A/N: Even though Uther Pendragon is back, since he has chosen not to accept his dream-memory identity, I continue to refer to him as Thomas Drake, rather than Uther. Merlin, though he doesn't (won't?) remember, has gained his own name back as a nickname, and will continue to be known as Merlin. However he will continue to use the modern names of the other characters when he speaks to them. If there's any confusion, I can provide a cast list.
Also, to those wondering about updates, I intend (key word, here) to provide another chapter every 3-4 days. Of course, life happens, and this is December. As soon as I write it, and type it up, you'll have it. Approximating 10-12 chapters, at this point… thanks to those who'll take this journey with me!
Chapter 3 – The Round Table
The next morning, Arthur woke to an authoritative knock on his bedroom door. Disoriented, he bolted up, fumbling at his bedside table for a pitcher or something to throw as soon as he saw Merlin's grinning face. His fingers bumped his smart-phone into the blue-lit face of his digital alarm clock, bringing him back to the present, and reminding him of his long late conversation with Gwen… and the fact that the alarm hadn't woken him for work.
For the second day of his internship at Camelot Industries.
"Arthur, are you up yet?" His father's voice was impatient. "Leon is waiting to drive us to Camelot in half an hour."
Arthur left the bed with a quiet groan. "Yes, I'm up," he raised his voice to answer. "Half an hour – I'll be ready."
He showered, shaved, and dressed … and made it to the kitchen downstairs in time to grab a Nutri-Grain bar and fill a travel mug with black coffee on his way through. His father was just getting into the Bentley when Arthur slammed the house door on the beep of the security alarm resetting itself.
Thomas Drake gave his adult son a look of disappointment and distaste as they settled themselves in for the drive – he didn't approve of food in his car. Or of the cross-body messenger bag Arthur chose to carry.
"I gave you that attaché case for your birthday for a reason, Arthur," Thomas Drake said. "I intended you to use it."
"Yes, father," Arthur said lamely – he hated that case. It made him look old, it made him look - stuffy. Like a – like a prat, actually.
"We will be having some visitors this morning." Thomas checked his Rolex. "At nine-thirty. We have been in negotiations for a Department of Defense contract for some months, now, and are finally ready to present our product proposal. If the proposal is accepted, we will receive a liaison employee to facilitate communication with the DoD during the development of the project, and to ensure security."
Thomas turned his head to skewer his son with a commanding look. "Your presence in this meeting is to gain experience – you will watch and listen and learn – no more. Is that understood?"
Arthur felt like a child, like a rebellious child. Seen but not heard. "Yes, father," he said, somewhat stonily.
"Very good." Arthur's father placed his own attaché case on his knees, unclipped the latches, and opened it to display his laptop. A blue screen swam into focus before flashing several programs open – documents, correspondence, and at least one set of blueprints that Arthur saw before he turned away to respect his father's privacy.
Upon arriving at Camelot Technologies, Thomas Drake left Arthur in the lobby, instructing him to orient himself with the department of his internship, and to meet him in the third-floor boardroom no later than nine-twenty.
Patty and Gwen, at the receptionists' desk, had both stood respectfully at the CEO's entrance, but Thomas Drake did not so much as glance at them. Arthur held his breath, watching his father cross the golden rising-sun insignia on the lobby floor and ascend the grand staircase til he was out of sight beyond the second-floor turn.
The phone system warbled to announce an incoming call, and Patty answered, turning away.
Gwen, wearing a jewel-toned flowered blouse and light blue pants, wasn't smiling. "He didn't even look at me – he didn't even blink," she marveled as Arthur leaned on the high ledge of the desk beside her.
He shook his head. "He refused to remember a long time ago," he said, and thought of Merlin with a twinge. "Have you seen Merlin?" he said.
She shook her head, handing him a white envelope with his name typed on the front. "Maybe he comes in the back," she said, then glanced at Patty to make sure she was intent on her phone call. "He doesn't have his own extension – I looked – so I can't call him, either."
Arthur opened the envelope – photo ID, proclaiming him an employee of Camelot Technologies, and a thicker gray card that was embossed with the logo "Camelot Security". "Gwen – if you do see him – don't expect too much."
"What do you mean?" she said, confused, but dropped down into her chair as the phone chimed a warning of another incoming call.
