Merlin awoke far too early for his liking, though thankfully without a hangover. He vaguely remembered getting back to the barracks, one arm around Mal and another around Zoë. But why had he walked back with them and not with Arthur? Something about a bench and Arthur… Merlin groaned and covered his eyes with his arm as he remembered. He had tried to show Arthur the beautiful vision the magic gave him, the way it let him peer through time and space. Merlin had wanted to give Arthur hope by letting him see himself not just as he was and had been, but how Merlin saw him: a glorious warrior-king crowned in gold and triumph. What Merlin hadn't anticipated, hadn't even considered, was that Arthur might not want to see himself that way.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Merlin made his way to the hospital building. Despite the early hour, Simon was already in the private laboratory that Mal had strong-armed General Albia into granting him. Merlin did his best to push aside all thoughts of Arthur, though he was not very successful.
"Mal said you had a new spell for me?" Merlin said by way of greeting.
Simon jumped in his seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Er, yes, I have an idea that may turn out to be useful." He stood and paced the length of the small room. "In the past, when we worked on your ability to manipulate time, we focused on slowing it down on a large scale."
Merlin nodded. Simon had put him through rigorous tests until he was able to stop bullets in midair or slow down time within a large area around him.
"Now, I'd like to focus on the opposite. I want to see if you are able to speed up time, but in a very small area."
Merlin considered the idea. "I haven't had much practice with speeding up time at all, to be honest," he said. "Let alone being precise about it." In truth, Merlin still felt muzzy and distracted; his mind kept replaying the events of the previous night against his will and adding to his list of regrets. It was not a state that was conducive to delicate spellcasting.
"Well, that's why I'm here," said Simon with a thin smile. "I have a few ideas on how we can go about this." He grabbed a flowerpot filled with moist soil from a nearby shelf and placed it on the table. "This contains a few seeds of rather hardy strain of grass that doesn't require much in the way of water or nutrition. Even so, I've added some fertilizer to the soil, so it should have everything it needs. I'd like you to speed up time within the flowerpot, please."
"We should probably step away," Merlin said. "I'm not sure how well I'll be able to focus the magic this first time."
Simon nodded, and Merlin followed him to the far wall of the laboratory. "Whenever you're ready," said Simon.
Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. For the most part, he had moved beyond needing to speak spells to shape his magic, though he still found them helpful. Incantations took away some of the mental energy required in working magic, but they didn't allow for the flexibility that Merlin often needed. Magic ran through his veins. He was abruptly reminded once more of the previous night when he had pushed that magic into Arthur and made him see, and he nearly lost his focus. Merlin ended the spell instead of allowing it to run rampant.
"Anything?" Simon asked.
Merlin opened his eyes and checked the flowerpot. "Nothing. Let me try again." He stood next to Simon once more and let the magic flow from him, not just a spark this time but a steady beam. He lost focus again, but he set his jaw and wrested the magic back under his control. When he examined the flowerpot, he thought at first that he had failed once more. But no, there was something in the pot: three long, desiccated strands of fiber.
"You did it," said Simon. He eyed Merlin oddly. "Is everything alright? You seem… angry."
"I'm fine." Merlin dug his fingers into the now-dry soil, ripping out the ends of the root system.
Simon frowned. "We don't have to continue this if you don't want to."
"I said I'm fine," Merlin snapped. "Do you have any more seeds?"
Simon pulled a sachet from his pocket and considered it. "It took me months to save up for this," he said. "I've been moonlighting in the hospital here on base whenever we're on leave, and I'll do odd jobs for the colonists and frontiersmen when we go out on missions. I've even taken to selling my rations at times." He tossed the sachet from hand to hand. "This represents a significant investment of my time and abilities. I believe it to be a good one, so I'm sure you can imagine that I'd be rather unhappy if the reason for my investment—" he offered the sachet to Merlin "—decided to squander it."
Merlin took the packet of seeds and turned it over in his hands. The realization dawned on him that he had been very ungrateful indeed.
Simon smiled as though he knew exactly what Merlin was thinking. He probably did. That man was too smart for his own good. "Is this about the argument you had with Arthur?"
"What do you know about that?" asked Merlin. The idea of Arthur airing out their private grievances hurt him more than he wanted to admit.
