fifty_fifty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fifty_fifty) wrote2017-11-23 07:16 pm
fifty_fifty) wrote2017-11-23 07:16 pm
FIC: Merlin and The Doctor
Title: Merlin and The Doctor
Pairing(s): None
Character(s): Merlin, The Twelfth Doctor, The Doctor's TARDIS
Word Count: 1143
Rating: Gen
Summary: Merlin has spent the centuries alone waiting for Arthur, but there's one person who he seems to come across fairly regularly...
A rather eccentric man with a space box. But even he can't help him.
Notes: Finished as part of Finish that Fic, Merlin! 2017. On AO3 here.
Merlin sighed in resignation as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry,” says a brisk, Scottish voice. “You know I can’t do that. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Merlin opened his eyes and smiled half-heartedly at the man. He has seen him many times over the past millennia and it’s not always the same face, but he knows it’s him. He is unmistakable in any form. Even that time he was a woman. That was a bit weird and unexpected, but apparently quite common for Timelords. Whenever he’s near he feels his magic tingle beneath his skin, a disturbance in time and the order of nature itself. Of course, there’s usually some kind of crisis occurring too, which tends to make it much easier to recognise that he has come a-calling. As Merlin closes his eyes he can easily trace the lines connecting this man behind him to his strange telephone-box-cum-spaceship. This time he’s older and more cynical. It makes a change from the younger, altogether too enthusiastic man he last remembers meeting. But the feel of him is the same; warm and comforting. But at the same time, his magic tries to flee from him.
He opens his eyes and smiles. But the smile doesn’t make it to his eyes. “Yes. I know, it is the way it has to be. But you can’t blame a man for trying. I might be able to slow time, stop it all together, but in all these years I’ve yet to master actual time travel.”
“It would be too dangerous in your hands, Merlin,” calls the man from his blue box, as he fiddles with the controls.
Merlin glances around the door. It’s clever this box, he has to admit. Manipulation of space, this is another thing he has mastered. It’s been useful, but he’d much rather have the time travel. Just to pop back in time, even for a few minutes; for the briefest of glimpses of Arthur and the days of Camelot. Still, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to go inside, it makes his stomach churn and he feels slightly nauseous.
“So, you never did tell me what happened to you to make you change this time,” Merlin states. The Doctor's shoulders stiffen and he grimaces for a moment, Merlin notices. The almost dying part’s not any easier for him then.
“Trenzalore,” is all he will say. He’s like that sometimes. Aloof, standoffish. A don’t-fuck-with-me sort of vibe.
Merlin rolls his eyes at him. “Yes, because that helps.”
“It’s a long story,” he mutters as explanation. His eyes are busy looking at something on a screen. It also has the added advantage of avoiding making eye contact with Merlin.
Merlin watches him and chuckles to himself. “It always is with you, Doctor.”
The Doctor strolls over to him, pale blue eyes glaring at him. “You’re one to talk,” he huffs with annoyance.
Leaning against the TARDIS for a bit of support to counteract his nausea, Merlin smirks. He likes it when The Doctor is in one of his moods. He enjoys the banter, enjoys the familiarity. He wonders how many times The Doctor has encountered him before now. If The Doctor’s ever encountered him as this particular regeneration before and therefore, if he’ll likely see him looking like this again. The Doctor always seemed to know who he is, so he assumes that he has yet to encounter the time that The Doctor meets him for the first time and won’t know who he is. It’s always something he’s found difficult to get his head around, having been forced to live a straight, linear timeline. For all he knows this could be the second time The Doctor has ever encountered him.
“My life is an open book,” Merlin replies. “Well, many books. But they don’t really ever seem to get it right.” He comments cheekily.
“But time remembers you,” The Doctor reminds him.
His tone of voice makes Merlin shiver, even though it’s a warm summers evening. “So you always tell me.”
“Thanks for your help taking care of the Sidhe,” says The Doctor, slipping back inside the TARDIS.
