Reincarnation fic. My first real attempt at Merthur, as the rest of my Merlin fics have been Mergana, but with a bit of bromance. This has past Merlin/Morgana, Merlin/Freya, Merlin/Lancelot, along with brief mentions of Morgana/Gwen and implied Gwaine/Percival. Let me know what you think of it.

Finally

He could see his breath in the cold winter air. Snow fell lightly, the streetlamps casting a soft glow on the empty streets. Christmas was supposed to be a time to spend with family and friends. He had no family, and had only one friend. His hands were in his pockets, his fingers like ice without gloves. He fished out a cigarette and lighter, sticking the cigarette into his mouth, lighting it. He breathed heavily, exhaling smoke from his lips into the frigid night.

He was standing outside a row of flats. Waiting. He had finally found him, his Arthur. Now he just had to wait for him to get home. Morgana had turned up at his house (they've kept in touch these past few centuries with little animosity, and she finally found her brother) and kissed him on the cheek, buzzing with excitement. She hadn't seen the prat in years—she had cause to be happy.

It was unclear if Arthur remembered. He and Morgana were not related in this life, they had met at the grocery store and Morgana cleverly fished information from him.

Merlin was thankful she had found him. He had only seen him once after the end of their lives in Camelot.

The last time he saw the once and future King of Camelot after his death, they had been in the midst of the Great War.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted. He'd recognise that face anywhere.

The tall blond turned around, blue eyes wide, "Merlin," he whispered.

They tried to make their way to one another on the battlefield of France. They were losing men every which way, and tried to run to one another.

Then a shot was fired and Arthur paled. He looked down to see a bullet lodged in his chest.

"ARTHUR!" Merlin pushed past bodies and caught the fallen king as he dropped to the ground.

"Arthur, come on you clotpole, stay with me," Merlin whispered, holding him in his arms, his head resting on his lap.

Arthur smiled a little before wincing in pain, "Same old insults, eh Merlin?"

"Not much has changed," Merlin's eyes began to water.

Arthur nodded and grasped Merlin's hand with his own, "Where have you been?"

"I could ask you the same," he quipped, "I've been looking for you, everywhere. Everywhen."

"Me too. Just kept missing each other, I guess," Arthur smiled at his best friend, eyes fluttering to a close.

"No! Arthur, stay with me. Keep your eyes open, please. I can heal you," Merlin sputtered, placing a hand over Arthur's chest. As time went on, his magic dwindled, but he still had some left. He tried to place his other hand over the wound as well, but Arthur gripped it tightly, not letting go.

"I'm glad you're here, Merlin," Arthur croaked hoarsely, eyes half-lidded. The last image he saw was of Merlin's face above him, tears streaking his pale face.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, "ARTHUR!" he shouted.

Merlin shook his head. That was the last time, the only time, he'd seen Arthur Pendragon. He could hardly believe his ears when Morgana told him the news, and the sorceress and warlock had gotten thoroughly drunk in celebration that they'd found him.

A cab stopped in front of the building, and a tall man in a warm coat came out. He paid the cabbie and turned to go inside, stopping short at the sight of Merlin. His blue eyes widened ever so slightly and he backed away.

"You're not here. I'm imagining things," he muttered. Merlin was not here. He couldn't be. Merlin the last dragon lord was not standing in front of him, cigarette in mouth.

"Arthur," Merlin dropped the cigarette and stepped on it. Arthur stared at him in awe. His imagination was getting the best of him, right?

"Merlin?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded and Arthur stepped forward, clasping his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Two pairs of blue eyes bore into each other and Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't get the words out. Arthur had recognized Morgana. They'd met up two, or perhaps it three times over the years, but he was usually without his sister. She had been happier this time, and Arthur knew why. Merlin.

"I thought I'd lost you," he said quietly.

"I tried to find you. Everywhere, I tried. Morgana tried," Merlin started. Morgana had told him, that night they were drunk, that she had seen Arthur two, maybe three times, back in the 1600s, the 1820s, and once during the Great War. 1917 was the last time all three of them had been alive at the same time and known about it, or had been in the same location.

"Me too," Arthur smiled his little half smile and Merlin grinned. It wasn't too late this time. It was 2012 and they had found each other.

Arthur let go of Merlin's shoulder, taking the warmth away. He climbed up the steps to unlock the door to get inside, and looked over his shoulder.

"Well? Are you coming or not?" Arthur asked.

"Coming, sire," Merlin said before he could stop himself.

Arthur looked at him, a bit stunned.

"Merlin, you're not my manservant," he'd always been more than a manservant, "and I'm not king."

The thinner man looked up at Arthur and followed him up the steps, inside.

