Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello there! So, um, your reviews last week were so wonderful and heartbroken that I took pity on you and I'm updating a whole two days early... See? I have a heart. *cough*NoIdon't*cough* What? Erm... Anyway, I don't think this'll have a much more satisfying ending, and, sorry, but you will have to wait until next Tuesday/Wednesday to get it. ;) It's very rare for my beta to have the chapters read over before Monday night, so I was able to update this early. Honestly, I'm just glad they get beta'd at all, because if they weren't... *shakes head*

Anyway, last week of school 'til Winter Break, guys! (And man is it winter here...) The high today, ladies and gentlemen, here, is 16 degrees (Fahrenheit). Northern Illinois was not spared this winter, my friends. But on the bright side, the snow is gorgeous...

Some quick recommendations... the book Airman by Eoin Colfer is fantastic. Really, guys. Emotional manipulation throughout. It's so good. Secondly, the song "Good Enough" by Lifehouse is... Just listen and picture Merlin talking to Arthur post-reveal. It's very, very painful, guys. (I love it).

That's all, folks! Enjoy:

Chapter 21: Forward Motion

His breath was gone, and there was a sharp, pounding ache in his temples. His eyes, unknowingly flashing with flecks of gold, were clenched tightly shut with his fists balled against them. Sickness rolled through him, and he felt like retching into the grass. What... what happened?

Colin. Where was Colin?

"'lin," he croaked, voice strained and thick with emotion. Returning memories flashed in the back of his mind: every time that he had said his friend's name, every dumb joke, every fond nickname, every worried call in both lives.

He was Merlin. Colin was Merlin.

Merlin was everything. He was...

He was the brother Arthur, in both lives, had never had, the one who had always been there for him no matter what, the one who had suffered in silence while the rest of them celebrated the happiness in their lives, the one who was impossibly modest and even more impossibly brave. He was the warlock hiding in Camelot, protecting everyone as best he could with the threat of the law hanging over his head. He was the one who had been forced to hide in the shadows and live a lie to protect him. He had...

Arthur had died in his arms, leaving him alone to face the world, to tell Camelot what had befallen him.

A pained groan interrupted his more than disoriented thoughts, and when Arthur lifted his head to peer through the darkness of the thin forest, he saw several of his friends in the same conditions as himself: hunched over in grass, head held in their hands, and face towards the ground. Guinevere, however, was merely rubbing her head from where she'd hit it, and Col-Merlin…Merlin was lying sideways in the dry grass, shaking fingers threaded over a gaping wound in his middle.

Blood.

There had been a gun.

Morgana.

Arthur tried to scramble to his feet but instead ended up half-shuffling, half-crawling towards his injured friend, panic flowing freshly through him. "Merlin!"

The man flinched at the loud yelp, but the name slowly pulled the others out of their, no doubt, also returning memories. The once-king crashed to his knees beside Merlin and rolled him over so that he could look into the warlock's face and at his wound.

"Merlin? God, please. Merlin," Arthur begged, wishing he would open his eyes. The detective's eyes scanned his friend's form, taking in the bleeding wound and Merlin's face, which was scrunched up with pain.

At Gwaine's equally pained 'Merlin!' his eyes flashed open and found Arthur's immediately. There was agony there, but there was also softness and love and joy and hope. And there was a light, a light that burned so much brighter now that Merlin knew that Arthur remembered him...

"A-Arthur?" he gasped out, pained and wincing while his voice broke.

The blond slipped his hand behind Merlin's neck to help support him and pull him into his lap. "I'm here, Merlin. It's alright."

"M-magic. That was... dear God, Merlin!" Gwaine yelled. Arthur flashed him a look of impatience and saw Leon and Guinevere pulling him away, giving them some privacy as well as explaining the magic.

"Y-you..." Merlin choked, body tensing in pain despite his smile and almost giddy laughter bubbling past his lips. His hand traveled up to the side of Arthur's face, brushing against his jawline in the same way that he'd done so much in those last few days with his king. That brotherly show of affection that had been a means of expressing things words couldn't. Tears, both of joy and of pain, leaked out of his eyes, and Arthur pulled him closer. "You—you." He swallowed thickly as his head and body fidgeted in Arthur's lap. His hand shifted, smearing scarlet blood on the blond's jaw and onto his neck but never losing the connection.

Arthur put his left hand on his brother's forehead, pushing his ebony mop away from his face as a tear rolled down his cheek. He moved to put his hand on top of Merlin's, where it was on his jaw, covering it almost completely and squeezing tightly. "It's okay, Merlin; calm down."

"Arthur, you—you remember..."

