Disclaimer: IDOM

Author's Note: It's been awhile, hasn't it? :D I haven't posted anything for Merlin since February! Hope you guys didn't miss me too much. ;)

This modern-reincarnation-reunion-AU oneshot is a birthday gift for my dear friend Ocean Mint Leaves. Ocean: I'm sorry it's late! I love you and can't tell you in words how glad I am to have met you. Your friendship is invaluable, and you've inspired me in more ways than one. I'll have you know, I listened to "Eric's Song" by Vienna Teng on repeat while writing this and thought of you the whole time. *hugs*

Important: Most of the characters have been renamed with their respective actor's/actress' name (i.e. Katie is Morgana, Eoin is Gwaine, ect) and are not meant to be a reflection of those actors/actresses. Arthur's full name in this AU is Bradley Penn. Gwen and Percy are the only two that retained their Camelotian names because I felt like it.

"Strange how I fit into you
There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease
Strange how you fit into me
A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs"

-Vienna Teng: Eric's Song

~Incomplete~

"Hang on, hang on!" he hollered, throwing himself across the bed to grab the bag, which, of course, just had to be on the opposite end. He rolled off and, in his haste, nearly tripped over the massive pile of dirty laundry at the foot of the other twin bed in the room. "MACKEN!" he shouted as he caught himself. "Honestly!"

His roommate sauntered in almost immediately, the picture of false innocence. Pushing his sunglasses off his face and into his dark hair, he cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I thought you meant to do this lot last night!" He gestured around at the messier side of the room. "It nearly swallowed me whole just then!"

Eoin rolled his eyes. "If it did, it would do us all a favor, I'm sure. Now come onalready! Everyone's waiting on you, Your Highness."

Annoyance stirred in him at the nickname, but before he could tell him off, Eoin leapt over the monster of a hazard and started to push at his back. "Alright, alright, ge'off," he exclaimed, twisting around to shove back at him. He only managed to avoid a noogie by throwing the canvas bag at Eoin's gut as hard as he could. "You're the Irish boy who burns the second he steps outside. Forgive me for going back for the sunscreen and towels."

"Yeah, yeah, Brad." Eoin slung the bag over his shoulder and flipped the glasses down. "Come on! Get that stick out of your arse. Exams are over, and we have the week off practice! Whooooooo!"

Bradley couldn't help but laugh as Eoin threw his arms up and raced to the front door of the double-room flat, where their fellow flat-mates and neighbors, were waiting for them. Fondly, he had to admit that the moron had a point. The semester was over, and that meant—at least for the moment—there was no father breathing down his neck about his grades, no perfect half-sister to compete with, no coach to please, no upcoming matches to play, and no more worries. Hakuna matata and all that. A brilliant grin spread across his face as every last bit of metaphorical weight lifted off his shoulders in a single glorious swoop.

It was summer, and it was beautiful. Bradley could smell the chlorine, burger grease, and sunscreen already.

And yet…

He realized that his friends were only becoming more and more impatient, yet he stalled, fingers tap-tapping against the doorframe to the bedroom. Sun streamed through the front windows, striking his face and shining a clear path straight across the hall. For what felt like an eternity, he watched the dust dance in the sunbeams, and as a cloud passed across the sun, sliding a curtain over the brilliant light in the room and ceasing the dance, his happiness and excitement, once roaring like river rapids, dulled to a soft buzz not unlike that of radio static. The shadows deepened in the bathroom across the hall, but he could still make out the sharp glint of the mirrored medicine cupboard above the sink.

"Bradley, let's go!" Bradley blinked, and he fixed a smirk on his face just as a buzzed head popped around the corner. Pale eyes twinkled. "Those hot lifeguards aren't going to be there all day, and Eoin and Alex are likely halfway there already! Santiago could hardly hold 'em back!"

He threw some sort of quip back at Percy and followed after him, momentarily forgetting the glinting mirror and the shadows that gnawed the already raw-edged hole within.

