After that, Arthur stopped goading him about magic. Things got smoother, they began to go out on proper dates and it wasn't just sex that kept Merlin longing to see him again. It was Arthur, the real Arthur, not just the one conjured up in his dreams but flesh and blood, a man who could be a prat, a jokester and yet somehow gentle, who often thought of others first and when confronted with his generosity, would deny it vigorously. A good heart and true.
Merlin heard from some of the neighbours that Valiant had disappeared, possibly because of some clash with police or maybe he'd angered someone with more power than fists and fury. Whatever the case, he relaxed, began to go outside more, run errands in near darkness rather than only in bright daylight and think less about getting beaten up and more of the freedom to go where he wanted and see whom he wanted to see.
So when Arthur wanted to go back to the club, he didn't say no.
Of course, the place was packed.
That didn't keep him from being jittery, though, especially once they got inside. The last time he'd been there, he'd nearly got killed. But even though he kept telling himself to calm down, that Valiant wasn't there and he was going to relax and have a good time dancing with Arthur, his instincts were screaming at him to leave before it was too late.
It didn't help that Arthur seemed to be wary, too, constantly looking around, dancing yes but aware of everyone around him.
It was all Merlin's fault. The Arthur he'd seen weeks ago at the club had been carefree, dancing and laughing and with friends he obviously cared about; and now he was stuck with a nutter, someone with too much baggage and no relief in sight. It really wasn't fair to Arthur.
That Arthur didn't know how damaged Merlin was didn't help the situation either, just made him feel even more guilt-ridden about it.
But he tried to relax for Arthur's sake, to smile, to dance under the fluoros, jump to music so fierce it felt as if he were drowning in techno-beat, enjoy the colours and the flash and the laughing crowds. But no matter how much Arthur pressed him to let go, have some fun, get pissed, he didn't drink; he wanted his wits about him, just in case.
As the night wore on, with each song, he seemed to get more and more wound up, not less, felt as if he was being watched, judged, with the executioner's block waiting for him. Arthur kept looking at him with anxious eyes. Merlin tried to smile back, shrug off the worry. But the crowd's excitement, normally energizing, instead pressed into his chest, laughter jolting harsh against his skin, the noise pushing chaos into his blood.
He couldn't breathe.
Finally, he wasn't able to stand it any more. He motioned to Arthur that he needed air and for a moment, resentment clouded Arthur's eyes. But then he nodded, waved Merlin on, followed in his wake.
Outside, when they could finally hear again, Arthur said sharply, "What is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry. I… I can't." Merlin took a long, deep breath, trying to calm down. Even in the warm air, his hands were shaking. "It's just not… I keep thinking Valiant is here, waiting for me."
"Merlin, he's gone. No one has seen him in weeks. Now, come back in and for fuck's sake, have a drink." There it was, the annoyance. The first real crack in the little world they'd built and it would only get worse, the more Arthur knew about him.
"I have to go home." When Arthur started forward, looking like he was going to argue, Merlin said, "I'll be alright. You stay here and have some fun and I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"But I don't think…." Arthur seemed genuinely upset. Of course he would be, what with Merlin being such a fool about it.
"Arthur, you've been looking forward to this all week and I don't want to ruin it for you. My flat's not far." He was trying to be a good boyfriend, let Arthur have a bit of fun. He didn't want to interfere with Arthur's clubbing, not if it made him unhappy. "Like you said, Valiant is gone so I'll be fine walking home."
"Merlin, you really are an idiot." Arthur crowded him, put his arm around Merlin's shoulder and pulled him close. "You need to relax." But when Merlin started to draw away, protesting, Arthur said, "Since clubbing is out, how about I come back with you and help you with that relaxing bit? I have that new lube. Claims to enhance pleasure. We could find out?"
"I don't want to be, you know, a bother."
Nuzzling into Merlin's neck, his lips wet against his skin, Arthur said, "Of course, you are a bother. You bother me all the time."
"Oh." Hell, the man was not playing fair but Merlin didn't mind. "Okay. I even cleaned my room for once."
Arthur let go, gave him a look of astonished disbelief, raising his palms skyward as if in supplication. "And the heavens rejoiced."
"Look, you twat, I'll have you know that I can keep a room clean if I have to," Merlin said, trying not to roll his eyes as he did. Then tugging on Arthur's sleeve, he started to hurry down the street. "Just because I don't have a cleaning lady coming in twice a week…."
