Disclaimer: IDOM
Surprise! I know you guys probably weren't expecting this, and I hope that you don't mind a new story. A *cough* everyone comes back story. *cough* :D I started this back in January, nearly a month after the series 5 finale so, as you can imagine, I was still full of feels... and this happened. I regret nothing. xD Okay, so, good news, this whole thing was beta'd by CaptainOzone (there needs to be a real life beta-ing award because this girl is amazing.) So, hopefully there won't be too many mistakes. :)
Also, at the moment, I have most of this written... I think. So there'll be (more) regular updates. I'm hoping to post every... Wednesday, if I can.
I really, really hope you guys like this, because this is the first time I've ever tried a return fic. :D
Enough babbling... Go forth, and read!
"There is no death in remembrance. Remember me. Remember me, and a part of me will always be with you."
Prologue
"Stop!" he screamed over the shrill wind. "Stop this, Morgana!"
"Why, Emrys?" she replied, equally loud. "Can't take it?" Shouting a spell, green flames sprouted from her hand, and she drew back her arm.
Merlin instinctively raised his hand, and, without even the need for a spell, a blue shield spread out from his palm. He ducked his head as the flames hissed and spat against the glowing ward.
He glanced behind him to see Arthur looking at him with a look of complete astonishment and confusion and fear, and the knights had a very similar look on their faces. Guinevere's expression was the only one he could draw strength from. Her doe brown eyes, filled with pride and faith - for him - met his for barely a second before the flames evaporated.
"Emrys."
Merlin let the shield down and fixed his gaze on Morgana, whose calm, almost teasing, tone made frustration and annoyance prick at him . The small smile on her thin lips grew, and his brow furrowed in confusion before his eyes were drawn down to her slim hand and the glinting object clutched there. The warlock's eyes widened in horror, and the panic running through him resonated in his timbre as he shouted, "Morgana, no -"
That was when the shot rang out.
That was when Merlin screamed.
Chapter 1: New Beginnings
Merlin still thought of them. No matter how hard he sometimes wanted to forget. Over a thousand years had passed since Arthur's death – since the rest of his friends, too, had all been killed off. Fifteen hundred years. And he still remembered each of their deaths like they were yesterday.
He kicked a stone as a car passed on his right, lights flashing in the gathering twilight, and adjusted his brown canvas shoulder bag strap. He pulled it up further on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the books it held as his warm breath smoked in the cold air.
The warlock snuggled his chin further into his black coat and blue scarf again and was reminded of the WWII style it had with the cashmere strips of fabric that covered the stitch line from his collar to his shoulder and the straps that he bore, in the same fashion, on his forearm. They had no real practical use, Merlin knew, but he was fond of the jacket all the same. He felt the tip of the tall collar brush against his pink-tipped ear and he readjusted his hold on the strap of his seemingly fidgety bag.
A breeze snaked its way through the air from the lake to his left and cut through his loose-fitting, light colored denim jeans, leaving him wondering why he'd decided to walk home from his job in the city anyway. But he knew.
The shrubbery to his left suddenly stopped and gave the warlock a full view of the Lake of Avalon. He walked because he liked to be alone when he came to the lake. And pausing by the lake... It was the least he could do for all his friends. In honor of their memory, and as a memorial to the time he'd waited for them. How he continued to wait for them.
He stopped, as he always did and bowed his head as his heels twisted to face the the water. The sun was still setting, and the remaining bluish-purple light made the slow flowing water look black. The warlock felt a wave of nostalgia as his topaz blue eyes roved the lake and rested on the weather beaten monument on the large island in the center of the Lake.
Merlin walked forward until the dark water was reaching out for the tips of his black trainers, and another breeze washed over him, ruffling his short, obsidian colored hair and making his pale face flush a light pink with the nipping chill. He blinked, feeling the usual tears pushing against the backs of his eyes. "I'm still here, Arthur. I'm still waiting."
A sudden gust of wind blew his tears away and dried his eyes again, making him remember everything he'd been through, all the people he'd lost – and then making his mind question why he was crying over something seemingly so small; the death of a few friends – while the other side of his mind screamed at him that they weren't just his friends. They were his family.
"Colin!" someone shouted. "Colin Jones?"
