It became a routine between them. They would chat and get to know each other in the morning, Michael would go undercover at night, then come back before dawn to tell a tale of his adventure with his host. One day, they decided to go shopping at the farmer's market in the village and purchased quite a number of goods for merlin to cook with. They laughed and joked as they wandered through the town and back home when there was an odd sound (like a gun being fired) and a scream.

Merlin and Michael shared a look before running in that direction. There was a crowd surrounding the stand that sold homemade remedies and an old woman was sobbing beside a body sprawled on the ground. Michael shoved his way through and looked down at the corpse. Merlin was suddenly there and began to inspect it as well. The warlock then turned to the sobbing woman (who he recognized as someone he sometimes shared tea with) and gave her a sympathetic pat.

"I'm sorry for you loss, Mrs. Bree," he said sincerely. "But I need to know if you saw who did this to your husband."

She shook her head and sniffed. "But I don't understand why anyone would do such a thing... Charles never did anything wrong. Well-" she cut herself off, her tears decreasing and her brows furrowed. "He was behaving a bit oddly this past week. Nervous and jumpy. He'd yelp in surprise whenever I entered a room. He looked as though he were expecting the devil himself to pop out from the fireplace."

As the woman said this, Merlin had picked up one of the remedies and tasted it, then gagging at the vile flavor. "This is supposed to be used for colds, correct?" he asked.

Mrs. Bree nodded slowly, obviously confused. "I'm sure that a cold remedy doesn't call for hallucinogens," he said before spitting to get rid of the taste. "Especially one so strong."

Merlin staggered slightly from the drug and Michael caught him. "How do you know?" the detective asked curiously, though obviously concerned for his friend's well being.

"When I was a child, my friend, Will, dared me to eat a patch of mushrooms we found in the forest," he replied, holding his head. "My mum got so mad that she threatened to send me to another kingdom."

Michael rose a brow at that last part but Merlin didn't seem to realize what he'd just said and snorted with laughter. "I caught the rabbits, Arthur..." he mumbled through his haze.

Mrs. Bree appeared to be utterly horrified. "My husband's put illegal drugs into the remedies?" she exclaimed, looking as though she were about to faint from shock. "But... why?"

"I believe that he may have been threatened, ma'am," Michael deduced. "By one of the drug dealers that I've been after. Apparently, Mr. Bree was unable to fulfill his duty to distribute the drugs among the common folk and was... exterminated."

Mrs Bree let out another wail. "Oh, Charles," she cried. "How could you?"

Michael pursed his lips, his expression grim as he laid Merlin (who was still hallucinating) on the ground. "I'll be sure to avenge him for you, ma'am. But I'm going to need your help with gathering some vital information."

Merlin slowly awoke and groaned in pain, his head hurt and the world seemed to spin as he tried to sit up. He squeezed his eyes shut and held a hand to his head, recalling the events that had happened previously. He remembered tasting the hallucinogen infected remedy before slipping into a haze of memories of his time in Camelot and with Arthur. The thought brought tears to his eyes and he covered his face with his hands. There was a knock and Michael entered the room and was holding a cup of tea.

"Hey," he greeted and set the tea on his nightstand. "Everything alright?"

Merlin nodded, wiping his tears. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little nauseous," he replied, only half truthfully.

Michael didn't appear to be very convinced, but he didn't make a comment. Merlin took a shaky breath before accepting his tea and sipping from it. For a moment, they sat in a companionable silence, only the sound of their breathing and Merlin's clock could be heard.

"So... what happened after I started to hallucinate?" Merlin inquired, trying to change the mood. "Did you find out anything?"

Michael nodded and pulled out a file that he had acquired, handing it to the warlock. "Yeah. Turns out Mr. Bree had recorded down everything to do with the arrangement he had with the dealers. We know where they had their exchanges and can try to track them down this way," he informed, watching him study the contents.

Merlin examined them intently before putting them down. "Alright, so when do we leave?" he asked.

Michael blinked. "Wait- we? What makes you think that you're coming as well?"

"I'm not just going to let you go off on your own. Besides, I want to help. Mr. Bree was a dear friend," he replied determinedly.

"I won't be alone," the detective interjected. I'll bring the police with me. And you're not coming. It's too dangerous and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you-"

"The same goes for me! I can take care of myself just as well as you can, I'm not useless," Merlin argued.

"I don't want to take the risk of everything going wrong, damn it! I'm not calling you useless nor vulnerable, but you're one of the greatest friends I've ever had. If I got hurt and am unable to protect you when I need to-"

"That won't happen. Just... please. The last time I was left behind... I lost someone dear to me. I don't want that to happen again," Merlin choked, eyes watering.

Michael's expression softened and he sighed. "Alright. I'll think about it. But if everything goes to hell, you have to promise me you'll get out of there," he said.

Merlin nodded. "I promise," he assured with a small smile. "But you have to promise me that you will be carefull as well."

"I'll try," Michael replied and he patted his friend's shoulder. "Now get some rest. You've had a rough day."

"We all did," the warlock muttered before pulling the covers over himself. "Good night."

"Sleep well."

Two days later, Merlin was well enough to move around the house. He got up early and wandered into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. When he got there, though, he found Michael and two other men seated in the sitting room. His friend looked up at him from where they were speaking in hushed tones.

"Ah, you're awake," the detective announced. "Come over here, there's some people I'd like you to meet."

Michael gestured to the two men dressed very nicely (with a tie and all). One man was really tall and had brown hair and a barber's mustache. His green eyes seemed kind and welcoming.

"You must be Mr. Pendle," the man said in an English accent. "I am Detective Inspector Lewis from the Scotland Yard. We've come to assist Mr. Jones with his case."