Merlin's agonized face ran through his mind, crushing his heart and making him squeeze the former servant's hand tighter.

"I want to tell you something I've never told you before... Thank you."

He should have told him. So many times he should have told him those exact words. The silence seemed ever-pressing, and it was a moment before, another tear falling, the blond answered, voice thick with emotion, very much like his last words to his friend. "Of course I do, old friend. How could I ever forget you?"

A sound escaped the warlock, something between a joyous laugh and a grunt of pain. His arm squeezed his middle, moonlight shining off the growing stain of crimson on his jacket. There was obvious pain etched into his face, and Arthur tangled his fingers in Merlin's hair.

"Merlin, heal yourself," Gwen commanded anxiously.

The detective's frightened eyes shot up to see his girlfriend—wife—standing a few feet beyond them, with the knights gathered loosely, and worriedly, around her.

"H-heal himself?" Arthur whispered, glancing at Merlin and thinking of the rich magic flowing through his friend's veins. "You can do that?"

Swallowing once again and panting, Merlin nodded shortly, a small smile appearing on his lips as sweat beaded his brow. His hand fell away from Arthur's face, but the former king subconsciously grabbed it before it could completely fall, holding it against his shoulder with one hand to keep the contact.

Gwen came close, tears budding in her eyes. She put her hand on Merlin's chest, as if needing the contact too, but as she looked at Arthur, her eyes flashed with knowledge and... He inhaled sharply. She had already known. She had already gotten her memories back. There was no confusion in her eyes, no thrill from the returning thoughts, feelings, or actions. There was only anxiety for her friend. "He can do it; I've seen it. Come on, Merlin."

The warlock smiled lightly at her, wincing seconds later. "G-give... time, Gwen. Can't..." his eyelids fluttered with exhaustion, "force... it." Suddenly, he lifted his chin, like he was taking in a breath, and said quietly, "See?"

He took his hand off Arthur's shoulder slowly, turning his loosely cupped palm to face him before turning it to show Arthur and Guinevere. The former-queen's eyes showed mild relief, but the rest of them: Arthur, Elyan, Percival, Leon, and Gwaine, all gasped at the golden colored light seemingly flowering out of the center of Merlin's palm. There wasn't much, but it was enough to give the dark area a little light and to cast slight shadows on Merlin's face.

Arthur, in awe, looked down at the man in his lap, taking note of the haunted look that passed behind Merlin's glazed eyes as he stared blankly at his palm. "Can't force it," he whispered again.

But the light flickered.

Merlin's eyes widened, frightened, as the light sputtered again. "No."

"What?" Arthur nearly shouted, squeezing Merlin's hand as a stone stuck in his gut.

"It's not—" The light faded again. "Gwen?"

She shook her head, panic in her eyes as her hand fisted the material on Merlin's sweater. She didn't know what was happening, but she knew it wasn't right. Arthur let Merlin's hand drop on top of Gwen's as his focus shifted.

"What's going on?" the former king yelped, unsure of what to do. His left hand, still holding Merlin's hair, shifted to the side of his face, gently turning Merlin's panicked and pain-filled face towards him. "Merlin, what—?"

"I don't know," he cut in, tears rolling across his temples, "I-it's not—not working. I don't—Arthur."

It wasn't working. That was all he could comprehend. His best friend was relying on this power to heal him, and it wasn't working. All other things: all thoughts, all sounds, all feelings were pushed aside except for Merlin and his condition and what he could do about it. His blue orbs, absolutely swimming with panic, hardened with protective determination, and he looked up, to the man that, in both lives, had always been at his side.

"Leon," he ordered with the voice and authority of the Once and Future King, the voice of the other side of the coin, "call an ambulance."

"Yes, Sire," he answered, unknowingly switching to their old-language—the untainted language of Camelot—before shoving his hand in his pocket and digging out his phone.

In a single moment, Arthur looked at the others. Elyan, who had died in Guinevere's arms, who had confusion and fear written on his face, held an openly panicked Gwaine back. Percival, who had anxiety and comprehension on his face, tried to calm Gwaine down by talking to him.

Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Guinevere.

They had all died. All of them. And he didn't even know how. What kind of king—what kind of friend did that make him? He had died before them, and while he couldn't help that, that was not how it was meant to be.

Guinevere stood, startling Arthur from his thoughts as she went to talk to Leon, who was still on the phone. The blond quickly stripped off his cotton sweater and balled it up, using his right hand to press it against the wound in effort to stop the blood still ebbing out of it. Merlin grunted and cringed at the pressure applied, his back arching as he squirmed, and while he clenched the material of Arthur's shirt in one hand, he squeezed Arthur's arm with the other, never pushing him away.