Merlin's head snapped up in surprise, answering to the alias he'd been going under for the past eight years. He turned around and narrowed his eyes, seeing a long black car resting along the side of the road a few dozen feet away. A single man stood outside the car, dressed in a business-like suit with his thinning brown hair brushed straight back from his aged face.
The warlock, with one last wistful look at the cold lake as a pit in his heart widened, he turned, and walked back up the small incline to the man. Once there, he adjusted his shoulder strap again before sticking out his hand.
"Commissioner," he said.
The man, who had to be somewhere within his sixties now, clasped Merlin's hand in his and shook. "Please, Merlin, I've known you too long for that title."
Merlin even felt a small smile pulling at his lips as a light came on in his eyes, making the Commissioner smile further. Jonathan Daniels, head Commissioner at the New Scotland Yard, knew his secret.
One of the few people who did.
They'd fought together in the Korean War, sort of anyway. Daniels and his team had been patients in the MASH hospital Merlin had worked at near the front lines in Korea. Only a few days after their arrival, there'd been threats of an airstrike and, with orders to bug out, the camp packed up to move. Daniels, his team, and Merlin had somehow been separated from the rest of the entourage, and they'd been forced to hide in a cave due to the men's injuries. Daniels had almost died of infection, and Merlin, desperate for all the deaths to stop, used his magic to heal him, ultimately revealing it to Daniels and his platoon: the only people who knew about Merlin and his secret.
After the incident, they'd kept in touch for a while, gone on a few more missions with their self-proclaimed -soon official- team as they were recruited by MI6, until ties broke and some members of the platoon died later in the war, others heading off to continue their duties elsewhere. Daniels was the only one who'd stayed in London after all these years, keeping an eye on Merlin while running a branch of Scotland Yard.
The Commissioner let his hand fall, and he slipped it back into his pocket as another breeze whipped past them. "You haven't changed a bit," he noted with a wry grin.
Merlin's eyes flashed with hidden pain – the reminder of his 'gift,' or curse, depending on how you looked at it. "You have," he replied shortly.
John laughed and put a hand to his bulging belly. "Time has been good to me – a little too good, don't you think?"
The warlock let out a small chuckle as genuine amusement and fondness filtered its way into his dark eyes. John's smile widened as his success. It was no easy task to get Merlin to smile genuinely, not back then, and certainly not now, he should think. Another torrent of wind cut through their clothing and made Merlin shiver. John motioned towards the car, raised his eyebrows, and at the warlock's small nod, he opened the door, climbed in, and heard Merlin shut the door behind him.
Here, in the more darkened space, John looked at his friend, and, surprisingly, could see his emotions better than in the light. Merlin had always been good at hiding his feelings – his true feelings- but when Daniels searched his face, he wasn't surprised at what he saw: pain, loneliness, light shadows under his eyes and around his soaring cheekbones that showed he was deprived of sleep. He was the man who never aged even as the world turned, and tilted, and grew old around him, suffering as the years passed even though he retained the looks of a man no older than twenty-three.
With a stone of concern settling itself in his stomach, he faced forward and called to the driver, "37649 Albion Street."
Merlin smirked at the street which he himself had had the pleasure of naming hundreds of years ago, and sat back in his black leather seat as the car lurched forward. He slipped off the shoulder strap of his bag and set it on the floor as the chilled leather of the seat creaked. He felt another bout of nostalgia as he wondered what Arthur would think of automobiles; vehicles that moved without the strength of horses. He wondered what Gwen would think of them.
"So, how've you been, Merlin?"
Merlin's blue eyes settled on John as the car drove over a hole, making the car lurch sideways momentarily. "Fine; the usual."
John frowned, eyes glinting with anxiety. "The usual isn't ever good. Especially your usual."
The warlock grinned minutely. "I'm fine, John, really."
The Commissioner pursed his lips but didn't push it further. "How's your job going?"
Merlin's mind traced its way back into London, where he worked as a doctor at one of the major hospitals a few blocks from the River Thames – easily named the Thames Memorial. "You know… it's been a little lighter for a bit – nothing major." Then, turning towards the his friend, "You would know, you keep tabs on me, don't you?"
