"Wait-" Michael interrupted Merlin's tale about the Questing Beast. "Arthur died?"

The warlock shook his head. "No, but he almost did. But I was able to save him. Again," he replied, a fond smile upon his face.

Michael watched his expression for a moment longer when he came to a sudden revelation. "You really loved him, didn't you?" he asked, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Merlin nodded. "I did. And I still do," he answered before his expression became determined. "But he will come back to me. I just have to keep waiting."

Michael smiled a bit before patting his back. "I'll go make some dinner," he said before pausing at the door. "Oh, and don't worry about the other officers, I've dealt with them already."

The warlock gave him a thankful look before standing and unpacking his bag. He felt relieved. His secret was out and he no longer had a burden on his shoulders. Quietly, he smiled to himself and laid on his bed. Perhaps he could take a nap. Just close his eyes for a moment...

He was back in Camelot, lying in the grass by a forest and looked up at the castle. Merlin sighed contently, breathing in the familiar scent of trees and dew. He felt the ground beside him sink as a shadow loomed over him.

"Enjoying yourself,

Merlin?" a voice asked and the warlock looked up at the source.

Arthur gazed down at him with a slightly amused expression. Merlin grinned and shrugged in response. "I might enjoy myself more if you joined me, sire," he suggested.

The prince chuckled before seating himself on the grass beside his manservant. They both gazed up at the clouds with a placid air about them, saying nothing as they silently delighted in the other's company. But after a quiet moment, Merlin felt his heart ache and eyes water as he realized that this wasn't real. Arthur leaned over and gathered the weeping warlock into his arms, brushing his dark locks from his face and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You're not real," Merlin sobbed, clutching the other man and wished he could feel him again. "You're not..."

Dream Arthur stroked his side slowly, refusing to let him go. "I know," he whispered. "But I'll return to you soon. I promise."

And then the feeling of warmth and security from the arms of another faded as he warlock awoke.

It was not the first time Merlin had that dream. It happened almost every other night. Sometimes it took him longer to realize he was dreaming. Sometimes, he didn't realize it at all. But every time he awoke, his heart broke all over again and he forgets how to breathe as he gasps and sobs. Michael rushed into the room, after hearing his strangled cries, and hugged him tightly in an attempt to calm him down.

"Breathe, Merlin. Breathe," he instructed and soon the warlock began to relax and slumped in his friend's arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He noticed it was night. "I usually deal with this on my own."

Michael pursed his lips, frowning. "You shouldn't have to deal with this at all. You need help, Merlin, this isn't healthy," he said, holding the other by his shoulders and gazing at him sternly.

"No one can help me, my friend. When you've lived for nearly two thousand years, you start to lose hope along with your mind. I've been alone for so long, Michael. I probably would have killed myself by now if it were possible-"

"Don't talk like that," Michael plead, eyes sad. "What good would it do if you were dead and Arthur returned, only to find that he was alone?"

"I don't know if he'll ever come back at this rate!"

The detective was taken aback by his answer and gaped. "What happened to your confidence? Just earlier you were so sure that your king was going to come back to you."

Merlin looked at him with eyes that obviously revealed his true age, a once vibrant blue dulled over the years. "I'm old and tired, Michael. I've done my waiting."

"Then promise me something, will you? Promise me that you'll wait a bit longer. I'll release you from this vow the day I die, alright? Wait until then," the detective plead.

The warlock hesitated, looking away briefly before his gaze returned to his friend. "I promise," he assured.

They didn't talk much after that and Michael left him alone so his friend could return to his senses. The evening remained quiet, even when Merlin came downstairs and shared some tea with the detective. The warlock felt quite a lot of shame and guilt for having such a breakdown in front of a friend he's only known for two weeks. And yet it felt as though they've known each other for longer. But now there was a tension between them and Merlin couldn't stand it. With a sigh, he stood.

"I think I'll go for a stroll," he announced before walking to the coat hanger, shrugging on his wool jacket.

"Don't stay out too long," Michael reminded in an almost motherly tone.

Merlin nodded before walking outside. The sun had just began to set and the orange sky glared down at him. He walked on across the damp field of grass in front of his home. He wouldn't stray too far, just far enough to the point where the cool air was too much for him to bear. He marched to the edge of a forest and stopped. He knew he was just running away from his feelings. He had been doing so for the last fifteen hundred years. Merlin sighed again. He's been doing that a lot, lately. Sighing, running, crying. And then this stupid case-wait a moment. The case? Ah, yes, he'd forgotten to ask about that. He wondered if they had captured all the men he had incapacitated for them. The responsibility of saving the lives of defenseless humans familiar to him.

But as he pondered such, he failed to notice a figure sneaking up behind him as he was given a whiff of chloroform and fell unconscious.

It was the third time Merlin was drugged and he was starting to think that villains have lost their violent touch in kidnappings. At least he wasn't hallucinating this time. But when he awoke, he recognized the place as an abandoned building not far from his village. If he can escape, he could make it home fairly quickly. Merlin shifted slightly, only to find that he was shackled to the wall with iron chains. Iron. Of course it was. He slumped against the wall and sighed. And then there were footsteps and voices. He listened and his eyes widened as one voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"You won't tell anyone about our deal, will you?" came an English accented voice. "Especially not my employer-"

"'S nothing you need to wor'y about, mustache," a gruff voice assured. "So long as we gets to pum'el the kid to a pulp 's a'right wi'h me."