"God, Merlin, I'm sorry," he apologized thickly. "I'm so sorry."

After a second, the boy fell back into his lap, eyes hazy and unfocused as he panted heavily, chest heaving with effort. His full lips were parted as he breathed, and Arthur put his free hand back on the top of his ebony head while the other held the pressure down on his wound.

"A-Arthur?" Merlin whispered, lips fluttering.

The detective looked down at his brother in all but blood, at the other side of the coin, and saw more tears, fatter now, rolling towards his temples and disappearing into his hair. Arthur didn't even try to mop away the tears, but he pushed Merlin's hair away from his face. "Yes? I'm right here, Merlin. What is it?"

The warlock's grip on Arthur's shirt tightened while his grip on his arm loosened. Merlin's eyes met his, and the depths of them were like no other. They were so dark and so full of terror; they didn't belong on his brave servant's face; they didn't belong on his selfless warlock's face. "A-Arthur," he repeated. "Arthur, I'm scared. I'm s-so scared. I don't—What's going to...to...?"

Overwhelmed with emotions, Arthur let the material of his sweater go, placing his hand on the side of Merlin's face and resting his thumb on his cheekbone. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Merlin," he told him firmly but softly. "You're—" his voice hitched "—going to be alright. Please, Merlin, you have to be alright. You have to be. I've only just got you back."

It couldn't end like this. Not after everything that had happened. Not after they'd only just been reunited.

The warlock's lips trembled and worked as he cried, but no sound came out, and Arthur watched as the light slowly died from his friend's usually animated eyes. His lids began to fall, and Arthur leaned closer. "Merlin? Merlin!"

With the second, louder, call, Merlin's eye snapped open, startled but unfocused, and he sucked in a sudden breath. It was fruitless, however, and as the boy exhaled, his eyelids slid shut once more. Arthur's eyes searched his friend's face for signs of consciousness. Uneven breaths, orbs moving beneath his eyelids, lips still working, and body still fidgeting.

He was still hanging on.

There was still time.

Heart lodged in his throat, Arthur quickly looped his arm behind Merlin's knees and behind his shoulder blades, pulling the man towards him. Merlin let out a small cry of pain, and Arthur's heart leapt with fear as he stood, Merlin nestled in his arms. The warlock pressed against him and, in his half-conscious state, grabbed Arthur's shirt again like a small child and clutched it like a lifeline. Arthur took off towards the nearest road, hearing the others following quickly behind him as he ran through the sparse forest and towards the sound of blaring sirens.

Throughout it all, Arthur kept repeating three words. Three little words that held the weight of the world. Three little words that could stop the world from spinning, stop time from flowing, and just might stop the most important man in the world from dying.

"Stay with me."

"Stay with me," Arthur whispered passionately. "Please, Merlin, stay with me."

The boy didn't reply, and Arthur felt Merlin's hand loosen on his tee just as they broke out of the park. The detective immediately narrowed his eyes at the brightly flashing lights and, in one quick sweep, looked around.

Several police vehicles lined the street, lights flashing and pre-recorded tape blaring every now and then as if to remind the world what the car was. A small group of people grouped behind an invisible barricade, clutching their purses as they leaned over to get a good look or nonchalantly shoving their fists in their pockets as they walked past. Children pulled on their mother's jackets, asking what happened and staring in awe at the official vehicles.

And Arthur felt disgust at each of them.

He knew that he shouldn't. He knew that, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't, but how could they gawk at common cars when his brother was dying in his arms?

But that was also the norm, he knew. These people, these sad people, were used to it. They were exposed to killings every day, even if it was only on the telly. Even the children nowadays cheered for their favorite superheroes to kill the opponents. There was so much violence. They were so used to it that violence today was just a common interest, something to, yes, gawk at curiously.

And it was sad.

"Sir!" someone yelled.

Arthur whipped his head towards the wheeled stretcher, feeling Merlin's weight in his arms as his heart beat furiously in his chest. He felt Gwen beside him, panting from the run, and together, they ran towards the ambulance as the two medics swung the bed sideways. Carefully, Arthur set Merlin down, careful of his wound and head, until he lay flat on the white cotton. As soon as he was down, the two men grabbed either side of the cart and pulled the cart towards the ambulance, centering it before lifting it into the vehicle. Arthur put his hand on the bar on the side to lift himself in but felt Guinevere's hand on his shoulder. Half in and half out of the ambulance, Arthur turned, and felt his breath stop again.

He had been so busy with Merlin since he'd gotten his memories back that he hadn't seen Guinevere. She had remembered already, he knew, but the emotions he saw there in her eyes...

