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Chapter 4: A Time for Truth
The afternoon dragged. Outside, an early summer rain dripped down through the leaves. Inside, Arthur fed page after page into the scanner set upon his desk – technical specs, equipment manual updates, inspection reports, saving each scrap electronically to the correct file. Ye gods, what boredom. Hans spoke not a word.
Not even a brass joke, Arthur reflected darkly.
At five-clock Arthur met Gwen in the lobby, with an overwhelming sense of relief
"How was your afternoon?" she asked. Arthur groaned, and she gave him a wry, sympathetic smile. "You never did like paperwork."
He chuckled, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders. "And no chance of a training session with the knights…" he quipped.
Her eyes twinkled. "Or a hunting trip, either. Speaking of knights, Gwaine said his interview went well. HR told him he'll know by the weekend if they want him to start Monday."
"Good," Arthur said. Actually, he'd be surprised if Gwaine wasn't hired for Camelot Security. He ushered her through the first set of doors, where they would still be protected from the rain, but be able to speak with more privacy. "What are you doing tonight?" he said.
"What about the no-dating policy?" she asked playfully, removing her hand from his as two other employees passed them on their way out.
"I'm only an intern," he teased, "and you're only a temp." He leaned closer, "And besides –" Behind them, the door to the lobby opened again.
"Arthur," Leon said, and he turned. "Your father had a last-minute scheduling change." The former knight hesitated, then glanced at Gwen and smiled. "I don't suppose it will be an insurmountable problem for you to find a ride home?"
Arthur raised his eyes at his wife – his new girlfriend? – and gave her his most charming smile. "Guinevere?"
She shook her head at him. "Of course, Arthur. You have but to ask."
He followed her to a little blue Mazda, declined her offer to let him drive. She turned the key in the ignition, then paused.
"A minute ago, you said, 'besides'," she said. "Besides, what?"
Arthur said, with open honesty that came harder for him than casual mild sarcasm – except with Gwen – "I waited years to tell you I love you," Arthur said. "I don't want to waste whatever time we have together, now."
"Arthur," she said hesitantly, "this time is different. We're different. I love you, too, but –"
"There's no need to rush," he said. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you again – everything that's the same, and everything that's not."
She looked relieved, then shifted into reverse. "You wanted to see Gaius, right?"
"You never said what your plans were, tonight," Arthur said.
She shrugged, smiling.
The rain began to fall in earnest as Gwen pulled out of the parking lot, and she flicked the windshield wipers on, though they were only crossing the street to the lab. Arthur watched her, and thought of the arrogant prince – the prat – who'd commandeered the only bed, leaving this beautiful, remarkable woman to sleep on some sacking in a back corner of her own house without a second's consideration.
This time, he thought, she'd benefit from the consideration she'd helped to teach him so long ago.
Gaius greeted Gwen with enthusiasm, taking both her hands in his and telling her with heartfelt pleasure, "So good to see you, my dear, you are as lovely as ever. Come, sit." Gaius and Arthur remained standing, Gaius with his back to the window, and Arthur fiddling with the chunk of cloudy green glass by the bookshelf. "I'm glad you came, both of you," the old man continued. "Did you speak to Merlin today?"
Gwen shook her head. Arthur said, "Yesterday when I left here - I tried, Gaius. He doesn't have the time of day for me." It was disconcerting to think that he couldn't simply order Merlin to talk to him, this time.
"He finds it difficult to trust," Gaius stated simply.
Arthur let out a single, incredulous laugh. "He finds it difficult to trust? He lied to all of us for years, Gaius – even you, I suspect – tell me if I'm wrong?"
"Merlin – is a very private person, all evidence to the contrary aside," Gaius said. "Concern and appreciation, these are things every person wants and enjoys. But Merlin has the heart of a protector. Many times he neglected to tell the truth – the whole truth – out of a desire to spare us all the worry of knowing the true levels of danger or pain or anxiety he found himself experiencing."
"Oh, Merlin," Gwen sighed. Arthur said nothing, thinking uneasily of how many times he'd mocked… or underestimated…
"Indeed," Gaius said. "Hunith was a very generous and loving woman, and imparted these traits to her son. I believe his nature is essentially unchanged. However," he paused, then sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"However –" Arthur prompted.
