Disclaimer: IDOM

Heyo! Right, so, there is a ton of things happening in this chapter. As you can see from the scroll bar, this is the longest chapter so far-escalating to fifteen pages. ;) Seriously, though, guys, this chapter has been written since January (2013), and it was my ultimate explanation of what happened to everyone after the season finale, which was still very, very raw for me. I remember staying up really late to write this because I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. Like, I wrote this scene before I even had a solid plot for this story. It was this scene and two others (which are still to come) that allowed my mind to create a solid basis for this story. :)

So anyway, I hope you like it. It's pretty epic, in my opinion. There's a lot to keep up with and a lot of explanations.

Enjoy:

Chapter 11: Catching Breath

Merlin and Gwen got back to Scotland Yard just before Arthur and Morgana did. The warlock was lounging casually in a chair beside Gwaine's desk, while his friend leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk. Guinevere, bless her, had run to the break room to get them all coffee.

"I am going home and sleeping for a fortnight," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Merlin grinned at him. "What'd you do anyway?"

Glancing at him, Gwaine narrowed his mirth filled eyes. "Well, Colin, since you and the Princess were both given the day off, a certain boss of ours decided to let us handle your case for today. We had to go to this other guy's house to get an interview because the fingerprints on the glass case matched."

"And?"

"And we found out that he was just the janitor," Gwaine groaned. "Really, you'd think that someone would have thought of that before!"

"So there's no more leads, then?"

"None. I tell you, this case just keeps hitting walls."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Princess! Speak of the devil!"

Merlin craned his neck to look behind him just as Arthur and Morgana walked up, both carrying white bags. "Heyo."

"Hey," Arthur replied, gratefully setting the bags down and twisting his wrists. "Geez, I never knew shopping could be so painful. Why did I carry your things anyway?"

Morgana smirked. "That's what brothers are for, aren't they."

"No."

Bringing her hand up to his shoulder, Morgana narrowed her eyes, humor dancing in them. "You're in denial. I understand." Turning to address the rest of them, she said, "I'll be back."

"Where're you going?" Arthur asked.

"Restroom, stupid."

She walked off, and Gwaine whistled. "She's got a quick tongue, I'll give her that."

"Eh, I've heard worse," Arthur grinned.

Merlin raised his brow, thinking about all the things she would say back in Camelot, and stood. "I'm going to see what's taking Gwen so long."

Arthur glanced at him, stealing his seat. "Why? Where is she?"

"Getting coffee," Gwaine answered.

Merlin nodded before running a hand through his hair and walking off. He was halfway there before a hand shot out from behind the corner, gripping his wrist and pulling him around the edge of the wall. Releasing a small sound of surprise, Merlin stumbled sideways before the hand on his wrist let go of him, and he spun around.

Morgana.

She looked as normal as ever, but Merlin was reminded of the times she had done this same thing in Camelot. Neither time had brought good news, and why had she...?

"Katie, what–?"

"Oh, stop it, Merlin. We both know that's not my true name."

As if he'd been punched in the gut, Merlin felt his breath leave him, and his mind suddenly locked.

"We both know the truth, don't we?"

All he could do was stare at her, bewildered, as she so casually questioned him. She knew... How could she...? An inquiry of his own rose to the surface, and he quickly collected himself. "How can you remember when the others don't?"

She smirked slyly at him, the way she used to, and the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stood up. "Oh, come on, over a thousand years has passed, and that's the only thing you can think of?"

"Morgana," he said, low and dangerous. "How long?"

"Why don't you tell me how you remember, old friend?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes, feeling his magic rise up to defend him if need be, but he forced it down. "Morgana-"

"No," she interrupted. "Actually, don't tell me. We don't have time just now. Meet me tonight, and we'll talk."

"And where did you have in mind?" he asked slowly. Suspicion crawled through his mind, but somehow, curiosity and a desire to know triumphed over his instincts of wariness.

She glanced away from him, thinking. "The Grand Charpe. On Fifth Street. We'll meet at nine, have some dinner, get caught up, hm?"

"Fine."

"Good," she smirked. "Oh, and, Merlin, it's a formal restaurant, so brush off your best suit."

