By: Dana
Summary: Beyond the end of all things, yet before the beginning. (The slashy take.)
Characters: Merry and Pippin, others
Pairings: Merry/Pippin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, sexual content, mention of hurt/comfort
Author's Notes: Written for Thuri for Slashy Letters v.2.
Her requests were Merry/Pippin, Billy/Dom, mer!fic or, hmm . . . Recovery in Ithilien. I didn't know which I wanted to do more, so I wrote both.
"As Clear As" can be found here.
A remix of drabbles 17-19 in "Upon a Field of Gold".
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

It is not until the next morning, after a night spent sleeping and dreaming and despairing in the tent that Legolas and Gimli have taken to sharing, that Merry sees Pippin again. "It seems you have a visitor," Gandalf says into the dim tent, and kindly bids Merry enter, from where he stands, silent, at the open flap.

"Is it breakfast?" Pippin's drowsy voice, questioning. Merry smiles, and tears spring to his eyes.

"No, Pippin, it is only me."

Pippin sits up smiling, hair tousled, cheeks warm with new, unfevered color. "Merry? Why, you are almost as good as breakfast."

Merry cannot help but smile, and he blinks the moisture from his gaze. "You don't know how good it is to hear that, Pippin. Though, I warrant you're hungrier, still."

Pippin is quiet, and then he nods, a smile playing upon his lips. "You are quite right, Merry, and I would – well," he frowns, and then he shakes his head, and his eyes are bright with mischief as he whispers, "I do think that I could eat enough for four hobbits."

"Well, I'll have brought what I can. Just you stay here, and I will be back before you even know it."

Pippin nods, though his eyes close and his head settles back against the thick pillow. Merry stands there, clenching and then unclenching his fists, smiling though there is a hot sting in his eyes.

"Well," he thinks, "Gimli was right. And he'll want to know he was right, I think."

First he goes and makes a visit to the Master Healer, informing him that his smallest patient is hungry, and then he goes searching for Gimli, and he finds him with Legolas down at the river. "Well met, Master Meriadoc. What is the meaning of this visit?"

"I was just – well. I have been awfully worried, lately, as we all have, and I was wanting to say, well, that you were right." He forces a smile, though it shouldn't be one that is forced. But he has seen Pippin almost dead and almost dead again, and if that makes it hard t speak, well, that is understandable, is it not?

"I thought he'd leave me. I thought I'd lose him and – "

"Here now, Merry," Gimli says, drawing close. His voice has a pleasant rumble about it, and strength, as good and firm and solid as hard rock. Something that can be depended on. And he has depended on him, more than he has known. "He is a strong one, as you have seen, but it is nothing that you did not already know."

"Friend Gimli is right," Legolas says. "The strength is all his own."

And he almost says, then, that didn't you see him, didn't you see how bad it was, and of course they did, as it was Gimli alone who had spied Pippin, when he had lain crushed in darkness beneath that Troll. Merry near feels he'll cry again, but he exhales instead, and laughs, and then shakes his head.

"Forgive my stubborn nature. It is, I fear, a family trait."

He says his goodbyes, then, as he must return to Pippin, and his palms itch and he blinks his eyes against drying tears. "Go on," Legolas says, and laughs, "he will be waiting for you."

And he is, sure as that, sitting in his bed and yawning. And Gandalf, Merry sees, is gone. Pippin smiles at him, and says, "well, there you are," and he rubs his cheek with his bandaged hand.

"Don't you go and unmake all that work that Strider agonized over, Pippin, or he'll not forgive you. Nor will I, and what will Frodo and Sam be thinking, when they wake, if you're still stuck abed?"

"I don't want to be stuck abed. At least," and here, that spark of bright mischief, though there is a reserved enough smile on his lips. "I don't want to be stuck abed, and all alone."

Merry blinks. "Well – "

Pippin pats the bed – good hand, of course, or else he knows that Merry would scowl, and then Merry cannot help but smile, lifting himself up onto the bed, resting very carefully, oh so carefully, next to Pippin. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Merry blinks. "Now, why would I be mad?"

