Beyond Recall

A/N: Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. As you can see, this is another relatively quick update. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think.

Chapter 21

Walking into Arthur and Gwen's chambers the following day, Merlin was surprised to see that the King was already dressed –partially at least. He had donned his breeches and a light shirt and was pacing the chambers, while Gwen slept on.

'You're up?' Merlin asked.

'We're going hunting,' Arthur replied, stopping his pacing to walk over to Merlin a frown on his face.

'What?'

'You heard me Merlin: we're going hunting, and I need you to go and get supplies. I don't expect to be back until late tonight.'

'What?'

'What is wrong with you this morning? You look half asleep,' Arthur pressed, and Merlin could see his irritation rising.

'I am half asleep,' he retorted, suppressing a yawn –he was relatively sure that wouldn't make Arthur look any happier. Arthur sighed and turned away, but he pointed his finger back in Merlin's general direction.

'We'll need a crossbow, provisions for the day, and will you please make sure that you put your jacket on. I'm not spending the day listening to you whining because you're cold.'

'What?'

'Merlin!' His voice was so sharp that on the bed Gwen stirred. Arthur did have the decency to look slightly guilty, but when he turned back to Merlin, his stare was just as fierce. Merlin raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to repeat his question, but decided that wouldn't help. Instead he sighed heavily and tried to ignore the way his head was pounding from his sleepless night. He had lain awake for hours, staring at the walls of his room, thinking of his mother and where she could be.

He had considered sneaking down to the stables to see if Gwaine had left, but he didn't want to risk tipping off Steven's man –on the off chance that he actually was going out to take food to Gaius and his mother that night- to the fact that he was being watched. So it was that he had stayed in his room trying to work out what it was that Steven and Tiden were doing, how to convince James of their treachery and what the man had meant when he spoke about how the loyalty oath bound him.

He had planned to try speaking to James again today in between doing jobs for Arthur, and he had been intending to speak to Peter, who had been in the stables last night to see Gwaine off and to watch for Steven's henchman. Hunting all day didn't seem like a way to find out more information.

'I don't think killing innocent animals is the best way to spend a day,' Merlin told him.

'Well, lucky for you, you won't be doing the shooting. Besides I'll be selective. The unicorn incident was bad enough.'

'What?'

'Doesn't matter. I want to leave soon.'

'Arthur, I really don't think I'll be any good at hunting.'

'I know you won't be any good at hunting,' Arthur nodded, 'but we're still going.'

'I've got quite a lot of things to-'

'I'm relieving you of all your chores.'

'What about the talks?' Merlin tried, realising that he was getting nowhere and trying to deflect Arthur's annoyance.

'You heard what I said yesterday: everyone has two days.'

'Yes, but shouldn't you stay in Camelot?' Merlin pointed out. Arthur looked at him incredulously.

'I know that you haven't got all your memories yet, but I trust you remember that I'm the King.'

'Amongst other things,' Merlin told him challengingly.

'Well at least you've got your sense of humour back,' Arthur told him. 'I'll meet you in the stables in an hour.' With that, he turned and disappeared from his chambers, leaving Merlin staring after him, trying not to scream in frustration; he didn't want to wake Gwen up. Instead, he settled for selecting a variety of clothes for the trip that instinct told him Arthur didn't like.

Arthur could honestly say that he had never sought out Merlin's company for long periods of time in the past. Yes, he admitted that he would sometimes go and find Merlin in order to annoy him or tell him off for something, but he had never decided to go somewhere with Merlin just for the sake of spending time with him. In part, that may have been due to the fact that wherever he went, Merlin was normally there anyway; his terrible loneliness when he thought Merlin was dead also seemed to strengthen that theory.

But whatever the case, Arthur was finding this hunting trip somewhat difficult because he knew his reasons behind it, and hunting wasn't one of the top ones. Yes, hunting was giving him chance to focus on something other than his destroyed talks –even if Merlin's lack of subtlety meant that no actual animals had found themselves impaled by his crossbow- but he knew that he was only giving the activity half of his attention.