"Okay, okay, I'll concede the cleaning. I just hope there are sheets on your bed because I plan on making a mess." Catching up, he put his arm around Merlin's neck and as they walked, whispered into his ear, "All over you."
Merlin sent him back a grin. "Then let's hurry!"
Much as he would have liked to have blamed Arthur and his new lube for their quick walk home, the fact was that Merlin was feeling more and more like there was something wrong, doom just over the horizon and he wasn't ready for it.
Jittery, as they approached the shop, Merlin kept looking into the shadows, the alleys and open stairways, even the parked cars lining the street. He'd already been through a bad experience by not paying attention and he'd be damned if that was going to happen again.
But Valiant and his bloody mates were not around.
It was quiet on the street. A couple of cars drove past and as he looked through the security gate into Gaius's shop, he thought he saw light inside and shadows moving. But it was just the blinding glare of headlights flowing across the glass. Behind the window display, the room was black as pitch.
Arthur wasn't paying attention, kept tugging at Merlin, obviously eager to find out just how messy they could make Merlin's room. Shaking off his spiralling dread, he stumbled up the stairs, Arthur in close pursuit.
Not wanting to wake Gaius, he kept telling Arthur to be quiet, to tread softly but as soon as he opened the door, he knew something was wrong.
Chairs tipped over, papers everywhere, and the kitchen was in a shambles, food on the floor, broken glass and sludge seeping free of jars discarded in haste. Scents of milk, oils, and last night's dinner mixed with the sour smell of rubbish.
Around the corner, a sound of pain, and something clattered. In an instant, Merlin was running back there, shouting for Gaius, not caring that his cries would alert whoever might be lying in wait in the flat. Arthur was hard on his heels.
Sitting on the floor, the old man was groaning, holding his head in his hands. There was a trickle of blood down his temple and seeping into his shirt and it looked so bright against the shroud-white skin that Merlin couldn't breathe. He'd seen that type of wound before; comfrey would stop the bleeding and honey for infection but he didn't know how he knew that and there wasn't time to figure it out.
Instead, Merlin flung himself down beside him, saying, "Gaius, Gaius, are you alright? Who did this?"
Behind him, he could hear Arthur rummaging around and then he was kneeling next to Gaius, a cloth in his hand pressed to the old man's wound. In his other hand was his mobile, talking to someone, giving them the address.
"He… they… they took the keys. They… wanted money. Hit me when I didn't have enough." His voice was thready and Merlin was worried he was going into shock.
"Who hit you? Where are you hurt?" Merlin was frantic, worried and panicking a bit. And beneath that panic, fury was already pushing him to do something, find whoever did this and make sure they never did it again. But he ignored it for now. Gaius had to be his first priority.
"Head, just my head… but Merlin, don't go. They… don't go." He was holding Merlin's arm, pulling at him. "Let them have it. It's too… dangerous."
Beside him, Arthur said, "I've called the police and an ambulance. They should be here soon."
"At this time of night? Maybe where you live but here, no, not for a while yet." But as he said it, he wasn't looking at Arthur but Gaius, peering into his eyes, to see if he had concussion.
His uncle seemed okay, just shaken up. The trickle of blood had already stopped but there would be a spectacular bruise come morning. Still, as Gaius tried to struggle to his feet, Merlin shook his head, cleared off the mess on the bed and both of them helped Gaius up into it. Merlin put pillows under his feet just in case.
"Who was it, Gaius?" Merlin wasn't going to let them get away with it, whoever they were. To attack an old man like this was despicable, and what's worse, they must have waited for Merlin to leave before breaking in. Old and vulnerable, a perfect target.
"Don't. There are three of them and they hate you already. They might…." Gaius was grabbing onto his hand, shaking it, trying to get him to pay attention, growing more frantic as Merlin ignored him. "Don't go down there."
But he wasn't listening. Instead, he was remembering other times, other places, other beatings. There was only one person that hated him that much.
"Valiant, then and his followers," Merlin spat out, anger rising fast. He couldn't let this go, not this time. He got to his feet, turned to Arthur. "I have to end this, one way or another."
Shaking his head, Arthur said, "Merlin, don't be ridiculous. Let the police handle it."
"And wait for them to kill Gaius next time? Or me?" Merlin was already looking around, seeing what kind of weapon he could use against them. He knew he'd only get one chance; each of them was too big and too strong for him and with three, it would be near impossible. He'd have to be sneaky, get them from behind somehow. "Stay with Gaius. I'll take care of this."