Simon leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets. "We talked about it last night, before you got back."
"I didn't know you were such good friends," Merlin said. He couldn't look directly at Simon, so he stared instead at the pattern on Simon's knit sweater.
"We're not so different." Simon gave a little half shrug. "We both had to adapt very quickly to a part of the 'Verse that has no use for us. Hell, I still feel out of place more often than not, and Serenity's been my home for the past five years."
Merlin looked down at the seeds clutched in his hand and sighed. "I'll talk to him," he said. "I'll fix things, and then I'll try your spell again."
Simon nodded, and Merlin turned to leave. "Merlin…" the doctor said, a warning in his voice. "My investment, if you please." Merlin tossed him the sachet of seeds and left the hospital in search of Arthur.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Merlin shouted at Arthur's retreating back. "I know I fucked up, and I'm sorry." Arthur didn't turn around, and Merlin flopped onto his bunk in the barracks with a dejected sigh. He had been trying to talk to Arthur for the past day, but Arthur had responded only with glares and one "fuck off, Merlin, I'm busy." He wasn't sure if Arthur had said anything about the situation to Mal, but the captain hadn't tried to intervene. Merlin had been hoping that Inara's imminent arrival and their mission briefing afterward would convince Arthur to at least hear him out, but Arthur seemed as determined as ever to cold-shoulder Merlin.
A soldier in messenger's livery rapped her knuckles against the open door of the barracks, and Merlin sat up. "Message from General Albia for Merlin Emrys," she said.
"That's me," said Merlin. He fished around in his pockets for loose change.
"Inara sent a wave," the messenger recited. "She's due in an hour. Please await further instructions. Any returning message, sir?"
"Just message received," said Merlin. He tipped the messenger and dismissed her with a nod before fishing a book out from under his bed.
About ten minutes later, Mal wandered into the barracks, dripping with sweat. Merlin supposed he must have been training with the soldiers. "Oh, good, I've been looking for you," the captain said as he stripped off his damp shirt. "I've a few things I want to say."
Merlin closed his book with a frown. He had a feeling he knew what was on Mal's mind.
"I don't know what's going on between you and Arthur," said Mal without further preamble. "But you'd best get it sorted before we're in the sky again. Flavia's dropped hints that this next mission is going to be big, and I can't have tensions in my crew. Simon and Kaylee are bad enough."
"He won't even talk to me," Merlin said with an exasperated sigh. "I've tried to apologize, but he won't listen."
Mal hooked his thumbs through the loops of his belt, still bare-chested. "Well, son, that don't sound like my kind of problem. I don't much care who's right and who's wrong here. If you can't fix this, I can't trust you two to work together in the field."
"Arthur's the one who won't even try to work it out," Merlin said. "Why aren't you lecturing him about it?"
"How do you know I haven't?" Mal dampened a cloth in the sink and began scrubbing himself down.
"Sir, I'm a bit worried about Inara's information," Merlin began, but before he could continue, Arthur stormed into the barracks.
"I beg your pardon, captain, but what exactly was so important that you just had to—" Arthur broke off as he noticed Merlin. "Oh no. No, I am not doing this." He turned to leave, only to see Mal slip out of the door and slam it shut. Arthur hammered his fists on the solid wooden planks to no avail. "Merlin, would you please—" He punctuated his request with one last thump on the door.
"No, I don't think I will," Merlin said. He turned back to his book.
Arthur spluttered with indignation. "What, were you in on this?"
Merlin shook his head without looking up. "Just as surprised as you are. I guess the captain thinks that we need to have words."
"I don't give a damn what the captain thinks," said Arthur. He pulled his gun out of his shoulder holster. "There's no words of yours that I want to hear. Use your magic—" he spat the word like a curse "—to open this door, or I will shoot the hinges out."
"Oh yes, brilliant idea," Merlin said. He idly turned a page in his book. "Start shooting in the middle of a war camp filled with heavily armed soldiers. There's no way that could go wrong."
Arthur stood frozen for a moment before sighing and stowing his pistol. He settled into a chair across the room from Merlin, staring down at his feet. "Fine, then. Say what you want to say."
