwardly. "Were you close?"
"He was a great help to me and Mom after Dad left," Merlin replies, his voice dark and quiet. "He practically wasmy father. So yeah, we were close."
Well, this explains everything, doesn't it? Arthur feels like - what was Merlin always calling him? - a prat for being so callous and demanding. "I'm sorry," he says again, not really knowing what else to say. "I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."
Merlin looks up again, and there is an ancient grief burning in those eyes, mixed with what Arthur thinks might be fear. "You don't know what it's like," he says, almost coldly. "You really don't know. No one does. No one alive knows how I feel."
And with those last parting words, he stands up and leaves the coffee shop. Arthur feels like he is missing something important. Something vital.
After the fiasco that was their last meeting, Arthur thinks that maybe Merlin will avoid him, but the younger man is sitting at their usual table as always, drinking his coffee this time and looking much better, if still a little peaky. Hesitantly, Arthur sits across from him, waiting for another censure, but Merlin just smiles a little.
"Glad to see I didn't scare you off," he says, sounding almost cheerful.
Arthur scoffs. "I don't think you could scare me off if you tried, Merlin," though that's not quite true. Merlin smiles. Arthur thinks that maybe he should say something apologetic. "How are you doing?"
Merlin shrugs. "Alright, I guess. Better than can be expected, I think."
Arthur silently agrees. He doesn't think he would be reacting this well if his father had died. It is a humbling thought.
"The funeral is on Friday," Merlin tells him, then adds hurriedly, "I'm not inviting you. I don't think you should come. It wouldn't . . . There are things . . ."
He trails off slowly, then frowns. "Let's not talk about this anymore," he says decisively. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else. How about that rainstorm, eh?"
Arthur stares. "What rainstorm?"
"The one that was, what, two weeks ago? I heard there was flooding in some places."
Arthur frowns. "It must have been in your part of town," he says. "We haven't had rain for weeks and weeks where I live. More's the pity; all Gwen's flowers are dying."
"Yeah, this heat's pretty awful," Merlin agrees. "How's your sister?"
"Morgana's doing fine, I think. We haven't talked recently."
"Didn't she get a promotion a little while back?"
"No, actually she just got a new job. No promotions yet."
"Hmph." Merlin seems taken aback by this. "Does she have a boyfriend?"
"Why, you interested in applying for the post?" Arthur asks in amusement.
Merlin gives him a look. "It just seems like she always had one, back in college."
"Oh yeah, you remember Greg?" Arthur chortles. At Merlin's questioning look, he elaborates. "Greg Jasmin, he was your roommate." Merlin still shows no comprehension, though his eyebrows are starting to draw together, and he no longer looks just confused, but also a little alarmed. Arthur is perplexed. "Come on, Greg! Short guy with black hair, played the violin or something? I know he was your roommate!"
Merlin suddenly laughed. "Oh, Greg! I remember now! You're right, he was my roommate, but he played the, um, cello, I think."
Abruptly, Merlin stands up, smiling in a rather fixed manner. "I just remembered, I have a, um, appointment before work, and I have to leave now. Sorry, Arthur. I'll see you tomorrow."
And he leaves just as suddenly as the day before. Arthur sighs. He does not understand, and he doesn't know how to understand.
When he tells her of the strange events, Gwen sits still, her brow scrunched and her face thoughtful.
"I don't know, Arthur," she says. "Maybe he thought you were insensitive about the whole thing."
Arthur shifts uncomfortably. "If he wants sympathy, he knows better than to come to me. I tried, I really did, but I just can't do that sort of thing!"
"I understand, I really do," Gwen says, looking a little distressed. "But the truth is, I don't really know why he's acting this way. His uncle has just died. He's probably confused and sad. Possibly he doesn't even know why. You just have to be patient."
Merlin is not very talkative the next morning. He looks harried and a little frazzled, and keeps on watching the people around them with a curious expression, like he wants to jump and talk to them but is not sure what to say. Arthur half-heartedly makes conversation, but it dies out after a few minutes. He wishes Gwen could have come.
When it is time for Merlin to leave, Arthur grabs his arm. "Merlin, you know if you ever need to talk, I'm only a phonecall away, right? You can always talk to me, or Gwen."
To Arthur's acute embarrassment, Merlin's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Arthur," he said softly, swallowing hard. He leans a little closer. "Arthur, if you want to help me, find out about the rainstorm."
Then he leaves very quickly.
Arthur's not entirely sure what just happened. Rainstorm? It takes him several minutes of puzzling to figure this one out: the rainstorm Merlin had mentioned. He shrugs and leaves for work.
