Chapter Five: Storefronts
Merlin was shaken awake by an empty backpack being hurled on top of him. He opened his eyes, for a moment expecting to see Gwaine standing over him with that crooked grin of his but instead he looked up and found Shane, with an eerily similar look in his eyes. The young warlock's first thought was to scan the room for Arthur, who it turns out was already awake and standing off to the side staring right back at Merlin.
"We're off in five." Liam peered into the sorcerer's field of vision for a split second before continuing to break camp. Merlin sat up, still groggy and filled with a sensation of deja-vu that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The previous night came flooding back—erasing anything on his mind and replacing it with that sticky, hot feeling of Arthur pinning him against the wall. Merlin swallowed, banning the image from his brain just long enough to begin throwing his blanket into his pack. That was another thing—Arthur needed a backpack of his own. Merlin's wasn't big enough to fit both their stuff. Perhaps at the castle—
"We're making a stop back in town." Eli said, as if he'd read Merlin's mind. "Two more people means two more people's worth of supplies." At least they were being welcoming about it. Despite Merlin's sarcastic comment about the men being bullies the night before, Arthur had been right as well. They did have a bit of a brotherhood—which probably came from surviving the apocalypse together. And their brotherhood was one they were opening up to Merlin and Arthur and for this, the young warlock was grateful.
As the last of the supplies were packed up, the eight of them filed out the door. Each of the men toted a gun. Liam had offered one to Merlin but he declined—perfectly fine on his own although he didn't dare say why. The curly haired man had offered one of the extras to Arthur as well. The king had just looked back at Liam like he was offering him a chalice of poison. It was probably for the best anyways—at least until Arthur had had a chance to learn how firearms worked. Merlin half-laughed-half-cringed at the image of Arthur shooting himself in the foot.
Outside, the air was cooler than the day before—a sign that winter would soon coil itself around the land. Arthur was at Merlin's side in an instant as the two walked close by while the rest of the men filed into a line. They made their way soundlessly through the gate at the opposite end of the field from town and out into a parking lot where a single care was parked, skewed across two spaces. Liam took a quick look around while Landon peered beneath the car. Their actions seemed ritualistic—like they'd been done over and over. When Landon shot him a stoic nod, Liam jammed the keys into the car door and a small click signaled that it was unlocked. Merlin took the momentary lull in action to take a look at Arthur.
The king was staring apprehensively at the vehicle. His eyes flickered over to Merlin who was trying not to laugh.
"We're going to ride in that thing?" The king said so that only Merlin could hear.
"Yes." Merlin whispered back. "Just relax. It's perfectly safe no matter how strange it seems." To Merlin's surprise, his words seemed to calm Arthur. It had occurred to the young wizard a few times already how lost Arthur must be—how needy and out of control he must be feeling. Merlin added, "And for god's sake don't act like you've never been in a car before." He gave Arthur a friendly nudge and looked around to see if the "knights" were watching their exchange.
"Are you two going to stand there and flirt or are you going to get in?" Shane teased. Merlin inhaled as he felt the blush rising in his cheeks and brushed it aside—piling into eight person van with Arthur close behind. They squeezed into the very back seat alongside Price who gave them a quiet nod as they settled in.
"Where too?" Eli, who was driving, asked Liam. "Are we just headed into town the front way? "
"Doesn't matter," Shane interjected, "Those possessed freaks'll be crawling all over town whichever way we go in."
"Not necessarily. They're probably off tending their wounds outside of town. They're never out in the mornings anyways." Landon said.
This was new information for Merlin that he quickly stowed away. As Eli turned the key in the ignition, the vehicle roared to life. Beside Merlin, Arthur's entire body tensed, his gauntlet shrouded hand flying to cover his mouth. The sorcerer watched his king squeeze his eyes shut as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"We're gonna need to stop for gas in tow—hey what's wrong with him?" Eli asked Merlin who wasn't sure what to say. Arthur curled out of fetal position and was sitting there gripping the armrest for dear life as they accelerated down the main road.
"He's just, um, he gets really car sick." Merlin lied, nudging his friend who nodded stiffly—his full-lips pursed in an expression of internal anguish.
"Well make sure he doesn't puke or anything." Shane said, rolling down his window.
Merlin turned to Arthur and whispered urgently, "Relax. It's fine."
Arthur turned to him with irritation in his wide eyes and hissed through clenched teeth "How am I supposed to relax when we're in a wagon that moves by itself?!"
They were probably going about 55 down the main road now and Merlin realized this was almost double the fasted speed Arthur would have ever gone.
"How does this thing go so fast without horses?!" Arthur whispered, beginning to look a bit green in the face.
"It erm—" Merlin didn't feel like going through the explanation since Arthur would have no idea what gasoline or batteries were, "just look out the window."