"Look, I—I didn't mean to scare you, that other night," Merlin said. He closed his book. "I just wanted to show you how I see you. I wanted to show you your future, your destiny. I didn't realize it would frighten you. I'm sorry."
Arthur's head jerked up. "Frighten me? I'm not afraid. I'm furious. How dare you do that to me without asking?"
Merlin quailed in the face of Arthur's anger. "I didn't think you still had a problem with my magic. I've used it on you before."
"Yeah, when I gave my permission," said Arthur. "Do you see the difference, Merlin? Do you understand why I may not be especially happy with you using magic on me, especially mind-altering magic, without my consent?"
Merlin's heart dropped to his toes as he remembered the last time he influenced Arthur's mind—over two millennia ago, in a hostile forest. It had been necessary, but he doubted Arthur saw it as anything more than a violation of the sanctity of his own mind.
"Yeah, now you get it," said Arthur bitterly. He rose and moved to the door. "We've both said what we need to say," he called through the keyhole. "You can let us out now."
The door swung open to reveal Kaylee and Mal. "That was fast!" said Kaylee, but her cheerful smile faded when she saw the expression on Arthur's face. Arthur pushed past her, and Mal didn't try to stop him. "Did it work?" Kaylee asked Merlin.
Merlin shrugged and opened his book to a random page. "At least he listened this time."
Kaylee sat at the foot of Merlin's bed, looking pensive. "We couldn't hear much," she said after a moment. "But from what I caught, it sounded more like you were the one who needed to listen."
"This is a conversation I want no part of," said Mal, still shirtless. "Just get it sorted."
"I can't even count the number of times that Arthur's had mind-altering magic used against him," Merlin said after Mal's footsteps had receded. "Not just him, either—everyone around him. Hell, I've been magically mind-controlled at least twice." He saw the look of alarm on Kaylee's face. "It was no big deal, really. Just a different time, you know?"
"I guess there's not as much risk of that anymore, huh?" said Kaylee. "Fewer sorcerers runnin' about, muckin' with people's minds."
Merlin slumped lower on the bed. "I hoped that he'd trust me, after all this time. I hoped he'd know I'd never hurt him."
Kaylee patted Merlin's knee. "I don't give very good advice. Inara was always better at that sort of thing. But now you know why he was so hurt, and maybe you could try to apologize for that, 'stead of whatever you think you did wrong."
"If he ever listens to me again," Merlin said.
"He will," said Kaylee with confidence. "And if he doesn't, I'll convince Simon and the cap'n to sit on him until he does."
Merlin had to chuckle at that mental image, and Kaylee smiled. "I should give him some time to cool off, though," Merlin said a moment later.
Kaylee nodded. "Probably for the best. And maybe after that, you can tell him how you really feel about him."
Merlin's eyebrow twitched. "What."
"Times like this, you never know when you'll never get the chance to say something important ever again," Kaylee said.
"I don't know what you mean, in the very literal sense of I have no idea what you just said," said Merlin. He drummed his fingers on the cover of his book. "Also, in the sense of I don't know what you're talking about."
Kaylee just smiled at him. "Back on Miranda, when we all thought we were going to die, I had regrets. About Simon, I mean. We didn't get together until afterward. You don't want to be in that position, wonderin' how things might have been different if you had been braver or more honest." She chuckled. "Listen to me, lecturin' you about this kind of thing. Ain't you like two thousand years old? You should have this all figured out by now."
"I really should," said Merlin. "Everything feels different with him, though. It's like the first time, all over again." And it was, in a way. Arthur would always be the first in Merlin's mind and heart; it had caused him much trouble through the centuries. Merlin had tried repeatedly to move on, to develop with others what he had had with Arthur. It had only ever ended in heartbreak.
"Why is that, do you think?" Kaylee asked.
"Because of our destiny," said Merlin. "It changes everything. He's been resurrected. Oh God, was he in heaven before he came back? Does he remember? I don't even know. Something much greater than any of us has brought him back, and it must have some plan for him. Who am I to interfere?"
"If it's destiny, it'll happen whether you interfere or not, right? All roads lead to Rome, and all that." She considered for a moment. "I never realized what a strange saying that is. What's Rome?"
"It's a city on Earth-That-Was," Merlin said. "It was old even back in Arthur's time. I lived there for a while."