Dusting his hands on his trousers Merlin pulls himself away from the TARDIS to look inside at The Doctor, he’s flipping some switches and typing something into a keyboard. He glances up and Merlin nods at him knowing this is The Doctor’s way of saying goodbye.
He shrugs. “Someone’s got to. See you around.” He turns and starts walking away, his heart heavy as he hears the T.A.R.D.I.S. whirl and wail as it starts to dematerialise. He wishes that just once, he could join him. But he can’t. Aside from the overwhelming temptation he would have to revisit Camelot and therefore risk creating its own set of issues, the TARDIS despises him. He can feel it when he’s close to it. The pure power and energy. It makes him feel sick. It’s not the same as his magic. In the same way that magic draws him in; the energy of the TARDIS wants to push him away and his magic agrees with it. The Doctor has told him that his immortality makes him a temporal paradox. A fixed point in time. The TARDIS wants to run away from that fact. Immortality. He shivers again, remembering the first time he truly realised what he now knows for certain to be true. He had been informed of it many times before he actually twigged what people were referring to. He can’t die. He will continue to live and endure until goodness knows how long. Waiting for Arthur’s return.
Still, it’s nice to be needed now and again by someone who understands how lonely it can be living for so long. Even if he can never truly understand what it means to live forever—for death will come for The Doctor eventually. And then there will be no more meetings such as this. And time will keep on ticking for Merlin.
But it’s nice to know that there’s another being out there who will outlive all those he loves and holds dear. Not that Merlin would ever wish that on anyone. He himself has not had a real friend in centuries. Acquaintances sometimes, but never a friend. His heart just can’t take it, not any more. Not after how many people he has loved and lost over the centuries. Still, at least The Doctor can understand that kind of heartache and that's nice to know.
He dusts off his hands again, space dust he thinks—stubborn stuff—and shoves them into his coat pocket as he makes his way back to his cottage by the lake. Wondering just where on Earth—or indeed the universe—that strange, face-changing spaceman is and when he’ll meet him next.
Pairing(s): None
Character(s): Merlin, The Twelfth Doctor, The Doctor's TARDIS
Word Count: 1143
Rating: Gen
Summary: Merlin has spent the centuries alone waiting for Arthur, but there's one person who he seems to come across fairly regularly...
A rather eccentric man with a space box. But even he can't help him.
Notes: Finished as part of Finish that Fic, Merlin! 2017. On AO3 here.
Merlin sighed in resignation as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry,” says a brisk, Scottish voice. “You know I can’t do that. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Merlin opened his eyes and smiled half-heartedly at the man. He has seen him many times over the past millennia and it’s not always the same face, but he knows it’s him. He is unmistakable in any form. Even that time he was a woman. That was a bit weird and unexpected, but apparently quite common for Timelords. Whenever he’s near he feels his magic tingle beneath his skin, a disturbance in time and the order of nature itself. Of course, there’s usually some kind of crisis occurring too, which tends to make it much easier to recognise that he has come a-calling. As Merlin closes his eyes he can easily trace the lines connecting this man behind him to his strange telephone-box-cum-spaceship. This time he’s older and more cynical. It makes a change from the younger, altogether too enthusiastic man he last remembers meeting. But the feel of him is the same; warm and comforting. But at the same time, his magic tries to flee from him.
He opens his eyes and smiles. But the smile doesn’t make it to his eyes. “Yes. I know, it is the way it has to be. But you can’t blame a man for trying. I might be able to slow time, stop it all together, but in all these years I’ve yet to master actual time travel.”
“It would be too dangerous in your hands, Merlin,” calls the man from his blue box, as he fiddles with the controls.
Merlin glances around the door. It’s clever this box, he has to admit. Manipulation of space, this is another thing he has mastered. It’s been useful, but he’d much rather have the time travel. Just to pop back in time, even for a few minutes; for the briefest of glimpses of Arthur and the days of Camelot. Still, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to go inside, it makes his stomach churn and he feels slightly nauseous.
