Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello! Just so you guys know, because some people did ask, I'm feeling much better. I'm don't feel like I'm going to die anymore, which is very, very good. :D Just your ol' run-of-the-mill allergies now. ;)

Also, guys, I can't stress this enough... Treat this sentence like gold, okay? Because it's really, really important, and I'm slightly going out of my mind with it. And the sentence is: Rise of the Guardians is spectacular. No, spectacular doesn't even cover it, but I couldn't' think of a word to match its brilliance. Guys. This. Movie. I can't stop watching it. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't. Jack Frost. That's all you need to know. No, I take that back: You need to know it's amazing, and it's full of angst (so much!), friendship, bromance (epic, epic, epic, I can't even begin to tell you), and it's just overall a great feel-good movie. And, if it means anything, CaptainOzone and ErinNovelist, here on FF, are also in love with it. Really, it's like one of the only things we talk about now. :P THAT's how amazing it is!

Oh, and sorry to all the reviews I didn't get to. I got super busy with school and just... life that it kinda took over. :P

Okay, I think I've covered all the bases (*cough* Go watch Rise of the Guardians *cough*), so here's the next chapter! Now, I know that you may not be expecting this turn of events (and some of you did call it-but I'm not saying who or regarding what), but it all plays a role, I promise.

Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Two Sides of the Coin

As it always tended to do, Time's lithe fingers brushed against Destiny's shoulder, and things progressed.

Things changed.

Any feeble walls that had been between Merlin and Arthur came crumbling down within the next few days as they completely accepted the other, memory loss or no. Because what they had needed, all that time, was each other: the other's exclusive brand of personality and charm and wit and humor.

They became inseparable. Like two sides of the same coin.

And when Guinevere talked to the manager at their apartment building and learned that the two apartments left on their floor were, in fact, empty, she put in a good word for Merlin. She talked to him about it, and he seemed a little abashed and reluctant, but after some good-natured prodding from Arthur and the quondam knights, he smiled and wholeheartedly agreed.

They offered to help move his things, even though the apartment was already furnished, and in two more days, they arrived at his little cottage by the Lake. Merlin was still scrambling to shove things into the basement. Things that, at the moment, didn't need to be revealed nor seen: paintings he had done of them decades ago, random magical artifacts, older things that he could say belonged to his father or grandfather, but he didn't want to have to lie to them. Not anymore.

"Whoa, Colin, nice view!" Gwaine exclaimed, looking out over the Lake towards the tower.

Even after all these years, he was adept at reading Arthur, and he studied the expression on his face. At first, it had been one of humor but had quickly turned more somber as his shoulders dropped and his eyes hollowed. "Arthur? You okay?"

The detective turned towards him, blond hair shining in the sunlight. He blinked to clear the mist from his eyes. "Yeah, just... the strangest sense of deja vu."

Sighing, the warlock nodded out of Arthur line of vision, and soon enough, they had packed Merlin's things - the things he was taking anyway - into the vehicles and were headed back to the city. Merlin noticed that Arthur's clouded blue eyes stayed locked on the Lake and on the climbing tower as they drove past it, and he didn't jump into Gwaine's bantering until the Lake was long behind them.

Half an hour later, Merlin carried a box out of the lift and set it down to pull his new apartment key out of his pocket. He heard the lock give way as the key turned and shuffling through the door with the box, he groped along the wall for the light switch. His fingers caught it, and when he pushed it up, several lights, all hooked up to the switch, came on. Merlin set the box down, zoning out the sounds of his friends behind him, and looked, only for the second time, at the place that would be his new home.

The front door itself led into a small foyer, complete with a sliding door closet for shoes and jackets. There was a small end table against one of the walls with a wicker basket which, Merlin decided, was where he would put his keys when he came in. The entrance led straight into the huge, spacious living room, where a large flat screen television was set against the wall, with a complete entertainment system already hooked up. A few feet from that was a long, beige colored couch that wrapped around two sides of the large, light-colored area carpet on the floor. On his right was a completely open kitchen, fully equipped, that looked out towards the main room. Straight in front of him was the dining room with a modestly sized table that sat about four, six if you squeezed, with a lavender colored candle on the strip of tablecloth. Finally, between the dining room and the living room space, was a hallway that eventually lead towards the master bedroom and bath. Broken off the hallway, though, was an extra bedroom, and another bathroom, a washer and dryer tucked into a closet, a linen closet, and a regular empty closet.

"'Scuse me, Colin," Elyan huffed, brushing past him and more or less dropping the heavy box he was carrying on the faux-leather couch. "Goodness, what'd you have in this? Rocks?"