Arthur's flat was nice, really nice. He seemed to be doing well for himself in his life. Merlin was suddenly extremely aware of the holes in his coat pockets and worn jumper he wore. Red, with a blue scarf tied tightly around his neck. Morgana had gotten it for him two Christmases ago as a gag gift.

"I miss your uniform," she had said when he regarded her with a raised brow.

He honestly believed he wouldn't have been able to go on as long as he had without Morgana's friendship. Gone were the days when they poisoned one another, kidnapped one another, and tried to kill each other. She'd been there after Arthur died in war, she'd been there after Freya died in 1530, the last time he saw the Druid girl. She'd been there for him after Nimueh left him, after Lancelot died (again), after Gwaine remembered his life and felt like he'd lose his mind, with Percival blaming Merlin for everything that had gone wrong. Similarly, Morgana wouldn't have been able to go on without Merlin's constant companionship.

Arthur shed his coat, hanging it up on a coat rack, and Merlin quickly unbuttoned his and handed it over. Arthur gestured to the couch for Merlin to sit.

"Drinks? Or do you still fall over after a sniff?" he asked, as if nothing had changed at all.

"Shut up," Merlin laughed.

Arthur shuffled into what Merlin guessed was the kitchen and returned with two beers. Merlin took it from him, fingertips lightly brushing up against the former king's hand.

Arthur sat down across from Merlin, the coffee table separating them. They regarded one another in silence for what seemed like an eternity, taking in the difference in each other's appearances. Both appeared to look the same, though Merlin looked worse for the wear. He was thin, as thin as always, dark hair grown into curls around the top of his ears. He had scruff about his jaw and cheeks, eyes tired. Arthur, however, looked exactly the same, down to the lines around his mouth.

"So, what have you been up to?" Merlin asked uneasily, taking a sip of the beer.

"Are you honestly going to ask me mundane questions about my daily life?" Arthur quirked a brow.

Merlin took a long gulp of the amber liquid, frowning.

"I failed, Arthur. My job, my destiny, was to protect you. And I failed," Merlin said.

Arthur licked his lips, "No, Merlin. I failed."

His mind raced with his actions upon the revelation that Merlin was a warlock. How he'd banished him, even with Guinevere pleading him not to. He would never forget the look of hurt and betrayal on Merlin's face. It was the same look Morgana wore when he had insinuated she was not as different as Uther as she'd like to have believed. The two people most important to him, he'd pushed away.

He snorted. Perhaps that was why Morgana and Merlin always seemed to find one another, without him. He clenched his fist at the thought. In this life, Morgana had made some off-hand comments about how she was tired of picking up the pieces of Merlin's broken heart. She had stared right at Arthur, and said,

"But it's the least I can do, making his life hell and all. Besides, his heart was never so broken as it was when he thought you hated him," she said with a sad little grin.

That was when Arthur's own heart cracked. Did Merlin hate him now? Had it been too long for forgiveness? Merlin had come back to Camelot's court and helped him fight against Morgana, but he had seen the broken-hearted look on his face as he stood in front of Morgana, unwilling to kill her.

"Arthur," Merlin started.

"Yeah, Merlin?" Arthur looked up from his lap.

"Do you think things could've been different? If I hadn't kept my magic from you…"

"Maybe we would've had more time?" Arthur asked with a wistful smile.

Merlin nodded and Arthur shook his head, "I was such a prat when we met. I would've had you beheaded."

"Do I know you?"

"No."

"And yet you called me 'friend'?"

"I could never have a friend who could be such an ass."

"Nor I one who could be so stupid."

Arthur smiled, ever so slightly. The brave idiot, his idiotic manservant, his Merlin, was right in front of him. In the flesh. He wasn't hallucinating this time.

"Morgana didn't tell me you remembered," Merlin said upon finishing his bottle. Arthur got up to get him another, and yelled from the kitchen.

"I figured as much."

"She wanted to keep me guessing. Asshole," Merlin mumbled with a grin.

Arthur returned to the sitting room with more beer.

"What exactly is the relationship between you and my sister?" Arthur raised a brow.

Merlin rolled his eyes, "You're not going to give me a brotherly interrogation speech, are you?"

No, he was going to more the 'jealous of his sister' route. After all, she'd spent centuries with Merlin, whereas he got five minutes in his final moments of life.

"We're friends. She's been the only constant friend I've had all these years," Merlin said, grin widening a little.

"You're not, y'know," Arthur said uncomfortably.

Merlin nearly spit out his drink before calming himself.

"No," he shook his head, "well, not anymore."

Arthur stared at him, turning red, "Define 'not any more'."