She started to walk away before abruptly turning back around to press her slim index finger to her lips. "And don't tell the others," she said, smiling. "They'll only think you're mad."

Merlin only felt frustration mount in his chest as he watched her walk away. She remembered. Truly, wholly remembered. He could see it.

Why hadn't he seen it before?

Maybe because he'd been too hopeful: Nothing had happened in the years they'd been here, so he thought that... but of course not. Destiny, of course, always wanted to challenge him, give him new things to handle. Morgana was just Her pawn once more. As was he.

"Colin?"

He turned quickly, startled. "Gwen! Don't scare me like that," he grinned.

The secretary laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. "So what's with Morgana? I saw you two talking. It looked pretty important."

Merlin tilted his head a little, wondering just how much she saw. "Oh, it was nothing. Just..." An idea came to his mind. "We were talking about Arthur."

"Oh. What about?"

"Just... this case we're working on," he lied.

"Erm, alright. So are you heading home then?"

Merlin smiled as they walked back towards the group together. "Soon, yes. You?"

Brown eyes narrowed with her smile. "I have to work, remember?"

"Right. What time should you be home, then?"

"Late. I get off here at ten, and I'll probably catch a cab home."

Merlin furrowed his brow, trying forcibly pushing any thoughts of Morgana away. "What about your car?"

She took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. "I loaned it to Elyan."

"There you guys are! Goodness, you take forever!" Gwaine bellowed.

Guinevere's smile broadened, and she held her mug higher, emphasizing it. "The coffee machine mucked up, and I had to fix it." She glanced around, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Where'd Morgana go?"

Arthur passed a ball from Gwaine's desk back and forth between his hands. "She left. Said she had to go get ready for a dinner date, whatever that means. You know how she is."

Gwen giggled. "I wonder who the bloke is now."

Merlin, not saying anything on the matter, asked, "What time is it anyway?"

Glancing at his watch, Gwanie answered, "About seven."

He only had two hours before he met his most dangerous enemy.

"About ready to go then, Colin?"

"Sure. I'm exhausted."

"I call shotgun!"

"Gwaine, you're coming?"

The sergeant smirked. "Elyan ditched me to see some new movie with Perce and Leon."

"Wait. Elyan borrowed Gwen's car," Merlin reasoned, "but Leon has his own car. So whose car did they take?"

"Both," Gwaine said, running his hand through his hair.

"Why?"

Gwen's shoulder brushed Merlin's arm. "El left before them to visit our dad."

"Ah," Merlin breathed.

"Right then, let's get going."

They said short farewells, each giving Guinevere a short hug before heading towards the lift. Merlin felt unease begin to stir in him again. In one hour, he'd be having dinner with Morgana. In one hour, he would know what she knew. In two hours, everything about their modern Camelot might be changed.

She was already waiting for him when he arrived.

Merlin adjusted his black tie and squared his shoulders, righting his ebony coloured suit and fixing his hair as he walked through the tall glass doors of the Grand Charpe. He took in the room with one long look.

It was lit by dim lights, giving the spacious room a golden glow that complimented the richly decorated wallpaper, which was weaved with golden flowery designs, the beige tiles beneath his feet, and the golden shaded crystal chandeliers that hung sporadically from the high ceiling. The circular tables, varying in size, were clothed with white tablecloths, and a small candle graced the center of each. The room itself was nearly full of people chatting quietly amongst their group as forks and knives cut carefully through food. He spotted the person he was meant to meet in almost the very center of the room, sipping dark red wine from a plain crystal glass.

Merlin refocused his attention towards the things closer to him and sauntered down the short walk to the reservations desk, passing tall structures that held overgrown vines on either side of him.

Once he reached the desk, the man looked up at him with a polite smile on his face. His blue eyes held curiosity and yet boredom at the same time, and he raised his eyebrows as he said, "Hello, sir, how can I help you?"

Merlin shoved his left hand in his pocket, setting the other on the desk before him. "Reservation for two–under 'McGrath.'"

The host looked down at his book, using his pen to scroll down a list of names. "Hm, yes, here it is: McGrath, party of two. Ms. McGrath arrived a few moments ago, Mr. Jones. Is it?" Merlin gave him a short nod, and he glanced down again before setting down his pen and moving out from behind the desk. "Right this way, sir."