"He doesn't remember," Arthur whispered.
Her hand froze over the blinking light of the phone system for an instant, then her training took over. She pressed the button and spoke into the mouth-piece of her headset, "Good morning, Camelot Technologies…"
"Lunch date," Arthur hissed.
She nodded and continued in a monotone, "This is Gwen… how may I direct your call?"
The director of the A.S.S. department was a short thick man named Hans, a couple of decades older than Arthur, with fat hands and a German accent. He informed Arthur that he was to work one day a week in each department on the first floor, and the next week to work in the departments on the second floor. Thus, the shared office was mostly for show, and the internship made Arthur little more than a glorified errand boy. If Hans was expecting a spoiled-CEO's son-pouting-tantrum, he was disappointed.
Arthur thought it hilariously ironic that his duties in Camelot resembled Merlin's job in the original version so closely. And, one day out of every two weeks he'd be in the IT department all day. That should be interesting.
At quarter after nine, Arthur cut Hans' German grumbling short. "I'm sorry – I have to attend a meeting with my father – don't expect I'll be back here til this afternoon."
"You return ready to work," Hans called after him. "These documents will not scan themselves, you know."
Arthur took the main staircase because it brought him through the lobby and past Gwen – though she was busy, she gave him an irresistible, pink-cheeked smile, her chocolate brown eyes on him as she spoke to a caller on her headset. He turned at the landing and grinned to find hr still watching him – and today, instead of looking away in confusion or embarrassment, she tossed her head in a saucy way that made him laugh out loud as he turned the corner to continue on to the third floor.
He slowed and stopped at the head of the stair as the echoes of the phone system were interrupted by the voices of several men. He listened as Patty welcomed then, directed them to sign in to the visitor's log, and promised that someone would arrive shortly to guide them to their meeting.
A moment later, Mary passed him in a flash, wearing a dark blue skirt with a ruffled yellow blouse beneath the jacket. "Your father is waiting!" she reminded him, descending to greet and guide the visitors back up to the third-floor boardroom for the meeting.
The boardroom was just down the hall, at the front of the building, commanding an excellent view of the metal sculpture on the front lawn. Arthur lingered, curious. Mary was flanked by two older men, with military-style haircuts, wearing class-blue formal uniforms, complete with gold braid and ribbon-bars and shiny black shoes.
Behind them came a taller figure, broad-shouldered in digital-camo uniform, hardy tan combat boots, his light brown hair shaved to a centimeter or so of bristle on his head, carrying a large sage-green case with ease. Arthur grinned, suddenly light-hearted. Maybe this meeting wouldn't be so bad, after all.
He waited until Mary and the two senior officers were almost upon him, then said, "Good morning – welcome to Camelot." They nodded, distracted, but the tall man's shaved head snapped up, broad grin splitting his square-jawed face.
Percival, Arthur noted, did not look surprised, having already passed Gwen in the lobby – and hopefully recognizing her, but his reaction to Arthur's presence was a good indication of that – but pleased and relieved.
"I'm Arthur Drake," he said, reaching out his right hand.
"Arthur." Percival's voice trembled just slightly, as if he was working hard not to laugh out loud. He tossed the case to his left hand as though it were weightless, and clasped Arthur's hand tightly. "My name is Lieutenant Peter Spiers."
Arthur looked at the narrow strip velcroed to the top of the breast pocket of Percival's uniform jacket, the rank insignia over the flap hiding the jacket's zipper.
"Shall I call you Lieutenant, or Spiers?" he said, baiting the bigger man out of sheer good spirits. "Lt. Spiers? Or Peter?"
"Percival is fine – sire," Percival returned, his eyes twinkling.
"Arthur!" Thomas Drake's voice echoed peremptorily down the hall, and Arthur turned to precede Percival into the boardroom.
He was late, it appeared, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Around a large oval table – round table, he thought, and almost laughed out loud – several men were seated, behind laptops and coffee mugs and lined-paper tablets, and name placards. Glancing at these, he noticed representatives from engineering, planning, materials management, and the legal departments. His own place was near the "foot" of the oval table, almost directly opposite his father at the far end. Three empty seats remained to his left, quickly taken by the military men – though the two senior officers were seated first, Percival managed to gain the chair next to Arthur, busying himself with unpacking the meeting paraphernalia for them. A large square screen was pulled down over the birch-wood paneling at the far end of the room. Mary was at the windows, pulling strings to close the blinds.
