Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine!

10th January, 2010

Arthur glared down at his phone, urgent! Come to the office immediately! taking him away from his lunch. As he walked down the bustling sidewalk, he wished glares could light fires, and then he could go back to food, which he hadn't eaten all day, and oh, I forgot my phone. Sorry.

... He gets cranky when he doesn't eat every few hours. Which means he's cranky a lot, and Angel, his secretary, better have something good to eat when he gets-

Two simple strangers passing on the sidewalk, brushing against each other. Merlin. Dropping his phone and grabbing Merlin who just brushed against him, centuries of memories slotting along his current one's as if they've always been there. As his mind was a cacophony of remember, his body acted on impulse, dragging Merlin away from the bustle of the pavement and into a very convenient alley.

"Merlin," he managed to get out, finally looking at his friend, breath catching. He still looked the same, but also different. Longer hair, covering his ears a bit and partly covering his eyes, unfamiliar but still his eyes, lips pulled into a soft smile.

"Arthur. Hi." Merlin said softly, huddling into his black peacoat, green neckerchief moving in the barely there wind. His accent sounded different too, as if he'd been speaking every language in his spare time, but he couldn't place a specific accent. Arthur grinned, because Merlin remembered, resisting the urge to hug him for 5 seconds, then pulled Merlin into a hug. Merlin stood still as a statue, then gradually relaxed, burying his head in Arthur's shoulder as he held on tight. "Arthur..." Merlin breathed, squeezing him then letting go, hands resting on his waist.

Merlin stared at him intently, eyes conveying so many messages he couldn't interpret, and his heart stuttered as everything fell into place because reliable, loyal, brilliant Merlin is here. Gulping, he tried to look away from Merlin's eyes, because...

"Don't tell me you're going to cry just because we finally met again." He tutted affectionately, shaking his head as he was able to look away from the magician's eyes.

Merlin looked at the ground, hunching into his coat more, and his heart ached. Suddenly, Merlin looked up, staring at nothing besides his head for what felt like an eternity, and then Merlin bit his lip, bringing one of his hands up to Arthur's cheek. "Arthur..." he said again, resting his forehead against Arthur's, lips brushing and it's as natural as a rainbow after the rain. He put his own hands on Merlin's face, caressing the sharp cheekbones as he initiated a simple kiss. He groaned, hands holding onto Merlin's hair as he felt sunshine unfurling within him because Merlin is in his life again, and everything felt absolutely right.

Tears streamed down Merlin's cheeks, and tried in vain to wipe them away, but there was always more and his heart ached again. They parted, foreheads still resting on each other as he valiantly wiped away Merlin's never-ending tears, he opened his mouth to say something, but then Merlin kissed him again, exploring each other's mouths leisurely. Over the faint hum of city life, he could hear Merlin talking, the words resonating against his mouth, his soul.

"I love you so much, so much. I'm sorry, so sorry..." Was mumbled against his mouth and Merlin held tightly onto him as the words switched languages, eventually switching back to English as he muttered I love you, I'm sorry and I don't want to, but I have to, please understand I don't want to... over and over, and his heart ached once more. He tried to speak but Merlin kept on kissing him, on his cheeks, eyes, lips, nose and his breath was taken away from the flurry of the emotions he was feeling. While he and Merlin may not be the same as they were in Camelot, they're still Arthur and Merlin and that's all that counts.

"Arthur, Arthur, I'll always love you, love you so much..." Merlin rushed out, hugging him tightly, bringing his hands to Arthur's head. For some reason, there was sadness and what sounded like regret in Merlin's words, could hear it under the unidentifiable accent and why is he

Arthur's penthouse overlooked the greater London area, and the huge glass windows in the lounge room showcased the London skyline, as well as the full moon. Arthur has been unconscious on his own couch for hours, while he curled up on the floor, back resting against the arm of the couch near Arthur's feet. Absentmindedly, he fiddled with the cuffs of his coat, biting his lips so he couldn't say the words he can't say enough.

For so long he's had to do this. When Arthur wakes, he won't remember meeting Merlin, for the thousandth time, his past lives also being forgotten. Because something keeps saying he can't remember, not now, not now and that voice rings of destiny and he hates destiny because he's now immortal and he has to keep doing this because he's a bloody idiot!

Letting out a choked cry, he looked up at the ceiling, curling around himself tighter. You have to go; you have to go the voice, but not a voice, a sensation, under his skin and in his blood and magic repeated. His eyes drifted from the ceiling to Arthur's face, and he smiled sadly. Getting up slowly, he walked to Arthur's side, stroking his cheek gently as the faint taste of bile welled up in his throat.

"I never want to do this," he started softly and bitterly, "but apparently I have to. I'm sorry, so sorry." He choked up, sadness, regret and guilt flooding him as it always did, tears slipping out of his eyes and onto Arthur's cheek. Sniffing, he rubbed at his eyes, kneeling down and resting his forehead momentarily against Arthur's, a sad echo of earlier. "I love you so much, I'll always love you... I'm sorry." He finished brokenly, taking off his neckerchief and wiping Arthur's face of his tears. Putting it back on, he looked back to the London skyline momentarily.

Chewing his bottom lip, he waved his hand and then Arthur's phone was lying next to Arthur's head, since he didn't have a coffee table.

Shivering, he crumpled to the floor as tremors suddenly started up, pain making its way through his feet to his head, and he let out a silent scream. As soon as it started, it stopped, and he breathed in relief. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that nothing was shaken or toppled, or that it even physically happened.

The tremors are something else. They can't be felt by ordinary, non-magical people, or so he believes. Sometimes the tremors hurt, sometimes they don't. But they're happening more often.

You need to leave, leave! The sensation shouted, if it had a voice.

Looking at Arthur, he sighed sadly, and then closed his eyes tightly. And with a thought, he was in France, still feeling Arthur's soul in England like beacon.

Arthur must always forget for now, but he will always remember.

The Once and Future King must not remember who he is until a time of great peril.

[Fin]