Merlin is not there the next morning, or the next. For three days straight Arthur sits at their usual table, waiting until he is almost late for work. He is now annoyed at Merlin's claim that he doesn't need a cell phone because no one ever calls him, because Arthur doesn't know Merlin's home number.
When he tells Gwen about this, she looks troubled.
"You said he was acting strangely beforehand," she says. "Maybe something happened, and he just hasn't had the chance to tell you yet."
Something hashappened, this Arthur knows. A dark feeling deep in his chest tells him so. Something wrong has happened with Merlin. Something more than just the death of his uncle is eating away at him.
And the rainstorm? There had been none. No rain anywhere near London for almost a month. This makes no sense to Arthur.
"I've got to find him, Gwen," he says. "I don't understand, and I think he wants me to, without telling me himself."
He's not sure how he knows this, or why Merlin would want this, but he just knows.
Arthur calls Merlin's work, and is shocked to discover that Merlin had quit a few days before. He'd left no indication of where he was going next. A hunt for Merlin's place of residence ends with his landlady saying he gave his dog to her daughter and just left. His apartment is ransacked, as if he left in a hurry.
After that nothing. Arthur can find nothing.
He doesn't know what to do. He feels like he has failed Merlin.
Two weeks later, he is standing inside the coffee shop, waiting for his order, when he looks out the window and sees something that makes his heart stop beating for a moment.
Merlin is standing outside, looking at the shop with a considering expression, as if he's contemplating his order. As Arthur stands dumbstruck, an older woman comes dashing up and grabs his arm, pulling him away. He sighs, disconsolate, but follows.
Well, Arthur can't have that, can he? Struggling through the rush-hour crowd, he makes it outside and dashes after the pair as they walk away.
"Merlin!" he shouts. "Merlin!"
Merlin turns around at his name. His eyes search for the caller, and when they land on Arthur, his whole face lights up like he has never been happier to see someone in his life.
"Arthur!" he cries. "It's Arthur, Alice! I knew it was the right place!"
Alice stares as Arthur halts before them.
"I told you he was real!" Merlin continues, grinning broadly.
This is an odd comment, but Arthur has other subjects on his mind. "Where have you been, Merlin?" he gasps. "I've been looking for you for two weeks! You quit your job, and left your home, and no one knew where you were!"
Up close, Arthur realizes, Merlin doesn't look well, peaky and pale, with bags under his eyes.
"You're Arthur?" Alice asks skeptically, like the thought of Merlin making someone up was more likely. "How well do you know Merlin?"
"We were at college together-" Arthur says distractedly, still waiting for Merlin's answer.
At that moment, a white van with the words 'Greendale Institution' written on the side rolls up, and a man with blonde hair gets out.
"There you are, Merlin," he says with quiet relief. "You shouldn't run off like that, we get worried. Just come back with us, alright?"
"But, Edwin," Merlin said with insatiable enthusiasm, "it's Arthur. I was right, this is Arthur!"
Arthur is very confused, but he nods at Edwin politely and says hello. "What's going on here?" he asks. "Where are you taking Merlin?"
Edwin steps forward. "Take Merlin back, Alice, I'd like to have a little chat with Arthur here. No, don't worry, I'll take a cab."
As Alice all but herds him into the van, Merlin says desperately "Come and visit me, please," to a horribly confused Arthur.
Before Arthur can do something drastic, Edwin holds out his hand and says, "I am Dr. Edwin Muir. I'm afraid I only know you as Arthur."
The door is closed and the van is driving off. Arthur drags his attention away from it and grasps the hand. "Pendragon," he says. "Arthur Pendragon."
"Let us walk, Mr. Pendragon," Edwin says, and starts off down the sidewalk.
"What is the Greendale Institution, and why is Merlin there?" Arthur demands without preamble, not moving.
Edwin hesitates, as if what he will say will cause Arthur pain. "I suppose, in less delicate language, the Greendale Institution is a . . . mental hospital."
Arthur's eyebrow shoots up. "A loony bin?"
Edwin shrugs. "Basically, yes."
"And what, may I ask, is Merlin doing in a mental hospital?"
The doctor pauses for a moment; collecting his thoughts. "When was the last time you saw Merlin, Mr. Pendragon?"
"Two weeks ago."
"That's when he came to the institute. If you're thinking he was dragged in by the police, screaming that he wasn't insane, that was not the case. Merlin checked himself in. And I'm glad he did, because he would not have been able to function in the outer world for much longer. Before long he really wouldhave been taken in kicking and screaming."
Arthur's memory drifts back to the strange Merlin in the shop. "What was his complaint?" he asks. What could have caused Merlin to act like that?
