Disclaimer: IDOM

Heyo! So I know it's not technically Wednesday yet (still got two hours to go), but, guys, school has begun. I don't think I'll exactly have the drive to post a new chapter at seven in the morning, and I will probably be too zonked when I get home, and I'm pretty sure you all don't want to wait until tomorrow night for a new chapter. So, I'm posting this two hours early. Rejoice!

In other news, apparently November is National Novel Month (or something along those lines), so, in Creative Writing class, we are going to be writing our own novel with a minimum of 25,000 words. Call me crazy, but I'm excited. ^_^

Anyway, enjoy the new chapter, and feel free to personally feel Merlin's angst.

Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface

Trees exploded around him, and the warlock instinctively used his arm to protect his head from flying debris. He heard a man give a scream of pain, another echoing around the forest as more bullets whizzed in the thick air.

The warlock could barely see through the patches of heavy smoke and dust that polluted the once calm air. There was another explosion, and fire reigned in Merlin's limited vision. He clapped his slim fingers on his deep green, metal helmet and plugged his ear with his other hand to protect his hearing.

It didn't work, however, and when another bomb exploded close to him, Merlin gave a cry of alarm as another wave of fear coursed through him. He might not be able to die in a literal sense, but his body's agonizing form of magical recovery following a mortal wound would be enough to terrify anyone.

Merlin's hands were shaking too much, and he felt himself lose hold of his rifle as he groped for the set of rings around his neck. He couldn't lose them, no matter what.

More men cried around him, and then panic shot through him as he recognized one of the screams: Calloway.

The warlock finally found his voice. "Calloway!"

He was rewarded with another sob, and as dirt and wood exploded and splintered around him, Merlin stumbled around until he reached his friend. Automatically, the learned physician in him was kick-started, and he looked over Calloway with a sharp eye.

But... he'd lost too much blood. And the warlock felt a rush of panic, knowing there was nothing he could do. There was a long, deep slash along his friend's thigh, and it was bleeding out heavily onto the forest floor. Thousands of spells ran through Merlin's head, healing spells that he'd accumulated over hundreds of years, but nothing would help now. Nothing.

Merlin's trembling hands were covered in sparkling scarlet, and his hollowed eyes were fearful. "Calloway, hang on, please."

The man was breathing heavily and fought back a flinch of pain as he looked Merlin in the eyes. "Perce," - this was the surname he used then as a tribute to Percival - "you gotta get outta here. We've lost this battle. You h-have to..."

Merlin put a small amount of pressure on the wound, fighting the inevitable as tears swelled in his eyes. There was gunfire all around them, but Merlin only heard it distantly, focusing on his friend. "I'm not leaving you."

"You... you have to. Perce, go -"

"Cal, I'm -"

Another bomb exploded, ripping him from Calloway's side, and he was thrown several feet backwards -

Merlin was sitting upright before he was even fully awake, releasing a fearful cry. Drenched in sweat, and with his heart palpitating wildly in his chest, Merlin, shaking, collapsed back down onto his bed. His head made a heavy dent in the pillow, and the warlock covered his face with his hands as a tear leaked out of his eye, and again, he reached for the rings. This time, they lay peacefully on his nightstand, looking every bit as they did when Merlin had put preservation and protection spells on them.

They were Gwen and Arthur's wedding rings-the two bands of decorative gold and silver that Elyan had made as a gift. He had taken Arthur's ring to give to Gwen after he'd buried him in the Lake -as well as his mother's ring, but that was stored away somewhere else. Guinevere had insisted that he keep it safe ...'for him', she'd said. And then, one of her final acts was to give Merlin her ring and to thank him and tell him to be safe...

Merlin's stomach twisted, and his arms wrapped themselves tightly around his middle, fighting back a sob as his body shook, still clutching the rings tightly in his fist. He curled slightly in on himself as wave of loneliness and angst threatened to drown him -so many dead- and he very suddenly pushed Arthur to the forefront of his mind.

He's back, Merlin repeated in his head. He's back, she's back, they're back. You'll never be alone again. It'll all turn out. You'll see...

He swallowed hard and pulled his blanket further up his body, clutching it and trying to slow his quick, ragged breathing. Another tear slipped from his eye and slid towards his temple. Calloway had been a joker, someone who'd made it his personal mission to make Merlin laugh -and he usually succeeded. He'd reminded Merlin that the world wasn't all bad when he'd been in a rut and had tried to protect him in various battles they'd fought. And Merlin should have been there, should have saved him, protected him. But he had lost sight of Calloway until his pained cry had called him back... and he'd been too late...