The truth was that he had wanted to spend time with Merlin. He wasn't sure why he'd suddenly felt the urge to. All he knew was that this current Merlin –the one who had shown so many signs of coming back to them all for good- was effortlessly pulling away. He had realised that when he awoke that morning; realised that over the past few days Merlin spoke less, spent less time in Arthur's company and looked for reasons to be elsewhere. And since finding out that the talks were taking place because of him, Merlin seemed to have withdrawn completely.

And Arthur refused to accept it. He would not allow Merlin to shrink back into a stranger; not when he had taken so many steps towards being a friend once more. With that thought in mind, Arthur had got dressed and waited for Merlin to appear. The hunting trip was merely a front for his true plans: he would ask Merlin what was wrong, find out what it was that was suddenly bothering him and have another go at prompting the man's memories.

Six hours into their hunt, and all of those plans had yet to come to fruition. He was doing his very best on the memory front: though Merlin didn't know it, the two of them had spent the last few hours revisiting places where significant things had happened to them. An hour ago they had passed the place where Merlin had been hit in the chest with a mace, not far from the valley of the fallen kings; before that they had walked along part of the route they had taken on their quest for the cup of life and now they were in practically the exact spot where Arthur had shot the unicorn.

Nothing seemed to have triggered any memories in Merlin, and Arthur was fast losing hope. Surely something had to be getting past the barriers that Merlin's mind had said up. Looking at him now, though, Arthur wondered exactly what was going through the man's head. He was preoccupied; that much was obvious. Arthur had been expecting his clumsiness and uncanny ability to scare away game, but this was an entirely different state of distraction. He would stare off into the distance for minutes at time; his eyes unfocussed and stormy. Or if he wasn't doing that, he would mutter to himself and pace in different directions, paying no attention to anything Arthur was doing. It was beginning to irritate him.

'What is wrong with you today?' he asked when Merlin dropped the beating stick he was carrying for the third time in as many minutes.

'What?' Merlin asked. He looked a little startled at the sound of Arthur's voice; he seemed to have forgotten that he wasn't alone.

'I'll be the first to admit that you're useless at hunting, but this is dire, even for you.'

'Well maybe I should head back.'

'Am I keeping you from something?' Arthur asked him with a roll of the eyes.

'Apart from a warm room with good food?' Merlin asked him pointedly, but the sarcasm was heavier than usual.

'Have I…?' Arthur stopped, hardly able to believe that he was going to ask the question. 'Have I done something to upset you?' He swallowed down the proud comments of refute that rose up as the words left his mouth. Just this once, he'd place himself at Merlin's mercy in assessing the morality of his actions. Besides, Merlin always opened up more when Arthur did.

'What?' Merlin asked. 'No, you haven't done anything.' He seemed genuinely appalled at the idea, which only served to confuse Arthur more.

'Then what's wrong? You're barely here. I've never seen you so distracted.'

'I just have a lot to think about.'

'Like what?'

'A past I can't remember,' he shrugged. 'A future that I can't see.'

'Guinevere said you were going to stay,' Arthur replied, before inwardly reprimanding himself; he hadn't wanted Merlin to know that Guinevere had filled him in on their conversation. Where he stood, Merlin turned away slightly.

'I said I would if you wanted me to.'

'Surely you understand by now, Merlin.'

There was a long pause. Merlin kept his head down, but Arthur could see some sort of battle going on in him. He was going to say something else, when suddenly Merlin spoke again, his head high now.

'Understand what? That I'm your most loyal servant and friend?' Arthur frowned in confusion. The bitterness in the way he said it was so foreign and so cynical that it made him angry.

'Don't say that like it's so ridiculous!'

Merlin shook his head and took several deep breaths. Arthur felt his irritation rise: what was wrong with the man?

'Why did you say that? Why would you?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Don't think you can get out of this one, Merlin. I want to know what's wrong. I don't claim to understand what you're going through, but I know you well enough to know when something is bothering you.'

'Really?' Merlin asked. 'Like you've known me so well in the past?'

'What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don't even remember the past.' Instantly, Arthur regretted his words, but he didn't take them back. His pride wouldn't let him.