"Because I went out alone and left you in Minas Tirith. I felt it awful enough when I was there, alone, and you were off in Rohan, you know, and I should not have left you alone. I did it twice, didn't I? Becoming quite a habit."

"Pippin," Merry says, and he touches Pippin's cheek. Pippin leans into that touch, sighing, and Merry breathes in the scent of medicinal herbs and athelas and healing salve, too, and the faint sharp sweat of Pippin's skin. "I do so love you, though you've been a fool. As have I, and I'll not have you looking at me so. But you didn't go of your own wanting, though I'm guessing that you wanted to prove yourself, as well. I do wish I could have gone along, but with my arm, and – well, I'd not have done much good."

"All I managed was to nearly be killed. And it wasn't so bad, when I saw death coming because, at least, if all had turned to dark, then I'd have you there waiting for me – and that wasn't all that bad."

Slow, how Pippin speaks, and his words are very set and determined. He turns to Merry, and he leans close, brows touching as he closes his eyes. "And I do love you, and I have missed you, and I thought that I would die, when I thought that you would die, and yet when death was coming for me, look at what I had begun to think – "

"Pippin – no. Don't think such things." Merry draws back, and catches Pippin's cheeks between his hands. Pippins smiles, though his eyes are dark.

"I don't," Pippin says, "like talking about my feelings. Must we go on?"

"No," Merry says, and shakes his head. "You deserve at least that."

"Good, now, lie with me, please. This bed is too big and too empty, and I have missed having you close."

They do lie, careful of Pippin and his bandages, and Merry wraps his arms gently about his cousin as Pippin's arms wind gently back about him. He is soon dozing, his breath warm and slightly damp at Merry's chin, snoring softly. For the first time in a long time, he talks as he sleeps, as he has since he was but a small lad – and Merry loves him, loves him with all his heart, so that there are times when he thinks all that love will make his heart burst.

Like now, when he rests, too, but he is more aware of Pippin's body against his and how long it has been since they had touched or even kissed, and he realizes now that their memories of home are things that he has long taken for granted. He never did think that he would see Pippin almost die.

When Gandalf comes, Pippin rouses, and he and Merry sit abed, talking to the Wizard of now and then and what might next come, and Pippin does hope to soon see Frodo and Sam for himself, and won't he have such stories to tell his eldest cousin when he finally does wake.

The food comes shortly after Gandalf leaves, and Merry joins Pippin in bed once they've eaten. "Are you tired? How do you feel? I have not spoken with Strider, so – "

Pippin laughs, offering Merry his hand. "He says that he bled out the poison, and the fever helped, as well as the water they had me consume; together, it burned the rest of the poison right out of my blood."

Merry squeezes Pippin's hand. "Then, you are well."

"As well as ever," Pippin smiles. "Though, I do rather have to relieve myself, cousin."

Merry laughs, helping Pippin from bed.

Soon enough they return, and then Merry is helping him back into bed, Pippin grousing lightly. Merry, though, joins him right away. Then, and Pippin blushes as he smiles, and wraps his arms back about Merry's waist. Oh, how nicely fit, good and snug.

"Merry, I have been thinking."

He sets a kiss at Merry's jaw.

"What is it, Pip? Thinking can be a dangerous thing."

Pippin laughs. He tilts his head and his chestnut-bright curls brush against Merry's cheek, and then he presses his mouth to Merry's, softly, slow, as though they'd not kissed more times than Merry could even count, as if Merry doesn't already know the feel of Pippin's lips. Yes, he is changed, they are changed, but this is still his Pippin, who he has known since forever, since he was a tagalong and a bother and until they were friends and then they were best friends and inseparable and then, then, they were more than even that.

Pippin's kiss is slow and reserved, the slip of his tongue wet and hot, and Merry groans as he presses his hand to the back of Pippin's head, wanting to hold him in place. Pippin shivers against him, and then he is holding Merry tighter, winding his mouth about Merry's in a way so that Merry can taste him and his breath and it is almost that he can feel his want, desperate and strong, and Pippin is then groaning aloud.