The man blinked and nodded shortly. "Not all the time, just so I know you're okay."
Merlin rubbed his face. "I'm never okay, John, you should know that. But then, I'm always okay, aren't I?"
John's mood shifted and sadness filled his heart. He'd known Merlin for a long time, and as the years passed, he'd only seen his friend slowly crumble under the weight of the world as he watched Merlin steadily lose hope. He was waiting for something to happen, John knew, but Merlin would never tell him what – he never told anyone. But whatever it was, John knew that it was long past due, and that Merlin had just about lost hope that whatever it was would still happen.
The car stopped, and John looked to his right at the small cottage type house that Merlin currently resided in. He took in the familiar stonework and the old, chipped white paint on the fence that separated his yard from the street. A large weeping willow grew in one of the corners of the yard as more another tree grew on the other side, casting deep shadows across the ankle length green grass, even darker now that it was night.
A car door opened – Merlin's side – and he grabbed his canvas bag with his right hand before leaning back in the car, black hair shining almost bluish in the dark. "Come on in, John. I can't imagine you stopped by just to see how I was doing. We can talk inside."
John smirked and opened his own side, groaning as his old limbs creaked. He stood and pulled his woolen trench coat down before turning around and looking over the top of the limo to see Merlin staring at him with sad eyes.
"Merlin?"
Merlin flinched and was shaken out of his melancholy daydream at his name. It felt so good to be called by the name his mother gave him, but it hurt to be called that too because he knew that one day, John wouldn't be there to call him that. Most of their team was already gone, and because of his observations of John – the groaning limbs, the slight limp in his walk, the hint of sickness in his pained grey eyes – he was hit with the reality that John too, wouldn't live forever.
The warlock walked around the car and opened the creaky gate, "Come on. I'll get some tea going. Do you still drink Irish Breakfast Tea?"
The Commissioner smiled and followed his young looking friend. "Always."
Merlin walked along the stone pathway and jumped up the three steps towards his thick oak door. He put his right hand over the doorknob, flicked his wrist, and unlocked it as his eyes flashed honey-gold in the dark. He never carried keys; never needed them.
Behind him, John chuckled at the use of magic and trailed behind the warlock as he entered his dark, cold house, flashed his eyes again, and saw dozens of candles suddenly flicker alive and cast sharp shadows around the room while other parts were dappled with bright orange light.
Merlin set his bag down in one of the chairs at the table, shed his cashmere black jacket and indigo colored scarf, and walked over to the fireplace. He reached in and set new logs in before lighting that too, with magic. He crossed his kitchen, towards the stove, and set the kettle on while motioning towards a chair for John to sit. He did, and Merlin sat across from him while they waited for the kettle to begin boiling.
"So, what can I help you with?" Merlin asked politely.
John looked at his hands and unwrapped his own plaid scarf and jacket, sitting it beside him on the table. His face was grim, eyes dark and sad, making Merlin's brow furrow with curiosity and concern.
He refused to meet Merlin's gaze. "I'm afraid I don't bring very cheery news, my friend."
Merlin felt a fleeting smile pull at his lips. "When is anything cheery these days, John?"
The Commissioner chuckled lightly and leaned further on the table, frowning seriously again. "Merlin, listen… I… I thought you of all people deserved to know that I've…"
Merlin felt a stone of uncertainty in his gut and he leaned forward, eyes open and prepared for the worst. "What it is?"
"I was just… yesterday," he fumbled for words before finally just saying it outright, "I was diagnosed with cancer."
And just like that, Merlin felt a blow to the chest and buried his head in his hands as his long fingers squeezed his hair. John reached out to catch his hand, but hesitated, wondering if it would only make it worse as the man started to shake ever so slightly.
"John, you can't – not you too."
"Hey now, they said I still have years, Merlin," he tried. The warlock looked up, pain in his bright topaz eyes as John's grey-green ones danced with pity and concern. He paused for a moment, waiting for Merlin to calm a little, and then softly adding: "I'll still be haunting you for years to come."
The warlock swiped at his eyes, chuckling darkly, and stood abruptly as the kettle started to whistle. John watched him fumble through his cupboards with shaky hands, and retrieve two coffee mugs before setting tea bags in them and filing them with steaming water. Then he walked back to the table and set John's cup before him.