A light turned on and Merlin flinched at the sudden brightness. He squinted to look at his kidnappers. To his surprise, the one who had been addressed as "mustache" was, in fact, Detective Inspector Lewis! Merlin gaped at this revelation, feeling a large amount of betrayal and curiosity as to why he did this. But he soon leanred why when the man regarded him with disgust.

"Looks like some'ne's awake," the man with shaggy hair and a dirty face leered. "Remem'er me?"

Merlin squinted harder at the man and recognized him as one of the men who had drugged him at the warehouse. He glared at him and the men laughed. The man then gave him a hard kick to the side and Merlin cried out in pain.

"You'll never get away with this, Detective," the warlock grit out.

"But you don't understand, Mr. Pendle. Of course I will," Lewis scoffed. "Because there's no justice for monstrous freaks like you."

Merlin continued to glare, even as the detective left and the man who kicked him began to bend, bruise, and cut parts of his body that he would rather prefer left alone. But even through the warlock's feeling of rage and betrayal, he felt despair. Would Michael even be able to find him? (And oddly enough he felt a huge sense of deja vu-hasn't this happened to him before? It probably has, but that doesn't matter at the moment, he's being beaten to a bloody pulp! But do not fear, a hero will come and save him! Probably... Hopefully...)

Michael paced, eyebrows furrowed in a worried frown. Merlin had been gone for quite a long while now. It was almost midnight! That's it, he was going to go look for him and bring him back. He shouldn't had left in the first place! Michael angrily pulled on his coat and stalked out the door, following the path he saw Merlin take hours ago.

Soon, he got to the point where he friend must how stopped at since it came to the edge of the woods. He looked around seeing no sign of him anywhere. Merlin wouldn't have gone into the woods-had he? Michael took a step towards the trees when his shoe connected with a white cloth on the ground. He took a good look at it before gingerly lifting it off the ground with gloved fingers. There was a stain of something on the front of it and he glared at it. But then when realization hit him, his expression turned to that of a worried one.

"Merlin's been kidnapped," he deduced, pocketing the evidence and rushing back to the cottage.

Quickly, he used the telephone and dialed the number for the station. He filed a missing person's report before running back outside and to the main road. There, Michael was able to hail a cab and went to the first place he thought to search. The warehouse. He knew that Merlin was not going to be there, it was too obvious. But he needed clues. He soon arrived and immediately went to retrace his steps. Bodies. He remembered them. One was... there, and there and... missing. Someone was missing. They captured nine men, but there were ten. Michael closed his eyes as he tried to remember what he looked like. Shaggy hair, dirty face... The man who had beaten his friend. The detective scowled at the memory before storming out of the warehouse. It was time for another round of interrogations.

It must have been hours since he was kidnapped. Merli couldn't really tell anymore after being thrown head-first into the ground so many times. But he fought against the pain to hang onto his life. The raggedy man who had continued to torture him so had left to take a break. Blood trickled down his face and his sides ached more than his shackled wrists. Where was his friend? Was he coming for him? Would he find him?

Michael had threatened every single drug dealer in their custody into giving him information and was only able to get one location. The abandoned building near Merlin's village. He and a few others rushed there to save him.

I'm coming my friend, he thought.

The man came back, this time with an iron bar. He proceeded to poke and prod at whatever seemed to gain a reaction and smirked down at Merlin.

"It hurts, don' it?" the man sneered.

The warlock refused to answer. The man yanked his head back by pulling on his hairs and spat in his face. "I ASKED YOUS A QUESTION, BOY, AN' YOU'D BETTER ANSWER IT," he shouted, punching him in the stomach.

Merlin wheezed in response, coughing and spluttering. He still didn't answer-possibly a foolish decision. His torturer scowled and turned, looking through a selection of objects on a table. "That's it," he growled. "I'm done with you."

The man revealed to him a long curved knife, gleaming and newly polished. He stepped closer to Merlin and the edge got dangerously close to his throat. But before the knife could pierce his skin, the door burst open and several people entered the room, armed with guns pointed at the man with the knife.

"Put the weapon down, sir," came a familiar voice.

Merlin's eyes widened and he felt relief flood through him. It was Michael. The drug dealer man sneered and brought the knife upward, looking as if he were going to stab Merlin, but he was quickly shot in both kneecaps and he crumpled to the ground. Michael rushed over to his friend as the other officers apprehended the villain, and unchained him. Merlin slumped forward into the detective's arms and allowed himself to fall unconscious.

Michael sighed, letting out the breath he didn't realize he was holding before he and another officer carried him to the ambulance truck. He was relieved that Merlin was safe and his case was now closed. Though he couldn't help but feel guilt about getting his friend involved. Michael got into the back of the truck with his friend and laid back, resting his eyes.

Two weeks later, Merlin recovered and told the police that Detective Inspector Lewis was behind his kidnapping.

A week after that, the fiend was captured and arrested.

xxx