Merlin felt his smile widen as he set his own load down, and he turned toward his friend, leaning against the couch. "One, actually, I think."

"You really have a rock in here?"

"I think..." he grinned. And he actually did. He'd acquired it during one of his journeys, this one to Rome, and, as per usual, it wasn't just a normal artifact. It carried magic. Powerful magic. "Just a little memento," he offered.

They helped him unpack, and by the next day, he was settled into his new home. Now, since he was so close to all his friends, their friendships thrived, and he was regularly involved in their daily lives, be it dinner, the movies, or just going over to their apartment for no real reason. And what he found, to his satisfaction, was that each of their homes represented them, past and present: Gwen's with her white carpets and lavender colored curtains and pillows, Gwaine's with his untidy, overcrowded furnishings, and Arthur's with his simple yet interesting looking decorations.

But along with his new apartment, he had to learn new things, much to Guinevere's amusement. Within the first few days of his living there, Gwen had had to show him how to use the built-in washer/drying that was tucked in the closet, the dishwasher, which, in all his years, he'd never used before, how to work the telly with the automatic DVR hook up, and a vacuum she picked up for him at a resale store. Merlin had blushed several times at his own failings, laughing as she helped him with the simplest things. Gwen was always patient and good-natured in her own teasings and laughed right along with him.

Merlin also found out, through Guinevere and Arthur, that Katie - Morgana - quit her job as John's secretary, something Merlin didn't mind at all, and had found a cheap place to live in somewhere in Wales. Uther was steamed about it and took it out on everyone at the office, but even that soon became yesterday's news. As long as she was nowhere near his friends, regardless of whether she'd lost her memories or not, Merlin was happy.

The case too, showed progress. Following leads and questioning those it concerned, they solved it within a week of having it. It turned out that it had been a relative who'd killed him in a drunken rage. They'd arrested the man, and after Arthur had gotten him to confess, much to Merlin's pride, he'd been registered and put on trial. It had been an open and shut case, and now, as Uther pushed another file into Arthur's hands, Merlin found his interest peaked.

"What's this?" Arthur asked curiously, peeking through the file.

Uther folded his hands in front of him, standing as regally as the king he was in his past life. "A museum curator was murdered late last night."

The warlock kept his face neutral, as he was accustomed to doing in Uther's presence, and calmly stood beside Arthur as the Chief seemed to loom over them both. "Is it connected to the break-ins a few weeks ago?"

"I believe it might be, yes."

Arthur closed the manila folder, eyes looking up towards his father. "We'll get right on it, sir."

Only nodding his approval, Uther turned and walked back towards his office.

"Well, isn't he a bundle of joy?" Merlin joked half-heartedly.

Arthur glanced at him, narrowing his eyes as a small smirk tugged at his lips. Slapping his friend's arm with the folder, he turned back towards his desk. "Watch it, Colin, he's still my father, remember."

"How could I forget? Honestly, does he like me, or doesn't he?" Gesturing as he spoke, Merlin plopped himself down in a chair beside Arthur's desk, and he continued, "I always feel like he's staring me down, like he's about to bite my head off if I turn left instead of right." It wasn't much of a surprise, really, Uther of Camelot hadn't liked him much either.

The detective laughed, and Merlin felt a burst of pride that his jabs paid off. "I don't think he's very fond of you, if that's what you mean, but he's like that with everyone."

"Or just me."

Arthur chuckled again. "If you insist."

"Where's everyone else?" Merlin asked, spinning lightly in the chair.

"Working on other cases. Come on, let's go."

"Where exactly? I just sat down."

"The morgue, you dolt, and whose fault is that?"

"Charming. Arthur, can't I relax for five minutes?"

The detective raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Merlin like a child who wasn't immediately obeying his parents.

"Prat."

Arthur walked away, knowing full well that Merlin would be following at his heels. "Idiot."

They took the lift all the way down to the basement, and when the bell dinged and the lift jerked to a halt, they turned right towards two large swinging doors. Walking in, the air temperature immediately plummeted, and Merlin brought his arms up to his chest. "My gosh, I feel like we've just stepped into a refrigerator," he noted, voice echoing off the whitewashed walls.

"You did," a voice said. "It's about seven point two degrees Celsius down here."

Coming into view as they walked further into the room, the coroner looked up from his desk, taking off a pair of reading glasses as he stood. The plump man walked towards them, reaching his hand out towards Arthur. "Well, considering the circumstances, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again, Arthur."