"Was it nice?"
"For some."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Destiny shouldn't interfere with your free will," said Kaylee.
"Do I really have free will if all my choices lead to the same place?" Merlin fidgeted with his sleeve.
"Well sure," Kaylee said. "Maybe the end result is the same and maybe not, but you still get to pick the path. Wash always said that the journey was more important than the destination, anyway."
"You sell yourself short," said Merlin with a small smile. "You give great advice."
Kaylee checked her watch. "I gotta get back to the ship. The new parts I requisitioned should be delivered soon."
"I'll be fine," Merlin said in response to Kaylee's worried once-over. "I'll think about what you said. I promise."
Kaylee pursed her lips but left after one more glance at her watch. Not long after, Merlin tossed his book aside and gave up on getting any reading done. Instead, he brooded. That didn't get him anywhere, though, so he decided he may as well practice a few difficult spells while he had the time.
That was why, when a messenger came to fetch him two hours later, Merlin's hair had turned bright pink and feathers had sprouted from his ears.
"This isn't what it looks like, I swear!" Merlin said over the sound of the messenger's raucous laughter. "I'll be there in a minute. Just don't tell anyone!"
The messenger disappeared, still chortling, and Merlin set about undoing the glamours he had cast. That proved more difficult than he had anticipated, and he arrived in the war room ten minutes later than he was supposed to.
A visibly annoyed General Albia greeted him. "Good to have you here. I had some refreshments prepared…" she gestured at a table set against the far wall. Five cardboard boxes lined the wall, each with a crew member's name on it. Merlin frowned when he saw that Arthur and Mal shared a box. "Unfortunately, due to your tardiness, I can't guarantee that the rest of the crew has not eaten them all. Everyone, please sit."
The crew of Serenity sat themselves in chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the center of the room. Mal swiped a few more blueberry muffins from the refreshment table before taking his seat.
Albia opened her mouth to speak, but Kaylee piped up first. "General, if you don't mind me asking," Kaylee said, raising her hand. Albia raised an eyebrow, but she waved for Kaylee to continue anyway. "I was just wondering, where's Inara?"
"Inara sustained a minor injury during the course of her assignment. Because she was undercover at the time, she was obligated to go to an Alliance facility for treatment. The injury will cause her no lasting harm," Albia said as Mal leaped out of his seat. "However, I have received reports of the Alliance placing tracking devices within the bodies of people they suspect to be Independent agents, usually during medical or dental procedures. You may see her after we have determined that she has not been chipped."
"Why are we here, then?" Zoë asked.
Albia smiled thinly. "Your captain has brought it to my attention that I sometimes play my cards too close to my chest. I don't always know what I don't know, and I benefit from having a team I trust led by a person like Mal."
"Cheers, General," Mal said from by the refreshments table. He shoved a biscuit in his mouth and grabbed two more.
Albia continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "As such, I believe I will need the expertise of each of you in the analysis of the information Inara retrieved. I have divided up the documents." She indicated that the crew should retrieve their boxes, and she continued to speak over the ensuing scuffle of movement. "For Kaylee, blueprints of new Alliance ships. Some of these models aren't even in the sky yet."
Kaylee opened the box, her eyes wide. "This is real paper," she said. She trailed a finger over the top page as though afraid to even touch it. "Where did you get so much paper?"
"I didn't," said Albia. "These are the original documents that Inara stole."
Merlin eyed his own box of paper. "That's why she couldn't send it over a wave," he said. "It would take ages to scan it all."
Albia nodded. "Simon, I've given you some research materials on potential biological weapons and their treatments."
"I'm a surgeon, not an epidemiologist," Simon said as he opened his box. "But I'll try to make sense of it."
"Merlin, I'd like you to take a look at these more… esoteric research topics," Albia said. Merlin shuffled through the first few pages and raised an eyebrow. Esoteric, indeed. "A lot of it went over my head, but at a glance, these documents appear to be related to the experiments conducted on River."
"Psychic experiments?" Merlin asked.
Albia nodded. "Something of that sort. It seemed more up your alley."
"Hang on," Simon interjected. "If there's anything in there that might help River, I want to look at it."