The warlock trailed behind him somewhat as he weaved his way past tables and other guests,who were too engaged in their own conversations to pay them any attention, until they reached their appointed destination.

"Ms. McGrath," the waiter said as he approached, "Mr. Jones has arrived."

Morgana stood, and Merlin felt his breath catch momentarily at the sight before him. She wore a tight, sleeveless black dress that was modest yet simple. It went down to her knees and hugged the curves of her lithe body. Her hair, let down, fell in silky ebony waves, and her chiseled-from-the-forest green eyes were better defined by the modest green eyeshadow, light eyeliner, and bright red lipstick that added color to her pallid skin tone.

But Merlin knew, as his breath came back to him, that the flutter in his stomach wasn't from physical attraction but rather from the surprise he felt: she looked so different than the last time Merlin had truly seen her-when she'd been dying below him after he had driven Excalibur through her gut. Then, she'd been dirty, her hair a tangled mat, and her appearance haggard; now, though, she was in such complete contrast to that that it reminded Merlin of a time before she'd even been aware of her powers, when her heart had still been so full of love and conviction in her beliefs, that it made him feel almost nostalgic.

"Colin," she greeted politely as the corner of her mouth curled up into a smirk as she stretched out her hand, "thank you for coming."

Merlin took her small hand in his own, and the warlock shook it briefly before pulling back again. "Katie."

Her smirk grew, shadowing her high cheekbones, as amusement lit her eyes. She turned back to the host, "That'll be all, Richard, thank you."

Richard nodded, hands clasped in front of him, and bowed subserviently. He said, "The waiter will be here momentarily, Ms. McGrath."

She nodded, and Richard walked back to the desk before Morgana gestured to the seat across from her at the small table they'd been assigned to. Merlin sat, and Morgana followed his lead before she picked up her wine glass again and took another sip. Merlin watched her through slightly narrowed, curious eyes.

Morgana saw this, and the amused smile grew on her face as she pulled her glass away from her lips. She glanced between him and her wine before saying, "You really should try some of this, Merlin. It's nothing like what we had in Camelot."

As if on cue, the waiter arrived and poured the warlock his own glass, leaving the bottle in a silver bowl that was filled with ice as he gave them their menus. He said he'd be back in a few minutes and then left for another table.

Morgana looked at him curiously, and the warlock took a sip of the wine before nodding with approval. "It is good. What year is it?"

"Nineteen-ninety-one, I believe."

Merlin took another sip and savored the flavor on his tongue. "I think you're right, Morgana."

Morgana smiled and glanced down at her menu, taking in what looked good and what didn't. She saw Merlin doing the same, and said, "Choose whatever. It's on me."

The warlock's ebony eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's very kind of you. Thank you."

She just nodded, looking back at her menu and making her selection just as the waiter came back.

"What can I get for you?" he asked.

Morgana looked up at him; the light catching her eyes and making one almost look blue. "I'll have the Carpaccio please, and as for my friend–" she raised her eyebrows and looked at Merlin questioningly.

"I'll have the steak please."

"Pink, medium rare, or well done, sir?"

"Medium rare."

The waiter nodded and closed his hand-sized notebook. "Your order will be here soon."

They both bobbed their heads in approval, and the waiter moved off towards the they both stirred their wine in their glasses, Merlin watching Morgana the whole time with a small smile as he leaned on the table, face filled with unhidden curiosity. Morgana, already having seen his eagerness, took another sip of her wine before setting the glass down and crossing her arms on the table and leaning over them as the flickering candlelight between them reflected in her emerald eyes.

"I know you've got questions," she purred, leaning back again and crossing her arms over her chest. 'Go on, ask away."

Merlin leaned even further over the table as his blue eyes flashed. "How do you remember when the others don't?"

Her face lit with mild amusement as her thin lips curled into a teasing smile. She leaned forward again and cupped her wine glass in between her forefinger and middle finger. Her piercing eyes became distant and clouded with memories.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes."

"So you know that a traumatic experience, coupled with a blow to the head, can potentially create amnesia?"

Again, Merlin nodded patiently.