The bottle of Prozac, left untouched for months, sat still and silent at the very back of the tiny cupboard (1). It was no better at filling the hole, anyway.

~…~

"I don't know how we got stuck with this job," Bradley grumbled. He glared fiercely at the rowdy group of university students they'd just maneuvered through. If another person ran into him without apologizing or threatened to spill another drop of these godforsaken drinks, he was not going to be held accountable for his actions.

Eoin laughed and shifted the drink tray in his hand to avoid the splash from a rather bulky student's cannonball into the pool. A lifeguard in the stand whistled vigorously at him. "Stop complaining. I'd be thanking Rupert if I were you. He gave us a reprieve from Vivian and her friends."

"Yeah, thank heavens for that. Think they'll give up anytime soon and let us play a real game?"

Brown eyes flashed to the impromptu net and the scantily clad girls, who seemed to be having a great deal of fun bobbing their inflatable beach ball over. Their giggles were shrill and loud enough to be heard over the music and all of the other shrieking partiers. The object of Bradley and Eoin's particular interest, the real volleyball, sat between Santiago's feet. "Not a chance."

"See any escape routes that I don't?"

Eoin peered over his shoulder and quickly scanned the pool deck and surrounding area. For a second, he hesitated and squinted at something, but before Bradley could gripe about his unnecessary flare for being overdramatic, his roommate shook his head and shrugged lazily. "Eh, none that don't require us to channel a bit of James Bond…or think up some really fancy excuses. It's not worth the effort. Besides, we don't want to hurt the ladies' feelings, now do we?"

"Heaven forbid we do that."

"You know, I'm surprised that you haven't followed up with an 'I told you so.'"

"Oh, don't worry. You know I reserve all my 'I told you so's for one person." His tongue moved of its own accord, and the moment the words escaped, he blinked, brow furrowing and an inexplicable feeling of unease stirring in his stomach.

Predictably, his roommate did not even give him a second glance and snorted. "Yeah, Katie's one lucky girl, isn't she? Can't say I blame you, though, I'd want to prove her wrong at every turn if she were my sister, too."

Katie? Yes, Katie. Of course. His gut squirmed and mind rebelled at the transparent lie he was telling himself. Why did he do it? Did it make it any easier?

It doesn't, does it? his inner voice argued.

The last time this happened… no, no, there was no "last time." No one else ever thought of it as a "last time," and since they never seemed to notice "the time before that" either, there was no "this time," right? It made perfect sense to him.

But later, when he was alone in the darkness, all the logic in the world couldn't prevent him from feeling it. Every denial only widened the hole, serving to remind him of all that he was and wasn't, of every last attempt made to fill that hole…no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he achieved…

Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. Unhappy.

It wasn't so easy to ignore. Not anymore.

The back of his neck prickled, and he turned to look over his shoulder. The sight that greeted him was no different behind him as it was in front of him. Summer-crazed university students danced, raced, ate, and laughed just as well either way. Cursing inwardly, he turned back around, shrugging a shoulder to his ear and rolling it in an attempt to squish whatever bug landed on him.

"Not that it matters anyway," Eoin continued, completely oblivious to the lack of response from Bradley. "You don't have to say 'I told you so' to imply it. And hey, this time, I admit it. You were right." He didn't sound very pleased about it, and his tone only distracted Bradley momentarily. "This might the nicest lido I've ever seen, but this party wasn't nearly as fun as I thought it was going to be (2)."

"You're only saying that because there's not a drop of booze to be see—Oi!"

Something hard rammed into him, propelling him forward. After all that it took to keep the trays in his hands, it was almost amusing that, in his surprise, he didn't drop the trays but instead jerked the Styrofoam cups upward and into his chest as he stumbled. Cheap things that they were, the plastic tops popped off, and liquid spilled everywhere across his shirt and then the deck when at least two of the cups toppled end over end out of the tray.