"Merlin suffers from severe memory loss," Edwin says bluntly.
Arthur blinks. Blinks again. "Memory loss?" he sputters. Of all the things Dr. Muir could have said, that is the last thing Arthur could have been expecting. "But . . . you don't go to a mental hospital for memory loss."
"No, you don't," Edwin agrees. "But that's not the only thing. You see, for every memory Merlin loses, another one takes its place. His brain has contrived to fill every empty spot in his brain with fake memories. Hundreds of them. And Merlin has no way of knowing which are real."
The doctor sighs and examines the storefronts before him. "That's why we weren't sure if you were real or not, because Merlin wasn't able to tell us anything but your name and the fact that he was supposed to meet you at some coffee shop. What were we to do? There are dozens of coffee shops in London, and he didn't remember your last name."
Arthur nods, his head full. "I understand," he says, and he does.
Edwin holds out his hand again. "I'd better get back to Greendale," he says, then pauses in the act of turning around. "You will come and see Merlin, won't you? I think it would do him good to see a familiar face - though I can't say how long the familiarity will last . . ."
Arthur shakes his head wonderingly. "Of course I'll come and see him," he says, then laughs. "To think I thought this had to do with his uncle!"
Edwin freezes for just a moment, then looks at him with a curious eye. "Why did you think that?"
"Merlin started acting strangely not long before he went missing, and he told me that his uncle - who was like a father to him - had died. But it could have just been a contributing factor."
There is something in Edwin's face that makes Arthur pause. "What is it?" he asks.
"It's just, Merlin did remember some things. And he told us that he's pretty sure that what he has is a heritable mental disease. Because he remembers this exact same thing - memory loss and false memories - happening to his uncle."
After Edwin calls a cab and leaves, Arthur goes back to the coffee shop and sits, thinking hard. He doesn't understand. He now believes that Merlin knew this was going to happen to him, but why he can't figure out. And what does this have to do with his uncle?
As he sits there, puzzling and puzzling until his puzzler is sore, it starts to rain. He watches it, unseeing, and it is not until he actually goes outside into it that he realizes what is happening. The heavy drops fall like bullets through the warm but fast-cooling air, and the gutters are already filling.
The memory comes unbidden. "The one that was, what, two weeks ago? I heard there was flooding in some places."
Arthur doesn't know what it means, but he does know that it has been two weeks to the day since Merlin mentioned the rainstorm.
He and Gwen go to see Merlin the next day, and it is amazing how normal the visit is. Despite the fact that they are in a mental hospital, Arthur doesn't feel like there's much different with Merlin - except Arthur is careful not to mention any person or place specifically. He doesn't say anything about the rainstorm, because he knows Merlin won't have any idea what he's talking about, but some things Merlin says . . . an idea begins formation in Arthur's head, a crazy, mess-upped idea that doesn't really make a whole lot of sense, but he's always had a little bit of an imagination.
The next Monday, a woman is waiting for him at his regular table. The cashier points her out to Arthur as he pays.
"That woman's heard you know Merlin," he says. "She wants to talk to you."
Arthur eyes her as he moves closer. She is perhaps in her forties, with dark brown hair and eyes, and a kind, if tired, face.
"Good morning," Arthur says courteously. "You must be Merlin's mother."
He has never met the woman before, but he can't think of anyone else who knows Merlin that would want to see him.
She looks a little surprised, but smiles and nods. "That's right. And you're Arthur? Please, just call me Hunith."
Arthur gets himself settled before her. "What can I do for you, Hunith?" he asks. He knows that Merlin and his mother hadn't seen each other for years; Merlin had vaguely hinted that she had not wanted him living with her anymore, but had not said why.
Hunith squirms a little in her seat. "Do you know where Merlin is?" she questioned. "I've been asking around, and they said you saw him a lot, so I thought . . ."
Arthur nods slowly. "He's at a place called the Greendale Institution."
The woman does not seem surprised. "An asylum?"
"Yes. You knew this would happen?"
Hunith sighs. "It's the family curse."
Arthur sets his muffin down and leans in closer, elbows on table. "Explain. I don't understand what's going on, and I don't think Merlin knows anymore either; he's forgotten. But he wanted me to know."
Hunith nods, and stands. "Will you walk with me, Arthur? I'd prefer not to talk in such a crowded place."
Consenting, Arthur escorts her out into the warm air, and for a few moments they just walk silently.
"I'm not surprised that Merlin cannot remember to tell you," Hunith says suddenly. "That's part of the curse, you know: one of the first things you forget is that there isa curse, andwhy. It happened to my grandfather; it happened to my uncle; and now it's happening to Merlin."