"Thanks," he offered.
Merlin smiled thinly and took a sip from his own. "And thank you… for telling me."
The Commissioner gave him a fleeting grin. "I thought you deserved as much, after everything. And I wanted you to hear it from me rather than someone at the hospital."
Merlin looked up at him. "You were tested Thames Memorial?"
"No," he answered, "but you know how things go around."
The warlock nodded and took another sip of his black tea. He let his eyes rove about his small cottage as his fingers danced on his oak-wood table. The room they were in now combined the kitchen and the dining room, and then, to the left if you were walking in through the front door, was the living room, furnished with a single couch and a desk, along with an easel and a few of his paintings stacked along the wall.
He let a small, wistful smile grace his lips as he remembered how he got into artwork in the first place. There hadn't been time – or interest – in it in Camelot, but after he'd finally left the kingdom and traveled abroad, he was quickly pulled into the different cultures and as he began to do artwork of his own, he found it hard to stop. The smile faded as Merlin realized that that was probably the one thing about him that hadn't changed in the past thousand or so years – other than waiting for his friends' return, of course.
Then his eyes roved the spiraling staircase that was in the corner of his living room that led up to his loft – his bedroom. He knew without looking that he would find more of his artwork – this time his sketchbook and a few charcoal pictures – and his twin size bed and beside that, a dresser, filled with simple yet comfortable clothing.
He brought his attention back to where they were, and noticed John's fidgeting fingers, and the way his eyes had glazed over as he stared into his tea in thought.
"John?" he asked softly.
The elderly man was snapped from his daydream and, eyes clear once more, he turned to the warlock and his forehead crinkled as he raised his brow in question, only reminding Merlin just how old his friend was, and sending another jab to his heart.
"There's something else, isn't there?"
John dropped his gaze and reaffirmed his grip on his cup. Merlin saw goosebumps weasel their way up his hands, and he imagined, his arms. The man ran a hand over his thinning brown-ish silver hair and sighed. "Yes, there is."
Merlin's eyes hardened as he felt his heart jump. "And?"
"Listen, Merlin, I don't know if you'd be interested, but I have a job for you," he said carefully, as if one word would instantly make the warlock reject the idea.
Merlin gripped his own cup with his slender fingers, the mug reflected in his dark blue eyes. "I don't work for MI6 anymore, John, you know that - nor MI5, or whatever you call your agencies now."
"No," the Commissioner shook his head. "It's nothing like that – nothing like what we used to do. It's just a position - and you'd be under my jurisdiction."
"At Scotland Yard?"
"Yes, -"
"- John, I have a job -"
"Will you just hear me out?"
Merlin sighed and glanced into his cup as silence overtook the room. John began speaking again.
"It's just a temp job. If you like it, you can keep it, but there's an inspector who needs a new partner, well sort of - now wait," he said as Merlin opened his mouth to speak again, "it's nothing like you think. You'd be working as a doctor, nothing more."
Merlin's ebony eyebrows came together. "He's a patient?"
John shook his head. "No, but he needs a partner, and I thought that, considering he's an inspector, I thought a doctor – who's had both MI5 and 6 training – would be useful."
"So I'm going to be there as…?"
"A consultant," John clarified. "To help him and his team on their cases."
Merlin's eyes swam with a curiosity John hadn't seen in a while. "Team?"
The Commissioner smirked. "Yes, Merlin, everyone works in teams these days."
"So," Merlin said, eyebrow quirked, "I'll pretty much be babysitting a bunch of inspectors?"
"Well, only the one is an inspector, the others are sergeants under his command."
The warlock cupped the side of his face with his hand, a small – but significant for him – amount of amusement filtering through his eyes. "What's he like, this inspector?"
John smirked. "He's arrogant; I can say that much about him."
Merlin grinned slightly, thinking of another – a certain other – arrogant prince.
"But he's a good man. He takes risks to get the job done sometimes, but he'd never place any member of his team in danger. He has a strong sense of loyalty and honor. The man reminds me a lot of you, actually," he smiled.
The warlock smiled with nostalgia as the man's description also reminded him of a certain prince turned king. John leaned forward a little more.