The second man, who was slightly shorter and had dark blonde hair, nodded in agreement. "And I'm Commissioner Price of the North Wales Police Department. It's a pleasure meeting you," he introduced gruffly.

Merlin nodded slowly, obviously confused. "Er... it's nice meeting you, too. Um, tea, anyone?" he inquired.

Lewis beamed. "Ooh, yes, please. I'll have two sugars with mine," he said cheerily. "How about you, Commissioner?"

"I'll have to pass on your offer," the stout man answered. "Tends to give me a sort of indigestion."

Merlin then turned to Michael who gave him a shake of the head and the warlock headed to the kitchen. The three men then began to converse again as soon as he exited and he could hear their conversation clearly.

"Tonight, we'll set out for the first warehouse. I doubt that there's going to be anyone there after what's happened with Charles Bree, but we should look anyway, just in case," Michael explained, the other two nodding in agreement.

Merlin returned with two cups of tea, one for himself and the second for the Detective Inspector. Lewis thanked him and accepted the beverage before turning to the others. "What if we encounter them at the first one? How do you suggest we handle them?"

"Kill no one unless things get out of hand. Capture as many of them as you can and make sure no one escapes," he replied before turning to his friend. "And Martin, I want you to stay away at a safe distance."

"But-"

"No objections," Michael said sternly, gaze hard as Merlin huffed and slouched in his seat childishly.

"It's for your own good, Mr. Pendle," Lewis said gently. "We understand that you want to join us, but it'd be best for all of us if you lingered behind."

Commissioner Price nodded in agreement. Merlin didn't say anything and continued to sulk in a brooding silence. Michael's expression softened and he placed an apologetic hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright," he assured.

Still, Merlin had a bad feeling about this, though he said nothing.

The next day, they set off to the first warehouse. It was early, the sun had barely risen and the fog was especially thick. Merlin sat in the back of Detective Inspector Lewis's vehicle, staring out the window sulkily. The ride was mostly silent, but there wasn't much to talk about. Soon, though, they arrived and Michael was the first to exit the vehicle and Lewis lingered behind.

"Wait five minutes," he instructed. "There's a torch and a handgun in the glove compartment. Try not to get caught."

And with that, the detective left. Merlin gaped in confusion. Was he just... given permission to leave? Grinning and mentally sending his thanks, the warlock moved to grab the weapon and torch from the compartment and began to count. Five minutes passed then Merlin quietly exited the vehicle and tiptoed across the rocky lot and towards the warehouse. He turned on his flashlight and searched through the fog. He heard voices from within the warehouse and recognized them as Michael's and Commissioner Price's voices. Merlin decided that it would be best for him to linger outside and search for clues.

The warlock pointed his torch down towards the ground as he wandered, looking about curiously. Though he didn't get very far before something pierced his neck and everything turned dark.

He had been drugged. Again. Merlin opened his eyes and looked around. He was in Camelot. And before him, was Arthur, alive and well. The king tousled his hair.

"What are you gaping at, Merlin?" he teased, grinning. "You should be working on polishing my armor."

"Well, you should be working on being less of a prat," the warlock retorted, but he was grinning as well.

Arthur then turned to leave and Merlin tried to follow, but his feet were planted to the ground. "Arthur?" he called, but his king was too far to hear. "Arthur! Wait!"

The scene began to shift and the grass turned to trodden dirt and corpses. Arthur's dead eyes gazed into his own. He could hear someone's voice shouting at him. It sounded like: get up... get up, boy... G-

"-ET UP!"

A foot collided hard into his side and he yelped and groaned in pain. He peaked an eye open and saw several men looming over him with smug faces. Michael and the others were being held back by more scary-looking men. Merlin's head spun and he felt himself being lifted roughly off the ground and shoved into the wall. He felt something snap and it could have been his arm or rib-he couldn't tell. The men laughed sadistically at his pain. He opened his eyes again and looked over to where the men began to point their weapons at his friends and he saw red.

He heard himself slur a spell and his head was pulled upwards by his hair. "What was that, boy?" the man who had kicked him spat.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold and he chanted the spell louder and clearer. The earth shook and the wind howled, the windows shattered and a ball of fire was hurled towards the offending men. Merlin's magic buzzed within him and he felt it healing him and eliminating the effects of the hallucinogen. When he calmed down, all of the druggies were on the ground and unconscious. Michael and the others gaped at him, obviously surprised. His fear finally kicked in and he ran out of the warehouse, ignoring the shouts behind him as he ran home.

Obviously, he didn't run the entire way home as the detectives and policemen would surely catch up to him in their cars. He had used his magic again and returned home quickly. He gathered as many things as he could, packing them away. He would have to move again. Maybe this time he'll move closer to Avalon, closer to Arthur... Merlin continued to pack and failed to notice the footsteps climbing up the stairs and to his room.

"Why didn't you tell me?" a familiar voice said behind him.

Merlin dropped his things and immediately turned to the door. He bit his lip, eyes cast downwards. "I thought you'd hate me. All my life I've had to hide my magic and I was always afraid that I'd be found out and killed. Even by those I loved. Hundreds-no... thousands of years I've been hiding and then you came along and became the greatest friend I've had in a long, long time," he rambled, eyes shining.

Michael gaped, obviously surprised by his answer. "I could never hate you. Honestly, I'm still rather dumbfounded by the fact that magic exists, let alone that you're a sorcerer."

Merlin wiped at his eyes and sat down, Michael copying him afterwards. "Promise me you won't keep any more secrets?" the detective asked hopefully.

The warlock grinned slightly at the familiar words and nodded, then engaging in a tale of his time in Camelot.

xxx