"Merlin, this is insane. If you go after them, it will be you in the courts, not them, even if you survive - which isn't likely. Let the police… Merlin!"
Ignoring Arthur, Merlin grabbed one of Gaius's many artefacts, a carved staff with a large blue crystal on one end. Gaius claimed it had great power but Merlin didn't believe all that magical nonsense. It was heavy and solidly built and the stone gave it extra weight, perfect for cracking open heads if needs be.
Right behind him, Arthur was jabbering at him the whole time, trying to get him to reconsider. If he'd been in his right mind, he'd probably have listened. But he wasn't. Instead he could only think that Gaius might die next time and he would be helpless to stop it.
He almost didn't hear the door open. But Dagr wasn't being quiet, shouting down the stairs, "I'll wait for that creep, Emrys, and then we'll have some fun, right, Ebor?"
There was some muffled reply but Dagr just laughed and started walking through the kitchen towards Gaius's room. He didn't see Merlin until it was too late. As he shoved the staff-head into Dagr's chest, his look of surprise was almost comical, if the situation hadn't been so dire. He went down with a scream, clutching his torso, choking on blood as he scrambled backwards, away from Merlin.
For a large man, he could move absurdly fast. As Merlin took another swing at him, Arthur shouting in his ear, he only managed to clip the man's arm but it was a solid crack and the arm looked broken when Merlin stepped back.
But as he started in again, Arthur stopped him. "Don't. You'll kill him."
There was an echo of horses in the distance and the blue sky of a summer's day. Arthur's head was crowned in sunlight and he wore Pendragon red and armour, a sword in his hand. The beginnings of another vision but he shook it off. He couldn't go under, not now, not when Gaius's life was at stake and perhaps Arthur's, too.
The staff felt right in his hands, the blue crystal glowing just a bit, a trick of the light but Merlin nodded. Arthur was right. Killing him would only make things worse and he wasn't a killer, not in this lifetime.
It didn't matter, though. As Dagr lurched away, Ebor was already at the door, shouting for him. Dagr screamed something, staggering through the doorway and onto the landing by the sounds of it, then stumbled down the stairs.
But like the idiot he was, instead of going and getting Valiant to press his advantage, Ebor ran toward Merlin. He was smarter than Dagr, though, a street-fighter, because as Merlin went for another blow, Ebor ducked, yanking the staff out of Merlin's hands.
There wasn't much choice. As Ebor started to bring the staff down, Merlin jumped at him, kicking and clawing, Arthur following close and getting in a solid punch as Ebor staggered back. In the struggle, the staff rolled away but Ebor didn't seem to care. His fists swinging, he hit Merlin in the face, near where he'd broken it weeks ago and pain flared impossibly bright. A kick into his shin, another sharp stab of agony and he was down.
Warrior-fierce, Arthur gave a roar, pushed Ebor back and back, grabbing a broken chair and hurling it at him, a book, a heavy paperweight, anything he could get his hands on and it was working. The bloody bastard was giving ground, moving out onto the landing and down the back. But something must have happened. Even in the distance, he could hear Arthur's grunt of pain and the sound of something heavy falling down onto the fire escape's metal grating.
Forcing himself up, grabbing the staff and using it as a crutch, Merlin hobbled as fast as he could to see if Arthur was alright.
There was blood running from his nose and he looked battle weary but at least he was doing better than Ebor who lay sprawled unmoving on the ground at the bottom of the fire escape.
"Is he dead?" Merlin said, relieved and yet horrified that he could feel that way. What kind of person would be happy in a person's death, even if that someone was scum? The idea that he could be troubled him more than he could say.
Arthur just looked exhausted, his eyes anxious, and he kept moving his fingers on one hand as if they hurt. "Don't think so. Unconscious for certain, though. Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Where do you think Valiant is?"
Looking over the railing at Ebor, Arthur shook his head. "If he's smart, he'll run as far away as he possibly can." Then he started down the stairs, saying, "The ambulance will be here soon. Fucking hell, what will my father say?"
"Arthur, don't. He might still be down there."
Merlin started after him, staff in hand, looking into the shadows, seeing danger in every movement; sounds seemed to expand and he was hyperaware of paper lifting in the breeze, a terrified mouse squealing for help, a dog barking, cars racing in the distance. That feeling of dread hadn't gone away, began to grow again, choking him. He could hardly breathe for the worry.
