Brassed Off Calendar Girls do the Full Monty in Camelot (10/?)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10: SOS
"He insults me all the time, puts me down, tells me I’m a talentless buffoon, but get this, it’s OK because I hear his voice say the words, and I believe them to be true, so I trust him OK? Because he’s telling the truth about me, I am an idiot, and worthless… but his eyes say something else, something warm and playful and kind, and I just want…"
“Freya?”
“Merlin? What…?”
“Freya, God I’m sorry, it’s really late.” Merlin sighed. It was a stupid time to be calling someone, but he knew it made his uncle too uncomfortable discussing this, and he couldn’t really talk to his sodding flat-mate, Will, not in a million years. But Freya knew. She was like him. She understood.
“Merlin, it’s OK. Did something happen to you?”
“Not really. No. I just need… to talk to someone. Is it all right to talk for a bit?”
“Of course. Shall I come round?”
“No, no Freya, don’t come out, I know you won’t feel safe. Let’s just talk, OK?” And he wished his voice was a bit steadier, wished he could speak above a whisper.
“That’s fine Merlin. What is the matter?”
“I… freaked out a bit in the pub. Tonight. I think… I think… I need to apologise to Arthur but I don’t know how.” He let out an involuntary sob, and a noisy sniff, wiping his eyes and nose disgustingly on the back of his hoodie. “I can’t tell him about…. About everything. Not yet.” Merlin breathed slowly in and out as Gaius had taught him. In out. In out. Freya was silent at the other end of the line, waiting for Merlin to ground himself.
Finally he was able to go on. He told her about the proposed strip show, his reaction to it, his panic attack.
“So you see Freya, I really need to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his wet eyes. “He was incredibly sweet and concerned actually, and I yelled at him and swore. He never swears, Freya, have you noticed that? No? I guess you haven’t really spoken to him have you! Sorry!”
Of course, he silently berated himself for his self-centredness. Freya didn’t talk to men. Well, she talked to him, but he didn’t count. He knew. He was like her. He understood.
He was a victim too.
They’d met at the rape crisis centre, at the victim support group, when he moved to Camelot. And he had helped her, they had helped each other.
“Freya, I fucked it up. I am disgusting, and I’m damaged, and I’m soiled, and I’m fucked in the head, and I can never be good enough for him. Freya what am I going to do? I like him, I really, really like him,” and his eyes filled with tears again. Jayzus, poor Freya didn’t deserve this, he had to get his shit together.
“He insults me all the time, puts me down, tells me I’m a talentless buffoon, but get this, it’s OK, because I hear his voice say the words, and I believe them to be true, so I trust him, OK? Because he’s telling the truth about me; I am an idiot, and worthless… but his eyes say something else, something warm and playful and kind, and I just want… I just want…. How fucked up am I? I’m such a fuck-up Freya…” and now he was shouting at her down the phone, and banging the wall, so his hand hurt, AND sobbing, and he could hear Will in the next room turn his music up to mask the noise. Bloody effing chuffing sod.
But she was shushing him down the phone, telling him to shut up, that Arthur deserved an explanation, that he should trust Arthur, that it was all going to be OK. And he nodded, although she couldn’t see him. His breath settled down and he gulped, breathing deeply.
“Ok” he whispered eventually. “I’ll do it. Thanks Freya. Thank you. I don’t know what…”
“It’s OK Merlin. Just talk to him. He’s not an ogre. He trusted you when you helped him after the football. I have a feeling he will be good for you Merlin. You just need to explain. OK? Do that for yourself. You don’t need to tell him everything ok? Just tell him you’ve got some problems, that you’re working them out, that it’s not his fault. Tell him that Merlin. Remember that. It’s not his fault, and it’s not yours either.”
He carried on nodding and spent the night on top of the bed, fully clothed, with his mobile in his hand. In the morning he made some calls and steeled himself to send a text.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 10: SOS
"He insults me all the time, puts me down, tells me I’m a talentless buffoon, but get this, it’s OK because I hear his voice say the words, and I believe them to be true, so I trust him OK? Because he’s telling the truth about me, I am an idiot, and worthless… but his eyes say something else, something warm and playful and kind, and I just want…"
“Freya?”
“Merlin? What…?”
“Freya, God I’m sorry, it’s really late.” Merlin sighed. It was a stupid time to be calling someone, but he knew it made his uncle too uncomfortable discussing this, and he couldn’t really talk to his sodding flat-mate, Will, not in a million years. But Freya knew. She was like him. She understood.
“Merlin, it’s OK. Did something happen to you?”
“Not really. No. I just need… to talk to someone. Is it all right to talk for a bit?”
“Of course. Shall I come round?”
“No, no Freya, don’t come out, I know you won’t feel safe. Let’s just talk, OK?” And he wished his voice was a bit steadier, wished he could speak above a whisper.
“That’s fine Merlin. What is the matter?”
“I… freaked out a bit in the pub. Tonight. I think… I think… I need to apologise to Arthur but I don’t know how.” He let out an involuntary sob, and a noisy sniff, wiping his eyes and nose disgustingly on the back of his hoodie. “I can’t tell him about…. About everything. Not yet.” Merlin breathed slowly in and out as Gaius had taught him. In out. In out. Freya was silent at the other end of the line, waiting for Merlin to ground himself.
Finally he was able to go on. He told her about the proposed strip show, his reaction to it, his panic attack.
“So you see Freya, I really need to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his wet eyes. “He was incredibly sweet and concerned actually, and I yelled at him and swore. He never swears, Freya, have you noticed that? No? I guess you haven’t really spoken to him have you! Sorry!”
Of course, he silently berated himself for his self-centredness. Freya didn’t talk to men. Well, she talked to him, but he didn’t count. He knew. He was like her. He understood.
He was a victim too.
They’d met at the rape crisis centre, at the victim support group, when he moved to Camelot. And he had helped her, they had helped each other.
“Freya, I fucked it up. I am disgusting, and I’m damaged, and I’m soiled, and I’m fucked in the head, and I can never be good enough for him. Freya what am I going to do? I like him, I really, really like him,” and his eyes filled with tears again. Jayzus, poor Freya didn’t deserve this, he had to get his shit together.
“He insults me all the time, puts me down, tells me I’m a talentless buffoon, but get this, it’s OK, because I hear his voice say the words, and I believe them to be true, so I trust him, OK? Because he’s telling the truth about me; I am an idiot, and worthless… but his eyes say something else, something warm and playful and kind, and I just want… I just want…. How fucked up am I? I’m such a fuck-up Freya…” and now he was shouting at her down the phone, and banging the wall, so his hand hurt, AND sobbing, and he could hear Will in the next room turn his music up to mask the noise. Bloody effing chuffing sod.
But she was shushing him down the phone, telling him to shut up, that Arthur deserved an explanation, that he should trust Arthur, that it was all going to be OK. And he nodded, although she couldn’t see him. His breath settled down and he gulped, breathing deeply.
“Ok” he whispered eventually. “I’ll do it. Thanks Freya. Thank you. I don’t know what…”
“It’s OK Merlin. Just talk to him. He’s not an ogre. He trusted you when you helped him after the football. I have a feeling he will be good for you Merlin. You just need to explain. OK? Do that for yourself. You don’t need to tell him everything ok? Just tell him you’ve got some problems, that you’re working them out, that it’s not his fault. Tell him that Merlin. Remember that. It’s not his fault, and it’s not yours either.”
He carried on nodding and spent the night on top of the bed, fully clothed, with his mobile in his hand. In the morning he made some calls and steeled himself to send a text.