Again Merlin shook his head, but this time, instead of replying, he picked up his beater stick, shouldered the pack that he had laid down on the floor and headed back the way they had come.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm going back to Camelot.'

Arthur stared after him for several seconds, mouth agape. What the hell was wrong with him? Merlin very rarely threw tantrums and the few times he did, Arthur knew that it was something stupid he'd done that caused them –though he'd never admit that. But this time… This time, he had absolutely no idea what he'd done wrong. Merlin had just said himself that Arthur hadn't done anything to upset him. He felt his irritation fledge into anger. Was that what Merlin was trying to do? Make him angry? If that was his plan it was working beautifully.

Arthur chased after him and placed his hand heavily on Merlin's shoulder, spinning him round as he did. The momentum knocked Merlin off balance slightly, but he caught himself and then took a few stumbling steps away from Arthur. Once he was an arm's length back, he remained still. Arthur studied his face, saw the resigned determination in Merlin's eyes. What was he doing?

'What did you mean, just then?'

'I meant I'm going back to Camelot.'

'No,' Arthur said through gritted teeth, 'you know what I'm talking about.' Merlin shook his head and began to turn away, but once again Arthur spun him back round. 'Enough, Merlin! Tell me what you meant. 'You're saying I don't know you?'

'You're a King. Why would you know your servant?'

Arthur clenched his fists at his side. That was unfair and Merlin knew it. He knew better than anyone –memories or not- that he wasn't just a servant. And why would he say that anyway? Nothing in the way he was acting seemed normal, nothing in him reminded Arthur of his friend and servant. He said nothing for several seconds, in which time Merlin took several more steps backwards.

'I'm going back to Camelot.'

'Assuming you remember the way,' Arthur called after him, making no effort to hide the bitterness in his tone.

Merlin walked quickly though the dense undergrowth and thick-set trees heading back in the direction that he had come. No, he may not remember the way back to Camelot, but his sense of direction was excellent and he remembered the way they had travelled that morning. His whole body was still trembling from the exchange that had taken place only a few minutes earlier and he fought to hold back tears so that Arthur –who he knew was following quite closely behind, though he couldn't see him- wouldn't be able to see them if he decided to catch up. Merlin doubted he would, however.

He took a shuddering breath and tried not to think of what he had said. He had done it for the right reasons, but he knew that he had hurt Arthur and he had done enough of that already, whether the King knew it or not.

His reasons had been varied, but their goal was to ensure the future safety of Arthur and Camelot. And one thing that had to happen for that to be assured was that Merlin had to actually be in Camelot. Throughout the entire day, all he had thought about was Tiden's plan, Elyan keeping an eye on Steven's men and Gwaine's departure from the city late last night. And the more he thought about those things, the more he felt his desperation to be back there rise inside himself. He had known that he had to get back, and the only way he was going to be able to do that without raising questions was to argue with Arthur and then walk off. He didn't know if he'd done similar things in the past –Arthur's response suggested that he hadn't- but either way, it had worked.

But then as he had stood there arguing, saying things that he knew would make Arthur angry, he had felt more reasons for the confrontation slipping into his mind. If he could force Arthur to reconsider his trust in his friend, if he could make the King question his motives and actions, then surely –being the ruler that he was- Arthur would become suspicious, he would begin to investigate events himself. If Arthur became wary of Cyathia –more so than he already was- through Merlin's past connection with the place, then perhaps Tiden and Steven's plan would be spotted before it could take hold. It was a vain hope, Merlin knew, but he had been subtle enough that if it did work, he could claim innocence fairly easily. And on top of that, making Arthur question him meant that King was unlikely to share his plans for the final meeting of the talks quite so readily with Merlin. And if Arthur told him nothing, then Merlin had nothing to report back to Tiden.

Those thoughts had forced him on, even when he felt his mind yelling at him not to continue, but to stop and apologise to Arthur and assure him that he had a friend and servant in Merlin, for as long as the honour was extended to him. And then Arthur had become angry, and Merlin had felt an inexplicable peace settle on him at the knowledge. Arthur was angry with him, as he should be for everything that Merlin had done in sabotaging the talks and betraying his trust. It felt good to have somebody turn on him, like he was getting what he deserved. And maybe Arthur's anger wasn't for the reasons that Merlin wanted, but it was enough for now to feel that he wasn't getting away with it, that he was getting –at least in part- what he deserved.