Reaching the ground, Arthur started to lean down, hand reaching for Ebor's pulse. Merlin could see a slow stripe of muted light move along the cement and then back again and for a moment he didn't know what it was. Then he realized that it was the back door of the shop, reflecting the far-off street light onto the pavement, that it was swinging open, that Arthur was vulnerable.
"Arthur!"
Valiant was almost on him, an ornate dagger from the shop in his hand. Merlin's head was shrilling danger, horror upon horror, and he knew he wouldn't be in time and he couldn't let it happen, couldn't let Arthur die. And that sound in his head kept shrieking up and up.
Without thought, without reflection or planning or anything but saving Arthur, he lifted the staff and words began to pour from his mouth, nonsense words. "Swilte.Gebierge, Arturus!"
A blue light streaked downward, barely missing Valiant but the bastard was flung back, lifted high and then when he came down again, he hit the pavement with a dull thud, skidded a few feet back toward Gaius's shop. The dagger clattered nearby.
Arthur stared up at him, mouth open, looking as shocked as Merlin felt.
But there wasn't time to explain. Merlin was already scrambling down the metal stairway, sounds rattling in his head and he couldn't stand all the noise, the way his mind kept screaming 'magic' and 'can't be' and 'no', Arthur asking impossible questions, the chaos of his universe crashing against the careful constructs he'd built.
It didn't matter, though. He'd figure it out later when he was sane again. Instead, bypassing Arthur, he followed Valiant into the shop, past the potion prep area, the litter of new acquisitions, and the displays of crystals and artefacts, candles and carved shields and painted masks, the collection of magic from around the world.
Merlin could hear Valiant crashing into something, likely the case near the front door. There was an alcove there, perfect for hiding and as he slowly moved toward it, he could see the bastard's foot limned in streetlight.
The crystal in the staff was vibrating or maybe it was his hand trembling. His mind was still staggering under the buzz of something, fear or astonishment or - every time it came back to the answer, he shied away - that it was magic trying to get out. But it couldn't be.
Magic wasn't real.
Valiant must have sensed a momentary advantage, swung out one of the antique swords Gaius kept for decoration. He missed by a hairs-breadth. Merlin stumbled back, brought up the staff again, swinging it toward the man, but Valiant was a street fighter, knew how to take advantage of the situation.
Blocking the staff, using the sword to drive Merlin back toward one of the glass cabinets, he kicked out. Merlin's leg was suddenly on fire, and as he curled down, Valiant raised his arms to strike.
Instinct was the only thing that saved him.
Swinging the staff upward, Merlin hit Valiant's shoulder just as the fucker brought the blade down, and pushed the sword aside. Not enough, though. The blunted edge of it struck a glancing blow across Merlin's head, cutting into his cheek and ear, pounding panic into his mind. Behind him, glass shattered.
Dropping to one knee, still holding the staff but barely, Merlin shook his head, trying to think. But the pain was increasing and his mind was muzzy. There was a flicker of stone floors and red capes and Arthur looking down at him, worried and then the shop was there again and dark shadows.
In the distance, he could hear Valiant laughing, and there was the glint of something swinging toward Merlin's neck. He didn't know what to do, other than cringe down, cover his head with his arms and wait for agony.
Wind began to pick up, whistling under the door, rattling the glass. On the floor beside him, the blue crystal, too, was glowing again, ethereal light painting the area where he was crouching in blues and blacks.
Something flew by, the sound of a dull thud and then Valiant was shouting, "What the fuck?" Startled, as Merlin looked up, there was blood on Valiant's face and he began to stumble back, looking at Merlin with growing terror. "What the… fuck?"
Arthur was suddenly there, too, wielding an ancient sword, bright as Excalibur, in his hand. Valiant seemed to realize that Arthur was coming toward him and he swept the weapon side to side, obviously trying to block Arthur's blows and escape while he still could.
Behind Merlin, the shop was growing noisier as other things began to lift and then circle Valiant, first bits of paper and then other things, bundles of sharp herbs, ornate jewellery, jagged crystals.
Cursing, Valiant kept backing up, trying to get away but Arthur was there, too, and it was only making the bully more frantic. Finally abandoning all pretence, he threw the sword at Arthur and when he ducked, Valiant vaulted over the counter, slid past one of the cabinets and began grabbing things at random, anything heavy enough to do damage, and throwing them at Merlin, especially Merlin.
