They found him wandering around on the road, his clothes soaked and starting to freeze. He was shivering, his skin purpling, and he looked as though he were about to die. They took him in, gave him something hot to drink, and wrapped him up in as many blankets as they could.
When he woke up he was confused and frightened, but he could speak. He told them his name was Arthur, and that he didn't know where he was. He needed to get home, to Camelot he kept saying. He didn't seem to know anything about his true past. When they asked him if he needed to call anyone he blinked at them like he had no idea what they were talking about.
A few weeks went by, during which they taught Arthur how to live in this world. He mastered how to use things like the toaster and the microwave, but he still was mesmerized every time he turned on the television.
They tried to track down Arthur's family, trying to figure out where he came from and what his real name was. Arthur insisted that his name really was Arthur Pendragon, that he was from Camelot, apparently a long time ago. He had a wife named Guinevere, and knights, and a servant named Merlin who was a sorcerer and his best friend. Nothing they said could convince Arthur that none of this was possible.
They considered taking him to a mental hospital, but they could never bring themselves to do it. He didn't seem harmful at all when they looked at him. He was kind, and would even be smart if it weren't for the delusions of an impossible past and his lack of knowledge about the modern world. But he spoke of nobility and honor, seemed to know everything there was to know about right and wrong. In his heart he seemed to be a good man. So they let him stay, letting him sleep on the couch as long as he helped out around the house.
Four weeks after they rescued him from the road, they decided Arthur was ready to start working. He had enough knowledge now to do a basic manual job. They took him to the local mall and secured him a job as Santa.
It took a long time to explain to Arthur the concept of a man with reindeer going into kid's houses at night and leaving presents, and then to explain all the traditions of Christmas, but once it was all understood Arthur seemed okay with it. He looked a little panicked when he was told he would be interacting with lots of small children. He had never really spoken to a child before, he told them. Back in Camelot he was too busy being king to have time to know any of the children. Some of the knights had kids, he said, but he and Guinevere had never had a son or daughter.
They patted his arm and told him he would do just fine.
Arthur did a fine job. He was a bit young to really look like Santa Claus, but the small children were so awed by the bright red suit and the fake snow that surrounded him that they didn't notice. One by one they clambered onto his lap, and Arthur would ask them what they would like. The children all adored him, and by the end of each day Arthur was tired but had a happy twinkle in his eye.
One child asked Arthur what he would like for Christmas. Arthur seemed taken aback. He thought about it, then finally told the little girl that he had left his home, and what he wanted most in the whole world was to have his friends back. The girl seemed confused, then told him she would like a puppy if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Arthur chuckled as merrily as he could and told her he would try his best.
A week went by. Arthur gave the money he earned to his new friends, and they bought him an ugly Christmas sweater, for your first Christmas, they said. They also bought him a cheap plastic crown. It made him smile.
It was Christmas Eve. Arthur had spent all day at the mall entertaining the children, and he was tired. He wanted to go home and have some of that hot chocolate he had just discovered, but his new friends were late picking him up from the mall. Arthur waited in the back entrance, still in his full Santa outfit, beard and hat and all.
The place was deserted, the lights of the shops shutting off one by one. The only people in the room were him and the janitor, mopping the floor in slow, methodical circles.
"Working on Christmas Eve, eh?" Arthur said to him, trying to use the modern language he'd heard.
"Yeah," The janitor said, shrugging. "It's fine though, I haven't got a family to celebrate with anyway."
"Neither do I," Arthur said, "But I've got some friends that I'm staying with."
The janitor didn't look up and dipped his mop in his bucket. "I don't have many friends either."
"Shame."
There was a short stretch of silence. Arthur watched the janitor mop the floor. He was young, and had a tired slump about his shoulders, as though he never got as much sleep as he was supposed to. There was something familiar about him too, but Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Bet you're glad to get off work though," the janitor said, "All those kids must be hard to work with all the time."
"They're not so bad," Arthur said, peering at the janitor, "At first I was scared because I'd never really worked with kids before, but it became fun after a while. It's nice to hear all their stories."
"What was the most popular thing they wanted?"