"Last night I requested copies of his juvenile file from the state of Washington," Gaius said, "so I would know exactly what we're dealing with." He indicated a blue folder at one side of his desk. "And his medical files," he added.
"A juvenile file?" Gwen said, confused. Arthur reached to take the file.
"Sire," Gaius said. Though the old man hadn't moved, his tone was full of caution. "The secrets Merlin kept from you were never mine to tell, especially where it concerned his safety in regards to his magic. But now – now you both know more than he does, about who he is. You both love him. But remember – he will thank none of us for knowing or sharing any information beyond what he himself volunteers."
"We just want to help him, Gaius," Gwen said.
"I know," Gaius said. "The more you understand, the better. Only, keep in mind – I am to blame for everything in that file."
Arthur touched the blue cover, then seated himself at Gaius' desk and opened it. Right on top was the official notice of Merlin's father's death. Sergeant William Caroban, Iraq, '01.
"What do you mean, you are to blame," Gwen asked. "Surely not, Gaius."
"When I was a child, I dreamed," Gaius confessed. "I dreamed a lifetime of memories in the course of a few months. As I matured into a young man, the dreams – faded, and I was left facing two truths about myself – one was my deep and abiding interest in science. The other was a desire to make a difference in the lives of the general populace, medically speaking."
Arthur turned the KIA notice over, and found a copy of a police report from the Seattle PD. Officers and emergency medical personnel had responded to multiple 911 calls from an apartment building, though no one spoke on the line. First on the scene found mother and older son DOA, evidence suggesting a break-in interrupted. Second son, Marvin Caroban, discovered apparently unharmed in his bedroom, but nonresponsive.
Gwen's voice broke through. "So Merlin's mother was your daughter?"
"Yes – Helen," Gaius said. "I did not recognize her for Hunith, and she never mentioned any dreams while she was growing up. By then, my own dreams were as good a forgotten. She married a soldier, and they moved several times. My own wife lost her battle with cancer when my grandsons were very young, and I… started traveling."
Arthur flipped through several sheets, detailing discharge paperwork for the young survivor – two days after the murder – the adoption request from Commander Jones. Tucked behind that were half a dozen creased sheets of notebook paper – Merlin's childhood notes to the grandfather who'd given him into the care of a family. He looked at the scrawled, misspelled words, and passed over those pages.
"In Merlin's twelfth year, I received a court notice asking if I wished to challenge the Jones family for custody," Gaius said. "I wish now that I had. If I'd only known –"
Arthur found the signed statement from the Jones', relinquishing custody back to the state, citing Merlin's unmanageable disposition. Unmanageable – he wanted to smile, he had always found Merlin unmanageable – but for the cold uncertainty of what was considered unmanageable for a twelve-year-old, and what attempts had been made to "manage" him. He noticed that several pages were missing from the numbered printout. Gaius was still not telling him the whole truth.
"My letters were returned, with short notes stating that due to my rejection of my grandson's custody, correspondence was no longer welcome." Arthur was aware of Gwen standing, putting her arms around the old physician's shoulders. "I should have gone to him immediately – I should have taken him in then."
Arthur flipped through the last pages in the folder, growing more and more despondent. Three months with this foster family, six months with the next, two weeks, seven months, three days – three days? Teenagers, he supposed, were never easy to deal with, especially someone else's teenagers, but three days? His last family he'd been with for ten months, long enough to graduate high school – Arthur was mildly surprised at the 3.8 GPA – and turn 18.
"Two weeks ago I received a voicemail message at home," Gaius finished. "My grandson Marvin was at a nearby bus station, if I wanted to see him. Of course I went – and there he was – my boy, my Merlin. Still too thin, still in need of a haircut…" the old man laughed, and Gwen chuckled with him, though they both had tears in their eyes. Arthur could imagine what a shock it was for the old man. "He had a change of clothes, a few books, and his own cobbled-together laptop in his bag. And such a deep darkness in his eyes."
