fic: Waiting For The Other Side
Title: Waiting For The Other Side
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG for disturbing themes
Warnings/Spoilers: Mental illness?
Word count: 1,100~
Summary: Arthur is a psychiatrist who has taken on a patient he can't seem to help. Reincarnation fic. Yes, I know psychiatrist doesn't work exactly like as mentioned, but it is mostly accurate, I think.
He thrashed his entire body around every time Arthur walked into the room. Arthur didn't know if it was because of him specifically, or because every time he came in, something 'bad' happened to him every time Arthur was there: injections, more drugs, different drugs. Arthur winced at the red burns, where his patient had rubbed himself raw against the restraints in just the short period of time Arthur had been in the room. The restraints weren't because he was violent, but because in his apparently mindless flailing, he tended to hurt himself, break things and hit the nurses.
Gesturing for one of the volunteers to check the soft, padded restraints and also soothe the man's skin, Arthur flicked through the records again. When he had first taken on this patient, the young man seemed to be similar to many: he had clearly had a bad past and needed therapy to figure out exactly what affected him the most, but consequences of his past had given him so many disorders that it was hard to keep him even lucid at times. The clearest example was how, after seven months of treatment, the care centre still only knew him as 'Merlin'. It had been the only name he had ever given, insisting upon it. Thankfully, it was becoming far more common nowadays to utilise both drugs and therapy to their greatest advantages.
As he finished catching himself up on what the nurses had done since his last visit, Arthur looked over from the end of the bed. "Merlin?" He asked, trying to make eye contact. The other man's eyes rolled up to briefly glance at him, pupils dilated. That and his sweaty, drawn appearance would have suggested that he was high on LSD or something, but he knew that Merlin had been stuck in this bed for over two weeks now.
Arthur frowned. He had been called back in as treating psychiatrist on this case because Merlin had apparently not been sleeping for the past four nights and his condition had deteriorated. Not only that, but he was keeping other patients up with screaming, screaming whole, lucid, complete sentences that he never seemed to make in the daytime.
When Arthur had asked what Merlin had been screaming about, Nurse Gwen had pursed her lips, eyes distressed. "Camelot," she had finally replied faintly. "Knights. Kings and dragons and Princes and Excalibur." They had exchanged a concerned look. "And," she had added before leaving, "he's freezing." That had startled Arthur - he had assumed the clamminess to show that Merlin would be hotter than normal. Stepping up to the bedside, he placed the back of his hand on Merlin's forehead.
Merlin was freezing. He had never touched Merlin before, since there was a certain faux pas about that for therapists, and he realised that Merlin's skin felt brittle to his touch, like old parchment. Arthur wondered when he had ever touched old parchment. He only wondered only for a moment though since there seemed to be a small tap on the back of his head, following by something invisible suddenly crashing down on him.
It was as if he had been made of glass, and then all at once, he shattered. Arthur gasped and staggered under the weight of it all even though there was nothing physically there. His eyesight blurred as he clutched at the bedside table for support, and by the time they focussed, he found himself looking down at Merlin. His brain struggled to catch up - Merlin's restraints were loose now, and -
"Hello, Arthur." The young man in the bed looked up at him, and smiled.
Flumping down onto the floor as he gave in to his legs' protest that they were not currently working, Arthur had to clear his throat twice before managing to rasp a single word out. "Hello." He was still giving his mind some time to sift through the enormous number of memories that had been thrust into him all at once. He decided to tentatively try a question. "What just happened?" His words sounded like an echo, as if he was detached from his mouth and his jaw muscles weren't working properly.
Merlin peered over the edge of the bed at him, a very different being to the confused creature he had been just a moment ago. "You touched me, I think, is what happened. It brought me back." He still looked tired and drawn, but the smile brightened up his whole face, and Arthur knew that he was smiling because of him. He felt a lump in his chest that felt suspiciously like pride, and amusement, and massive amounts of confusion and, and, and... love.
Pulling himself up, Arthur traced a hand across Merlin's cheek. Apart from the moist sheen of sweat, it was soft, smooth, full of life and nothing like earlier. He swallowed. "I should have touched you a long time ago," he whispered, thinking how he had been treating Merlin for months now, and had always had the thought to not touch him, because patients particularly in need tended to take touches as signs of personal affection, and he hadn't wanted to contaminate the case.
Merlin reached out a hand, and took Arthur's in his. "Whatever happened, happened. I don't blame you." He drew Arthur forward so that they were both sat on the bed. Arthur suddenly realised that if any of the nurses came back, this would look entirely wrong. Thankfully, Merlin followed his gaze to the half open door, and held out his other hand, the one not entwining its fingers with Arthur's. Only managing to glimpse the flash of gold because he knew to look for it, Arthur chuckled as the door shut and locked itself.
There was a small niggling thought though, that had almost been eclipsed by Arthur's overwhelming feeling that everything in the world was right again. "What was wrong with you? You were down as - as schizophrenic, anorexic, panic disorder, dementia... the whole lot. " He rattled through the list in barely half a breath and tugged Merlin closer at the same time, as if he could not bear to think of his Merlin as a sufferer of any of those.
Merlin simply smiled at him. "I am only one side of a coin." He reached into the drawer where the nurses kept the few belongings that he had brought into the care home with him and brought out a large, heavy coin. A rough depiction of Arthur was on one side as he held it out. Reaching out, Arthur knew what he would see when he turned it over. The currency had been commissioned when Arthur became king, but this coin was special. A similarly rough depiction of Merlin was carved onto the other.
"It doesn't make sense for there only to be one half of a coin; it can't exist. You can't have one side of the coin without the other."