Something about the janitor's voice, Arthur thought, was stirring something in his memory. The angle of his profile, the lilt in his voice, it was all achingly familiar, and yet…
"A puppy," he said, "Or a little sibling."
The janitor laughed again, and looked up to meet Arthur's eyes.
Arthur stifled a gasp. He knew those eyes anywhere. Merlin.
"Too bad Santa can't put those under the tree."
Merlin. This janitor was Merlin. Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.
"Well, maybe if Santa used some magic he could do it."
Merlin smiled softly at that. "Magic can't do everything."
"It can do a lot."
"Right." Merlin cocked his head. "So what do you want for Christmas then?"
Arthur shrugged. "This and that," he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "What about you"
Merlin's smile faded. "What I want can't really be delivered under a tree."
"Even with magic?"
"Not even magic could get me this."
"Must be important."
"More than you could ever believe." Merlin's eyes unfocused, like he was imagining a different world.
"Well, what is it?" Arthur demanded.
"Do you really want to know?"
"I'm Santa, you have to tell me."
Merlin sighed, but didn't seem annoyed. "Fine."
He took a deep breath. "I had a friend, a long time ago. His name was Arthur. He was my best friend. He died, and I couldn't save him." Merlin's face had a faraway look, and he was no longer smiling. "More than anything I want him back. At least so I could tell him I miss him, the prat."
Arthur nearly burst out of his skin. This truly was Merlin, his Merlin, here in the modern world. And Merlin still missed him after all this time.
Arthur approached him on shaking feet. Merlin blinked and refocused, expression turning confused. Under the bushy fake beard and bright red Santa suit, Arthur supposed Merlin wouldn't recognize him.
"What if magic could bring him back?" Arthur said, "What if the same magic that you posses could somehow bring Arthur back to life?"
Merlin's eyes widened. "What—"
"Merlin," Arthur said, but stopped since he found he didn't know what to say.
Merlin paled. "How do you know my name?"
Without speaking, Arthur lifted his hands and removed the hat from his head. Then he tugged the beard free to that it hung around his chest, putting his face completely on display.
Merlin looked as though someone had punched him. His mouth opened and closed and opened again, eyes bulging, until finally he managed to whisper, "Arthur?"
"Merlin," Arthur smiled in relief, "It's been a while."
The hug that followed nearly broke Arthur's ribs, but he returned it with enthusiasm anyway.
"I missed you so much, you idiot," Merlin said.
"It's good to be back."
There was the sound of the door opening, and they broke apart.
Arthur's new friend was standing in the doorway.
"Friend of yours, Arthur?"
"This is Merlin," Arthur said, not letting go, "The Merlin. I told you he was real."
She looked shocked, and started eyeing Merlin as though he might be crazy too.
"Have you been taking care of him?" Merlin asked. She nodded. "Thank you so much. I have a place for him now, he'll have a bed and everything."
"Arthur, are you sure…"
"I'll be fine," Arthur reassured her. "Thank you for everything you've done. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the week's paycheck. He handed it to her. "I can never repay you for caring for me, but you have my gratitude. I'm forever in your debt."
The check wasn't for much, but she seemed reluctant to take it all the same. "Arthur…" She looked from Merlin to Arthur to Merlin again, eyeing him dubiously.
"Don't worry, I'm his friend," Merlin said. The smile on his face was big enough to blind someone. "I'll make sure he manages. It's what I'm here for."
"I'm not sure—"
"I'm going with Merlin," Arthur said, "I've told you before, Merlin was my best friend in Camelot. I trust him with my life."
She sighed. "If you're sure, then."
He stuck out his hand for her to shake. "Thank you for all that you've done."
She took it. "It was nice meeting you Arthur. Good luck."
Sending one final look in Merlin's direction, she turned and left. They watched her get into her car and drive away.
"Come on," Merlin said, "I'll show you my flat. I've got your bed all ready."
"You do?" Arthur asked, surprised. Merlin looked sheepish.
"I always have it ready for you."
Arthur grinned and nudged Merlin with his elbow. "Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin smiled in return. "Took you long enough."