Pippin draws back, eyes wide and bright, face pale and sweet. "Oh – I." He blinks his eyes, mouth set in a frown. He presses himself closer, arms winding so tight, and Merry is worried for his bandages and his hurts, though Pippin doesn't seem to mind.

"Missed you. Have missed you so."

"Pippin – "

"I'm sick of this, I want to move, I want to get out of this bed and I want to be able to walk. I want – " he takes a deep breath, shaking his head and pressing his face against Merry's shoulder. "I love you. Don't ever think I don't."

"I'd be a fool to think you didn't. The King of all fools."

Pippin laughs, and his kiss, then, is sharp and sweet and slow. He presses his nose to Merry's, and he exhales, slowly, and he – twitches, that is the best word, and then he licks the corner of Merry's lips.

"I miss – I miss being touched," he whispers, as if he were still a shy lad, and he's not been shy for years and years. If there is something Merry knows, given that they have been together, Pippin is a bold lover, perhaps even more bold there than he is in his other pursuits.

He nearly laughs. Instead, he says, "Pippin, it would do us no good to be caught – "

"We are alone," Pippin says, entreating him. "Oh, please. There is even oil in the chest at the foot, and you could – use it, Merry, if you'd like." Oh, and he is looking at Merry, almost shy but sly, instead, and how could Merry deny him that, when it is what his body is wanting, too?

"I remember that time in summer, back – oh, it was years ago, I think, and I hadn't seen you for three months, three whole months, and you met me in the stables and you right tossed me up against the wall. Well, you needn't be so forceful, this time, Merry, but I want to feel you – please."

What more must Pippin say? Nothing, at least, when Merry's mouth is suddenly full of his, though there is sense enough about him to be gentle as he pushes Pippin back against the bed. Pippin groans and Merry feels that ripple out through him, and he moves his left hand along the lines of Pippin's body, feeling the sharp edges and the changes, but all through Pippin's nightshirt.

"Sit up," he whispers. Pippin does. He tucks his mouth against Pippin's neck, licking slowly, kissing, and then he draws the nightshirt up, feeling Pippin shiver in the cool spring air. He is a sight beneath it, really, bandages and newly healed scars, but he is beautiful, so beautiful, and it makes Merry ache.

"I want to lick you," he says, and Pippin laughs, mouth quirking in a smile. He eases himself back against the pillow, arms lying limply at his sides. Merry looks from his hand, down his arms, and then he takes in the sight of Pippin's face, the shape of it and the set of his eyes, and the way his mouth is parted, just so.

Merry leans and stretches over Pippin, kissing him on the mouth and then dropping his lips so that they can slide over his collarbone. Pippin's breath sucks in, Merry's tongue licking across a healing line of pink, though he is more intent on the dark smudge of Pippin's nipple. He sets his mouth about it, sucking and then licking, hearing the gasp and groan of Pippin's breath and the pounding of his heart within his chest.

A sigh and then a laugh, and Merry's mouth is moving, touching Pippin all over, wanting and needing to remember, and to see. There are bandages about his sides and Merry draws back on one arm, kissing where Pippin's bellybutton would be, buried beneath stark white cloth.

Even lower, then, and Pippin's breath is harder, harsher, and with a small gasping plea, he says, "must you go so slow?", and Merry almost laughs, but he kisses the soft skin at Pippin's thigh.

"Shush, you. Or else I really will take my time."

Pippin grumbles, and shivers when Merry turns to look at him, as Merry knows that he has just brushed against Pippin, and the look on Pippin's face is steeled determination, in his jaws and in his eyes, which are now shut tight.

He is almost vibrating in impatience. Merry does laugh, and then he turns his mouth to Pippin's skin, licking the softness there and feeling Pippin shiver. Too long and too long still, but Pippin's skin is sweet though somewhat sweaty and it is nice, no, good, no, right, feeling him and hear him as he so softly, like music, groans.