"And of course, you should," said Albia. "After you analyze the documents about bioweapons. River is, for now, healthy and safe. Duty first."
Simon set his jaw and nodded.
"Arthur and Mal, I'd like you to work together," Albia said. "I've given you information on scheduled troop movements, patrol and colonization plans, even some tidbits about tactics. It may mostly be things our scouts have already reported, but I'm hoping that you'll be able to find something about long-term strategies in there."
"Shiny," Mal said. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth.
Merlin frowned. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite figure out what. "Where did Inara get all this information from, exactly?"
"The specifics are classified," Albia said. "I can, however, tell you that we have excellent reason to believe that these documents are genuine. The Alliance started using paper for their most sensitive information about ten months ago."
"Right around the time River took control of their central AI hub," said Simon.
"Exactly," Albia said. "Believe me, we anticipated red herrings, and Inara went to great lengths to ensure the veracity of these documents. The Alliance obviously know we have this information; a necessary evil, in my opinion. I hope that we will find enough information to make it valuable nonetheless."
Merlin's fears were not entirely eradicated, but he didn't want to push the point any further.
Albia continued speaking as though she had not been interrupted. "Zoë, you've got a bit of a mishmash of weapon prototypes. There's bullet-and-powder guns, there's lasers and rays, there's anti-aircraft tech. If it shoots, there's probably a blueprint for the latest version of it in there."
"What exactly are you hoping I'll find?" Zoë asked as she opened the box.
"Anything you think would pose a unique and significant threat to our current capabilities," said Albia. "Before we conclude this meeting, I must tell you that none of this information is permitted to leave the war room. I ask that you do not remove any of the documents from this room, nor do you discuss the contents of those documents with anyone who is not in the room currently, Inara excepted. Any questions?"
"Did you give Inara anything to go through?" Zoë asked.
Albia nodded. "She found some files on active Alliance spies. I hope she will be able to identify ways they can be exploited." She checked her watch. "I want you all to take the rest of the day to go through the files I've assigned you. Be prepared to report on anything we can use to gain a tactical edge or anything that might be especially dangerous."
"It just seems a bit convenient, don't you think?" Merlin asked Simon after the general concluded the meeting. The others had dispersed around the war room, dragging their chairs into the corners and spreading their documents across the floor. Merlin tried not to be too jealous of the way Arthur and Mal tilted their heads together and spoke in hushed voices.
"What does?" said Simon.
Merlin waved his hand at the room in general. "All of this. How the information is suited just for our interests."
"I think you're reading too much into it," Kaylee said. She positioned her chair beside Simon's. "The general said that she sorted the papers for us."
"She probably kept some of the papers for herself," Zoë pointed out from a nearby corner. "She just gave us the stuff she thought we could deal with better than her, that's all."
"I still think there's something weird going on," said Merlin.
"You always think there's something weird going on," said Kaylee.
"Yeah, and I'm usually right," Merlin said, but the others had all turned to their assignments. He sighed and shuffled through his papers.
Hours passed. Merlin wasn't sure how many. He stood a few times to stretch and sneak looks at Arthur's resolute shoulders, but Arthur never caught his glances. The war room didn't have any natural light, but the gas lamps on the walls seemed to grow tired as the evening wore on into night. Eventually, Merlin came to the end of his box of documents. Two piles of paper sat before him: one small and tidy, and another much larger and messier. He dropped the messy pile unceremoniously back into its box and turned his attention once more to the remaining documents. He reread the parts he had underlined earlier, his pencil caught between his teeth.
Partial stripping of the right amygdala combined with full stripping of the left amygdala has yielded surprising results, Merlin read from the top page. Subject 3.04 has demonstrated strong but controllable reactions to both reward and punishment. Consequently, 3.04 learns quickly, but is more biddable than Subject R.T.
R.T.=River Tam? Merlin scrawled in the margin. Then, below: 3 or more types of surgeries?
"Have you found anything yet?" Simon asked from behind Merlin's shoulder. Merlin jumped. He hadn't heard Simon approach.
"Maybe," said Merlin. "Look at these." He shoved the small pile of documents over to Simon. "I've underlined anything we didn't already know about the experiments."