"And, Merlin, I would count it as a personal favor to me if you took the job." He gestured to himself. "I'm not going to be around forever, and I need to know that you have other friends you can turn to."
Merlin's eyes flooded with understanding and also with sadness. "John -"
"Please, Merlin, just this."
The warlock swallowed and sat back in his chair, twirling his dark colored tea in its ceramic mug as his mind mulled it over. He thought it was very kind of John – to want to know that he'd be okay after he passes – but would it be worth the pain? Even if he did make friends with these new people, he knew they too, would pass one day, leaving him behind again – as per usual.
All he'd done the past decade was avoid friendships like those – except for John – so that he wouldn't feel that pain, that numbness, again. Because every loss was another name on the list – and there were already far too many names. Loneliness washed over him again as he thought about his lost friends throughout the ages. There were so many people who had broken through his barriers and an equal number of people dead.
But what about John? He wanted this for Merlin, and the warlock knew that he'd probably thought the same thing he was thinking about now. John was a good man, and Merlin knew he didn't make decisions lightly – he couldn't, being the Commissioner at Scotland Yard. He mulled things over first and did what he thought was best. And if he was here now…
The warlock reached for the loneliness in his heart and knew, as much as John did, that he would never survive without friends. He would crumble away into nothing but a shell. He nearly had done once, until a young orphan child – one who Merlin later took under his wing as his own – had drawn him out again, showed him the goodness that still remained in the world. He needed a friend. He would need a friend while he waited for his true friends to return.
Merlin pursed his lips. "Okay. I'll take it if it means so much to you."
The man let out a whoop of relieved laughter. "Thank you, Merlin. It does." A companionable silence elapsed before they chatted about nothing of consequence: the weather, Merlin's newest paintings, and shortly after, John stood. "Well then, I had better get going."
A hidden sadness swept through Merlin's blue eyes. "So soon?"
The man slipped his scarf around his head. "I'm afraid so. I have to get all the paperwork in order for your arrival." He had difficulty getting his jacket on, and Merlin was there in a second, helping his arm through the armlet as the older man grinned his thankfulness. "Just go to the hospital tomorrow and collect your last check – you'll be on my payroll from now on. Then, you can stop by my office tomorrow and meet the team. Be there by noon, I'll make sure everyone's there."
He turned away and clasped his friends forearm before drawing him into an embrace. Merlin clung to him tightly as if it was the last time he'd see him again. He knew it wouldn't be, but all the same, it hurt to see him go.
Merlin pulled back and escorted the man towards the door before opening it for him. "Thank you for stopping by," he said genuinely.
John turned to him as the now dark night washed over them both as they stood on Merlin's short stone porch. "It was my pleasure, old friend. Is there anything I can do for you?"
The warlock smirked, thinking how he asked that every time he paid him a visit – even if it was just to drop off his check from the hospital personally. "Are you ever going to get used to asking that?" he teased.
The Commissioner smiled. "Never. If you need anything, anything at all, call me. And if it's two in the morning… call my secretary and set up an appointment."
Merlin let out a laugh and pulled his friend into a hug once more as the buzzing of cicadas and the song of crickets reached their ears. "It's always good to see you, John."
He grinned and finally, they said their goodbyes, and Merlin watched as the car's scarlet tail lights faded along the dark winding country road. The warlock looked at the sky and smiled longingly at the purplish-blue smears of galaxies and glistening, burning white stars that were held captive within the deeply blue blanket of night. And it was only when Merlin looked out towards the never-ending sky that he ever felt any amount of peace. He didn't know why, but he did, and it helped.
And so, taking a deep breath of the chilly and utterly refreshing night air, he let it out slowly before he opened his eyes again – which were slightly lit with new determination and purpose that he hadn't had in years - and walked back into his warm cottage of a home, and dressed for bed, preparing to start his new adventure.
Okay... so... how did you like it? And, just to reassure you real fast, at the moment, there are thirteen more chapters already written, and they're still coming. So, yeah... (hopefully; unless the world comes crashing down around me) regular updates. I hope you liked, and I hope you stick around! The next chapter will have Arthur and well... everyone else in it. We'll get some background and see what they're doing in this modern world. :D
Bye for now, guys! Please review!
