Morgana awoke with a start. She'd felt something. Through her magic. Something had gone wrong. She traced the disturbance back to its source and growled. "No!" She threw the covers off herself, cursing, and went to the window.

Her eyes honed in on the place where she knew he'd be. He was awake. And he was about to throw a wrench in her plans, like he always did. Damn him.

They weren't supposed to be there. They weren't supposed to follow her. The stunt at Camelot had been a tease – a vindicating taste of victory before she took her revenge. She'd planned it carefully as a farewell to the future she sought to destroy, but now, she wished she hadn't done it at all.

Emrys, she'd learned, and refused to call him by his other name, the name that brought of up memories of smiles and better times, would always put himself between her and her goals. Her victory would always come too late, never coming to fruition before Emrys could make a mess of things. Over the decades, she'd learned to despise him for it. And now, there were two of him roaming about.

She bit back another curse and steadied herself, turning from the window with her jaw held high. Still, she told herself, it was not over. He was out of his element. He was confused and in another world. He would be badly injured, if her spell had worked even halfway well. And, living in a time with Uther Pendragon once more, he'd have to hide his magic to avoid hurting them. She no longer held such qualms about her powers.

And besides it all, there was one weapon she could always use against him. Two sides of the same coin, or so the druids said. Emrys and the Once and Future King. Merlin and Arthur. They were inseparable and indispensable to one another. They were friends, comrades, brothers. A bond like that could be twisted painfully, Morgana knew, and she planned to use it to the best of her advantage.

So long as the prophecies were true (and they always were) Morgana could hold out hope for her war against Emrys. For she knew, no matter his power or his determination, there would always be a spot for injury that would bring him to his knees.

Its name was Arthur Pendragon.

"What do you mean, you can't use your magic."

"What do you think, Arthur?" Merlin snapped. Arthur scoffed.

"But… You're Merlin."

"Thank you, I'd gotten that bit, Sire. Leot," Merlin tried again, and nothing happened. He growled to himself, frustrated. He couldn't even feel his magic, now that he was looking for it. It just… wasn't there. As if it were hiding. He felt lightheaded.

"Merlin, I know this is… bad, and all, but… I still can't see anything."

"Apparently, I can't help. Sorry. And I don't think I could find you any flint, either. I don't trust myself to standing yet."

"No, don't bother. Only… Merlin?"

"What?"

"…Please don't freak out." Arthur swallowed, and wondered if the Younger Merlin were listening. Out loud, he said, "Either of you." He could almost sense Merlin freeze his movements in the dark.

"What?" He asked, and Arthur could imagine what his face would look like. "Arthur, you said he was asleep!"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Arthur!"

"What? You think I was the only one you woke up? Speaking of which, you'll wake Gaius if you're not careful."

"Arthur, why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't want to have to do this, but unless you want to stay in pain the rest of the night and don't want me to give you poison by mistake, I need light."

Merlin sighed. It was quiet.

"Merlin," Arthur prompted after a moment, "please."

"What do you want me to say, prat?" The warlock retorted. Arthur rebounded,

"No, not you, idiot. The other one." He paused and added, in a more civil tone, "Merlin, please. I need help."

Silence. Older Merlin was squinting, trying to make his eyes adjust to the darkness and looking towards where he knew his old room would be. It was so much at once, but something about the situation appealed to a side of Merlin that would remain forever curious – even about things so strange as this. Nevertheless, it appeared his younger self was still too unnerved to show himself. The Older Merlin sighed.

"It's alright," He refused to use his own name in reference to another person, "It's… weird. And I know it's all Arthur's fault-"

"Hey!"

"-and I know you probably already knew that. But please… My head is feeling in quite a bad way."

Slowly, quietly, the door to Merlin's room opened. It squeaked against its hinges and if he didn't look right at the door, Merlin could make out an surreally familiar silhouette, one he'd only ever seen in the mirror.

"Uhm," the one syllable sent shivers up Merlin's spine. It was uncanny to hear your own voice using words you hadn't given it. "What do you need?" Merlin asked nervously.

"Feverfew tincture," The Other Merlin replied.

"Oh, now that's just weird," They heard Arthur say.

"What?" and at the sound of themselves replying in unison, they both understood.

"Good lord…" Arthur's voice came over from the dark shadow by the medicine cabinet, "that… that's… Just… stay where you are, alright? I can't keep track of both of you if you switch places. Your voices are too similar." Which, to be honest, they weren't exactly. There was a certain distinction of timbre, of confidence vs. nervousness, of age vs. inexperience. Still, they were both Merlin's voice. In the dark and confusion, it was hard for Arthur to concentrate on distinguishing them.

"Right," It was the Older Merlin who spoke, "As if I could move if I wanted to. Help the Prat, would you?" He directed the last words at his younger counterpart, and Merlin could hear rather than see the younger man nod and begin moving towards Arthur.

"Oomph." Arthur.

"Sorry," Young Merlin apologized.

"You can see in here?"

"No, but I know my way around. They're right… here." They could all hear the jingling of glass as Merlin rifled through the bottles.

"Why not just use a light?"

There was a pause. "Well, you said it might not be a good idea," Young Merlin explained. "Said it might be a bit of a… a shock."

"It's alright," Older Merlin told them both. "I think I can handle it. I'll have to, eventually. Go ahead, Merlin."

Hesitantly, Merlin raised his hand. "Leot."

They all squinted against the sudden light, no one more than the Older Merlin, whose eyes had been covered in sleep for days. He sensed someone in front of him.

"Here," The word was short and awkward. He looked up, and did a double take.