Simon flipped through the pages. He barely reacted, but Merlin could see his excitement behind his impassive mask. "Disinhibition of axonal regrowth and remyelination…" Simon read. "After the glial scar was eliminated, some regeneration of proximal segments occurred, possibly due to the more permissive environment. Further studies required." A wide grin split his face. "Do you know what this means?"
"Er… no?" said Merlin.
Simon clutched at the papers like a lifeline. "It means I can heal River. Really heal her, permanently and completely, not just this regimen of partial treatments we've been doing."
Arthur gave a shout of excitement. Merlin thought at first that he had heard Simon's announcement, but Arthur was instead brandishing one of his own papers with a wide grin. "I think I found something!" Arthur said.
"Let me take a look," said Mal, and Arthur handed over the paper. As Mal perused the document, his frown changed into a look of panic. "The general has to see this immediately." He almost ran out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.
"What did you find?" Merlin asked.
"Battle plans," said Arthur. He didn't look at Merlin as he spoke. "It had the time and date of a proposed attack on one of our planets, along with a general's confirmation."
"When? Where?" asked Zoë.
"Three months," Arthur said. "Beaumonde."
So little time… Merlin always felt like he was running out of time nowadays.
General Albia strode into the room, and Mal followed a second later. She held the paper Arthur had found and read it as she walked. "Have you found any more information relating to this attack?" she asked without looking up from the document.
"Not yet," Arthur said. "I still have some more papers to get through."
"You'll need to revisit the papers you've already looked through, of course," said the general. A brief look of annoyance crossed Arthur's face, but Merlin doubted anyone else noticed it. "I want as much information on this as possible. We need every advantage we can get." She pinned the paper to the wall of the War Room and turned to face the crew. "You've done well today, all of you," she said. "It's late now. You're dismissed, though if you want to continue searching for information, I won't stop you. I expect you all back here tomorrow by no later than 0700." Albia strode to the doorway, but she paused and looked back at Mal. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and Albia disappeared down the hall.
"Right, then, I'm knocking off for the night," Zoë said as she dropped her documents back into their box.
"Me too," said Kaylee. "My eyes are so fuzzy I can barely see my own hand in front of my face." She waved her hand in front of her face to demonstrate.
The others left one by one, each making their own excuses, until Merlin stood alone in the War Room. Arthur was the last to leave. Merlin had thought for a moment that he was going to say something, but Arthur stepped silently through the doorway after a slight pause. Merlin glanced at his own pile of papers, sighed, and decided that he wasn't going to get anything productive done for the rest of the night. The hallway was mostly dark, save for a slightly-opened door that spilled light from underneath. Muffled voices seeped under the door, and Merlin heard his name. He raised his hand to knock, but something made him hesitate. He muttered a spell instead and leaned against the wall.
"...postpone your mission, of course." Merlin recognized Albia's voice. "I'm going to need every person I can get for this defense. Beaumonde is crucial. If we lose it, we lose the war."
"I understand the nature of your dilemma." That must be Mal. "But I promised certain members of my crew that they'd never see open combat. I don't intend to break my promise."
"Well, that wasn't a very wise thing to do," said Albia. She sounded amused.
"Come on, Flavia. You know Kaylee. You think you can get her battle-ready in three months? She can hold her own in skirmishes, but not a full-on battle. And Simon's not squeamish, but he tends to lose his head in a fight."
"I know," Albia said. She heaved a sigh. "But I'm not sure what else to do with your crew."
"Put us in transportation," said Mal. "Or turn my ship into a triage bay. Hell, I'd even be willing to take over guard duty for another ship across the 'Verse."
"I'm not wasting Merlin's powers on guarding a barren rock with a few thousand colonists," Albia said. "I need him on Beaumonde."
Mal didn't reply. Merlin strained his ears, and he heard the faint sound of clinking glass and two drinks being poured.
"Please don't split us up," Mal said after a moment. "No one understands Serenity like we do."
"I won't," said the general. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you. But I'll keep your crew together, and I'll keep Kaylee and Simon out of combat."
"And Inara?" asked Mal.
"And Inara."
Mal poured two more drinks. "Any chance we'll be seeing River or Jayne?"
"Maybe Jayne," Albia said. "I can assign him to your crew for the defense effort. River, though… no. She's far too valuable where she is. Bringing her back early would have… consequences. If, heaven forbid, Beaumonde should fall, River's current position will be even more vital."