Arthur tried to block the onslaught, using only his body and a wooden mask as shield. But as Merlin watched, horrified, Valiant got past his defences. Slipping on broken glass, Arthur was thrown off-balance for a moment and Valiant threw first a paperweight and then a large quartz cluster the size of Merlin's fist, clipping Arthur across temple and chest. Red blossomed in bright golden hair as he slid to the floor.
"Arthur!"
In the blink of an eye, wailing, cyclonic green and black, the wind was churning darkness, growing stronger, ever stronger. A whirlwind of things rose: rocks and masks and antique knives, ornate candlesticks. Circling, the storm howled in the darkened shop.
Valiant threw up his hands, screamed as the gale overtook him, lifted him up and threw him across the room, crashing into another case. Sounds of broken glass shattered the night and then there was a shrill of high, pure agony.
A car must have gone past, its headlights piercing the gloom. For a moment, Valiant was lined in brilliance. Merlin could see a dozen cuts, deep and long, slicing the bully's skin and he was holding in his gut, his hands covered in red, his face twisted in pain. Then as shadows fell again, Valiant ran out of the shop, seemingly terrified, making little grunting noises as he fled. A trail of blood followed him out the door.
And it wasn't until the door slammed shut that Merlin knelt next to Arthur, trying to see if he was alright. Behind him, the wind was slowly dying, still churning dust and debris into the air but quieting with every passing moment. It grew darker, too, as the soft light of the staff's crystal winked out.
Arthur looked up at him, blinking, stunned. Then he scurried away, like some terrified animal, jerking back as Merlin reached for him.
It was the same. It was happening all over again and Merlin couldn't stand it. He'd die first.
"Please don't… please Arthur, it will be alright." And as if to reassure himself that Arthur was really frightened by Valiant and not Merlin's insanity, he said, "Valiant and his friends are gone and I don't think they're coming back. Arthur, please, Arthur? It's alright."
There was dead silence for a moment.
Then Arthur said, heart-wrenching, cruel, terrifyingly calm, "What are you?"
Only one thing to say. "Magic."
Merlin knew they would never be the same again.
There was no sign of Valiant, Ebor or Dagr - which was a relief.
Arthur stayed long enough to make sure they were all looked over by the emergency team and proclaimed well enough to wait until morning to see the doctor. The police took down a much abbreviated statement, Arthur leaving out any mention of magic or Merlin's part in it. The constable promised he'd return once they had some leads on the three attackers. Arthur was composed throughout the whole mess, doing the right things and saying the right things to placate him.
But when the constable had gone, Gaius resting, and just the two of them were left to face each other, Arthur gathered up his mobile and the few things he'd dropped in the attack and started for the door.
Merlin tried to talk to him, reaching out to him but Arthur flinched away from the touch, saying, "Don't. Just don't." With that, he was gone.
The flat never felt so empty.
After that, Merlin didn't remember much. Gaius got better, Merlin's injuries healed, too, but he walked around in a numbed daze - feeling so much like his time in the wards, suffocated by drugs and despair, that sometimes he wanted to curl up and let the darkness take him.
He didn't work on his book or anything else that Morgana had requested. Yes, the nightmares were still with him, and in the deep shadows of midnight or early dawn, he'd pour out his misery into his computer but the desolation was ever-present and it was almost as if the writing wasn't helping at all, merely crystallizing his own personal hell into tangible form.
Sometimes he'd print out the pages and then tear them up one at a time, trying to rid himself of the haunting memories. It never worked.
Now, at least, Merlin knew that he'd been deluding himself for years, that the scars of his early life, of Will's death and everything that followed, only covered up the corrupt toxin of his magical abilities. He'd been cursed and he would never be able to escape.
And, much as he fought it, as the magic grew stronger, he'd lie in bed, staring up at the circle of things hovering over his head, heavy candlesticks and rocks and even that bloody spell book, and wonder where it had all gone wrong.
Sometimes he'd even let them fall, craving the pain that followed. At least then he knew he was alive.
Gaius tried to talk to him. Spell book in hand, he'd say something ridiculous about learning to control his magic, how it was a gift and one not to be squandered. But Merlin would just turn aside, staring out the window into a reality that wasn't his and never would be.