"There's nothing out my window but blurs!" Arthur hissed again. Luckily the other men were chattering loud enough to hide their whispers. Merlin found himself wanting to laugh—when they weren't in danger, Arthur dealing with the modern world was actually sort of—cute. The young warlock had never thought of anything his king did as "cute" before—probably because Merlin was always the one who acted like a hopeless idiot. Now it was Arthur's turn and this made Merlin want to smile—but he didn't for the sake of his king's pride.
When they arrived at their destination, the street was deserted. It was the same main street they'd stood on the day before, only now it was littered with the bodies of the monsters that'd fallen in the hail of gunfire.
As they filed out of the car, Liam addressed them all informally, "Okay so we're going to need some more food, another blanket, baby formula for back at the castle, and well, anything else you can find that might be useful. More bags would be good as well. Eli, Landon—you two head to the grocery store and get food. Price and I will head to the sports store for ammo and camping supplies. Shane, you stay with these two and help King Arthur over hear find something to wear that won't make a ton of noise whenever he walks. Merlin, you can help with that."
A quick look at Arthur told Merlin that the king didn't like taking orders from this Liam guy—but at least he understood that he had no other choice for the time being. Arthur clearly wasn't too fond of being escorted around by Shane either—then again, neither was Merlin.
"If you hear gunfire, run toward it and help." Liam finished and the group split into three. Merlin, Arthur, and Shane didn't have to look long before they found a store that had, at one time, sold clothes.
They opened the glass door to the storefront as quietly as they could, Shane stepping in rifle-barrel first before nodding for Arthur and Merlin to enter. The store had been hardly picked through, which was surprising, although not if everyone in town had fled. Most people didn't worry about having a change of clothes in those situations. Once the three of them had cleared the store, they felt free to speak.
"This armor might actually be useful." Shane said, "You know, later on. We can keep it in the trunk of the van if you'd like."
Arthur nodded. It was the least sarcastic thing Shane had said since they'd met.
"So are those like antiques or something? That stuff is insane. Where'd you get it?"
Merlin looked at Arthur after realizing that the king was going to have to lie for himself on this one.
"It's—I—um—it's been in my family for generations." Arthur said, straightening up.
"What about this sword?" Shane grabbed for the weapon in Arthur's belt but the king's hand was on it first, locking eyes with the long haired man and raising his chin.
"Right, so 'don't touch the sword', my bad." Shane gave Arthur a crooked grin, taking nothing seriously (as usual), but managed to at least put up his hands and step back.
The three of them began to sift through the racks of clothes for something that might fit the king. Arthur stuck close to Merlin while Shane left their side.
"Think lightweight but something that covers the whole body." Shane called from a few isles away, "and don't leave anything for those killing bastards to grab at."
"How does this even go on?" Arthur held up a pair of overalls, causing Merlin to burst out laughing. It was hard to picture his king in anything but a tunic or chainmail—let alone overalls.
After a few more minutes of searching, some sarcastic comments from nearby, and many skeptical whispers from Arthur, the young king held up a rather short skirt.
Merlin laughed, "That's for women…"
"I know that you idiot!" Arthur bantered, "I'm saying do woman actually—wear this? Like, as clothes?"
"No Arthur, its jewelry." Merlin teased, "and don't say stuff like that around the men, they'll think you're from the dark ages."
Arthur was clearly not amused while Merlin bit his lip to keep from laughing at his own joke. Before long, they'd found a red hoodie, a white tee-shirt, and a pair of jeans that just might be fit for a king. Merlin tried not to crack up as he explained what boxers were to a very irritated looking Arthur.
Shane walked over with a pair of brown work boots and thrust them into Arthur's arms. "They're size 11. I hope you can squeeze into them."
Arthur looked down at the shoes uncertainly.
"They're fine." Merlin answered for him.
"You can change wherever but there's a changing room over there." Shane nodded to a small door near the back.
"Thanks" Merlin nodded, ushering Arthur toward the back room. He could have changed out in the open, but in private there was a less of a chance of Shane asking questions about the fact that even Arthur's underwear looked like it was from medieval times.
"You're going in with him?" Shane raised an eyebrow.
"He needs help getting out of his armor." Merlin assured the man, flinching when a smirk crossed Shane's his stubble-sprinkled jaw.
"Ri-i-ight…" Shane drew out the word, giving Merlin a wink and saying, "Just don't take too long in there—the sooner we get out of here the better."
Merlin fought off another blush before giving the man a nod and nudging Arthur toward the back room.
They were standing close when the door clicked shut and Merlin let out a sigh. Being alone with Arthur was easier than trying to lie about their past to a bunch of soldiers.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked while the sorcerer was trying to ignore how close they were standing.