"I thought it was Merlin's uncle, your brother."
"No, no," Hunith laughs. "Gaius is - was - my father's brother. For years he lived with me and Merlin. We cared for him, because it was hard for him to care for himself."
She was silent again for some minutes, watching as cars streamed past on the road.
"How did this curse come about, and why?" Arthur prompted.
"It was, what, almost ten generations ago? However many years. An ancestor of mine was cursed by a gypsy, to be a 'backwards man'. No one remembers why, only what is written in legend. But, every time someone in my family dies, the youngest descendant gets the curse, whomever that may be. In this case, it was Merlin."
Arthur frowns. "What does that mean, a 'backwards man'?"
"Well, you know his symptoms, I'm sure," says Merlin's mother. "Can't you guess?"
Arthur thinks for a moments, his mind casting back to things Merlin has said and done. "Of course," he says, almost laughing. "He sees time backwards. He forgets the past and remembers the future! That's how he knew about the rainstorm two weeks before it happened! That's what been happening to him!"
Hunith nods, and her face falls into lines of weariness again. "The doctors at that asylum probably think he's hallucinating, but he's really not. Everything he sees is true . . . or will be."
Arthur soaks this in, astonished beyond measure. To think, such a thing as curses . . . it is beyond belief! And yet, he knows it is true.
He sobers quickly. "It is a cruel curse," he says, and Hunith nods.
"Uncle Gaius could remember things if they were before him often, or if he was constantly reminded of them. But he no longer remembered his childhood, parents, siblings, anything. And the future was a terrible thing for him to see. Sometimes he would wake screaming in the night at the horror of it."
"And Merlin will too," Arthur finishes, feeling slightly sick. "Is there nothing we can do?"
Hunith shrugs. "Ten generations, Arthur," she says. "Ten generations could not fix this problem, and I could not find a solution either. I don't know if there is one."
Arthur does not reply. He knows she's probably right.
When Merlin sees his mother again, he cries.
"I'd almost forgotten you," he tells her through the tears. "I'd almost forgotten your name, and what you looked like. Oh Mother, why did you tell me to leave all those years ago?"
Hunith, dripping tears as well, clasps him to her chest and says, "I was afraid, Merlin, and foolish. You were despairing at being the youngest of my family, and I did not want you to see your future anymore."
Arthur leaves shortly after, leaving them to their tears and soft words.
Morgana calls later that day. "I got promoted!" she says happily. "Miss Fox says I've been working so well, I shouldn't be stuck in the filing room all day."
Arthur's very happy to hear this. Morgana had started to hate the job, saying it was too boring. Maybe now she would stop bothering him with her complaints.
It is only after he hangs up that he remembers that Merlin had 'remembered' this too.
He and Merlin talk often. They knew that Merlin would be no good in the Institution, but Arthur wondered what they would do after they got him out. Would he live as his uncle had, unsure of everything around him, plagued by memories that were not even truly real yet, and cared for like an invalid? Arthur's mind rebelled at the very thought.
Merlin, although he forgot any conversation relating to the curse almost as soon as it was over, heartily agreed. "I couldn't live like that, even in this state," he tells Arthur. "I'd feel helpless, and I don't like feeling helpless."
"I don't know what we could do," Arthur mutters. "Until you can know the difference between past and future-"
"-which my uncle never did-"
"-it would be difficult to unleash you on society. Imagine if there was a bomb on a train, and you shouted at everyone to stay off because of it . . . can you imagine what everyone would think? How they would react?"
Merlin nods, and suddenly Arthur sees the secret in his face, the answer to it all. He almost sighs; had anyone ever thought to ask the afflicted how to cure themselves?
"Well, Merlin?" he says, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin smiles a little secret smile and leans in very close. "I suppose it's a good thing that there are still gypsies in the world, isn't it? Or we wouldn't ever find the original curser's descendants, would we?"
He leans back again, waiting for the penny to drop. Arthur does not say anything for several minutes as Merlin's words sunk in, and then he thinks-Maybe it'll be alright after all.
"For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be."
― Alfred Tennyson
The word songgaar comes from the Asian language Tuvan. It means to go back, but it also means the future. Tuvans believe that the future is behind you while the past is ahead, because if the future were before you, wouldn't you be able to see it? It was the first thing I thought of when I came up with this story. It just seemed to fit. (Fun fact: I found out recently that Richard Feynman, an American physicist, was very interested in the long-lost country of Tuva:)
Oh, and about that sequel I was thinking about posting . . . well, still not sure. But it's a possibility!