Part IV:

Hell

"Got no reason, got no shame,
Got no family I can blame.
Just don't let me disappear.
I'mma tell you everything..."

-"Secrets," One Republic

It was the first time in centuries that Balthazar had felt completely hopeless. Yes, over the years he'd grown disillusioned with his quest. He'd worried he'd somehow not recognize the Prime Merlinian when he saw him. Or be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd caught himself wondering what would happen if he missed the child altogether. Would he have to wait for another descendant of Merlin? Was there a Prime Merlinian of each generation as long as they kept having children? Merlin had never really been clear on it. And then he'd died, leaving the dragon ring as his only clue. Leaving Balthazar completely, absolutely alone.

When he'd hit a thousand years old, Balthazar had realized that he'd likely have to wait several more centuries, which was, in his mind, almost as bad as missing the child altogether. It had all begun weighing on him after that, especially the last couple hundred years or so. The uncertainty. The loneliness. He'd finally started feeling very old and very tired. And frankly, very sick of it all. The only things still pushing him were his promise, his love for his world and his care for the people in it.

And, of course, Veronica.

It had been finding Dave ten years ago that had actually made him come alive again. It had given him enough hope and strength to do more than just fade into the shadows as he searched, as he'd begun doing not long after locking Horvath up. Finding Dave had brought back his will to fight.

And now one stupid argument... a moment of frustration and anger... (and, Balthazar had to admit, several moments of keeping unnecessary secrets) had cost him everything.

It was bad enough living with the uncertainty of when and where he'd find the boy. It was worse knowing that he'd succeeded in his centuries-long quest, only to lose him days later.

Balthazar slowly walked to the edge of the room, manually picking things that had been swept down during Dave's little flood, and began putting them away. He had no idea where anything went, so he picked places at random. He just needed something to help focus his mind.

What he really needed was a plan. What was he going to do now? Obviously the first step would be to hunt Dave down and try to reason with him. But what if the boy said no? Balthazar sighed, his shoulders slumping. He heavily dropped a wrench into a toolkit on the desk. If Dave said no, then that would be it, because he'd never steal Dave's right to choose, as much as he may want to. His next move, then, would be to get the Grimhold back. Trap Horvath again. At least save the world from destruction, if nothing else.

But then what? Protect it... forever? Know that Veronica was cursed to remain inside? All because of his failure...

And then he'd live out the rest of eternity alone. He thought back to Dave's question at the bookseller:

"Don't you have any family...? Friends?"

"No and no."

That had stopped Dave for a moment before he'd replied, "That's kind of sad."

Balthazar had smiled at the boy, responding sarcastically, "Tragic." He doubted that Dave had really meant what he'd said, so that had seemed to be an appropriate response. But the truth was... the boy was right. It was sad. Tragic. Dave hated his lonely "figurative urn of ridicule," but, thank god, he'd never know what real loneliness was. That the boy would never have to know what truly made life a living hell.

An eternity with no one. Everyone Balthazar had known and loved were gone from him. Had been for over a thousand years. There were no Merlinians left other than Dave and himself, so anyone he grew attached to could never know what he was. And even he had to admit that keeping a secret like that from someone you cared about wasn't right.

Anyway... did he really want to allow himself to grow attached to a string of people who would just grow old and die as he remained unaging?

He snorted and bent to pick up a couple more tools strewn across the floor, slamming them onto the desk in his frustration. Taking his anger out at inanimate objects instead of himself. Old fool, he snarled in his head. You know whose fault this really is. And it's not the kid you dragged into this mess. You know better than to allow your emotions to get away with you. That's how a sorcerer gets himself killed...

He stopped at that thought, wincing. It had been those words that had triggered the fight in the first place. But it was true. Wasteful magic could kill a man. And, powerful emotions like anger, love, despair... even hope... they distracted a sorcerer. Ruined his focus. That was a death wish.

Though really, death wasn't such a bad idea, considering the alternative. It wasn't unlikely that some Morganian would kill Balthazar. That was something he'd have to take into consideration. If he wanted to protect everyone and make some part of his life worthwhile, he'd have to be careful. As soon as Horvath was resealed, he'd have to hide the Grimhold again. Somewhere this time where even the Prime Merlinian wouldn't accidentally break it free. That way the world would remain safe when Balthazar was gone.