Merry has not teased him near enough, but he does not want to tease him, and he is hard, already, a hardness and a tightness that Merry can feel growing more prominent in his own trousers. He turns, stretching out along Pippin's leg, and he takes him in hand, as Pippin sucks in his breath through clenched teeth.

Smooth and hard, yes, and Merry supports him from the base, licking up the length of it and feeling Pippin against him as he tries not to move, but can't help himself, and then he squirms. And he would go slow, but he can't, and he takes Pippin full in his mouth, sucking hard and moving his hand along him as he does. He can feel the dampness of Pippin's skin and he is drowning in his taste and he breathes in the scent of him, all enough to make Merry reel.

Pippin groans and is gasping and Merry wants to make it harder, wants to make Pippin know, but what could he possibly know that Pippin does not? When Pippin comes, it is with a short hoarse cry, and Merry is drinking him in, feeling the twitch of his body and the tremble of him as he gasped and groaned.

"Merry – "

Merry is off him, then, and gasping himself. He licks his lips, moving slowly up Pippin and then setting a kiss on his mouth. Pippin loops his arms about Merry's shoulders, and holds him in place. Too long and this is right, and he kisses Pippin, slow and sweet and good, and he groans when Pippin sucks his own taste from Merry's tongue, then drawing back and licking his lips.

"Now," Pippin says, "I bet you're wanting for that oil."

Merry laughs, and he nods, and he can feel his want for Pippin itching beneath his skin. He wants to think that things are all right and yes, Frodo and Sam will be waking and they'll see there home, and things can be appreciated without being left to being taken for granted. So he kisses Pippin, lightly, and Pippin is watching him as he moves to the foot of the bed. The chest is there, medicinal supplies and Pippin says, "it's the white one with the brown cork top", and Merry sees it, and takes it, closing the chest, and then he turns and Pippin is grinning at him, flushed and nude and bandaged, yes, but beautiful.

"I love you," he gasps.

And Pippin says, "I love you."

Merry's hand is shaking, and he clenches it in a tight fist until the urge subsides and there is no aching, only fading warmth. "Now," Pippin says, "you need to undress."

Merry doesn't almost laugh, he does, and he nods at Pippin. "You are quite right, cousin," he gasps, already working at buttons and fastenings, and this is the first time that he has seen Pippin naked, since a life before, and it is the first that Pippin has seem him bare, in turn.

There is looking, much looking, and Pippin shivers and then takes the corked oil from where Merry had dropped it (though Merry doesn't remember having dropped it) amidst the covers. Still, Merry is who frees the cork, as Pippin's bandaged hand is no good for such subtle work. Holding himself still, he trembles, and he whispers, taking the vial from Pippin, "I want to feel your hand."

Pippin nods, blushing from exertion, perhaps, and the feel of him is cold shock upon Merry, but good, so good, and he almost then comes undone. But Pippin's hand is warming, and Merry is only growing harder, and he gasps and pants as Pippin's hand works upon him.

"Leave off, Pip, or I'll not – "

Pippin's laugh is merry, tired cheer, and then he's stretching back out, careful against the pillow with his arms stretched up over his head, hands crossed at his wrists.

"Very well. Here I am."

Merry almost throws the oil, but he thinks to return the stopper, at least, before he does. Then he is over Pippin, and Pippin eases his legs as wide as he can and Merry kisses Pippin, hard because he can't help it, though he is gentle as he takes himself in hand, pushing himself against Pippin – into him, and he buries himself in tight, glorious heat, so welcome that he almost comes from the force of it.

But he doesn't, and he would slow himself, so that Pippin would only need take a little at a time, but Pippin hisses and says, "no", and then he lifts his legs with intent to wrap them about Merry's waist. Merry grunts, and Pippin's legs squeeze, and Merry almost laughs.

