Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 18: All My Life

Susetthe decided that she would hate the moon for the rest of her life, as she watched its light invade the small room as the night progressed. Merlin lay still, hand over each other at his chest as if cupping his own heart in his palms, and Susetthe sat beside his feet, her back unnecessarily straight. She watched his face with her chin tilted up, as though her own rigidity could give him strength. His eyelids fluttered continuously, letting her know that he was still awake, and still aware of her companionship.

Neither had talked much after his story of her, but it didn't feel right to break the silence now. Susetthe was not quite sure how to respond. He hadn't asked for anything, he'd never asked anything of her even when she was a child who would have scaled imaginary mountains for her not-so-imaginary friend. So she didn't have anything to answer. But Susetthe had never been one for quiet, she'd always had thoughts and opinions and ideas, far too many to keep inside a single human body. She'd always shared them.

Merlin seemed out of reach to her, at this moment in time. He was the old man, fading into the next life in the bed before her, and she was young and bright and full of energy. And yet, she suddenly felt as though it was she who was weaker, who was trying to stumble towards him but her ankles were held by roots. He was the raindrops she had tried to catch as a child, cupping her tiny palms and holding them above her head, yet the rain seemed to stubbornly fall everywhere except where she held.

All her life, he'd been there. He had been her secret companion that her childhood self had adored and wished to follow to the edge of the world. Even when she'd left, and discovered he was no longer in the forest behind her next house, Merlin had been her companion in her mind. She'd always thought of what he would say, of how any walk would have been even more enjoyable with him. His voice had been the rustling of leaves under her light steps, the sky piercing through dense leaves was his eyes ensuring her safety as she smiled upward, and she had never feared in the dark because the trees were his silhouette leading her home again. Those had never faded, even as she'd grown and stopped believing in ghost stories.

She smiled slightly at the figure before her. She'd grown up to stop believing in make-believe, only for him to prove magic again to her. Susetthe would not make the same mistake twice.

As if sensing her change in mood, his eyelids fluttered open this time, and her throat tightened as his eyes glowed, nearly escaping his tired, drawn face. He drew a deep, rattling breath, every word taking his physical strength.

"Keep smiling," his voice lilted at the end, as thought a question. Susetthe felt her cheeks split further, and she nodded. He returned her smile with shaking lips, but bright cerulean eyes. Then he closed them again, and exhaled.

Susetthe reached for his clasped hands, her palm lying on the top as her fingers curled around it. He face smoothed, but Susetthe knew that his chest would not move so much again.

"I do love you," she murmured, her lips slipping over the words her mind had not even formed yet. She doubted it was even coherent to him, or if he even heard. Merlin's body did not move in reaction to her voice.

The tears were sudden hot needles in her eyes, splashing against her pupils before spilling down her cheeks. Air was like acid, burning her lungs in short lashes as it jumped out of her as quickly as she pulled it in. She felt her bones shake, but the skin pressed against Merlin's hand did not dare move, and her audible gasps and sobs ripped at her ears but the man before her did not move. Even the damn moon seemed to halt, even nature letting time stop for her. But the moment seemed to drag for years, and it was not a kindness.

Susetthe pressed trembling lips to his cheek, his skin smooth despite the lines and cool to the heat burning under her own surface. The water from her face marred his, and her apology was in the form of tears falling even faster and even shorter breaths.

"I will see you again, my secret friend," the words were clear to her ears, despite her body's refusal to hold that much control. Her lips were barely an inch from his cheek, her breath bouncing back into her face as she continued to disturb the peaceful body.

She bent and tugged gently at his hands, tilting the cupped palms and pressing her face to them. Merlin's stiff, cool fingers curled against her chin and cheeks, her tears pooling in them. She pressed another wet, shaking kiss to them, so that his hands not only held his own heart, but hers as well.

That first moment was always the best. Merlin's eyes would open, and the world would be bright and clearer than he remembered. His lungs would rush to expand, and blood and energy would spark his fingertips and toes. His body would beg him to stand, to breath quickly, to run, to expend its new energy.

Dark, piercing, rejuvenated blue met the pale, early-morning sky. It was not a sight he'd never seen, but it was not the one he awoke to from his temporary deaths. Neither was the fresh chill from the morning air and the dew that had not yet lifted.

Moving only his now-limber neck, Merlin took in the lake at his feet, his body lying beside it with his hands pressed to his chest, curled slightly. Delicate flowers surrounded his head and shoulders, down to his elbows. All were thin, curled petals and pastel colors, making his coal-black hair and pale skin stick out starkly from them. But perhaps that was part of the beauty.

No one was in sight, and as Merlin stretched his senses and his magic, he felt no other presence across the lake, up to his own home. He was alone.

He opened his hands, spreading his fingers out, but was met with only the new, smooth skin of his palms.

Merlin sighed, the flowers giving off gentle scents that attempted to comfort him, for the first time not appreciating them or his new youth. It seemed that this was not a lifetime he would have with Susetthe. He wondered if he would ever have one, as his back and knees bent easily to stand, and his steps were long and loping up the bank to his small home.

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