Morgana tapped her finger on the stark tablecloth lightly. "I was twenty-one when it happened," she began. "I was on holiday–a three day trip to Wales, and I… I was driving on a country road when another car came speeding towards me. It was a… blue Chevy–American made–and it was veering all over the road. It all happened so fast…

"But the next thing I knew, we crashed nearly head on. I was belted in, but the impact was enough to knock me out. My last thought was that I was going to die… if I hadn't already. But then I remember waking up in the hospital, and I just… I don't know. I remember, just before opening my eyes, that I compared started to compare that accident to a carriage accident I had with Gorlois, and I remember thinking that that was silly, because that carriage accident never happened to me, that I must be mad because I never did any of these strange things: I never lived in the Middle Ages or rode horses with Uther, and magic isn't real, but then… It all came back in a rush: every memory, every detail, just… everything. I had remembered. All those memories were all tucked safely away in my mind, just screaming to be let loose in my dreams. I know the others dream of it, too, even if they don't remember. But then I had that accident, and instead of losing my memory..."

"…you became aware," Merlin finished. His eyes were narrowed in thought, as well as in awe of her tale. Could it be through? Merlin's stomach swooped as he remembered that this was still Morgana, the person who'd ultimately killed Arthur by persuading Mordred that she was in the right. It wouldn't be hard to fabricate such a story, but it was believable all the same. He decided to believe her, if only with this, because he had no other explanation for it. "You had the opposite effect."

Morgana nodded and leaned back in her chair as she took another sip from her wine.

"So you've know… all this time?"

She nodded again, her face blank, but Merlin could see a small amount of amusement and sadness there. "I didn't remember it all at once. It's like… the memories are behind closed doors. Some things are beyond my reach, still, but as I explore my own experiences, more doors are opened."

Suddenly the waiter was there to set their plates before them and refill their wine glasses. "Will that be all, madam?"

"Yes," Morgana answered. "Thank you."

He turned on his heel and walked away.

Morgana took her napkin from the table and unfolded it before setting it delicately on her lap, like she'd always done back in Camelot. Merlin picked up his fork and knife, carefully cutting into his steak. Juices flowed out, and Merlin's mouth watered. He lifted his fork and took a bite, chewed, and looked up to find Morgana staring at him with an amused smile. He swallowed hastily, feeling a sudden caution as Morgana's piercing eyes gazed at him thoughtfully.

"What is it?" he asked.

Morgana narrowed her eyes, which were alight with curiosity and question. "You would know though, wouldn't you–about not remembering all at once? I mean, you look dashing for a man your age."

Merlin leaned forward, wariness settling in his eyes even as his stomach stirred with uncertainty. "What do you mean 'my age?'"

"Well," she simpered, "you must easily be over a thousand years old by now, if I'm correct."

The warlock felt a stab of fear as his unease was concreted, and it took all he had not to flinch at her words. How did she…? "How did you know?" he asked, his voice sharper than he'd meant it to be. He compressed his lips and leaned forward as a few curious heads turned their way, voice quieter but still coming out as a hiss. "I never said anything to you."

"I wasn't sure until now, actually. After I got my memories back, I did some research on 'Arthurian Legends.' Can you believe that they're calling them that? It should be–"

She looked up to see Merlin's hardened blue eyes, and Morgana changed the subject. "Anyway, there were a countless number of versions to go by-–and I was particularly interested in Mary Stewart's rendition of it, with you being a bastard noble and all. That put a twist on it, but still. I suppose authors today just don't have the zest for storytelling as we do, hm? But–-and don't get me wrong–-there were a number of different scenarios for your death, but none of them were… you. I mean, trapped in the Crystal Cave for all eternity?" She scrunched her brow but relaxed it as laughter came into her eyes. "Well, actually, I almost trapped you there for good; maybe that's where that story spawned from-–"

"Morgana."

She clicked her tongue before she took a bite of her food. Her black hair fell forward over her shoulder, and she pushed it back behind her ear again. "Fine. I guess I can forgive your impatience...even though I never imagined you as a grumpy old man."

Merlin rolled his eyes as tresses of frustration filtered through his placid mask.

"But like I said-–none of them were you. Trapped in the Crystal Cave...you would have found a way out. You did last time anyway. How'd you do that anyway?"