The voices beyond fell into silence. Merlin tilted his head toward the door. When Albia spoke again, her voice was muffled, as though her face were pressed against something soft. "I just don't know what to do," she said. It almost sounded like a sob, and Merlin felt very much like an interloper. "Three months, Mal. Three months to defend Beaumonde from the entire Alliance fleet. If I had twice as long, it still wouldn't be enough time."
Merlin slipped away. He had no business listening in on such a tender, vulnerable moment, and his own findings could wait. He sought out Arthur instead. Ugarit nights were usually balmy, and this one was no exception. Merlin didn't mind wandering the little dusty town, and as he wandered, he thought. Despite his and Arthur's assurances that night at The Blue Siren—had it only been a few days ago? It seemed like much longer—Merlin had his misgivings about the 'Verse that the new Independents fought for. Did Albia have a plan for if—when—they won? Who would lead? How would they be chosen? Were Albia and her fellow generals, scattered across the stars, tyrants no better than the Alliance? Too many questions, and Merlin didn't have the answers.
Nearly an hour later, Merlin had checked all of Arthur's usual haunts: The Blue Siren, the rundown casino on the edge of town, even the training facilities, though he doubted he'd find Arthur there this late at night. Merlin was about to give up and go back to the barracks when he saw a familiar flash of golden hair. Arthur sat alone on a tiny balcony three floors up. Merlin eyed the building. A small hand-painted sign proclaimed the establishment to be "Talisman's Alehouse— for the soothing of weary souls."
Merlin ducked behind a convenient bush and let his human form melt away. He took to the sky and flew a quick loop around the alehouse. Once he had reassured himself that no prying eyes watched him, he perched on the wooden bannister that enclosed Arthur's balcony.
Arthur's eyes flicked to him then back to his drink. "I paid extra to have this spot to myself, you know," he said. "Not really in the mood for company, Merlin." His voice sounded rough, but his words were clear and fully-formed. He wasn't drunk, then, but he was on his way.
"How did you know it was me?" said Merlin. He leaned against the balcony, once more a man.
"Starlings haven't been introduced to this planet," Arthur said without looking up from his drink. "You should go with a robin or a jay next time."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Merlin. Arthur still didn't look at him. The silence stretched on, fragile and unbearable. "I came here to apologize," Merlin finally said. Arthur looked up at that. "I… what I did, when I made you see what I can see… that was wrong of me to do. I should have asked you first. You deserve to have control of yourself—body and mind—and I'll never take it away again. I swear to you. My—" Merlin's voice cut off for a moment. There were so many things he wanted to say. "From the bottom of my heart, I apologize."
Arthur closed his eyes as though in pain. "It's going to take me a while to forgive you," he said. "But… I can. In time." He looked like he wanted to say more, so Merlin waited. "I'm not your king anymore, Merlin."
"Of course you are," said Merlin. "You always have been, and you always will be."
"Do you ever miss it? Camelot, I mean," Arthur said, his eyes still closed. "Sometimes I miss it so much I ache. I don't know what to do out here. I don't know who I'm supposed to be."
Merlin remembered the days soon after he had left Earth-That-Was, the sense of confusion and loneliness that had followed him everywhere. "It's like being a ship unmoored and carried out to sea by the tide," he said.
"Does it ever get better?" Arthur opened his eyes and faced Merlin fully for the first time in days. There was something dark in his regard.
Merlin tried to hold his gaze, but he only managed it for a few seconds. In the dim, silvery light, Arthur seemed strange, predatory. Merlin wasn't sure if he liked it. "I think so," he said. "It takes time, though."
Arthur laughed at that. Maybe he was drunker than Merlin thought. "Luckily enough, you have all the time in the universe."
All the time in the universe. It was a cruel joke.
"No," said Merlin before he could stop himself. "I really don't, actually." He took a deep breath. "I'm dying, Arthur. Not anytime soon," he hurried to add as Arthur looked up in alarm. "At least, I hope not. I'm just… aging again. I can feel it. My lot was to see the return of Albion's once and future king." He gestured to Arthur. "Well, I've done that."