He'd die with a thousand regrets, but at very least this way it would be with no shame that he'd failed to help the people he'd sworn to serve and protect. He paused in his cleaning. Only Veronica. He'd always live, and die, with the shame that in a moment of weakness he'd failed her. Again. And when he died he'd take his secrets, and her memory with him. That hurt him worse than anything. No one would remember her when he was gone. No one would remember any of them.

His gaze deadened. When he died, everything he had would die with him, which really was nothing but memories and the skills he'd planned to pass on. When he was gone he'd be forgotten. No family. No friends. No one to mourn his death.

No one who'd even notice. Or care.

Even with his long life—with all he'd done—the second he died, he'd completely disappear. Nothing left but a rotting shell, tossed into an unmarked grave. If he were so lucky.

Somehow during all those years, he'd never thought of that before. He'd been too focused on his goal to worry about himself. And honestly, even with all of his uncertainty, he'd really always believed in the back of his mind that he'd find the Prime Merlinian and get his happily ever after. He'd have someone, somewhere, who'd care when he was gone, even if only a little. So some small part of him might survive.

He'd never wanted fame—to be recorded in history—as Horvath had. He'd just hoped in the back of his mind that he could give Veronica what she wanted. A normal life. They would marry, and he'd have a wife he could love and finally grow old with. Maybe even have a child.

Gone. All gone.

He scowled. Stop being a sappy idiot, he scolded himself. This isn't like you, and now of all times, you need to hold it together. You failed. Accept it. Try to get him back. And if it doesn't work, then move on. He took a deep breath. Anyway, he might even return on his own... once he's cooled off... But he didn't really believe that. Not with how many times Dave had nearly been killed since Balthazar had met him. And really... what reason had Balthazar given the boy to return?

He bent to pick up the soaking wet Incantus. Sighing, he began brushing water off of it as he walked to the desk to dry it off.

His thoughts were broken by the creak of a door and a clattering at the top of the steps. Balthazar froze, unable to form a single thought in that instant. It couldn't be... Dave had returned right at that thought? It was too much of a coincidence...

Coincidence... Nothing's ever coincidence...

He forced his face into a neutral mask, as though he'd been doing nothing other than mindlessly cleaning while waiting for Dave to come back. He looked up.

"Hey," Dave started. "I'm sorry."

Balthazar glanced up at him, fussing with the book as though he didn't even care about the boy's presence. "Hello," he responded casually.

The youth's expression was odd—almost unfamiliar—but Balthazar was too relieved that the boy had come back to him to care. I won't mess up this time. I won't go easier on him... but I'll try to understand. To remember what it was like when I was that young. Anything to keep him here.

"I think you and I need to have a talk," the youth said suddenly, walking partway down the stairs and leaning on the rail.

Balthazar looked him in the eye, trying to keep his voice neutral, his face impassive, and his words blasé. "No apology necessary. Let us move on."

Dave grinned, suddenly cocky. And finally, the warning bells went off in Balthazar's head that normally would have alerted him immediately. He glanced down at Dave's black manicured nails a second after the youth replied in a smooth, Australian accent, "You're a diamond, mate." He reacted second too late to defend himself against the young man's concussion blast that threw him back into Dave's equipment. The second he hit, thick metal wires wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles.

Balthazar immediately twitched his finger, working to quick freeze the coils. Aware that he had a time limit. Fully aware of who was behind this and that it very well could mean his death.

He worked at loosening his bonds because that's what he had to do, and struggled to ignore the voice in his mind that whispered cruelly.

If you die, you die alone. And all your secrets die with you. Was it worth it?

He focused his mind on the task of freeing himself, refusing to answer.

Author's Note: First of all, for those of you who are confused about the flashback to the bookseller... that's from a deleted scene in the movie. The scene is actually in the novelization as well, but honestly it's way better on the deleted scene from the DVD, so I used the dialogue from there instead.

Second, thanks to kaytori and lolo popoki for betaing for me!

Third, thanks to you for reading and (hopefully) reviewing.

Dewa mata!

Sirius:)