Arthur stormed into his quarters, making Guinevere jump from where she sat at the table, reading through the research parchments that Arthur had been using for the talks.

'Sorry,' he muttered as he slammed the door behind himself and threw himself down on the chair opposite her. Wide eyed with worry, Guinevere got up and sat beside him.

'What is it?'

'Merlin.'

'What about him?'

'I don't know,' Arthur blustered. 'I don't have a clue what happened. One minute he's so distracted a wolf could attack him and he wouldn't notice and the next he's spouting rubbish about being just a servant and no-one knowing him and then walking back to Camelot.'

'What?'

'I know!' Arthur told her emphatically. 'He just walked off. Walked all the way back to Camelot without saying anything.'

'Are you sure he got back safely?' she asked.

'He's fine. I followed him. I'd sooner kill him than let a pack of bandits have the pleasure.'

'Arthur,' she reprimanded gently.

'I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just thought after what he said to you last night and with everything that's happened…I just expected him to be Merlin. But that person…' he shook his head. 'There's something not right.'

'He's struggling Arthur. I can't imagine what it's like to not know who you are.'

'No, it's more than that.'

'Arthur.'

'It is. I know Merlin. You know him. He doesn't seek out confrontation; he will do anything to avoid a fight.'

'He tried to punch you when he met you,' Gwen pointed out. 'I was watching.'

'But he was responding to an injustice. I was being a prat. Besides, at first he just tried to tell me to stop it; he called me his friend.'

'But think back over your time together,' Guinevere pressed, 'Merlin is the only person that argues with you.' Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. 'We may argue from time to time,' she told him wryly, 'but you argue a lot more with Merlin. My point is: Merlin will confront you on things.'

'Yes, when he's responding to something that he thinks is wrong,' Arthur pressed. 'That's what I mean: Merlin will argue to make a stand, he won't argue for the sake of arguing, that's never been his way, right from the start.'

'So perhaps he disagreed with something you were saying.'

'No. I've been over what was said a hundred times on the way back: nothing I said was something that would attack his sense of morality. If anything, I was being open. In the past, that's when Merlin's been most willing to listen and talk.'

'Maybe the openness scared him.'

'What scares Merlin, Guinevere?' Arthur asked sadly. 'You know as well as I do that he is anything but a coward.'

She moved round to face him a sudden revelation on her face that Arthur struggled to fathom. She laid a hand on his.

'What is it?' he asked urgently.

'Merlin is no coward, I agree,' she nodded. 'But he does get scared.'

'If he does, I have never seen it,' Arthur told her. He thought back over the years. The Dorocha had scared Merlin, but then, they had scared everyone. And sometimes he was fearful going into battle, but he always went. He had never known Merlin to let fear control him or speak for him

He voiced those thoughts to Guinevere. She nodded sadly, but her expression didn't change.

'What is it?'

'I have seen fear control Merlin before. I have seen his desperation because he is afraid. Many of us have.'

'I haven't,' Arthur replied quietly, feeling a sense of detachment; had he missed something so obvious?

'You wouldn't have,' Guinevere pressed gently. She shifted so that she was facing him completely. 'Arthur, the only time Merlin is fearful, truly fearful, is when you, or other people he loves, are in danger. Most of the time it's you. But think, Arthur,' she told him more firmly. 'You have seen that in him. Surely you remember when Gaius was accused of sorcery.'

As soon as she said it, Arthur understood what she meant. How could he have forgotten? He remembered hauling Merlin out of the council chambers as he attempted to attack the witchfinder; he had even tried to throw a punch at Arthur in his desperation. Yes, perhaps Arthur had seen Merlin scared before. Terrified even. It had been the same when Gaius had been kidnapped, although Arthur's handling of the situation had kept Merlin at a distance. And when Guinevere had been accused of sorcery, Merlin had been frightened and desperate enough to implicate himself instead.