"It's been a long time," Arthur dared to say to his friend and former knight, under cover of the rustling noises of everyone settling in for the meeting.
"It's good to see you again," Percival returned.
The marketing department's delegate stood, inserting a disc into a laptop positioned next to a black rectangular projector. Mary positioned herself by the light switch, next to the phone on the wall, as Thomas began by welcoming the guests and introducing the meeting attendees.
Percival kicked Arthur's shoe gently. "Your father doesn't remember me?" he murmured, leaning closer to Arthur.
Arthur caught his father's swift warning glance, and idly picked up the tablet and ballpoint pen placed in front of his seat. He wrote, If my father ever dreamed of Camelot when he was a boy, he's forgotten it all now, This Camelot is his life. He laid the tablet on the tabletop, turned it slightly. Percival read the note, nodded minutely.
At the head of the room, the marketing rep was punching the laptop's keyboard, while the projector showed nothing but blue. Thomas Drake drummed his fingers in impatient irritation, obviously frustrated with the equipment's refusal to cooperate. Mary reached to help the marketing guy.
"What's the matter?" asked the right-hand blue-uniformed officer. "Why isn't it working?"
Thomas spoke to Mary, who stepped to the phone and punched buttons, lifting the receiver and turning her back to speak quietly to someone on the other end.
"Is there a secondary password, Mike?" Thomas asked.
"No – the presentation should be set to run," the marketer protested, hovering impotently. "We could upload the date to another disc, but that might take some time – it's a lot of material, sir…"
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and Mary opened it wide enough to admit one person. One tall, skinny person.
"Is that Merlin?" Percival whispered, leaning forward.
Arthur nodded, kept the former knight from raising his hand in greeting to the one-time servant. At the back of the room, with all attention focused on the recalcitrant projector system, Percival frowned at Arthur, not understanding why he couldn't greet the king's manservant with a wordless salute, at least.
"This boy?" Thomas Drake said, surprised and displeased.
In the silent room, everyone could hear Mary, embarrassed but trying to soothe Thomas' pride, "He is the IT intern – they wouldn't have sent him if they didn't think he could handle it."
Merlin spoke up, his voice entirely expressionless, "There's a server down in engineering. Steve and Carol will be occupied for another quarter-hour at least."
Arthur stood, intending to speak up for Merlin. But Merlin made a not-quite-arrogant, questioning motion toward the laptop, and Thomas stepped out of his way, conceding the point with poor grace, turning away from the assembly to speak to Mary in an undertone.
Merlin leaned over the table, the angles of his face lit in the dim room by the laptop screen's light. Arthur sat; beside him, Percival chuckled.
Merlin turned slightly to adjust the projector, and as his eyes flicked back to the screen in front of them, Arthur could have sworn that the blue of his eyes was briefly obscured by a golden flicker.
On the wall, the projector screen showed a menu page, with a pattern of icons waiting to be chosen. Merlin straightened – Arthur recognized the odd look on his face as the one he wore when trying to decide whether to mention one of his "funny feelings."
"You've fixed the problem?" Thomas Drake said imperiously. "Then, you may go."
There was a brief, breathless pause when Arthur imagined – remembered – his former servant bowing at the waist and murmuring respectfully, "Yes, my lord." Then Merlin turned and left the room without a word.
Mike from marketing aimed the remote clicker, and the screen flickered to life.
Percival grabbed the notepad and the pen, scribbled, So you're working for your father's company – Camelot?! and slid it over to Arthur.
He scrawled back, Summer internship. You?
Recruited out of high school here in DC. Went green to gold this spring. Set to liaison with Camelot for this project.
Arthur read the words as Percival finished writing them, then turned his attention back to the presentation to catch the gist – specialized drones. Hm. He'd wielded his sword at the forefront of brutal face-to-face warfare. The idea of fighting via remote control held little interest for him. He glanced down the page to read Percival's last two-word question.
Who else?
He grinned and took the pen. Merlin's an intern in IT, and Gwen's a temp receptionist – you saw her, right? He glanced over to see Percival's shorn head nod briefly. Arthur continued, Gaius is head of Camelot's laboratory, across the street. And Leon is my father's driver and bodyguard.