"On death's doorstep, and yet," he gasps, and then he closes his eyes and thinks, and here they are and Merry was alone, for so long, and he thought that he would be the only one left and that he would go back to their home with nothing but their memories. But – no – he is given this, and all, and –

"Merry – " Pippin's demand shatters thoughts. "Please!"

He can't not give Pippin what he wants, and it's what he wants, as well, and the slide of it is delirious, hot and tight and good, and Merry clenches his jaw tight as he thrusts, slow at first yes but then faster, harder, and he knows he should be slow, that Pippin is still weak and he's been broken and he would not want to injure him, again, but Pippin is holding him so tight and he can't –

Faster and harder and Pippin's mouth is at his ear, voice thick and low and urging him on, and Merry closes his eyes tight with his head bowed against Pippin's chest and then when he comes, it is fast and hard and leaves him panting, with Pippin groaning, and with Merry seeing white stars burning in the darkness behind his eyes.

Then, and he is gasping, too, and he opens his eyes and the air is thin and the light is watery and dim and Pippin is still and panting, his cheeks touched with bright colour, and he is lovely, beautiful, and Merry wishes to tell him how he loves him, as I love you might be simple but it isn't just it.

You're my heart and I almost lost you and not again, Pippin, not ever again –

But he kisses Pippin, instead, and Pippin murmurs against his mouth. "Tired now," Pippin whispers, and Merry chuckles, Pippin's legs finally easing down about him.

"Well, if I were you, I would be, too."

"Would like to sleep. I suppose," and here, Pippin yawns, "I would give Strider such a shock, if he were to find me as such."

Merry laughs, hard, and then he kisses Pippin again. "Then we shall dress, and I shall tuck you beneath the covers, and you shall look your place as a patient still convalescent."

Pippin's right cheek dimples as he smiles. "Oh, but you know the truth."

And Merry laughs again, and they kiss, and then they both touch, amazed to be there, and alive, before Merry reminds Pippin that it really would be for the best if they were to both dress.

They sleep again, together, and when Merry wakes, he recalls that he had thrown the oil across the tent. He slides from Pippin's embrace, though Pippin grumbles and complains. While still sleeping, he says, "Merry, no," and Merry leans and kisses his cheek.

"Worry not, Pippin. I will return."

And he will, but he fetches the oil, first, and then returns it to the chest of necessities at the foot of the bed. The night air is cool and they have slept the day, and Merry smiles, as he smiles as much like Pippin as Pippin now does of him.

He is moving back to the bed when he hears a chuckle and sees a flash of moonlight, and he turns and blushes to his ears when he sees Aragorn standing there at the now opened tent flap.

"Good evening, Strider."

"Good evening, Merry. I hope our patient is resting well."

Pippin grumbles. Merry moves to join Pippin in bed, and Pippin curls close about him when he pulls himself back under the covers. Then, and only then, he says, "he is recovering quite well. Given – well, he'll soon be wanting to walk, and run."

Again, Aragorn chuckles. He comes closer, and Merry kisses Pippin's cheek. "He really is doing quite well, Strider," he says.

"Yes," Aragorn says, and then Merry is blushing again and he hides his face against Pippin's shoulder, face against his nightshirt. "You would know that, would you not?"

"Well," Merry whispers, "he did insist."

"And his body will only grow stronger, dear Merry. And I will have a talk with Gandalf, and see if it is time, yet, for Pippin to come from his bed."

"Well," and Merry turns to look at him, and smiles, "give him that, or he'll be climbing free on his own."

Aragorn laughs, as Merry knows he agrees.

At Gandalf's bidding and Pippin's insistence, Pippin is let from his bed, with Merry there to guide him. His leg is tired and sore, and he has gone too long without walking. Still, the bone is well set, and is healing already, good and straight.

Pippin wants everything, it seems – to see the river, to count the stars, to walk, to talk, and even to sing. It is different now, with Pippin at the river. They sit, and he touches Merry's right hand, holds it with both his own.

"Are you well?" Pippin asks.

Now – he's not alone. "I am."