He had made a trip to the lake house a month later with his dog and was surprised to find his parents were staying there already. The place had been cleaned and dusted, with the great room's hardwood floor in the middle of a waxing when he was stopped at the entrance by his mother.

"Arthur, what a surprise," her voice was a little flustered. "We haven't gotten to fixing up your room yet.

"The surprise is mutual," he muttered, pulling back a little on Wade's leash. "Fixing up the place all of a sudden?"

"Well, your father finally listened to my advice and retired. We plan on moving here soon. He's painting the bathroom if you'd like to go say hello." She smiled apprehensively, "You can leave your dog with me. What's his name?"

"...Wade." He exhaled, his mother seemed calmer than she used to be, like she was when he was a kid. "Thanks."

She dropped gingerly to her knees to pet the dog, taking the leash from Arthur. "What a handsome boy. Oh- walk carefully, Arthur, the floor is still a tad slippery."

After he took off his shoes and edged down the hallway he could hear his father humming quietly to himself, some old italian song his father used to listen to a lot on vinyl. He watched his father for a moment, much skinnier than he had last seen him, painting the bathroom wall a pale yellow.

"Hey, dad."

"Arthur," he gasped, turning around, a small smile on his face. "You're here... We saw you'd used the place recently. There was a fluctuation in the utilities bill, you know. Plus, the neighbors informed us two boys and a dog stayed here a few days a couple of months ago, assured us one looked like you."

"Ah, yeah. That was me and uh, Emrys. A friend of mine." Arthur caught himself, the thought of Emrys made him rub the spot on his forehead instinctively.

"Your head bothering you?" Arthur's father asked, returning his attention to painting as he spoke.

"Was in an accident a few months back, nothing major." Arthur whispered, talking more to himself. "I can leave, if I'm in the way."

"No, no," His father insisted, face calm, "stay a while, if you can. It's nice to see you."

Something warm bloomed in Arthur's chest, his parents had never been the touchy-feely type, but he missed their presence nonetheless.

"Not much to update you on, I'm afraid." Arthur admitted.

"Then your mother and I will talk enough for you. A lot has happened."

"I'm sure," he murmured. "I'll set my room up and walk the dog. Be back soon."

"Sure," his father nodded, eyes glossing over with thought.

Arthur set his things on the bed before returning to the dog which was laying comfortably with his head on Arthur's mother's lap as she knelt on the floor scratching the dog's ears.

He told her he was going for a walk and she nodded, promising a small lunch of sandwiches when he came back.

His walk was solely defined by the heaviness weighing in his chest. When he eventually sat down by the far side of the lake with the dog, his mind turned to Merlin again. What memories were he missing? What was so important that he still felt pieces missing?

He tried to remember the poem Merlin had read to him, but focused on his memory of Merlin's pained face as he read it.

The return of memory began with a feeling, a coldness, before he could close his eyes and see the battleworn ground around him.

Loomed over him, crying, was Merlin- a heartbroken, crying mess. This was missing, his death as King Arthur. It was still in pieces, but the pieces were so vivid now.

"I can't live without you, Arthur!" Merlin whispered desperately, dragging him along, straining his strength.

King Arthur was barely mentally coherent at this point, going in and out, but begged with his eyes for Merlin to stay, to be the last thing he sees, "Thank you."

While King Arthur's thoughts should have been on his wife, whom he did love but differently than this, his entire being in that moment clung desperately to Merlin. Merlin, whom Arthur was convinced was his soulmate, if such a thing were to exist. Arthur memorized in his last moments how Merlin looked, his pain and regret. He had nearly mouthed the words of love he felt, but they felt too heavy on his lips. Then, he slipped away.

His body, which seemed to feel the weight of armor and death in residual energy from the memory made him attempt to dig deeper in his mind. He began to mutter aloud, disturbing Wade who watched with silent interest.

"America. Hospital. Tuberculosis. I was Artie then... Died of TB after a few years under Mer- Emrys's care... Remember, damn it! Why can't I-"

This one seemed to come more slowly than all the others so far, it was as though slowly breaching the surface of a pool of water. First he could smell must, feel sweat sliding down his face in streaks, body wrenching in pain, nausea with every swallow- then, it was as though he opened his eyes within the memory. A cool hand was pressed against his cheek, slender fingers trembling.

"Artie... Why must you always leave me to face this world alone?" Emrys sobbed, his hair unkempt and greasy.

"Doctor Emrys, I must say, your bedside manner needs work," he felt himself say in a raspy whisper, humorous despite its frailty. "Let a dying man have his pleasures, eh?"

"Artie, I wish you wouldn't make fun at a time like this..." Emrys smiled despite himself, wiping the tears from his face.

"Emrys?"

"Yes?"