Percival read Arthur's note, snorted out an audible, "Ha!", coughing self-consciously to cover the impolite sound. They both glanced up to make sure neither of Percival's officer or Thomas Drake were giving them undue attention, and Percival wrote one word at the bottom of the page.
Why?
Arthur sighed. He'd been captain of his neighborhood pick-up baseball team in grade school, of the football team at his prep school, of the Brown chapter of the fencing league.
He was – was – king. But this was the 21st century. He sighed again, hoping he was ready for whatever was coming, hoping he was still an adequate leader.
A memory spoke to him, so clearly he straightened and looked up to see if Merlin hadn't come back into the room – you're going to be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen…
Damn it. He missed Merlin. Memories could only take him so far.
Especially when the man in the memories had been only a servant – okay, a friend – even if a sometimes overwhelmingly loyal friend… knowing now that Merlin had been Emrys also, he wondered what it would feel like to have a powerful sorcerer say to his face, I believe in you – you can do it.
It was a humbling thought.
He took up the pen and began to scribe question marks behind Percival's question, until the bigger man reached over and stilled the pen with one hand. Then he patted Arthur's hand reassuringly, confidently.
I believe in you – you can do it.
It's not a mistake, it's not a coincidence, it's not for nothing.
Sire, I hate to say this, but… you may not have much time.
"Well, I believe our time here has been well spent," said the officer next to Percival, loudly enough to make both king and knight jump like inattentive schoolchildren.
Mary flicked the lights back on. "I'm pleased you feel this way," Thomas Drake said. "I hope we continue to share similar views as the project progresses towards prototype testing."
"We look forward to hearing from you as soon as the test phase becomes feasible," the officer returned.
"Thank you all for your efforts," Thomas Drake said to the room at large, nodding his head to dismiss the meeting. As the others began to shuffle together the materials they'd brought with them, Thomas Drake came around the side of the table where the three military representatives were readying themselves for departure. Arthur stood as they did.
"Gentlemen, this is my son, Arthur Drake," Thomas said. "Arthur, I'm appointing you my personal, though unofficial, representative for this project. You will be in close contact with Lt. Spiers, and give me daily progress reports. Lieutenant, you may bring any questions or concerns you have to Arthur's attention."
Arthur nodded. Percival said, "Sir," smartly and respectfully.
"Well, Mr. Drake, we are already impressed with your promised product," the second officer said, "your facility here, and your – family. As eager as we are for Lt. Spiers to join forces with Camelot, unfortunately we require him to drive the government vehicle we arrived in. But rest assured, he will return in the morning – Lt. Spiers has his own POV he'll be using. Now, we have a long drive ahead of us, back up to Fort Meade."
The two officers moved out of the boardroom, making idle conversation with Thomas Drake about how far it was from Camelot headquarters in Alexandria, VA, to Fort George Meade in Maryland, and which route was the most advisable at that hour. They declined his father's invitation to join them for the noon meal before they left the area, and he bid them farewell at the head of the main staircase.
Arthur thought that all they needed were the statues and red ceremonial capes.
"Mary, I need to see you in my office, please," Thomas Drake said. "Arthur, would you see the officers out?"
"My pleasure," Arthur said. "Gentlemen, this way." He glanced over his shoulder at Percival, towering over the other two as he followed them down the stairs, hoping for a quick word alone before the three officers left Camelot.
They reached the foot of the staircase and crossed the lobby. Arthur nodded in response to Gwen's little wave, saw her switch her gaze to Percival behind him, and wave again. Arthur held the heavy glass door open for the two older officers to pass through.
"Arthur!" He looked up to see Leon entering the lobby from the After-Sales Service side of the building. Percival turned also, and Arthur chuckled at the happy surprise on Leon's face – almost as good as finding his friends again was seeing them reunite with each other. The two knights shook hands heartily, Leon whacking Percival's shoulder with his free hand for good measure.
"Look at you," Leon said. "Stars and stripes." He flicked Percival's rank insignia. "I'm surprised they could find ACU's to fit you."
Percival laughed. "We grow 'em big in the army," he stated with a twinkle. "This is a size medium." Aware that he had two ranking officers waiting for him, he moved to pass through the open door, and Arthur and Leon followed.