"Yeah." Merlin replied, unlatching the strap across Arthur's back that held the shoulders of his armor on. The young warlock went through the motions as though he'd been doing it every day for the past thousand years—as if no time had passed at all.
Merlin looked over Arthur's shoulder when the king didn't reply. Arthur's hand was resting gently on the long glass mirror in front of him, his fingers caressing the smooth glass and his blue eyes narrowing in a curious awe that made Merlin smile.
"It's a mirror." Arthur pointed out the obvious. "It's so…"
"Clear?" Merlin finished, realizing Arthur would only ever have seen himself in the highly polished plates of metal that passed for mirrors back in the middle ages.
Merlin ran his hands over Arthur's suddenly bare shoulders—as he'd done many times over. To his surprise, the king shuddered at his touch and stepped away, his attention suddenly drawn from the reflection and his eyes on Merlin.
"I—" Arthur struggled to begin, "I think I can undress myself Merlin." Merlin saw the lump in his king's throat bounce up and down, suddenly aware of the way Arthur's bare chest rose and fell, still tan and scarred from battle after battle. His eyes were gunmetal blue in the fluorescent light and his hair was flaxen and unruly. Merlin felt his pulse rise and took a step away so he couldn't feel the king's heat that seemed to be driving him mad.
Arthur gave Merlin a final once over with those electric eyes before stripping down completely, sending the young Sorcerer's head spinning in ways he didn't understand. He looked up and away, pretending to be fascinated by the sign on the back of the changing-room door.
Arthur managed to get the jeans on himself—that was pretty self-explanatory after all, and the tee-shirt was the same shape as his chainmail, but when the time came for him to slide into the red hoodie Merlin turned to catch him holding it upside down and frowning.
"This is ridiculous Mer-lin," there he went enunciating his name again. "This doesn't even feel like fabric."
"It is," Merlin assured him with an amused smile, "its cotton. Not silk or wool."
"Right." Arthur huffed.
"Here, let me help." Merlin grabbed the sweatshirt and pulled it over the king's head rather roughly. He could practically hear Shane rolling his eyes outside waiting for them to hurry up. As Merlin's hands brushed across Arthur's bare flank, the king seized in a breath and jumped away from the sorcerer's touch like he'd been electrocuted.
"Get away Mer-lin." He enunciated, "I can do it myself. I'm not a child."
"That's a change." Merlin teased, but took a step back.
Get away Merlin…
The king's words echoed in Merlin's head over and over as his vision blurred, prompting him to lean against the wall. Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire and screams of men faded in all around. His heart sped up as he blinked rapidly; trying to regain his sight as reality seemed to be slipping further away. He squeezed his eyes shut just as he felt himself fall against the door. When he opened them, he could see Arthur standing before him, dawning chainmail and shouting orders at faceless men. The king's body was drenched in blood and dirt—looking much like it had at the battle of Camlan. Beyond the silhouette of the king was a battlefield bathed in the fiery red of dawn. Explosions roared around them like a World War II scene, rattling the earth and accompanied by the cries of battle-hardened men.
"Get away Merlin!" Arthur's voice sounded distant as the illuminated figure of the king reached out and shoved the young warlock so hard that he staggered back and hit the ground. As Merlin fell, he met Arthur's eyes which were filled with the undeniable sorrow of guilt and pain—but his face was the image of grave valiance once more as he unsheathed Excalibur, shouted something into the air before his body was peppered with bullets. He fell to his knees first—painfully similar to the first vision Merlin had seen of his king's death. Excalibur fell from King Arthur's hands with a metallic clang that was louder than even the mighty roar of battle—like bells chiming out the death of the Once and Future King.
"No!" Merlin lurched forward, rising to his feet and feeling his body fill with power. He couldn't lose him again—never—not like this.
"Merlin!" the young Warlock heard a voice.
The sorcerer blinked, sending the vision away with a gasp of agony. His heart was racing and his eyes were filled with impending tears. He blinked them away when he saw Arthur standing over him—clad in cotton and grasping him firmly on the shoulder. The king's eyes were filled with blind worry.
"Merlin what the hell?!" The king barked when Merlin sat up, shaking away the vision.
"Sorry." He didn't know what he was apologizing for.
"Was that some kind of magic episode? Does that happen often?" Arthur's brow furrowed.
"No." Merlin replied. "I—I don't know what it was. It's never happened before." That wasn't a lie. Merlin had seen prophecies before but never like this—never on his own. It made him wonder if maybe it wasn't a vision at all—rather than hallucinations brought on by being suddenly reunited with Arthur.
Was he that afraid of losing him?
"So… Are you okay then?" Arthur narrowed his eyes.
Merlin nodded, shuddering slightly. The image was still fresh in his mind—and it reopened thousand-year old wounds. He stood up, praying that it was just a fearful hallucination, and followed Arthur outside.