Eoin was laughing his fool head off, and Bradley, face burning, whirled to the offender.

He recognized her immediately, even in the unflattering lifeguard uniform, and his irritation dissipated. Hazelnut skin, chocolate eyes, bouncing curls pulled back into a thick plait…even when flustered, sweaty, and out of breath, she was beautiful. "Sorry!" she cried, displaying her palms helplessly. "I'm so, so sorry! I—I just—I can't…"

Katie, wearing a gaudy red uniform similar to that of Gwen's, materialized out of nowhere and grabbed her friend's hand. "You can apologize later, Gwen!"

"Katie? What the hell…?"

"Not now, Bradley! Get out of the way!" she snapped, brushing past him and tugging Gwen along.

Suspicion fluttered in him, and his eyes narrowed at the two employees' retreating backs before flitting over his shoulder, tracing the path they carved through the crowd…

Unresponsive fingers finally relinquished their hold on the trays in his hands. Sticky smoothies and soft drinks exploded at his feet, but he ignored both the mess and Eoin, who was shouting something at him, and darted back the way they'd come, feet acting of their own accord. It was suddenly imperative that he move and move fast because something was going on, and like hell was he just going to let it go.

Suddenly, he was far too aware of the fact that there were too many people in too small of a place, and panic threatened to suffocate him as he shoved and pushed his way through, not necessarily caring that cusses, names, and rude gestures were being flung his way.

Colors blurred; voices and music distorted. Later, he would not remember how he got there but that he did at all. He found himself behind the damp and humid bathrooms, away from the noise and in the blind-spot of any lifeguard who surveyed the pool from high in the air.

It wasn't hard to see what was going on here, yet a jolting shock raced through him all the same as he surveyed the scene. His eyes were immediately drawn to the crumpled form on his hands and knees in the weeds, his head bowed. Shaggy black hair fell into the victim's eyes, but the small, snarky upward turn to his lips indicated to Bradley that he wasn't too badly hurt, though the way he crossed his arm across his ribs was a little more troubling. Deciding the guy was in no immediate need of help, Bradley turned his attention to the three forms looming over him.

The déjà vu that hit him at that moment was nearly nauseating, but when one of the three took a menacing step forward and anger unlike anything he'd ever experienced before rushed through him, his pounding head and flip-flopping stomach were forgotten, though the echoes remained.

…That's enough…

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, stepping around the corner and placing himself between the now-identifiable athletes and the younger man. From his peripheral vision, the dark head shot upwards.

"Penn," one growled, "this is none of your business. Go off and play with your mates like a good boy, won't you?"

…You've had your fun…

"What are you, a school-yard bully?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms lazily. "Come off it, Zack. We're nearly twenty years old. Three against one is hardly fair, is it?"

Zack clucked his tongue. "And who are you to tell me what is fair and what isn't, my friend?"

Nowhere near close to being your goddamn friend, that's bloody who, arsehole.

No longer playing around, Bradley took a step forward and was quite pleased to discover he could boast a few centimeters over the tallest of the three. "I am your captain, and you'd better not forget it. I can make your life living hell."

Paul, one of Zack's lackeys, laughed condescendingly. "You can run us to the ground, but your authority ends on the field! Now fuck off! This kid needs to be taught a lesson, and you're in our way!"

"Yeah," Zack added, "A good blow to that smart mouth of his might teach'm."

…I could take you apart with less than that…

"Or better yet, teach him to walk on his knees."

…I wouldn't if I were you…

"I don't doubt he needs to be taught a lesson if he's got your knickers in such a twist," Bradley drawled, "but I don't need to remind you that I will not hesitate to take this to Coach and see you kicked off the team for this. This isn't your first offense, I've heard. Maybe I'll even skip Coach and take it directly to my father."

Three sets of piggish eyes narrowed. Kyle, the third of the party, spat, "You wouldn't dare."