Merlin uncomfortably explained how with each lifetime he lived, things continually got worse. He finally thought he was happy with Freya, but she and their child died in childbirth. Morgana found him with the help of the few remaining Druids and took care of him in his grief. They were married, once, about a hundred years later, and it was one of the more pleasant lives he lived. In yet another life more, he found himself romantically involved with Lancelot, who was executed for his relationship with an unknown man. Morgana picked up the pieces once more, and watched in horror as love letters to Lancelot were found in his home, leading to his own death.

Merlin rubbed his face wearily, not used to letting Arthur in on the details of his love life, a love life that Arthur had always assumed didn't exist. Upon noting Arthur's nod, Merlin continued.

When Nimueh left him, Morgana retaliated by turning her into a toad until Merlin made her change her back. Then the incident with Gwaine and Percival happened. Morgana had been his rock throughout the mess that was his entire existence. She'd been his emotional, and at times, physical companion, and for that Merlin was thankful. Her lives after Camelot hadn't been a walk in the park, either, considering her distress the two times she lost Gwen, the only times the former Queen was alive (leaving Merlin to pick up the pieces) but that was neither here nor there at the moment. She was glad to take care of Merlin to repent for her misdeeds, and made it her goal to find Arthur. Not just for her to see her brother once more, but for Merlin as well. He and Morgana were lost souls, with no one but each other to rely on. So they tried to make the best of it.

Arthur hadn't lived as many lives as the practitioners of the Old Religion, maybe because he wasn't magical. He wasn't quite sure.

Arthur listened and his heart ached. He could've helped Merlin, been a friend to him. But it wasn't meant to be, it was never meant to be.

"Do you love her?" Arthur asked.

"Of course, but it's not the same," Merlin was on his fifth bottle by now, Arthur on his sixth. He loved Morgana, but the angry, passionate romance they shared briefly when he was in exile and their later marriage was long-gone. After centuries together, they were merely best friends. Nothing more.

"Not the same as what?"

As what I felt, feel, for you, you dollop head, he wanted to say.

The timing had never been right. Arthur had been married to Gwen, and Merlin had been so obsessed with stopping Morgana that he never slowed down to consider his feelings for the king. He had a duty to protect him, it was his destiny, after all. And he had failed anyway.

Merlin looked up from his bottle and blue met blue. He gulped and tried to say something, anything.

"Merlin," Arthur prodded.

Merlin licked his lips and glanced between the clock and Arthur. The clock on the wall read three o'clock in the morning. Had they really been sitting there for that long?

"Merlin," Arthur repeated, tone softer.

"I missed you, Arthur," Merlin said simply, resting his hand on the coffee table.

Arthur reached over and took Merlin's hand in his own, making Merlin jump up a bit.

"Merlin, you're such an idiot," Arthur grumbled in a low voice.

Merlin looked at him in confusion, and Arthur's grip on his hand tightened. It had been over a thousand years since he'd seen Merlin the way he used to be, when they were at Camlann, in the midst of battle. The last time Merlin had held him close was during the Great War, in yet another battle, nearly a century before.

"It's getting late," Merlin gulped. Three o'clock in the morning. Far too late to have this particular conversation.

"Merlin," Arthur said.

"I should get going," Merlin wanted to move his hand away but couldn't quite bring himself to do so.

Arthur was not about to let him leave. Not after all this time. Seeing him for five minutes as he died did not make up for a 1500 years without him and his goofy grin and bright eyes and cheekbones seemingly carved from marble. It'd been too long he'd gone without being insulted or mocked or laughed at, had someone to laugh with.

"Merlin, stay," Arthur's voice was soft.

Merlin nodded silently, Arthur's thumb rubbing Merlin's hand.

For the first time, ever, Arthur had his arms around Merlin. The last time they had been in such close proximity, he was dying from a gunshot wound. This was a much better alternative. His couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable place, but he wouldn't trade the moment for the whole of Albion.

"Merlin," Arthur mumbled into Merlin's shoulder.

"Hmm," Merlin hummed, adjusting himself in Arthur's tight grip.

"I'm glad you're here, Merlin," he whispered.

Merlin opened his eyes, and lifted his head off of Arthur's chest, whose jumper was now rumpled and wrinkled.

"Me too," he grinned cheekily and put his head on his makeshift pillow.

"You spent the night," Arthur smiled broadly, "without hiding under my bed."

"Well I doubt there's wormwood," Merlin grumbled. They had simply fallen asleep on top of each other. They were still clothed. It was innocent, save for a stolen kiss before they fell asleep.

They had finally found each other. They were two side of the same coin, after all. Merlin had always been at his side, and he at Merlin's. Everything was finally right with the world. They still had many things to discuss like what had happened to Arthur the past fifteen centuries, and especially where their relationship now stood. This was more than friendship, much more. But for now, all was well.

Eh. I'm not sure how this was. I doubt they'd jump right into sex, so it's mostly them just being relieved at seeing each other again. Please review.