Merlin swirled his quickly-cooling coffee as he gazed out across the lake for perhaps the billionth time in the past thousand years. After all, he spent most of his time there since Arthur's death, the words of the dragon propelling him to its banks for years on end. When Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. Merlin gazed sullenly at the still trees, glowering at the calm chirping of sparrows as they prepared to leave for the winter. He almost wished for a grand catastrophe, for murders taking over the news industry, screams in the distance, anything to signify Arthur's return. He had a full knowledge of the morbidness of this wish, and would never have wished it in his youthful state, mucking out stables. Over the past couple of years, he had become frustrated with spending days on the same rock on the banks of the same lake, gazing out at the same spire. It was made worse when he remembered Arthur's glassy, lightless eyes gazing at him before Merlin laid a hand on his icy skin and shut his lids. When he remembered the crimson flames eating up the Camelot crest, singing the golden hair, before completely consuming his best friend, and making everything they shared meaningless.
Merlin shut his eyes against the sudden tears, wiping them on his navy-blue t-shirt. He drained the last dregs of his coffee, crumpled up the styrofoam cup, and stuffed it in his pocket. He rose to his feet, stretching. He supposed he should go to work, but then he would have to endure Elyssa, a shamelessly flirtatious nurse, who had been trying to rope him into dinner for weeks. In truth, he would sell his own soul to avoid dinner with her. The woman always left her shirt buttoned just low enough to be suggestive, but not against the dress code, wore these ridiculously tall, firetruck-red high heels that made her gait louder than a dragon walking across dead leaves. Her lips were the same color as her shoes, which seriously clashed with her swamp-green eyes. Merlin liked to think that her laugh sounded like an asthmatic walrus begging for food, which made him smile when she did so. Unfortunately, she took that as encouragement and forcefully wrote her number on his hand. Merlin chuckled to himself. He never thought pushy women would be a problem.
Rather than write a report on his most recent diagnosis, he decided to walk down the banks for a while, possibly scope out a new place to linger and watch. So he wandered, picking little red posies along the way, and idly weaving them together. He wondered how he would know if Arthur were to return. For the sake of dramatics, he imaged that it would be accompanied by an astronomically loud explosion, accompanied by a blast of light.
Well, in short, that's what he got.
A bright light briefly overwhelmed Merlin's senses, causing him to throw his arms up in protection. Yes, the loud noise was there too, but not the kind Merlin expected. It was a sort of wheezing, as if the sky had contracted a serious case of the cold. Why would the sky wheeze when Arthur returned? Merlin was sure Arthur would be quite offended by the predicament.
Merlin blinked the spots from his eyes in time to see the strangest sight he had ever beheld. A bright blue police box from the 1940's doing cartwheels through the air without any apparent support. Merlin had used a telephone box on more than one occasion, but he had never thought he would see one performing level 10 gymnastics. That's when he noticed the black smoke pouring out of the crack between the doors, which only made his heart beat faster than it already was, and heightened his level of anxiety, but also curiosity.
After completing a rather impressive triple pirouette, the phone box began to hurtle towards the ground. Merlin watched in helpless confusion as the box crashed to earth with a resounding BOOM, digging into the ground until it stood, lopsided.
After a moment of steady smoking and flaming, the door to the box flew open, accompanied with a burst of steam. A figure tumbled out of it, brown fabric flapping haphazardly as it rolled. A rather sweaty man stood, straightening his robe as he rose. He was about 6 feet tall, astronomically thin, with a mop of mousy brown hair sticking up every which way.
He shook his head to clear it, then pivoted on the spot, viewing the crash sight. He put hands angrily on his hips as a splinter of wood split off the frame with a creak and a snap.
"Come on, old girl," he crooned softly, resting his hand on the door. All at once, something exploded inside, and the box was engulfed in flames. The man reeled pack in panic screaming, "MY TARDIS! NO, NO, NO, THIS IS THE SECOND TIME THIS MONTH!" He continued to scream as he tugged a bucket from inside the box, and began to throw water over the burning wreckage.