Behind Bradley, there was a soft mutter. A desire to kick the idiot, to tell him to shut up and let him handle this, rose within him, but the delayed flicker of recognition, following in the wake of another painful wave of familiarity, nearly floored him then and there.

He knew it. That voice. He had to know it; he'd heard whispers, passing thoughts, in that voice all his life, after all. So much so that it was indistinguishable from his own sometimes. To hear it aloud—no, he must have imagined it. Like a fickle butterfly, that flicker of recognition fluttered away, now unattainable.

A second late, Bradley laughed at the thugs, and even though it was humorless, it felt more genuine than any laugh he could remember. Battle-ready and bold, he dared. "Try me."

Zack looked about ready to throw a punch. Bradley could see the gears in his head turning, weighing options, considering consequences, and with an unexpected thrill of adrenaline racing through him, he bent his knees in expectation.

Come on, big man.

But the moment was gone in the blink of an eye. Disrespect and hostility oozed from every pore as Zack hissed, "I guess we'll see you on the field, Captain." Bradley was not concerned by the blatant 'you'll-live-to-regret-this' tone or the 'you're-dead-meat' glare because he was certain he'd seen far worse, though he couldn't quite recall when or where. Besides, he'd been aching for a chance to nail these three, whose suspicious and inappropriate conduct had been brought to his attention multiple times over, all semester. To hell with mere blackmail. He meant every word he said, and owing to his own experiences with bullying and the university's policies on such, there was no way he was going to let this slide. He was going to report them as soon as he could, and that would be the end of that. No, he was more occupied with the way Zack's brutish gaze flickered over his shoulder, toward the dark-haired guy he'd been defending.

Once eye contact was broken and the three slunk away, Bradley finally relaxed and, turning to the kneeling young man and offering his hand, asked, "Hey, you alright, mate?"

His heart dropped when the guy continued to sit on his heels, eyes on his knees and body motionless. Scrabbling through his mind for the location of the nearest phone and the quickest route to get to it, Bradley was just about to crouch down and begin a closer examination when his companion finally responded and raised his head.

Shocking blue eyes met his, and everything stopped. Fragments of dreams, floating like dust caught in sunbeams, danced themselves into the forefront of his mind. Every last one of them slipped tantalizingly through his grasp, hinting at something long forgotten and something long suppressed, but for whatever reason, he knew one thing with utter clarity.

He'd been waiting for this man, and it was so surreal and odd and completely irrational that the words spilled like vomit from his mouth. "Do I know you?"

"…No," the other man breathed, avoiding his eyes, and Bradley's lungs ceased working, a phantom pain blossoming across his torso.

A pale hand pressing against his chest, just below his heart. Blue eyes hovering above him. A glow of gold. "…No, no, no…" the deep voice chanted, voice hitching.

He did know this voice. This was no figment of imagination.

A swirl of color, the star-bright sky above fading to muted browns and greys. A soft pillow underneath his head and a black-haired man at his bedside. Crimson and gold everywhere. His worry was nearly as painful as the wound. "But what if…?"

"Don't say it." The plea in that voice was so strong, he almost couldn't help but do as he was asked.

Almost.

The sun was suddenly too bright, and Bradley winced as the memory continued to claw its way to the surface…

"No, I don't suppose you know me."

But Bradley did know him.

"No 'what if's, remember? We discussed this. Long ago, when we first…realized."

"But if it happens…"

"It won't."

Bradley squinted his eyes against the pain in his head. "What is your name?"

"I just don't want…I don't…"

Ever-youthful eyes softened. Tears were gathering there—not here, not now, he wished—and he had never felt so furious with the gods for the twisted game they had played. "I know, I know," his friend whispered.

"It's…um, it's Col—Colin."

A wretched cough escaped his lips, breath rattling in his throat.

The man with stormy eyes and deep voice grasped his hand. "Hey, hey," he consoled, a weak sort of humor in his voice, "if you're right, you can have the pleasure of saying 'I told you so…'"

Before he even finished stuttering out his answer, Bradley was shaking his head. "No," he murmured, taking a step closer and kneeling at his side. "No, that isn't your name, is it?"