"My father might have helped," he said shortly.

Morgana's brow rose with surprise, and she was about to inquire further until Merlin's piercing gaze made her stop. Reluctantly dropping the subject, she continued, "And then that story about you being trapped in a tree. Fiction. There's only a small number of trees that you could do that with, and none of them were in the UK back then."

"How do you know if I remained in the UK?"

"Are you saying it's true?"

Merlin leaned back in his chair. "No."

Morgana narrowed her eyes and clucked her tongue again. "Always the man of mystery, aren't we, Merlin?" Merlin gave her a short shrug, and Morgana continued. "But in each case, you were ultimately seduced into your own destruction, which I don't believe would happen." Her nose curled up slightly with disgust. "I actually found myself feeling sorry for you in some of them." Her face relaxed again. "Even if none of them happened."

"How do you know?"

She leaned forward again, taking a small bite of food, swallowing as Merlin did the same, and taking a drink. "Because, Merlin, I know that there was no one after Arthur."

Merlin nearly choked on his wine. "What?"

Morgana grinned wryly. "Not romantically, of course, but… what do they say now? Bromantically? That's not even a proper word-–but anyway: he was your everything, your very reason for living, and having him die… that must have made the rest of your world shatter. You two were always one side of the same coin, and having the other side taken, smoldered, if you will, the other side wouldn't last long. It would have broken you, Merlin. To the point where you couldn't love anyone else like you loved him. And it did, didn't it?"

The warlock felt that loneliness again, that loss and despair he'd carried around all these years, pricking at his heart. He pushed it back and looked her straight in the eye before glancing down at his food. "It did. For a while. But time heals all wounds, Morgana–-"

"Not that one though," she challenged. "I can still see the pain in your eyes. Tell me, Merlin, what were his last words?"

That was when the clout of emotion began to block his throat, and he took a drink from his wine to try to clear it. "He," Merlin cleared his voice, ridding it of its hoarseness. However, Morgana had already heard his vulnerability, and she narrowed her eyes as he continued, "He thanked me."

Her mask broke, and anger flashed across her eyes. "Why? Why would he thank you for betraying him?"

"Because I didn't," he added hastily, taking a breath. "I used my magic to aid him, not try and kill him."

She clenched her fist and the flame between them flickered wildly. "If it wasn't for Uther-"

"No. I know what it's like to look for blame," he tried calmly. "I myself tried to justify hiding my magic in fear of Uther, but neither of us knows what he would have done to you. You were like a daughter to him as much as Arthur was a brother to me. Arthur accepted me during his last days; there was no proof that Uther wouldn't have done the same for you."

The rage seemed to subside in her eyes as she put on another mask, and her hand relaxed. Her lips were still held in a thin line, saying that she didn't wholly believe his words, but she wouldn't carry it on.

"You still haven't told me how you knew."

Morgana's eyes flashed to him, and she took another drink. "About what?"

Merlin took a bite of his steak. "How you knew I never died."

"Oh, well, I didn't believe any of the 'legends,' and some of the things in history just have your name written all over them–just things that it seems would happen with you around, so I guessed."

"And I just confirmed it?"

"Precisely."

Morgana cut into her meat again. "So tell me… How did the rest of them pass?"

A small pain cut through Merlin's crystal blue eyes and he ran a hand against his ebony hair before hiding it. "Well, Mordred, you know, died at Arthur's hand and Arthur at Mordred's in turn. You died at my hand-–"

"Yes, and I love that that was the only part of the legend they actually stayed true to. Thanks," she said, a half-sneer, half-laugh on her face. She leaned forward and refilled each of their wine glasses again.

"Well, there was that bit about Mab, but I met her once, and she was no bigger than a thimble. But anyway, after I buried Arthur at Lake Avalon, I returned to Camelot soon afterwards and confirmed Arthur's death. Everyone was heartbroken, of course, but after such a narrow victory, they had to remain strong. Two years after that, Gaius was taken by a fever that had taken one third of Camelot's citizens. A year later, Leon was killed in battle, Percival the same. Both died honorably, and we buried all three in Avalon as well," Merlin said soberly.

"We?" Morgana asked softly.