And so it went on, an endless cycle of argument and silence. Merlin grew thinner, said less even as his magic grew wilder. There was an incident with the electric hob, flame under the kettle and dangerous. Gaius grew annoyed and then worried when things flew around the room and into walls or displays or his precious antiques. There were mysterious fogs and floating balls of light and flickering shadows; even the staff he'd used against Valiant sometimes hummed and turned bright blue and sparked.
Finally Gaius yelled at him. Fierce and strong, he told him to accept that this was his new life and just get on with it. But when Merlin nodded and went into his room and stared out into the fading light, in the distance, he could hear the door slam and footsteps fading on the stairs and it grew an empty kind of quiet.
When Gaius returned, Merlin didn't pay attention. There was another voice in the entryway; it sounded familiar but it was too much trouble to think about. Papers in his hands, the printed form of last night's dreams or perhaps they were memories of long ago or something else entirely, and Merlin was trying again to purge it, starting to tear the sheets into smaller and smaller pieces when his door opened.
"Merlin…?"
He didn't want to look; he didn't want to find out if he was dreaming again. But the voice, Arthur's voice, sounded so real.
A few moments of silence, but when he gathered courage enough to look up, Arthur was standing there after all.
"Why are you here?"
"Gaius came to see me. He explained a few things." Arthur looked out toward Gaius's room, then closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.
"Oh, so now you are here, what, because you think a bit of pity will help me over this?" The idea of Arthur feeling like that tore at Merlin. It was bad enough that Arthur thought him a monster but feeling sorry for him, like he was some kind of wounded animal to be comforted with a few scraps of attention, was another matter. "Think again. I've tried to get rid of the magic. Denied it, fooled even myself for a time. And it won't go away. It will never go away."
Looking almost guilty, Arthur said, "Merlin, I know I haven't helped."
That was the understatement of the year.
It should have made him furious but instead, all he felt was grief. "Yeah."
"But Gaius wasn't the reason I came back." Arthur took a step forward, carefully watching him as he did.
Tossing aside the printouts in his hands, scattering paper across the floor, he stood up, watching Arthur fidget under his gaze. Frowning, voice rising as he said, "What then? Obligation? Fear that I might come after you like I did Valiant? Or maybe you think I gave you some kind of magic love potion, that you couldn't possibly want me without it and now you need the antidote?"
"Merlin, no."
Arthur looked as if he'd been struck, then his face flushed when Merlin said, "I'm sure Gaius will be glad to sell you a remedy. Now go away."
"I would never think that." Arthur grabbed his arm, shook him a bit.
But Merlin wasn't having any of it. He jerked away, his voice scathing as he said, "And why not? Last time you were here, you said, 'What are you?' like I was some kind of monster."
"I just… I didn't know what to think. I knew something was up about the magic but I thought maybe you were just ashamed about Gaius's business, or like you said, upset about your name and getting picked on a lot as a kid." Arthur started to reach for him again and then pulled his hand back when Merlin sent him a warning scowl. "I never thought you had… well, magical powers. Who would? That's for fantasy books and kid's shows, not real life."
So it was denial and trying to get Merlin pacified enough for Arthur to feel less guilty about what he'd done and that only made things worse.
"Well, surprise. It is real. And apparently, I am not even human enough to be around."
Arthur's face turned an unlovely shade of red. "You are an idiot if you think that." He sounded almost sincere and it caught Merlin by surprise.
More gently, weary and just wanting this all to be done so he could sink back into silence, he said, "Why are you here?"
"Gaius is right. You have to learn to control it or it will eat you alive."
Arthur stepped closer, carefully touching Merlin's arm again, not forcefully but as if he were worried Merlin would shatter under his hand.
Too weary to move away, wanting him close and hating himself for it, Merlin said, "So what if it does? Why should you care? I'm just some kind of weird magical thing that you shagged. Give it a few months and I will be nothing but a vague memory." Then a chilling thought crossed his mind and he stiffened, looked at Arthur with growing fear. "Or are you going to report me? Is this…? I can't go back. I won't."
Arthur looked horrified. "Merlin, no. I'm not telling anyone. Not anyone." His grip tightened and as he spoke, slowly gathered him into his arms. "Let me help you. Let Gaius help you. Merlin, please, I don't know what I'd do if you gave up."
It felt so good, the tender warmth of him, the remembered smells of Arthur's favourite tea and the faint remnant of cologne clinging to him and Arthur's own scent. One hand against his cheek and he leaned into it, wanting it and him so desperately, treasured hands pulling him close. He wanted to believe that it was real, that this time it would be alright.
