I'm sorry I've been lazy lately. That's the only excuse I have for why this took forever for me to update. I haven't wanted to write for Merlin (so I guess I haven't been lazy, lazy ((I have been writing for other stuff)), but I have been a little lazy). Anyway, I will try to have the next chapter updated a bit earlier than this one.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Thank you for reviewing, alerting, and/or favoriting last chapter. And remember I don't own anyone.

Drop me a comment if you get the chance and see ya in the next chapter.

BYE!

P.S. A new chapter of PTP is coming please be patient.


Sometimes Merlin forgets that Percival had been Lancelot's friend before they became knights, but he's reminded fairly quickly when the taller man embraces Lancelot the moment he sees him, the smaller former knight returning the hug. After they part, Percival grabs Gwaine by the scruff of the neck and yanks him from the recliner he lounged in, swaddling him in a hug so fierce, Merlin could feel his own bones cracking.

"Can't… breathe," Gwaine gasps, trying and failing to push Percival away.

"Sorry, sorry," Percival apologizes letting Gwaine go, taking a step back to examine his friend. "You're really alright?" He looks worried, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and he whispers, "I watched you die."

"You did," Gwaine answers smiling weakly. He spreads his arms out, turning in a circle, and says, "But now I'm here, alive, and I'm much too pretty to die a second time."

Percival laughs, sniffing wetly, and lightly punches Gwaine's arm. "You're not funny."

"I am hilarious," Gwaine drawls with a smirk, returning to his chair. "Now, sit your ass down and let me fill you in on what's been going on."


It's not long before Percival adapts fairly well to the future. He gets really into art, spending a majority of his free time sketching in a battered notebook he bought at a secondhand store. He gets a job at an art supplies store, working alongside some struggling artist named Dane (or Gilli as Merlin liked to call him). Sometimes he'll also help Leon volunteer, finding the idea of different sexualities fascinating.

One night, about two months after his return, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Leon go out (Merlin staying home because he has an early shift in the morning), and only are actually asleep in the house when Merlin gets up the next day. He doesn't dwell too much on the fact that Gwaine isn't home, he had the habit of staying over at so-and-so's house (ever since he and Mary called it quits, Gwaine's decided he doesn't want to settle on anyone), but Merlin can't help feeling a little worried about Percival. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to the bigger man.

He gets home from work, expecting to have to phone the police, but Percival is back, sitting at the kitchen table, eating a piece of pie. When Merlin sits across from him, he smiles and says, "Food tastes different now; better."

"Yeah, it's one of the perks of the future," Merlin replies returning the smile. "So, did you have fun last night?"

"Gwaine took me to a club where women remove their clothing," Percival explains shoveling more pie into his mouth. "I don't quite understand the fun in it, but Gwaine assures me men today spend hours in places like that."

"I don't either," Merlin admits softly. "He took me to the same place a few months ago, and I just…" he trails off, shrugging.

"Exactly." Percival finishes his pie, carrying his plate to the sink. He turns to face Merlin, giving him a long look before asking, "How are you?"

"Me? Fine. Why?"

"You seem different," Percival states with a pensive look on his face. "It can't have been easy, living while everyone you knew died."

"It wasn't," Merlin whispers looking down at the table.

The bigger man crosses the room slowly, clapping the warlock on the back, and says, "I am sorry you had to go through that."

"It doesn't matter now," the warlock starts, getting to his feet, forcing a smile on his face. "You're here now."

"We are." Percival takes a step forward, his arms partially raised. "Do you need a hug?"

"Uh, no." Merlin shakes his head, but adds, "But thanks for the offer."

The bigger man drops his arms, shrugging, and says, "Anytime."


It's the middle of December, a light dusting of snow littering the ground, when Merlin decides to go to the lake. He bundles up, trying to sneak out before his friends see him, but Gwaine catches him and offers to go with, his jacket and boots on way before Merlin can tell him not to worry about it.

Together, the two men walk to the lake in silence, but eventually Gwaine carefully asks, "You hoping Arthur comes back this time?"

Merlin shrugs, chewing on his lip. "Maybe."

"And if he doesn't? You can't keep coming here, Merlin. I'm surprised your frequent visits didn't drive you mad."

"I'm fine," the warlock states and speeds up ignoring Gwaine when he calls his name. His friend doesn't understand how badly Merlin needs to see Arthur. There's so many things left unsaid between them, so many things he has to apologize for, so many things he needs to explain.

Kilgharrah's parting words come back to him, about how Arthur would return when Albion needed him the most, but when would that be exactly? What evil lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike? And will Arthur even want to return? These are the questions that plague Merlin late at night, and he hates that they live him feeling scared and useless with each passing day.

When he and Gwaine get to the lake, they are greeted by a man standing alone, looking around like he's lost. It takes a few seconds, Merlin too engrossed in his own self-doubts to make the connection, but he eventually realizes who is standing by the lake.

"Holy hell," Gwaine whispers causing the figure to turn towards them.

Elyan is the fifth knight to come back.