Arthur's back, he told himself again, squeezing his eyes shut and even seeing the words in his mind's eye. Gwen's back, and Gwaine's back, and Leon's back, and they're all... back. It's going to be okay...

Merlin's fist clenched his blanket, and he laid there, eyes closed, for minutes until his heart rate had lowered and his breathing was under control. Once he'd accomplished that, he opened his eyes to the darkness of his room, and, feeling suddenly exhausted and restless at the same time, but frankly anxious at the possibility of returning to his nightmare, decided to go for a walk.

With his hands still shaking, he pushed back the bedclothes and threw his legs off the bed. He nearly collapsed onto the floor when he stood, realizing that the shaking had not only been in his hands, and Merlin caught himself on his nightstand. He blinked to clear his blurry vision and quietly followed the stairs to the main floor. The moon shone in from the windows, giving the rooms a peaceful glow that comforted the warlock. He took another deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair and slipped his trainers over his socks, going outside using the side door in the kitchen.

The wind immediately caught his dark hair, and Merlin sucked in a breath of air, narrowing his eyes as his body adjusted to the light breeze. He walked past the rose bushes, away from the beech trees that lined the back of his yard until it became a light forest, and let his feet guide him. Gravel crunched beneath the rubber soles of his shoes, and the warlock crossed his arms over his chest as moonlight and starlight washed over him.

He wasn't surprised where he ended up; it was usually where he went after a nightmare anyway.

The Lake.

Merlin lifted his hurt-filled eyes and collapsed at the water's edge, weariness, sadness, and something unnamable filling him. He pulled his knees up against his chest and folded his arms around his legs, resting his chin on top of his knees. The warlock stared silently out towards the lake, drinking in its features as he took slow, steady breaths through the nose.

His eyes scanned the small, deeply blue waves, watching as they shone almost white with the moon shining down on them, and let his gaze wander further back to the island and the monument held there. Merlin felt the steady beat of his heart, and a prick of lonely sorrow entered at the sight of the weather beaten stone. It had been there long before that fateful day, and it had seemingly been the only thing that stayed constant over those thousand or so years Merlin was alive. It had kept watch over Avalon -his friends- while he'd roamed the earth, seeking knowledge and maybe an adventure or two, and Merlin had grown strangely fond of this place.

It was where he always came when he felt lonely, sad, or just... empty. He would reminisce about Camelot and his friends -remembering his old life and the joys and love he received from his friends- until he felt something within him again, that small flame that kept him going: his love for his friends.

But his friends weren't here anymore. They weren't in Avalon; they weren't in this lake. They were back. With him.

Merlin felt the remaining sorrow and loneliness in his heart sucked out, replaced by warm love and heartfelt relief. His words from earlier chimed in his head, and his eyelids slid closed as a small smile creased his face, mind wandering to his re-found friends.

He imagined Gwaine laying splayed across his bed on his stomach, drooling into his pillow with his bedclothes only half covering him, which was how Merlin had found him often enough after one of his nights in the tavern. He imagined Arthur laying on his bed, face buried in his pillow as a small snore escaped him. He saw him rolling over and pulling his pillow closer as he snuggled into it like a young boy. Merlin let out a small breath of laughter. He imagined Guinevere -his ever-strong queen- sleeping gracefully on her side, so unlike her -then- husband, and the warlock saw her soft smile as she dreamed peacefully.

And Merlin even dared take it a step further and imagined her warm, appreciative smile after he carefully woke her up in the mornings after Arthur had left them. Merlin let out another soft laugh at those memories, because it hadn't mattered to Gwen that Merlin was a man, he stayed her servant -and Court Sorcerer- to the day she, too, left this world. She had refused to let anyone else to serve her.

The warlock buried his head in his knees as he felt a shot stab of pain from the memory of her death and continued the mantra of 'she's back, she's here, she's safe' in his head. Slowly the pain went away, and Merlin found himself looking at the bright, pale moon that hung in the sky.

It was always there, hanging as solitary in the heavens as he was on the earth. He had spent many nights just staring at it, daydreaming of things that had been, what was, and what had yet to be. He had fantasized Arthur's return many times -and that of his friends. Though, truthfully, he had tried not to. Arthur's return -the return of the Once and Future King- was sure, no matter how many times Merlin had lost faith, but his friends' return hadn't been prophesied about. There hadn't been so much as a thread of evidence that they might return.

But they had. And that was the important thing.

But they didn't remember.