Arthur was silent for a long while after Merlin's revelation. "We're going to die out here, aren't we?" he said finally. "So far from home."
Merlin didn't know what to say to that. Arthur wasn't often maudlin.
"I still grieve for Camelot and all her people. Is that odd?"
Merlin found his voice. "No," he said. "No, it's not odd. It's only been a few years for you."
"And for you, it's been thousands." Arthur drained his drink. "Does anyone still remember their names? Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival? Guinevere?"
"There's books," said Merlin. He wasn't sure what to say. "Um, a few legends."
"But do people remember?"
Merlin shook his head. "Not many. Not anymore."
Arthur stood and leaned against the balcony rail, shoulder to shoulder with Merlin. "We remember," he said as he watched the stars. "Maybe you're right, though. Maybe it's time to let them rest."
Merlin eyed Arthur's empty flagon. "How many drinks did you have, exactly?"
Arthur hummed. "A few." He shot Merlin a look. "I'm not drunk, if that's what you're asking."
"No, of course not," said Merlin. "Still, it's late. We should head back."
Arthur nodded his assent, and Merlin followed him down to the main floor of the tavern. It was quieter than the Blue Siren, its atmosphere and patrons more subdued. A faint melody floated from a far corner, drifting through the hazy air. Most of the customers ignored the pair, save for one man who looked up in annoyance at the sound of passing footsteps. He had a thin, almost skeletal face, which split into a wide grin when he caught sight of Arthur.
"Arthur, my good man," he said. "I don't usually see you here this late. Do sit down." He shoved aside a notebook covered in scribbles and a faintly-glowing glass computer readout. "Who's your friend?"
"Roger, this is Merlin. He's the pilot of the ship I'm on," Arthur said. "Merlin, Roger. He's an author."
"Well, an author in the making, at least," said Roger. "Until then, I'm just a guard."
"What's your book about?" Merlin asked. He had no true desire to do anything except get back to the barracks and sleep for at least ten hours straight, but asking seemed the polite thing to do.
"It's a philosophical romance," said Roger. He pulled a pipe and tobacco pouch from an inner pocket of his jacket, filled and lit the pipe, and took a long draw. "Though it's been getting somewhat more morbid than I originally planned."
"The horrors of war will do that, I suppose," Arthur said. He glanced at Merlin. "I've been feeling rather morbid myself, recently."
"Can I buy you fellows a drink?" Smoke puffed from Roger's mouth as he spoke, and the bartender glared at him. He glared right back.
"Not tonight, I'm afraid," said Arthur. "We have an early start tomorrow. It was good to see you again, though."
"Another time, then. I insist," Roger said as Arthur stood. "Wait. Merlin. I like your name. Mind if I borrow it for my book?"
Merlin shrugged. "Go ahead."
"Merlin." Roger scribbled a few lines in his notebook. "Maybe I'll use that in a sequel."
"Good luck with your book," said Merlin as Roger bid them goodbye with a lazy wave of his hand. He followed Arthur out the door and through the pleasantly temperate night toward the barracks. "I've never been to that tavern before."
"It's a nice place," said Arthur. "The Siren is great and all, but sometimes I want somewhere a bit… less."
"I know exactly what you mean," Merlin said. They walked in silence for some time.
"Three months," Arthur whispered a few minutes later. "Do you think we can do it?"
Merlin considered. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Beaumonde is too important for us to lose. We've got to defend it with everything we have. Unless…" He trailed off.
Arthur half-glanced at him in the darkness. "Unless?" he prompted.
"Unless it's a trap," Merlin said. "Or maybe some kind of misdirection."
"Not this again." Arthur heaved a sigh. "Come on, Merlin. Oh, let's let an enemy see our battle plans but, surprise, the plans are fake… it's the oldest trick in the book. We did that more than once, back in the old days."
Merlin didn't feel especially reassured, but he let the matter drop. They had almost arrived at the barracks. The lights were all off inside, so he and Arthur had to fumble around in the dark as they prepared for bed. Merlin considered making a small light after he bumped his shin for the third time and earned an angry grumble from Simon, but he managed to end up in his bunk guided only by starlight from the narrow window. Arthur's profile, angular and regal and outlined in silver, was the last thing Merlin saw before sleep took him.
