A Thousand Painful Deaths

Chapter 1: Not Tonight

*WARNING* Language in this chapter, and drug and alcohol usage.
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I love Merlin and this is just my idea of what might happen when Arthur returns :) Enjoy!
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"Eighty."

"What the fuck? It was only forty last time!"

"Seventy-five is as low as I'll go."

"Fifty."

"Do you want it or not? I can lower it to sixty-five, since you're a regular."

I begrudgingly handed over a hundred dollar bill, and he handed me my change and a wadded up brown paper bag. I grabbed the bag and change and hurried away. I walked down the length of the alley, change and bag tucked inside my coat, to my apartment building. I hurried up the four flights of stairs, and walked into my apartment.

"Where the hell have you been?" I heard as I closed the door behind me. "Getting your damn drugs." I tossed the brown bag at him. "They're not all mine. I know you took some last time...after you swore you were gonna quit." I ignored him, and quickly tried to walk to my room. He stood up and grabbed me by the arm. "Come on." he said, pulling me closer. "Not tonight, George." I said pulling away. He didn't argue, and let me go to my room. I walked in and closed the door loudly.

It was nights like tonight when I missed them the most. All of them. I'd hear their voices in my head late at night, as if we were all together again. Happy. Caring only for each other, and the future of Camelot.

I remember Gwen's laugh, Percival's funny facial expressions, Lancelot's loyalty, Gwaine's ability to woo nearly every female he encountered, and...I remember him. The man who teased me incessantly, the man who took me with him everywhere, the man who trusted me with all his troubles, and the man who had died in my arms. He told me to never stop being me.

I changed out of my clothes, and threw on an oversized tshirt, that wasn't oversized when I bought it, and a pair of sweat pants before laying down. I knew I'd be unable to sleep well, especially after thinking about all of them. There was the memories, and the fact that if George didn't stop his drug habits, or at least cut back, I wouldn't be able to pay the rent.

Tonight it seemed like every thought was bouncing around in my head, just vying for my attention. The easiest way, I had discovered over these years, to control the thoughts, was a cold beer. I stepped quietly over to the door, and opened it slowly. George was passed out on the couch. I quickly walked over to the refrigerator and opened it slowly, not wanting another confrontation. I grabbed two cans and quickly took them back to my room.

I set them on my desk and sat down. I reached in the top drawer, and pulled out the 80¢ spiral notebook I had bought a while ago. I'd need a new one within the next week. I flipped to the next empty page, and grabbed a pencil. I opened the first can of beer, took a huge breath, before taking a drink. Honestly, I hated the taste, but it numbed my thoughts. Which is something I appreciated.

I read through the last letter I wrote. It was to him, as most of them were. There were a few to the others, but most were to Arthur, all in hopes that I'd see him again. It's been nearly 1000 years since I've seen them. 1000 years. This last letter, explained to him about George. How I needed someone, and I thought George was good for me, but how wrong I was, but I couldn't let him go. He almost reminded me of Gwaine. Maybe that's why I couldn't let him go. Did I love him? Hell no, but whenever he wasn't drunk or high, I enjoyed his company.

This next letter, I can sense, will be full of "I miss you"'s and "I need you back"'s. I took a few more drinks, and started writing.

"Dear Arthur..."