Chapter Eleven.

Six months later.

Merlin closed his overfull rucksack, a feat that might have been impossible had he not cheated the laws of physics ever so slightly. Honestly, he didn't have that much: clothes, a few essentials, and some other things he had picked up along the way—basically anything he could carry on his back, which wasn't too difficult. Many years had gotten him accustomed to traveling light.

There was a soft knock of knuckles on the door, and Merlin glanced up, expecting to find a doctor or a smiling attendant wanting to give him words of wisdom before seeing him off—but who he saw instead, he did not expect.

"Arthur." He blinked a few times at the figure in the doorway. "You're here," was all his blank mind came up with.

Arthur seemed confused for a moment. "Of course I am," he said after collecting himself, but he seemed unsure. "The—the doctor phoned me to come pick you up. Is this the wrong day?"

"No!" Of course, Merlin knew that the doctors would call Arthur. He'd put him as his contact, after all. Well, it wasn't as though he had anyone else in the world, and he wondered briefly if the same was still true for Arthur.

He eyed Arthur up and down, taking him in. He was tanner than he was half a year ago, and he seemed thinner, but Merlin couldn't be sure.

"It's just… I didn't think you'd come," Merlin said sheepishly, and a little sadly. "Not that I would blame you. I—"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted, and it had been so long since Merlin heard him speak his name. No one said it quite like Arthur, and it was almost as though the word were meant for Arthur and Arthur alone. It sounded like a dream to Merlin.

Arthur took a few steps into the room. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

Merlin blushed softly at the tiles of the floor before again meeting Arthur's bright blue eyes. "How have you been?" he wondered aloud, his stomach bunching with nerves in anticipation of the answer.

Arthur shrugged like he couldn't complain.

"Still working at the pub?" Merlin probed.

"Mmm. I'm bartending now," Arthur told him, "Andy and Lucy have been good to me."

"That's great!" Merlin said, feeling genuinely happy, even if his tone was forced.

Arthur didn't notice. "Yeah, and I'm coaching football for one of the primary school teams," he said.

Merlin's eyebrows darted to his hairline. "Yeah?"

He nodded, looking proud of himself. "Well, one of my mates from the pub league—Kevin—is a teacher, and they needed a new coach. Said he couldn't think of anyone better for the job."

Merlin smiled at him. "I'm happy for you, Arthur," he said, and he meant it, but: "Looks like you don't need me, after all." He played it off with a half-laugh.

Arthur's smile faltered. "I'll always need you, Merlin," he promised, and Merlin didn't know what to say.

After a pause, Arthur continued, "But what about you? Rehab. That's a big step."

Merlin shuffled around a bit. "Took me long enough to get here," he said modestly, but Arthur wasn't hearing any of it. Thankfully, he didn't question Merlin about any of his adventures prior to coming to the clinic—or, at least, he didn't yet.

"But you are here," Arthur said. "That was very brave, Merlin."

In truth, Merlin did feel brave, but not because he'd kicked heroin. That was nothing in the grand scheme of things. But, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he had done something for himself—not for Arthur. He had lived for himself. It felt like a beginning, and he'd forgotten what that was like. He'd known only ends for much too long.

Merlin looked up at him with red eyes, and he saw Arthur swallow passed a lump in his throat.

"Oh god, Arthur," he said, his voice cracking. "Get over here, you dollophead!"

They closed the space between them and wrapped their arms around each other tighter than they ever had. Neither of them ever wanted to let go, so they silently promised each other that, from that moment on, they never would again.

"I've missed you," Arthur whispered into his hair, and Merlin buried his face into Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's scent instantly filled his mind, and he felt warmer somehow.

He closed his eyes into the smell, enjoying the contact. "I've missed you, too," he admitted.

When the hug broke, Arthur was smiling from ear to ear, and it was infectious. The entire room seemed light up, and Merlin swore the sun peaked through the clouds outside the window—all because of Arthur's grin.

Because, when he smiled, he shined.

"What do you say we get you out of here?" Arthur offered, and he picked up Merlin's pack and threw the strap over his shoulder. His face contorted somewhat with the unexpected weight.

"Oh, no, Arthur, don't," Merlin said, going for the pack. "It's heavy. I'll carry—"

But Arthur maneuvered away from him sharply. "No, I'm carrying it!" he said, perhaps more forcefully than he'd intended. Merlin raised is palms and backed away in mock surrender, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling. There was a time when Arthur left Merlin with all the bags.

Arthur seemed satisfied, so Merlin lowered his hands. "So… Home?" he asked hopefully.

Arthur nodded. "Home," he confirmed. "But not just yet. We have an appointment first. We're meeting a man about a house outside the city." He searched Merlin's features hopefully.

A real home, all of their own, with the city twinkling in their rearview mirror. Somewhere quiet and green, with a mortgage and stars above their heads at night; and lazy Sundays when they don't know what to do with themselves, so they stay in bed all day; and annoying neighbors with yappy dogs and too many kids piled into their gigantic minivans. And Arthur.

That didn't sound half bad to Merlin. Perhaps it was time to fall in love with the world again.

"Besides," Arthur said, beaming. "It's like you said: We're only just getting started."