The two older men stood in conversation next to a white Ford four-door in the central visitors' lot, so the three younger men paused on the sidewalk in front of the building.
"We need to get together and talk," Arthur said. "Go out for a beer, or something."
"I have something I need to tell you," Percival said slowly. "This may not be the time or place, but – Lancelot –"
"Oi!" came a shout from behind Arthur. "Hello, ladies!"
All three spun and said at the same time, "Gwaine!"
It was, indeed, Gwaine, dressed conservatively in a blue button-down shirt and khaki pants. His dark hair was still full, though several inches shorter than he'd worn it in the past, the beard neatly trimmed, the grin irrepressible and brimming with fun, as always.
"I have been waiting my whole life for this!" he proclaimed, punching Percival's shoulder, shaking Leon's hand, and giving Arthur a mock-bow and a murmured, "princess."
"Where the hell did you come from?" Arthur exclaimed, delighted in spite of himself.
"Oh, I've been waiting to get in Camelot for years," Gwaine said, waving one hand airily. "I saw your father in a press conference on TV when I was a freshman in high school, and I just knew you were back!" He jabbed Arthur's shoulder for emphasis.
"Why'd you wait so long to come?" Leon asked, reasonably.
"Had to wait for a job opening, didn't I?" Gwaine said. "Your father doesn't bestow jobs right and left like knighthoods, does he, princess? Had to build up some qualifications, first."
"Qualifications!" Percival scoffed.
"Hey, three years on Fairfax County PD," Gwaine said. "That ain't easy."
A shrill whistle caught their attention – the two older officers were watching, clearly and impatiently waiting for Percival.
"I have to go," he said, stepping off the curb.
"Wait – Percival," Arthur said. "You were about to say something about Lancelot."
"Is he here, too?" Gwaine exclaimed eagerly, and Leon shushed him.
Percival's face had lost its smile. "We were in basic together," he said. "Then Afghanistan. Ran our Humvee right over an IED."
The late spring sun, almost directly overhead, beat down on them. In the trees ringing the parking lot, a bird twittered.
"He saved my life, but…" Percival said. "Lancelot's dead." He met each of their eyes, then gave Arthur a little bow. "Til tomorrow, sire."
"Gee-damn," Gwaine said blankly. Leon took a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh.
"Why?" Arthur said out loud to the parking lot. Percival folded himself into the driver's seat of the white Ford. The engine started, the car reversed from its parking space, then drove forward to the road, turned, and disappeared from view.
"Why?" Arthur repeated again, turning back to the two remaining knights.
He froze. Behind them stood Gwen, silent, two tears trickling down her cheeks. At Arthur's look, Leon and Gwaine turned – one to grip her shoulder in a show of comfort, the other to exclaim cheerfully and give her an embrace so exuberant her black high-heeled boots left the sidewalk.
"Let's – leave that story for another time," Leon suggested.
Gwen nodded, laughing through her tears at something Gwaine murmured in her ear. "It's noon," she informed them, and her dark eyes found Arthur's – she was so beautiful, even when she was sad. "I believe I was promised a lunch date."
Gwaine let out a wolf whistle, and Leon said, "Well, of course, my lady."
"You two can join us," Gwen added. "Can't they, Arthur?"
"Of course not," Arthur said with the full weight of his kingly authority. "What have times come to when my knights can't even get their own dates."
Leon chuckled, unperturbed, holding the glass door of the lobby open for them.
"I'll have you know, mate, that I am never lacking for female companionship," Gwaine said emphatically. "Nor for a range of alcohol –"
"Pipe down," Arthur ordered sternly as they entered the lobby. "You're here for a job interview, remember?"
Patty, behind the desk, smiled and instructed Gwaine to sign in, handing him a visitor's badge on a red lanyard, which he promptly draped around his neck. "I'm here for an interview at one o'clock," he told her, giving her his characteristic devilish grin.
"Ah, yes," Patty said, running her finger down a clipboard on the desk. "Mr. Gavin Kraft. Shall I call up and let HR know you are here early?"
"No need, Patty," Arthur said.
Leon repeated, behind him, "Gavin Kraft?" and Arthur saw Gwaine struggling with himself not to punch his former comrade-in-arms.
Arthur gave Patty his best charming smile, as she watched the newcomer uncertainly. "I will take responsibility for Mr. Kraft for now, and have him to HR for the interview at one."