Smiling, Arthur shook his hand. "And it's not a pleasure to see you again, Michael."

Michael turned towards Merlin, taking his hand and shaking it too. "And who's this young man?"

Merlin smirked at the ironies and replied, "Colin Jones."

"Not nice to meet you, Colin, I'm Michael Lintch, Scotland Yard's lesser known coroner."

"I gathered," the warlock grinned.

"My father just gave me the file on the girl," Arthur explained as Michael walked towards a gurnee covered with a white sheet. "Colin, you alright? You could wait outside if you want."

Merlin met his gaze steadily, and he gave him a small smile. "No, that's alright. It's just been awhile."

Arthur, a small amount of confusion showing in his eyes, nodded, and Merlin realized his slip. He was a doctor: he should have been used to seeing these kinds of things. Even a doctor saw their fair share of bodies when they officially pronounce them dead. But Merlin hadn't. He had carefully kept himself away from that - only working with already healing patients and small things. It was a way he protected himself.

Michael shoved his fleshy hands into a pair of latex gloves and grabbed the hem of the sheet with his thumbs and forefingers, steadily pulling back the sheet until the woman's fiery red hair and heart-shaped face were revealed. "Her name, I'm sure you know, was Rose Lyngrid." Her eyes were, thankfully, closed, and her face was peaceful. "This case was peculiar."

Arthur leaned over to examine her face, eyes narrowed as he took in her features. "How so?" Merlin watched his face, associating the query and concern in his eyes with the king of Camelot.

The coroner pointed towards the back of her head. "Well," he sighed, "her cause of death, at first look, seemed to be from a blow from a blunt instrument on the back of her head, but at further inspection," he pulled the sheet back a little further, showing her shoulders, collarbone, and bruised neck, "her larynx was crushed, as if she was strangled, but there are no hand markings. Even if the attacker had won gloves, there would be something."

Merlin took a step closer, eye piquing as something flared in his eyes. "There's nothing?"

"No."

"Were those her only injures?" Arthur asked.

Michael glanced at the detective, shrugging. "Other than a few bruises here and there, yes."

"Any internal injuries?" Merlin asked.

Arthur glanced between the two as Michael gave the boy a questioning look. "He's a doctor."

"Oh," he nodded, amused, "and no, nothing internal, but I'm running a blood test now to check for poisons or inhibitors."

"Great," Arthur nodded. "Come on, Colin, let's get going. We've got some leads to track down."

"Wonderful," Merlin muttered.

Michael walked them out. "Come back and see me sometime," he said, "when there isn't a body to be looked over."

The detective laughed, glancing back at his friend and nodding before they walked out.

An hour later, Merlin and Arthur stood before a drab apartment door, and Arthur knocked. The hallway smelled of oranges from some cheap air freshener, and the peach wallpaper helped lighten the place up.

"What's his name again?"

"Brian Sheffield. Remember, he was working the late shift with Rose the night she was killed."

"Yeah, got it."

The door opened, showing a middle-aged man with receding brown hair and brown eyes. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Hello," Arthur began, "I'm Bradley James, from Scotland Yard, and this is my partner Colin Jones."

"Yes, they said you would be coming."

Merlin's brow scrunched. "Who did?"

"The officers who took my statement the first time. Please, come in."

The man walked further into his apartment, and as Arthur took out a pad of paper and a pen, Merlin looked around, spotting several children's' toys scattered around the living room, while everything else was tidy. "How many kids do you have?"

The man gave him a small smile, eyes glancing around the room. "Two. One's three; the other, five."

"Congratulations."

Brian nodded and sat down in a loveseat, waving his arm in invitation for them to sit on the opposite couch. "This won't take too long, will it? My wife should be home soon."

"Not at all," Arthur placated. "We only have a few questions." The man bobbed his head, a cue for him to start. "Mr. Sheffield, I have it down that you were working security the night Ms. Lyngrid was murdered. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And when was the last time you saw her when you went on shift?"

His eyes glanced around, but from years of experience, Merlin could tell that he was not nervous, but genuinely trying to remember. "It was when I was doing my rounds. I checked into her office to make sure she was alright. She was, and I went back to walking around the museum, ya know, just routine stuff. But then twenty minutes later... I found her unconscious in one of the wings, and I called an ambulance."

"What time was this?"

"I think... It must have been around midnight."

Merlin scooted forward on the couch, memories of the other break-ins running through his head. "What wing did you find her in?"

"The Weapons Wing. It just features the evolution of weapons through time."

"Did you find her near any particular item? Any specific weapon?"