Merlin watched the whole ordeal with his jaw on the floor. The sight was just so bizarre, a monk throwing water over a 1940's telephone box that just crashed from on high, which had been doing unsupported aerial ballet not two minutes ago.
The man finished extinguishing the flames, dropped the bucket on the ground, and collapsed next to the box in exhaustion. It was then that he noticed Merlin.
"Oi, what are you doing here?" The man glared at Merlin somewhat defensively.
"This is a public area, you know," retorted Merlin weakly. The man eyed the city behind Merlin's shoulder, and the signs against littering spaced across the rocks.
"Well, so it is," The man leapt to his feet then, surprising Merlin when he took his hand and shook it vigorously. "Well then, 'allo mate. I'm The Doctor." The man said this quite quickly, and Merlin had to strain to distinguish one word from another. The sudden change in mood left him off-balance.
"Doctor who?" Merlin sputtered as he gingerly pulled his hand away. The Doctor flashed a toothy grin as he started to struggle out of his monk's garb.
"I love it when they ask that," he said, yanking the robe over his head. Underneath it he was wearing a beige suit with a vibrantly red bowtie. His hair now stuck straight up with renewed vigor.
"All right, but honestly, who are you?"
"The Doctor."
"Ok, you're a doctor, so am I, but what's your name?"
"...The Doctor."
"Honestly, now you're having a go at me. Seriously now."
"The. Doctor."
"I heard you the first time-"
"The Doctor. That's my name. Just the Doctor. Always has been always will be."
"But-"
"The Doctor. Now shut up and let me fix my TARDIS." He turned and started to walk away. But then he stopped, pivoted and walked back. "Before you shut up and I go fix my TARDIS, who are you?"
Merlin smirked mischievously. "What kind of a fool's question is that? I am who I am, I am who I was, and I am who I will always be." The Doctor glared at him.
"And you accuse me of having a go at you?"
"Well, I'll stop having a go at you if you stop having a go at me and tell me your name."
"I did!"
"That's not a name, you clotpole!"
"Well, it's my name you… imbecile! What's your name?" Merlin crossed his arms stubbornly. "All right, if you really want me to tell you my name, you're going to have to fix the universe when it splits in half." Merlin simply stared at the man in bewilderment. The Doctor stared right back.
"I'm Mer-- Martin. Yes, Martin is my name," said Merlin in an attempt to break the silence. He flinched. He was never a good liar, yet people seemed to buy his excuses all the time. He hoped that this man would do the same. The Doctor stared at him for a moment before a smile split his face. Then, he doubled over laughing. Merlin could not imagine what was so amusing. There were thousands of people in the world with the name of Martin. That's what he went by at work, and nobody else started laughing when he introduced himself.
"Sorry," panted the Doctor, wiping tears from his eyes. "I just bet my friend Amy-" His face hardened. He had to stop changing emotions so quickly, or Merlin would jump in the lake. Thankfully, the Doctor shook it off and smiled again. "But really? Martin? That's the best you could do?"
"What's wrong with Martin?"
"Nothing's wrong with Martin, it's a fantastic name, you just looked up into the heavens as if you were asking God what your name was. He obviously didn't tell you, because you looked just as confused when you told it to me." Merlin glared so hard at the Doctor, he was surprised he didn't flinch in pain.
"Merlin," he growled, "My name is Merlin." The Doctor's eyes widened. Then he started bouncing in place, which caused Merlin to back away a couple of steps.
"NO WAY!" yelled the Doctor. "Like the Merlin? Is this the Lake of Avalon?!" He spun around, taking in all the sights around him, drinking in every detail.
"Of course not the Merlin, do I look like an old wizard with a beard?" laughed Merlin awkwardly. "I don't go about wearing a pointy hat, I mean, that Merlin's just a myth, isn't he?"
"Well, judging by your uncomfortable look, I'd say not!" The Doctor then began to bombard him with questions, enough to fill a list (no really, he pulled a list out of his jacket pocket). When the Doctor paused for breath, Merlin put up a hand to stop the tirade.
"I need a drink." Then, he walked in the direction of his house, the Doctor bouncing behind him like an overexcited puppy.