"Yes, Mr. Drake," she said automatically.
Gwaine kept quiet until they'd left the lobby for the cubicle jungle, heading for the back of the building and the break-room.
"Yes, Mr. Drake," he mimicked Patty, and guffawed, too loudly for the office atmosphere – both Leon and Gwen shushed him again.
Arthur turned abruptly, an Gwaine had to stop to avoid running into him. "Mind your manners, Gavin," Arthur said sternly, yet couldn't help smiling at the same time. He was relieved both Percival and Gwaine had come back so themselves. "You're not hired yet."
That quieted the boisterous former knight, at least until they'd each collected lunch – Gwen had packed a brown bag again, but the men were forced to select sandwiches and snacks from the vending machines. Arthur sat at Gwen's side, across from the other two, as Gwaine and Gwen chatted about Allen's – Elyan's – station in San Diego, her plans to join him for the 4th of July holiday. Leon listened and smiled, eating his sandwich quietly.
As before, there were a few others in the break-room, the two overweight ladies sitting to eat at the next table, two microwaves humming, Aiden from marketing collecting a soda that bumped down to the retrieval compartment of the vending machine.
Gwaine and Percival, Arthur mused. And Lancelot… what did it mean?
Gwaine was telling them how his mother had been convinced he was experimenting with drugs when he told her about his dreams of battling monsters and enemy armies with a sword. And then he'd seen Uther Pendragon – Thomas Drake – on television, describing the latest innovation at Camelot Technologies. Thereafter, he'd kept the dreams to himself, waiting his chance to "join the court at Camelot", as he put it.
Arthur wished Gaius were there – he wanted to ask, why Lancelot? Why would he die before meeting any of them but Percival? What reason could there possibly be for that? Or if not Gaius, then at least Merlin.
Merlin – another mystery. Everyone else had remembered – even Arthur's father had remembered long enough to name his son after a legendary king, and his business after that famous kingdom, though he had long denied any and all true memories of such.
Arthur's attention was caught from his musings by a sweet yet piercing whistle coming down the hallway, out of sight from their table in the far corner. It was a familiar tune, and he tried to place it as he absently watched Roberta from HR shut a mini-pizza into the toaster oven on the counter across the room.
Beside him, Gwen turned away from Gwaine trying to provoke Leon with a joke to say to him, "Moon River – I love this song." She began to sing along in a whisper, "Oh, dream-maker, you heart-breaker…Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way… Two drifters, off to see the world… There's such a lot of world to see… We're after the same rainbow's end… waitin' round the bend…"
Somehow, Arthur was not surprised when Merlin sauntered into view.
"Look, there he is," Gwen said excitedly. Arthur put a cautionary hand on her arm.
The whistling ceased as his former servant crossed the break-room, but no one else took much notice. Merlin opened the fridge on the end.
"What? Who? Where?" Gwaine said, twisting around in his folding chair.
Merlin straightened, popping open a black-and-green bottle of Monster energy drink, letting the fridge close behind him.
"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted happily across the room, waving and scraping his chair back to stand. "Mate!"
Chaos erupted.
Overhead, two of the fluorescent light panels fickered wildly, then stayed dark. The toaster oven sparked once, twice, then burst into flames. Roberta screamed, backing away from the burning appliance – Aiden leaped up, causing his chair to fold on itself and clatter to the floor, the two overweight women called frantically to Roberta, to each other.
Gwaine rushed to pull Roberta to a safe distance, while Leon retrieved a fire extinguisher from under the sink and used it calmly, without having to double-check the instructions.
The fire put out, Roberta burst into hysterical tears, comforted awkwardly by Gwaine, and more suitably by her female coworkers. Leon let the extinguisher swing down by his side, eyeing the blackened toaster oven as if unconvinced of its surrender.
"Oh, dear, what a mess," Gwen said, leaving Arthur's side to join in the efforts to clean and reorganize the break-room counter.
And Arthur wasn't truly surprised to find that Merlin had vanished. He just wished he had been quick enough to catch the expression on his friend's face…whatever it had been.
A/N: Usually I reorganize my chapters when the whole story is done, but updating each chapter as its written kind of prevents that. So I'm sorry if some chapters are long and some are short… c'est la vie. Or c'est l'ecriture, as the case may be…