Merlin took another drink and felt a small amount of warmth filter through his body from the rich alcohol. "Gwen and I. We were the only two left."

Morgana leaned forward, genuine intrigue written on her face. "So what happened?"

"She died–-only a few years later. Poison."

"And you couldn't-–"

He shook his head, already having anticipated her words. "No. The poison was too potent… I made it so she didn't suffer though. Pain suppressant. It was the least I could do."

Morgana nodded soberly, brow pinched in the old way when she would express concern. "And did you find the person who poisoned her?"

Merlin nodded, anger flashing through his multifaceted eyes.

"And?"

He turned his fire blue eyes on Morgana, startling her. "He got what he deserved."

Morgana eyed him warily, a new respect lighting her green eyes as she searched his face. "I'm sure. What happened then?"

Merlin averted his gaze and ate more of his meal. "I left Camelot."

"Really? I didn't think you'd be able to."

"It wasn't hard really. There was nothing keeping me there anymore. Everyone I loved was gone, and all it held were heartbroken memories of a shattered past. It was too painful," he said, surprising himself with his own honesty. "So I traveled around the world."

"Sounds like fun," Morgana quipped. "I've been to the UK, America, and Paris once. That's it."

Merlin clicked his tongue. "You're missing all the culture… You should have seen Paris when they were still building the Eiffel Tower or London when they built Big Ben. It was beautiful, and it was so… alive, I guess."

Morgana smirked and spoke with amusement highlighting her voice. "It sounds nice."

The warlock smiled, letting his guard consciously slip just a little. "It was."

Then, there a moment of silence as the waiter came to collect empty dishes and retrieve payment before leaving them alone again. It was a few moments before Merlin spoke again, this time with his guard back up and a mask on his face. "So, what've you been up to since you've regained your memories? I imagine you still have your magic?"

She nodded, smiling pleasantly as she dabbed at her face with her napkin. "Yes, as I imagine you still have yours after all these years. And as for what I've been up to, that's my business, Merlin."

Merlin grabbed his crystal wine glass in between his forefinger and middle finger, twirling his wine along the bottom of it as he glanced between it and Morgana. "But, what you do that puts my friends in danger," he said, his tone low and lined with an unspoken threat, "becomes my business."

Morgana looked at him with searching, narrow green eyes, and a small smile pulled at the corners of her ruby red lips before her face relaxed again. Her eyes, though, still held traces of resentment and amusement. She leaned forward, folding her arms in front of her and staring deep into Merlin's hardened eyes. "Let me just tell you this, for old times' sake, hm? You-Arthur, his team–you're all looking in the wrong direction with this case."

"What do you mean, Morgana?"

She opened her mouth to speak just as her purse, which she had set on the edge of the table after paying for dinner, made a vibrating sound. Distracted, she unzipped her purse and took out her touchscreen phone, reading whatever it held there. Keeping a placid mask on, she turned back to Merlin and returned her phone to her purse.

"I'm afraid I have to go. I'm sorry we have to cut our little chat short, but I had fun," she smiled. She stood, and Merlin stood with politely with her. Both looked at each other with their own amount of rebellion, questioning, and, in Morgana's case, amusement. "I'll see you around, Merlin."

"Morgana," he nodded in farewell. She nodded back and walked past him towards the coat room at the other end of the hall. Merlin sat down once more and pulled at the sleeves of his black suit jacket and finished his red wine in a single swig, mind churning with what could possibly happen next.

Sighing, he stood and walked outside, shivering in the cold night air, and hailed a taxi to take him home.

Okay, just take a moment to breath, guys. Breathing is good.

I really enjoyed writing this. Who wouldn't love to write a dinner scene with Merlin and Morgana silently hashing it out while talking things over. Also, we got to see a side of Merlin that I haven't presented before. :D I hope you liked how I portrayed everything-it was kind of tough to figure out how to time everything. Morgana's reverse amnesia thing, by the way, is real. More or less. I know for a fact that I got that idea from somewhere... But I can't remember where. It was probably Star Trek: TNG, knowing me. :D And there's plenty more to come, believe me.

Well anyway, I'm off to write some Rise of the Guardians. ;) See you all later.

Goodnight! Dream of Jack Frost tonight.