"…when we meet again."

"When we meet again," he whispered. Another cough. He was too weak to move, but a soft cloth wiped his lips clean. The taste of blood in his mouth remained. "…I—I don't think I'd want to."

A lopsided smile, full of hope and faith, spread across 'Colin''s face. "How about this?" 'Colin' suggested. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours first."

And he offered his hand. A test? A chance? Bradley stared, his mind trapped in another world.

A fond smile. Fuzzy, but bright nonetheless. Long fingers tightening in his hair. "I highly doubt that. You never miss an opportunity to prove me wrong."

He attempted a laugh, but it soon sent him into a coughing fit. Glowing gold, cool fingers, numbness. Air flooded to his lungs. He would say thank you, but the other man already knew, and since his friend's face was becoming harder to distinguish, he instead murmured as earnestly as he could, "Promise me, old friend, that you will never change."

He felt unfair, knowing he could not promise anything in return. With the knowledge that any promise made was most likely one that'd be broken, it would be cruel to even offer one in return. He had to make do with making a silent promise to himself.

I might forget, I might lose all memory of you, but I will find you, and I will eventually remember. As soon as I can.

"I promise, my King."

As do I, Merlin, he thought, a tear leaking from his eye. As do I.

"No," he choked, cheeks stiff and stained with tears. "No deal."

He bypassed the proffered hand and wrapped an arm around the man, dragging him into a forceful hug. The contact banished the last of the fog that he'd been living in the past twenty years. Everything became clear and light, and it was as though the hole that plagued him had never existed.

It never would exist again, now that he was whole.

"Merlin," he whispered into the bony shoulder.

His warlock, his dearest friend, barked a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe it. I can't believe it, Arthur. After all these years of searching, you were the one who found me. It's you. Really you."

A thousand different smiles, a thousand different frowns, all of the laughter, all of the tears and fireside chats, all of the magic, beasts of legend, queens and kings, and the single sword stuck fast in solid stone—everything returned to him with the lifting haze, and he saw the friends of Bradley's life mirroring those of Arthur's, for he was both Bradley Penn, finance major and football player, and Arthur Pendragon, First Knight of Camelot and king once and future.

There were a number of things Arthur could have said. He could have apologized profusely for burying those memories so deep, for not recognizing and remembering on sight, for leaving him to weather immortality alone. He could have demanded to know what Merlin was doing here and where the hell he'd been. He could have asked any of the millions of questions on the tip of his tongue or commented on how disorienting it was to realize that this modern world he, as Bradley, had grown up in was equal parts miraculous, terrifying, and bizarre and how heartrending it was to realize his kingdom was no longer standing.

"You idiot," Arthur ended up babbling into Merlin's narrow shoulder. "How did you survive without me? You have magic, and you didn't even defend yourself."

Merlin started to laugh. "Over a thousand years, and that's all you have to say to me, you prat?"

Guinevere and Morgana, who had witnessed the bullies corner Merlin and had rushed off to find the lido supervisor mere minutes ago, would soon find them like this. They would be confused, but they wouldn't be for much longer. The two ladies and all of his knights would return home with Merlin in tow, and there, a single magic touch from the warlock would trigger the memories locked within. They would have nothing but time to talk, nothing but time to tell each other everything the others had missed, and nothing but time to figure out what had just happened.

In the meantime, however, Arthur finally pulled away, smirked, and responded, "I could say I told you so."

(1) Prozac: an antidepressant

(2) Lido: an outdoor swimming pool and its surrounding facilities (the term is used in the UK and several other countries, but I'm putting this here for American readers because I certainly didn't know it until I looked it up).

AN: That whole ending feels like a mixture of "Something More" and "Only Friend," but I like it. All mistakes are my own! Thank you so much for reading.