"I love you." Artie whispered, eyes finally misting over. "You know that, right?"

Emrys swallowed hard, nodding briskly, "Of course."

"Will you remember our promise? No matter how long it takes?"

"Even if it never happens?" Emrys exhaled sharply.

"Don't think like that," Artie became serious, "Believe in me, will you?"

"I will... because it's you." Emrys shuddered, reaching out and kissing him longingly on the lips.

He moved back and held Artie's hand as he smiled peacefully, watching Emrys. Over the course of the next half hour, Artie finally closed his eyes for the last time.

Arthur came to his senses after that, and with his dog made the lonely trek back to the cabin. He was quiet for a while, lost in his thoughts as he ate the sandwiches his mother made. Wade laid on his back, sleeping by the sliding glass doors and snoring quietly. Arthur's mother watched him with interest as she pretended to read her homecare magazine. Arthur's father was taking a nap in the master bedroom.

After a while, she piped up, "Arthur? What's been going on since you've been gone?"

He seemed to blip into existence as his attention snapped to his mother, "Well, Eve and I- you remember her, right?"

His mother nodded, closing her magazine, and leaned her chin on her hand as she listened. The couple was together in high school but broke up only a week after he had moved, because they fell out of love for each other, it had been no one's fault.

"Well, we broke up a while back. I, uh, well I made a new friend- one not a part of the company- and he made me feel like I was finally ready to set in some roots. I finally unpacked my boxes from when I moved out... Found some of her things and put them out to the road, some other things of mine too. I wonder sometimes if I made the right choice."

"About Eve?"

"About him, my- my friend. We ended things on a not-so-great note after being around each other constantly and... things feel different without him around. We only were around each other for a week or so but it was special, you know? It felt like a short lifetime."

"Sounds like he is very precious to you," his mother smiled impishly, the face of youth he hadn't seen in a long time gave him a breathless sense of relief.

"Yeah, I think so." He smiled despite himself, taking a sip of his tea.

"Where is he now?" she asked, moving to sit in the chair beside him.

"I-" his voice caught, as he blinked away the heat behind his eyes, "I- I have no idea. His place was completely empty, he doesn't have anyone close to him and his neighbors don't know where he went."

"Well," she steepled her fingers, eyes glancing at the door where her husband slept on the other side, and her expression softened. "Did I ever tell you how your father and I met?"

"No," Arthur blinked in confusion, "Always told me you couldn't remember."

"Well, it was embarrassing, to be honest. As you know, your father is a few years older than me. I snuck out one night when I was 15 to see a late night movie with my friend, but they didn't show- found out later she had actually gotten caught sneaking out and was kept home, but anyhow.

I waited until ten minutes before the movie was supposed to show, then I decided to buy a ticket anyway and see the movie by myself. It was near the end of the film's run, so only a few people were there to see it, anyway. I sat down and settled in.

Then, right as the opening credits rolled this older boy loudly bursts in and plops next to me, apparently soaked with rain. His hair was soaked, and his leather jacket glimmered with rain. He asks me if I waited long, then said sorry.

Of course, I had no clue who he was. Long story short, he watched the movie with me after realizing he had been stood up. We went our seperate ways after he thanked me for my company. Couple years later, we bumped into each other after he recognized me. Been together, more or less, ever since."

"Not sure why you didn't tell me before-"

"We bumped into each other at a strip club." His mother supplied, chuckling at the look of horror on her son's face. "I was just a waitress dear, fully clothed. Your father was there for a bachelor party."

"...Fascinating." Arthur grimaced.

"My point was," she leaned forward, holding his hands in hers. Arthur flinched at the touch, but she didn't seem to notice. "You never know. If you're truly meant to be with someone, I believe the world will conspire to bring you together."

Arthur twisted his mouth to the side, according to Emrys, this had seemed to be the case so far.

"Thanks, mom." he nodded, standing. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

She checked her clock, "Early, isn't it?"

"The drive wore me out," Arthur lied, his thoughts stagnant on the face of Emrys mourning his death over and over again.

"Goodnight," she muttered to herself sadly as Arthur lead Wade into his room, closed the door, and changed his clothes before climbing into bed.

He stared at the ceiling, his dog beside him on the bed as he stared at the wall where the painting had hung. He would stay a day or two, reconnect with his folks, using the years they were apart (and his growth in maturity since) to try to understand them better. Even if he couldn't forget the feelings of hurt surrounding his parents, he could heal despite them. He wished he could hear Emrys reassure him he was doing the right thing by at least making the effort.

He was extremely conflicted, he had no way to find Emrys, short of backpacking around England in hopes he was still in the country, or even the continent at this point. He resigned him at least to a temporary loss, if their fates really were entwined, they would meet again. So he moved on, and time slid slovenly by.