The warlock turned the rings over in his hands, eyeing them longingly as if his friend's memories were locked inside. Unfortunately though, they weren't, but Merlin decided that he would give them back as soon as their memories were returned. Until then, he would continue to hold on to them for safekeeping.

Perhaps an hour went by before Merlin looked up from the rings and looked at the moon again to check the time. He stood to return to his cottage, knowing that even though he still had a few hours left until dawn, he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

The battle raged on around him. Men's battle cries reached his ears as easily as the clashing of metal and the zing of steel on steel. Arthur gripped the pommel of his sword, and gritting his teeth with effort, he shoved the man he was fighting backwards before bringing up his boot to kick his opponents chest. The giant of a man stumbled backwards, and Arthur turned at the sound of his name being called frantically.

Another man was swinging an axe in his direction, and Arthur leaned back just in time to miss the blade, silently thanking Merlin's perception and watchful eye. Arthur might tease him and call him a useless, but the boy had saved his life on several occasions throughout the years. He quickly defeated his newest opponent when the man overstepped his mark, and Arthur rammed him in the side before running him through. He looked around, taking in the battle.

Leon fought beside Elyan against a small group of men, and Gwaine fought with Percival, evidently protecting Merlin. Arthur made his way over there and blocked a blow from an approaching bandit, shoving him out of the way before knocking him on the head with the pommel of his sword. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and Arthur moved on, wiping the sweat from his brow and making sure that his friends were kept safe.

His blade clashed with another, and suddenly a sharp, incessant din accompanied the blow. Arthur reared back and swung low, and when the blades met, another loud ring echoed through the beech tree filled valley, but it didn't sound normal. It was too sharp, too foreign. What...?

The king's sword fell to the ground, and Arthur hastily looked towards his friends as the world began to blur and swirl, colors mixing. He thought he heard Merlin screaming his name and then...

Arthur, still half-unconscious, reached out for the 'off' button on the alarm clock beside his bed. Frustration built up in him at being woken up at all, but what's worse was that he couldn't remember the friend he'd felt alongside him in his dream. He remembered the feeling of being triumphant, the satisfaction that came from protecting someone, and an almost overwhelming feeling of being safe himself. It all made him want to just roll over, snuggle into his pillow, and try to return to the dream -maybe even remember the main character for once.

He knew it wouldn't help though, and he forced his foggy mind to wake up for the day as he squinted at the bright digital clock. It read seven o'clock, and Arthur groaned, knowing he only had an hour before he had to go to work. He threw off the warm bed covers, feeling strangely like he was forgetting something, and nearly fell off the bed sideways when his feet got tangled in his eggshell colored sheets.

Gasping out a laugh, Arthur stood and rubbed his hand on his bare chest, stretching before he wandered out of his bedroom. His dark grey sweatpants caught under his feet as he walked down the hallway and into his spacious kitchen area, comforted by familiar surroundings. As much as the lingering scent of beech trees comforted him in his dreams, knowing that he wasn't surrounded by bloodthirsty bandits and was safe in his rather large apartment was good too.

He grinned to himself and opened his fridge, squinting his eyes at the suddenly bright light and pulling out some leftover pizza and scarfing that down for breakfast. After he'd finished that, he took a quick shower and dressed for the day in dark jeans and a button up dark blue shirt. One of the benefits of being a detective, after all, was that you could wear more civilian clothing.

A knock on his door resounded around his spacious living room and he hopped past the couch, adjusting his collar, and opened the door to Leon adjusting his tie. He felt a rush of amusement, as he usually did when one of his friends came over, and wondered again how they'd all managed to get apartments on the same floor.

"A suit? Again?" he said, smirking with fond amusement.

Leon glanced at him, a small grin on his stubbled face before he went back to folding his tie over itself. "I always wear a suit, Arthur. Some of us have to look respectable."

"And jeans aren't good enough for you?"

"Like I said -some of us have to look professional, and it's not going to be Gwaine."

Arthur hummed in agreement, laughing, and leaned against his door. "So what's up?"

Leon finished the knot on his tie and adjusted it. "Matt called; he said the tapes from the museum are in Evidence."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Wonderful?"

"I thought you might want to call Colin and tell him...?" he dragged on, a smile pulling at his lips.

Oh, right.

A strange feeling rushed through him, brushing against the emotions he'd retained from his dream. He still felt like he was missing something -forgetting something, like the person he'd been protecting still needed his help. His eyes glazed over in thought, and his brow came together as he tried and failed to find the information he was looking for.

"Arthur?"

The Inspector blinked several times, clearing his thoughts. "Huh?"

Leon smirked, but his blue eyes showed a hint of concern. "Would you rather I call him?"