Head against Arthur's shoulder, Merlin whispered, "I don't… I don't know what to do. Last time, Will died and I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."
Arthur made a small noise, protest perhaps, and his arms tightened around him again. "Let me worry about that. You concentrate on getting better."
Warm breath against his ear and Arthur's cheek scraping against his and it felt so wonderful to have him close. "Everyone else was afraid of me, once they knew. I thought you were, too. When you left, I couldn't deal with it."
"I was a bloody wanker." Arthur pulled back, then sat down on the bed, drawing Merlin next to him. One arm over his shoulder, hands clasped together, his thumb smoothing across Merlin's skin, he said, "I'm sorry, more than you can know. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."
"Are you sure?" He hadn't meant it to sound so desperate but he'd had too many memories of people scrambling away, of promises not kept, of drugs and therapists telling him that his reality was nothing but a construct he'd carefully built, that real magic was a fantasy and nothing more.
Arthur kissing him was an answer of sorts but it felt too good not to drown in it. His mouth hot on his, warm and wet, his heart racing as Arthur's hand cradled his cheek, he wanted it to last forever. But as he pulled away, Arthur said, "Yes, for as long as you want me."
Then he gently pushed Merlin back down on the bed, but he didn't follow, just sat there. "Gaius is making you some soup. Apparently you haven't eaten nearly enough and I can see that he's right." When Merlin went to protest, Arthur just shook his head. "No arguments. Gaius will feed you and I'll clean up a bit and you can tell me anything you want and I promise to listen - well and maybe insult you a bit about this room." He looked around, tsked about the chaos; Arthur's place was always so neat and orderly and Merlin, even without the magic, had been disorganized for as far back as he could remember.
Reaching down and gathering up some of the printouts, as he neatened the pile on his lap, he frowned down at it and started to read. After a few moments, Arthur said, "Are you working on your book? This is pretty intense stuff."
Merlin shook his head. "No, I write down my dreams, I think, though… maybe they are memories?" He frowned down at the sheets of paper, held in Arthur's grip. "The sum of my life. The truth of it, I think. My truth."
Arthur looked at him, surprised, seemingly intrigued by the idea. Perhaps it appealed to the adventurer in him but whatever it was, he wasn't rejecting it wholesale. "Memories? Of King Arthur and his wizard? Swords and knights and Camelot? How is that possible?"
"I'm magic, remember." When Arthur didn't flinch, just watched him with a steady gaze, Merlin said softly, "I think that I'm remembering the past, how Camelot really was and Arthur and that Merlin… I think I might be that Merlin."
He expected disbelief, even derision but Arthur merely said, "Are you sure?" Then he sat there a moment, looking down at the printouts, all the words describing the past in his hands, perhaps seeing it as something that might be possible, however impossible it sounded. Clearing his throat, shrugging off whatever mistrust he had, he glanced back up at Merlin. "And that makes me, what, King Arthur? The once and future?"
When Merlin nodded, said, "I think so. Maybe. I'm not sure yet but it would fit."
"It would explain a few things." He looked concerned as if trying to fit whatever he'd always accepted as reality into new possibilities. "It's going to take some getting used to. I'm just a nobody with an economics degree, not some kind of politician, certainly not a leader."
"I wouldn't worry about it. I might be wrong. Whatever happens, whatever path you choose, I'm sure you will be brilliant at it." Merlin gave him a little smile, tentative, hopeful.
"Destiny then, like it says here?" Arthur smiled back, pointing down to one of the scenes.
"Yeah, destiny."
Then the smile turned into a smirk as he kept reading. "And this scene, the one with Arthur and Merlin in the bath? Rubbing each other down? Is that destiny, too?"
Arthur would have to find that one. It made his face heat just remembering it. "Might be."
"We'll have to try it sometime." Arthur watched him a moment, looking for something, his eyes darkening as he did. Then he let the printouts slide off his lap, scattering them like a waterfall of paper, and when Merlin protested, he leaned over, lips hovering close. "How about we worry about destiny tomorrow? And work on making our own memories today?"
And as he began to kiss Merlin again, warmth and liquid heat and a pounding heart, memories of a thousand encounters and each one more intense than the last crowding him but Merlin shoved them aside, sank instead into the reality of this Arthur and this moment.
Arthur was right. It was time to make their own memories and with Arthur, his once and future, beside him, anything was possible.
The end