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG for disturbing themes
Warnings/Spoilers: Mental illness?
Word count: 1,100~
Summary: Arthur is a psychiatrist who has taken on a patient he can't seem to help. Reincarnation fic. Yes, I know psychiatrist doesn't work exactly like as mentioned, but it is mostly accurate, I think.
He thrashed his entire body around every time Arthur walked into the room. Arthur didn't know if it was because of him specifically, or because every time he came in, something 'bad' happened to him every time Arthur was there: injections, more drugs, different drugs. Arthur winced at the red burns, where his patient had rubbed himself raw against the restraints in just the short period of time Arthur had been in the room. The restraints weren't because he was violent, but because in his apparently mindless flailing, he tended to hurt himself, break things and hit the nurses.
Gesturing for one of the volunteers to check the soft, padded restraints and also soothe the man's skin, Arthur flicked through the records again. When he had first taken on this patient, the young man seemed to be similar to many: he had clearly had a bad past and needed therapy to figure out exactly what affected him the most, but consequences of his past had given him so many disorders that it was hard to keep him even lucid at times. The clearest example was how, after seven months of treatment, the care centre still only knew him as 'Merlin'. It had been the only name he had ever given, insisting upon it. Thankfully, it was becoming far more common nowadays to utilise both drugs and therapy to their greatest advantages.
As he finished catching himself up on what the nurses had done since his last visit, Arthur looked over from the end of the bed. "Merlin?" He asked, trying to make eye contact. The other man's eyes rolled up to briefly glance at him, pupils dilated. That and his sweaty, drawn appearance would have suggested that he was high on LSD or something, but he knew that Merlin had been stuck in this bed for over two weeks now.
Arthur frowned. He had been called back in as treating psychiatrist on this case because Merlin had apparently not been sleeping for the past four nights and his condition had deteriorated. Not only that, but he was keeping other patients up with screaming, screaming whole, lucid, complete sentences that he never seemed to make in the daytime.
When Arthur had asked what Merlin had been screaming about, Nurse Gwen had pursed her lips, eyes distressed. "Camelot," she had finally replied faintly. "Knights. Kings and dragons and Princes and Excalibur." They had exchanged a concerned look. "And," she had added before leaving, "he's freezing." That had startled Arthur - he had assumed the clamminess to show that Merlin would be hotter than normal. Stepping up to the bedside, he placed the back of his hand on Merlin's forehead.
Merlin was freezing. He had never touched Merlin before, since there was a certain faux pas about that for therapists, and he realised that Merlin's skin felt brittle to his touch, like old parchment. Arthur wondered when he had ever touched old parchment. He only wondered only for a moment though since there seemed to be a small tap on the back of his head, following by something invisible suddenly crashing down on him.
It was as if he had been made of glass, and then all at once, he shattered. Arthur gasped and staggered under the weight of it all even though there was nothing physically there. His eyesight blurred as he clutched at the bedside table for support, and by the time they focussed, he found himself looking down at Merlin. His brain struggled to catch up - Merlin's restraints were loose now, and -
"Hello, Arthur." The young man in the bed looked up at him, and smiled.
Flumping down onto the floor as he gave in to his legs' protest that they were not currently working, Arthur had to clear his throat twice before managing to rasp a single word out. "Hello." He was still giving his mind some time to sift through the enormous number of memories that had been thrust into him all at once. He decided to tentatively try a question. "What just happened?" His words sounded like an echo, as if he was detached from his mouth and his jaw muscles weren't working properly.
Merlin peered over the edge of the bed at him, a very different being to the confused creature he had been just a moment ago. "You touched me, I think, is what happened. It brought me back." He still looked tired and drawn, but the smile brightened up his whole face, and Arthur knew that he was smiling because of him. He felt a lump in his chest that felt suspiciously like pride, and amusement, and massive amounts of confusion and, and, and... love.
Pulling himself up, Arthur traced a hand across Merlin's cheek. Apart from the moist sheen of sweat, it was soft, smooth, full of life and nothing like earlier. He swallowed. "I should have touched you a long time ago," he whispered, thinking how he had been treating Merlin for months now, and had always had the thought to not touch him, because patients particularly in need tended to take touches as signs of personal affection, and he hadn't wanted to contaminate the case.
Merlin reached out a hand, and took Arthur's in his. "Whatever happened, happened. I don't blame you." He drew Arthur forward so that they were both sat on the bed. Arthur suddenly realised that if any of the nurses came back, this would look entirely wrong. Thankfully, Merlin followed his gaze to the half open door, and held out his other hand, the one not entwining its fingers with Arthur's. Only managing to glimpse the flash of gold because he knew to look for it, Arthur chuckled as the door shut and locked itself.
There was a small niggling thought though, that had almost been eclipsed by Arthur's overwhelming feeling that everything in the world was right again. "What was wrong with you? You were down as - as schizophrenic, anorexic, panic disorder, dementia... the whole lot. " He rattled through the list in barely half a breath and tugged Merlin closer at the same time, as if he could not bear to think of his Merlin as a sufferer of any of those.
Merlin simply smiled at him. "I am only one side of a coin." He reached into the drawer where the nurses kept the few belongings that he had brought into the care home with him and brought out a large, heavy coin. A rough depiction of Arthur was on one side as he held it out. Reaching out, Arthur knew what he would see when he turned it over. The currency had been commissioned when Arthur became king, but this coin was special. A similarly rough depiction of Merlin was carved onto the other.
"It doesn't make sense for there only to be one half of a coin; it can't exist. You can't have one side of the coin without the other."