From the Other Side

It's You.

Chapter One~

      Merlin coughed, his throat suddenly scratchier than the ancient scarf that was wrapped around his neck. He wasn't sure what he was seeing. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He couldn't even be sure that he was breathing; that he was awake, alive, experiencing this in reality.

       He expected the tears welling in his eyes to wipe away the image, to clear his mind and chase the hallucination back into the past where it belonged. But the harder he stared, the heavier the realization hit him; it punched a large hole into his heart, opening a wound that was over a thousand years old, yet still as fresh as the day he received it.

      It was him.

      But it couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

      Merlin's chest heaved, and suddenly he was on the ground, his knees sinking into the freezing mud. He wasn't supposed to be here, not like this. Was he?

      When Merlin had awoke that morning, he had known that something about this day was different. His magic had felt off, as if it was trying to tell him something important, but he had thought nothing of it. He'd assumed it was his imagination acting up again.

       But now?

      Obviously he had been a fool. 

      Idiot. 

      He could almost hear His voice taunting him. You should have known, Merlin.

      The warlock's vision swirled in and out of focus. No matter how many years he had waited, no matter how long he had tried to prepare himself, Merlin wasn't ready. He coughed again, a small whimper escaping his lips, then covered his mouth with one hand as he felt bile begin to rise in his throat.

      Just over an hour ago, Merlin had left his house to try and enjoy the dark, fall weather. The trees were all different shades of reds and golds this time of year, which was both painful and soothing to him. He had set off with the plan to simply pay his respects, to travel out into the park and lose himself in that secluded spot that civilization still hadn't touched - the place where his long wait had begun.

      The lake had been still and quiet that morning, as always. Even the animals of this time seemed to avoid it, for they could all feel the sorrow there. Merlin had crouched on the water's edge and cupped his hands together, as he always did when he visited, and whispered an incantation.

      "Long live the king," he added.

      When his nimble fingers parted, a tiny blue butterfly materialized in his palm. It wiggled its antennae curiously, then took flight, wings catching the air in soft, gentle flutters. Just like every year before, the butterfly floated out over the water towards the last place that Merlin had laid eyes on Him, a reminder of what was yet to come.   

      He had watched it, his heart anticipating some kind of miracle though his mind knew better. It was the same each year. There would be no miracle, no great ruler rising from the water to take their place as the Once and Future King. There would only be silence, and regret.

      But then it happened. 

      A hand suddenly broke through the lake's surface, reaching out of the water and up towards the sky. Merlin's eyes narrowed, his lips parted in bewilderment. The arm didn't thrash or wave like someone drowning might do; it simply reached.

      The butterfly drifted over to it and perched itself on the dripping fingers, blue against white. That was when Merlin first started to realize . . . .

      Slowly, the hand moved back into the water, and then another rose out. It was like watching an explosion in slow motion. Gradually, both arms began to swing, faster and faster in some sort of panic, and Merlin stood up, alarmed. The arms crashed against the lake's surface over and over, and Merlin wrestled with himself on whether or not he should rush out to help. Was this magic? Or had someone else discovered this place and wandered dumbly into into the lake's waves, only to find that they couldn't wander out again?

     Just as he was making the decision to rip off his shirt and save a life, Merlin heard a gasp. When he raised his eyes back to the lake, he saw something burst forth from under the water - 

     and his brain went dead.

      A head of golden hair was bobbing above the lake's surface, glimmering in the autumn light like wet straw. Merlin's eyes widened, his hands still gripping the bottom of his shirt. Could it be?

      The person rotated in their thrashes, and Merlin could tell from his distance that it was a man. The swimmer slowly began to make his way towards the shore, sputtering and choking with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. As he covered his ground and grew closer, Merlin shivered. There was no denying that face.

      He watched, frozen, as the man made his way to the shore with an alarming speed. His arms were just as big and powerful as Merlin remembered them, and he scoffed a little between gasping breaths. It was funny how those things had stuck in his memory, when it was really the things he missed the most that he wanted to remember; things like the sound of His voice or the way that He smelled . . . .

      The man crashed onto the shore in an exhausted heap, his cheek digging into the wet mud. The lake water rolled over him, hiding anything from the waste down from view. Merlin dared to take a few steps closer.

      "Merlin . . ." the man had whispered, then drifted off, unconscious.

      The warlock's heart broke at the sound of his king's plea, and suddenly hot tears began to form in his eyes. He fell to his knees, silent sobs racking his shoulders as he stared at the man before him. Should he be happy? Should he be scared? There hadn't been a single day in all Merlin's years that he hadn't imagined this moment, yet now that it was happening, he couldn't think straight. Pain was shooting up and down his chest, and not the kind of pain that could be fixed with medicine; it was his heart threatening to give out, to break, to shatter into a million pieces.

      Merlin wanted to reach out and touch him. He wanted to cradle his master's body in his lap just as he had done all those years ago, before everything had been ripped away from him. He wanted to open his mouth and scream all of the things that he should have said before . . . before . . . .

      Merlin couldn't think anymore. He couldn't move. Slowly, blackness crept into the corners of his vision, and his heart skipped a beat. As his body swayed, Merlin reached out and tried to wake his master. He couldn't believe that Kilgharrah's prophecy had come true; he couldn't believe that Arthur was there again.

      Merlin flopped over and his fingers somehow landed on Arthur's exposed neck. He grinned at the touch, no matter how light. It meant Arthur was real.

      "It's you," he whispered, tears running into his mouth. And then all was blackness.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello!! This is my very first fanfic- obviously all rights go to Merlin and the shows writers and whatnot, I'm just writing fanfiction.

For those of you who could not tell, this takes place after the show ended, in our time. Arthur has just come back, and Merlin is caught off-guard .

Please tell me what you think!! No stealing either, geeze.

Lemme know if you want another chapter, please!! :)

--S