“So, you never did tell me what happened to you to make you change this time,” Merlin states. The Doctor's shoulders stiffen and he grimaces for a moment, Merlin notices. The almost dying part’s not any easier for him then.
“Trenzalore,” is all he will say. He’s like that sometimes. Aloof, standoffish. A don’t-fuck-with-me sort of vibe.
Merlin rolls his eyes at him. “Yes, because that helps.”
“It’s a long story,” he mutters as explanation. His eyes are busy looking at something on a screen. It also has the added advantage of avoiding making eye contact with Merlin.
Merlin watches him and chuckles to himself. “It always is with you, Doctor.”
The Doctor strolls over to him, pale blue eyes glaring at him. “You’re one to talk,” he huffs with annoyance.
Leaning against the TARDIS for a bit of support to counteract his nausea, Merlin smirks. He likes it when The Doctor is in one of his moods. He enjoys the banter, enjoys the familiarity. He wonders how many times The Doctor has encountered him before now. If The Doctor’s ever encountered him as this particular regeneration before and therefore, if he’ll likely see him looking like this again. The Doctor always seemed to know who he is, so he assumes that he has yet to encounter the time that The Doctor meets him for the first time and won’t know who he is. It’s always something he’s found difficult to get his head around, having been forced to live a straight, linear timeline. For all he knows this could be the second time The Doctor has ever encountered him.
“My life is an open book,” Merlin replies. “Well, many books. But they don’t really ever seem to get it right.” He comments cheekily.
“But time remembers you,” The Doctor reminds him.
His tone of voice makes Merlin shiver, even though it’s a warm summers evening. “So you always tell me.”
“Thanks for your help taking care of the Sidhe,” says The Doctor, slipping back inside the TARDIS.
Dusting his hands on his trousers Merlin pulls himself away from the TARDIS to look inside at The Doctor, he’s flipping some switches and typing something into a keyboard. He glances up and Merlin nods at him knowing this is The Doctor’s way of saying goodbye.
He shrugs. “Someone’s got to. See you around.” He turns and starts walking away, his heart heavy as he hears the T.A.R.D.I.S. whirl and wail as it starts to dematerialise. He wishes that just once, he could join him. But he can’t. Aside from the overwhelming temptation he would have to revisit Camelot and therefore risk creating its own set of issues, the TARDIS despises him. He can feel it when he’s close to it. The pure power and energy. It makes him feel sick. It’s not the same as his magic. In the same way that magic draws him in; the energy of the TARDIS wants to push him away and his magic agrees with it. The Doctor has told him that his immortality makes him a temporal paradox. A fixed point in time. The TARDIS wants to run away from that fact. Immortality. He shivers again, remembering the first time he truly realised what he now knows for certain to be true. He had been informed of it many times before he actually twigged what people were referring to. He can’t die. He will continue to live and endure until goodness knows how long. Waiting for Arthur’s return.
Still, it’s nice to be needed now and again by someone who understands how lonely it can be living for so long. Even if he can never truly understand what it means to live forever—for death will come for The Doctor eventually. And then there will be no more meetings such as this. And time will keep on ticking for Merlin.
But it’s nice to know that there’s another being out there who will outlive all those he loves and holds dear. Not that Merlin would ever wish that on anyone. He himself has not had a real friend in centuries. Acquaintances sometimes, but never a friend. His heart just can’t take it, not any more. Not after how many people he has loved and lost over the centuries. Still, at least The Doctor can understand that kind of heartache and that's nice to know.
He dusts off his hands again, space dust he thinks—stubborn stuff—and shoves them into his coat pocket as he makes his way back to his cottage by the lake. Wondering just where on Earth—or indeed the universe—that strange, face-changing spaceman is and when he’ll meet him next.