It was him. But not. He was young – very young. Like a waterfall, flashbacks and memories and stories and faces washed over Merlin's consciousness in a noisy blur, and he didn't realize he'd been staring at his younger self until Arthur was at his side, looking worriedly at his face with his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin? You going to be alright, Merlin?"

"What?" Merlin shook himself. "Yeah. Yeah. Course." He blinked and glanced up at… at himself again. "Longtime no see," he couldn't help but say.

The younger man blushed, but stared back. "Here," He said again, holding up the small, squat bottle. The Older Merlin reached for it.

"Thanks, that should-" And he sucked in a sudden breath, his expression snapping into one of pure interest and surprise as he stared at the hand that gave him the medicine – his hand. His younger hand.

"Merlin?"

The younger Merlin tugged his hand from his Older grasp.

"Merlin, what is it?" Arthur looked between them. "You didn't touch, did you?" He was looking at the Younger Merlin. "You know Gaius said that was dangerous."

"No, no, wait," It was the Older Merlin. He reached out again for his younger self and grabbed an arm. Unsatisfied, he went for his hand again. Young Merlin tolerated it with a startled expression.

"What are you doing?"

But the Older Merlin wasn't listening. He was taking deep breaths, long, refreshing gulps that made it look like he hadn't breathed proper, fresh air in months. He let his head fall back, his hand never letting go of Young Merlin's bare wrist.

"Oh, that's so much better."

But it was strange for Young Merlin, and eventually the sorcerer tugged his wrist away. The rejuvenated expression slowly melted from Merlin's face.

"I'm sorry," He told them, mostly his younger self. "I didn't mean to… That is… I hope I didn't startle you. It just… My magic. Your magic. Our magic. I didn't realize how much I'd lost touch with it. It's a breath of fresh air."

"You've got your magic back?" Arthur asked.

"No. But he has it." Merlin pointed to his younger self.

"Me?" Young Merlin wondered if he should be feeling guilty. The Older Merlin shrugged.

"Well, not my magic. Well. Mine inasmuch as I'd have yours, seeing as we're the same person. Well, technically, I am you, anyway. There's no real way you could be me, at least, not yet. It's a funny little problem with linear time, laws of causality and all that…"

"Merlin…"

"Right." Merlin glanced at Arthur. "Sorry. I don't have magic. But, I think… I think his magic," He pointed to the other Merlin, "is responding to me because it thinks I'm him."

"Which… you are." Merlin said.

"Which I am," his older self echoed, and glanced between Young Merlin and Arthur. "In a manner of speaking."

"Right," Arthur didn't sound like he completely understood, "but why did you react like that?"

Merlin was frowning with his brows in a squiggle, looking at he always did when trying to work out a problem. "When we touched, it was as if… my magic jumped across to me."

"I didn't feel anything," Younger Merlin put in.

"No, it's like… when we touch, because we're the same person, we become a magical extension of one another." He poked his younger self's hand again for sake of experiment, and couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped him. "I must say, it's quite refreshing to feel it again." He glanced up at himself. "Sorry."

Younger Merlin didn't look as uncomfortable as before, now that he was beginning to understand. "What happened to your magic, anyway?" He crossed his arms and mirrored his own thoughtful expression. The Older Merlin winced.

"When we followed Morgana here, she was travelling alongside us, somehow. She saw we were there, and started to cast a spell at Arthur. I didn't have time to think up the counterspell. I kind of just… tossed myself at it."

"You what?" Arthur sounded indignant.

Merlin sighed. "Not bodily, mind you. My magic. Like a…" He shrugged as he tried to think of an analogy. "Big… magic… blanket. Not really a proper shield, though, so I'm afraid my magic took quite a blow. It might take a bit before it's back to strength."

"Hence your whole lying-unconscious-for-three-days-being-absolutely-no-help-to-anyone-whatsoever sabbatical, I assume."

Merlin turned an irritated eye on Arthur. "It's not like I had a choice," he said, and Arthur rolled his eyes. As they bickered, Younger Merlin was looking over to Gaius, who slept on.

"D'you think we should wake him?" He asked, his fingers absently petting the ball of light in his palm. The Older Merlin sighed.

"It might be for the best. None of us are going back to sleep, and if he wakes up and sees me chatting away with you no mind to him, I'm sure it'll give him a heart attack."

"I thought he'd have woken by now," Arthur commented. Older Merlin snorted.

"If there's one thing I've learned from Gaius, it's that physicians can sleep through almost anything if they need to." His tone softened. "He's probably tired. Been working far too hard over me, I've no doubt. You should wake him," He told his younger self.

Merlin nodded and left his ball of light to float in the air as he went to his mentor and shook the physician's shoulder gently. A few moments later, Gaius sat up slowly, and then, after a whispered explanation, more quickly to look at the Older Merlin, who was sitting up on his cot.

Slightly unsure of himself, Gaius stood and walked over to them, eyeing Merlin's older counterpart with slight reservation. The older Merlin smiled up at him.

"Gaius," He greeted. Gaius nodded.

"Merlin." He glanced the man up and down. "I admit, this is a bit extravagant, even for you."

Merlin laughed and nodded. "Even for me." He glanced at his younger self. "Or us, I suppose I should say." Beside Arthur, the Younger Merlin fidgeted. Older Merlin sighed and resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose, where his sinuses were beginning to ache.

He hadn't had much experience with it so far, but Merlin felt he'd been awake long enough to conclude:

Time travel was weird.

A/N: And another burst of inspiration, it seems! I'm over halfway done with the next chapter. Expect it soon!