"No," Arthur answered, "I can do it, thanks."

The detective nodded and left to finish getting ready, leaving Arthur to... try and remember where he'd left his mobile. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and let it rest on the nape of his neck, thumb fingering the collar of his blue shirt. After seeing Colin off to his cab, he, Gwaine, and Guinevere had climbed into their own car and driven home. They'd left Gwaine in the parking lot after he'd spotted some blonde he apparently knew, and Arthur had walked Guinevere to her apartment. He'd kissed her goodnight and he'd gone home and... watched the telly!

Arthur, smiling to himself with pride, jumped over to the couch and scanned for his phone. He didn't see it anywhere and felt a small tinge of disappointment before he started feeling around the couch cushions. Guinevere always said that he should clean up more so he would know where everything was, but he wasn't exactly a tidy person.

There!

He wrapped his callous fingers around the cold metal and dug his phone out from between the couch cushions. Arthur gave his black touch screen phone a once-over and satisfied that there was no damage, unlocked it with a slide of his finger. He hadn't missed any calls or text messages, which was good, and now all he had to do was find Colin's number. Wonderful.

Arthur had asked for his number so that they could keep in touch just before he got into the cab. He'd written it on a scrap of paper from Gwen's purse, and Arthur had shoved it in his pocket. The Inspector ran into his room and snatched up the trousers he'd worn the previous day, pulling an old gum wrapper and Colin's number from the pocket. He read over the numbers before punching them into his phone and pressed the glowing green 'call' icon on the left.

It rang several times before someone answered, and the answering voice was curious, and if he knew anything about deciphering voices over the phone, Colin was smiling brightly.

"Arthur?"

The blonde felt a twinge of surprise, and, following that, confusion as to why there was a twinge of fondness stirring in his chest.

"How'd you know?"

Colin laughed. "Well, I don't exactly give out my phone number to everyone."

Arthur briefly wondered how many friends Colin had and something else stirred in him. Concern? Sadness?

Arthur felt a smile pull at his lips, though, at the amusement in the boy's tone, and he let out his own small laugh. "I'm just calling to tell you that Evidence has the tapes from outside the museum."

"Mkay," he hummed. Arthur heard some rustling in the background. "What time should I come in?"

"I'm headed over there in a few if you wanted to just go now."

"Sounds good. It might take me a bit to get there though."

Arthur brow furrowed. "Why?"

"'Cause I live about forty minutes from London."

"O-kay then. See you when I see you then?"

He laughed again, sending static through the line. "Yeah, see you later, Arthur."

Arthur grinned and pressed 'end call' before slipping his phone into his back pocket and searching for his trainers. He slipped them over his socks and grabbed his coat out of the closet before slipping that over his button up shirt. Finally, he grabbed his keys off the side table by the door and slipped out the door.

"Princess!"

Arthur was hard pressed not to let a laughing grin show on his face as he locked the door to his apartment. "Good morning to you too, Gwaine."

"It is indeed a good morning, Arthur. I've had my coffee and some doughnuts -"

Arthur interrupted, using the same sing-song voice that Gwaine had as his long-haired friend jumped into step with him to the lift. "And today you're going to drive us crazy because you'll be too hyper..."

Gwaine grinned broadly.

"I only hope Colin can handle it without going mad."

"From what I can tell, he will," the sergeant answered, smiling. He pressed the 'G' button, and the doors slid shut before the lift shifted downwards. "Kid's gotta sense of humor, Arthur."

"I'll give him that. Did you hear him call me a prat yesterday? I couldn't believe it."

"I thought it was brilliant!" Gwaine remarked. "Not one person I know -besides our group, of course- has ever had the gall to do that. I was impressed."

Arthur thought he nodded, because yes, it had impressed him too, but his mind had already started to drift, thinking of another person who'd called him a prat. Because there had been someone, Arthur knew, he just couldn't remember who... or when. His mind scanned all his previous dreams -well, what he could remember of them. He thought about disembodied voices and feelings and thoughts, knowing that the answer was there somewhere.

Somewhere.

Okay, so we got a little more personal insight into some of Merlin's past. I hope you guys liked it, because I loved writing it. :D Hopefully, there'll be more things like that to come. Also, things are slowly coming together for our other characters, aren't they? Just... let your minds wander as you think of ways this is all going to be resolved. *evil grin*

Anyway, please leave a review and tell me what you enjoyed, and what you think I could improve on. I tried to mention eye color less, (because that's been commented on several times, and I can see that it needs to change, too), so I hope I did better on that. :)