'What are you saying?' Arthur asked, as he realised the truth in her words.

'I'm saying that maybe Merlin's reaction was born of fear and if Merlin is only scared when people he cares about are in danger…' She left the thought hanging in the air and Arthur felt a swell of cold engulf him.

'Somebody's in danger, or at least he knows something. But then why wouldn't he tell me?' Arthur asked.

'We don't know that is definitely the case. It's just one theory.' Arthur heard what she was saying, but they didn't make him question his conclusion. He couldn't yet fathom how things slotted into place, but something within him felt that they would.

And so his mind slipped to the other question that he had voiced: why wouldn't Merlin tell him? There were two reasons why people lied: one, to protect themselves; two, to protect others. Never, in all the time Arthur had known Merlin, had he shown any inclination towards self-preservation. If he was hiding something, he was protecting someone, and if that was the case, then Arthur was going to have to tread very carefully. He turned to Guinevere, kissed her and then placed his hands on her arms.

'I love you,' he whispered, before heading out of his chambers in search of Leon.

By the time Merlin got back to Camelot it was late evening. The town had been plunged into darkness and the streets were quiet. He quickly wound his way between the quiet homesteads and made his way to the inn where Peter was staying. He was desperate to know whether Gwaine had gotten off alright the previous night and whether he had had someone to follow. He was also keen to speak to Elyan to see if he had found out anything else about Steven's men, but he was unsure of exactly how to contact the knight without having to ask lots of questions. Deciding he would focus on that task tomorrow morning, Merlin nodded to the landlord and headed up to Peter's room. He was surprised to find that it was empty. The bed was neatly made and there were no signs that Peter had been there for several hours.

Frustrated at yet another delay, Merlin quickly headed down to the stables, jogging through the quiet streets and around the back of the royal stables until he reached the makeshift one where Cyathia's horses were being kept. Looking down at the muddy ground, he felt his elation rise as he noticed, here and there, the marked hoof prints of Torrent's shoes. Gwaine had had someone to follow! Merlin felt a new confidence rise in him. Gwaine would find Gauis and his mother. Merlin would be free to stay in Camelot. With a new lightness, he approached the stable door and caught sight of a figure seeing to the horses for the night.

'Peter,' he called, but when the boy turned it wasn't Peter; it was another stable hand, one whose name Merlin didn't know. 'Sorry,' he said, coming to a stop just inside the stable door. He glanced around and saw that Torrent was in his stable, but that Zephyr's was empty. 'I was looking for Peter.'

'Sorry, only me. But Peter was looking for you earlier. Said to tell you to come and find him as soon as you could.'

'When was this?' Merlin asked, feeling relief flood through him; perhaps Peter had found out something that they could actually use.

'This afternoon sometime. A few hours ago, anyway.'

'Where is he now?'

'I don't know. Haven't seen him since then,' the boy shrugged. 'He missed his shift earlier.'

In an instant, all the hope that Merlin had felt building up inside turned to ice.

'What?' he asked slowly.

'He was meant to feed the horses this evening, but he never showed. It's why I'm here. I've never known him to miss a shift,' the boy shrugged.

Frantically, Merlin scanned the room, looking for some clue, some evidence, as to what might possibly have held Peter up. He needed a rational explanation, but the clawing fear allowed him little hope. He had a terrible feeling that Peter's luck had run out.

Without another word to the clearly confused stable hand, Merlin turned and ran back to his quarters. Peter had been searching for him, had wanted to tell him something; quite possibly something that would give them a clearer idea of what Steven and Tiden were doing. If that were the case, he would have tried Merlin's chambers several times throughout the course of the day. There was no sign of any disruption in the inn or in the stables, which meant…

Merlin threw open the door to his quarters and stopped in horror at what he saw. On one side of the room, the table was at strange angle, while the vials and plates and food that Merlin had stacked on it this morning in an attempt to tidy up were scattered and smashed about the floor. There had been a scuffle, a fight of some sort. But what really drew Merlin's attention was the dark stain on the floor; a large dark stain.

In an instant Merlin felt his cage close in around him once more as terrible fear for Peter drew the bolt across.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.