Joy, because he knew her and what they were. Greif, because the last time Gwen had truly seen Arthur for everything he was, he was heading off to battle at Camlann. Worry, for Merlin and himself if everything went wrong. But most of all, love, for him.

"We'll meet you there," she said softly, staring into Arthur's eyes and almost begging everything to be okay. She looked as though she might cry, and from the tear tracks on her face, Arthur knew she already had been. She had been crying for so long now. She had lost so much in her life, so many people, so many things.

He had left her alone after Camlann.

With one quick movement, Arthur stepped down from the bumper of the vehicle and wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her deeply. His hand ran along her chocolate-colored hair, stopping at the nape of her neck and pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently and soundlessly saying every emotion she wanted to get across.

"We need to go!"

Arthur pulled back, startled out of his kiss, and whirled towards the ambulance. They had put an oxygen mask on Merlin, who was still lying unconscious on the white bedding, and Arthur turned back to Gwen. Her eyes were warm and loving yet still worried. She put her hands on his chest, gently pushing him towards the vehicle.

"Go," she said, smiling with understanding at the longing look in Arthur's eyes as he glanced at Merlin. "I'll see you soon."

The detective nodded, climbing back into the ambulance just before the doors were slammed shut. The sirens began blaring again, and Arthur put his hand around Merlin's ankle, the only part of him he could reach, to tie him to this world. To stable him. To let Merlin know he was there.

"How is he?" Arthur asked.

The medic glanced at him quickly, eyes flashing with sympathy from within his angular face. Dark brown hair reflected the lights in the ambulance, Arthur thought that he looked rather like Syae, a boy from his childhood in Camelot, and the rush of overwhelming emotions ran through him once more at the remembrance of the returned memories. He imagined that a lot of people would look like the others as his mind straightened itself out. And, who knew, maybe these very people were descendants of Camelotians.

Taking scissors, the man opposite him started cutting Merlin out of his sweater and his tee while the brown haired medic, the one who looked like Syae, unwrapped gauze from a medical pack. "His breathing is ragged, low blood pressure, weak pulse—he didn't throw up, did he?"

Arthur shook his head, confusion flowing through him as his past self and his former self mixed and mingled, still settling as one and shuffling all the needed information. "No. No, he didn't. Why?"

The medic pulled the warlock's sweater and tee off, fully exposing his toned chest and abdomen. Sweat dotted his pale skin, and Arthur watched fearfully as his chest rose and fell unsteadily and slowly. He squeezed his ankle tighter as he took in the rest of the wound. The skin around his left abdomen was slick with a deep scarlet; Arthur felt nauseous as he imagined that, within that pool of precious blood, was a very deep hole that held Merlin's life in the balance.

"He could have internal bleeding," the medic answered, narrowing his eyes with concentration. "He's only bleeding out as far as I can see, but he'll need surgery. No doubt about it."

Arthur swallowed thickly, pushing back his fear and leaned forward. "What about infection?"

The brunette glanced at him once more before sharing a look with the other medic, who was adjusting Merlin's oxygen mask. "It's a possibility. It's not the bullet that give you the infection—that's sterilized in the gun when the gunpowder ignites. It's the piece of fabric from the clothing that brings the bacteria."

Heart lodged in his throat, Arthur closed his eyes. He let out a slow breath through his nose, praying that Merlin would pull through.

It couldn't end like this.

"Get ready to jump out," the medic said, startling Arthur. "We're almost there."

He nodded jerkily, and the ambulance jerked forward momentarily as the brakes pressed against the tires. The doors swung open, and Arthur scrambled out of the vehicle, nearly tripping in the rush. Twilight enveloped him once more, and he knew that if it wasn't for the hospital lights surrounding the "Emergency Drop-Off" sign, things would be ten times more difficult.

The medics jumped out right after him, pulling out the litter until the legs folded out and locked. Three other people, who had apparently been alerted of their arrival and had been waiting in the drop-off section, jumped forward and took Merlin, pushing him into the hospital. Just as Arthur started towards them, a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back to see the medic he'd been talking to, the one who looked like Syae.

"Don't worry," he said comfortingly, "I'm sure he'll be fine. Destiny has her ways, eh?"

Arthur's lips suddenly parted with surprise, but before his mind could even fully register the depth of the words that he wasn't even sure the medic truly understood, he was gone, back into the ambulance and off to another call. Swallowing thickly and refocusing his mind, Arthur turned back to the hospital doors, running through them and heading towards the only thing that truly mattered right now.

I'm... not sorry. Nope. I love this chapter. That beginning part was also written forever ago. ;) I went over it several times to get it just right, so I hope you like it too. See you all next week!

G'night! :)