Brian shook his head, folding his hand on his knees as he leaned forward. "No. She was just... in the middle of the floor." He bowed his head, and his eyes lost their focus as he spun his wedding ring on his finger.

Merlin had seen that look many times throughout his years. Hell, he'd worn it... that look despair and regret someone gets when they begin to flounder in their own badgering questions. Was there something they could have done, something they should have done? And then, when you've thought of all the possibilities, you have no way to do it over...

He bumped Arthur's knee with his own, and after gaining his attention as he looked up from his notepad, he jerked his head towards Brian. Arthur caught the look and stood, shoving his notepad in his pocket and stretching his hand out. "Thank you, Mr. Sheffield, for your time."

He stood, grasping Arthur's hand and shaking it. "Is that all?"

"For now," Merlin answered, knowing from their previous case that that was how Arthur would respond. He shook Brien's hand. "Thanks again."

Brien let them out, and when the door closed, Merlin let his head hang a little as they walked. "He's really beaten up, huh?"

"Unfortunately, that's what happens," Arthur responded. "Someone you know is killed, and you can't help your own mind's wanderings. It eats you inside, and you can't stop it, only live with it."

When Arthur finished speaking, there was a very familiar hollowness in Merlin's chest, and, flaring his nostrils to hold back his own emotions, he said thickly, "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

The blond sighed, "I am."

They exited the apartment complex, sunlight hitting their faces as their shoulders brushed against each other. "What happened?" Merlin asked softly. "If you don't mind my asking, I mean. I know some people -"

Arthur chuckled, glancing at him with tender eyes. "It's alright, Colin," he reassured, smiling at how his friend stumbled over his own words. "It's just... my mother died when I was very young - in childbirth actually."

"Oh," Merlin breathed. He thought it might have been that - it had happened in their other world, but he wanted to make sure. There was no way he was going to let Arthur go through anything alone. He knew what that felt like.

"I never got to know her, and the only thing I know about her is from a picture my father keeps on his desk and a few he has around his house. I always felt like it was my fault that she died like that."

Merlin stopped him, pulling him over to the side of the walkway as people shuffled past them. "Arthur," he said with added passion in his voice, "it wasn't your fault." Because of that he was sure. Whether it was Uther's fault this time or not, Arthur couldn't get tangled up in this and blame himself again. "She gave birth to you, and I'm sure that seeing you was the best moment of her life. And I think that she wouldn't have had it any other way. Do you think she would have wanted you to blame yourself? She would want you to live your life, and to be happy doing it. Trust me."

The detective looked at him with glazed, sparkling eyes, lips set in a firm line as his hands fidgeted in their pockets. "Thanks, Colin."

Merlin nodded, clenching his teeth and biting his tongue, wishing that he could only reveal his true self. He always said that he never wanted recognition for his deeds, and while that still held true, he wanted his friend to be bonding with him - with Merlin - not some fictional alias. The person was the same, but the name that held it and the name that had a place in Arthur's memories of these past weeks, was not. Colin, not Merlin, and that hurt the warlock more than he could say.

They continued their walk back to the car, which they'd parked a few blocks off to enjoy the crispness of the air, and Merlin ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. "So what about you, then?" Arthur questioned. "Your parents, I mean."

Merlin offered him a small smile, mind reviving memories one thousand and five hundred years old. "I, um, grew up with my mum in a small village a long way away."

"No dad?"

"No, but... Let's just say that he didn't even know he had a son. Something happened, and he had to leave before he knew my mother was pregnant."

"But you met him?"

"One day, yes," he grinned.

Arthur pointed an inquisitive eyebrow and smirked back at him as they reached the car. And, pausing before he opened the door, the detective asked, "Where're your parents now?"

The warlock felt a familiar hurt in his chest again, this one of a different brand, and felt his breathing constrict as he ducked his head. "They're gone now. Both of them. They died a long time ago."

Letting out a sigh, the blonde swallowed. "Colin, I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's alright," he said, giving him a tight-lipped smile, that ever-ready mask, to hide his true feelings. "It was a long time ago."

Arthur looked like he was going to say something else, but as Merlin walked towards the other side of the car, the words were lost on his lips, and a memory plowed its way unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

"Have you been here all night?"

"I didn't want you to feel that you were alone."

"You are a loyal friend, M -"

"Arthur?" Merlin called from inside the car, amused. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

The detective climbed in the car and, mind buzzing as he started the engine, drove away as he thought about his increasing daydreams.

Once more thing: Guys, please check the "Announcements" section on my profile in regards to "What Happens". That might clear some things up. ;)

I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated. ;)