Embarrassed at the show of emotion, Arthur dropped his eyes to the last sheet in the folder. Another Seattle PD document – a juvenile arrest report. Arthur scanned it – two charges of shoplifting, one of vandalism, an arrest for hacking the city of Seattle's database with charges dropped. Merlin had a rap sheet? Arthur thought incredulously.
"This is a juvie sheet," he said aloud. "How did you get this?"
"Juvenile records are indeed sealed," Gaius said, "however, I do have a friend who owed me a favor, and since I am the boy's remaining blood relative, I was given a copy."
Gwen's eyes showed her surprise – a juvenile record. "What happened after you met him at the bus station?" she said, a little faintly, as if she wasn't paying full attention.
"He – was under the impression that I didn't care for him, didn't want him," Gaius said.
Gwen said, "Oh, Gaius."
"He wanted to see me in person, ask me why." Gaius' brows drew down behind the dark rims of his glasses. "I confessed my assumption that he had remained with the Jones family, and that the request for severance of correspondence came from him." The old man took a deep breath. "I brought him home with me, of course – though he protested, I suspect he had no clear alternative in mind. I made sure of a job here for him. I – remembered. All of it, everything that had been but a dim familiarity when I met Thomas Drake – so shockingly clear. And Merlin – he remained a stranger."
Arthur saw that whatever culpability the old man held for Merlin's past, he had paid with interest in sorrow and emotional suffering since Merlin had come to D.C. He cleared his throat, intending to comfort his old friend, but found he didn't know quite what to say.
"Why didn't his family keep him?" Gwen said softly.
Why didn't any of them keep him, Arthur thought heatedly.
Gaius sighed. "My best guess, Guinevere – my hope – is that he did in fact experience dreams of his own at that time. Though it may have resulted in his abandonment by his family, our task will be simply to encourage him to remember what he has already seen, and to accept it. Amnesia – of sorts – will be much easier to combat than pure ignorance."
Arthur leaned back in Gaius' chair, slapping the folder shut. "Percival and Gwaine arrived today," he informed the old physician, who gave him an aha! look, before quirking one eyebrow as if to say, this is relevant because…
"Gwaine said he saw my father on television in his early teens, and therefore knew to believe his dreams as truth," Arthur continued. "Percival said he was in basic training with Lancelot."
"Lancelot," Gaius said, looking at Gwen.
"He was killed in Afghanistan – an IED in the road," Arthur said. "Percival didn't say much else."
Gaius straightened, crossed the room, then turned to face them. "That would seem to support our theory about secondary corroboration strengthening the acceptance of the truth," he said. "Merlin was alone when he dreamed his memories – and with the reaction of the Jones family inferred from the return of their adopted son to the state's care, he probably had more than enough reason to suppress his memories."
Arthur said, "I had Leon, Gwen and Elyan had each other, Percival and Lancelot…"
"Gwaine had the television," Gwen added, with humor.
"That explains also why my father refused to consider that my dreams might be true," Arthur said. "And why you forgot as well, until you met him, and saw Merlin again."
"You may be right, sire," Gaius allowed.
"So – it's just a matter of time before he comes around," Arthur said. "The more he's around us, the more he'll remember, right?" Foster care and rap sheet notwithstanding, he could have his cheerful, irreverent friend back in a matter of days, couldn't he?
"Sire," Gaius said, again cautious. "These memories, these events – you know yourself that they were not all – pleasant. Not all easy, not all light – not all happy."
Arthur nodded. Yes, he'd had dreams of fighting, of pain, of loss – of betrayal. Of mistakes. "What are you saying, Gaius?"
"Well, it seems to me an arguable notion that Merlin's dreams may well have been the darkest of all," the old man said. "He hid his tears well, you know. He hid the weight of his destiny, the anxiety of protecting you weighed against the repercussions of exposing his magic. For every memory you had of a danger faced, a battle fought, a foe overcome…"
"Good lord, Merlin," Gwen said blankly. "Can you imagine, all of that – all we know about is bad enough – coming down on a twelve-year-old child?"
Unmanageable, Arthur thought. They must have thought he was going mad. He must have thought he was going mad. And on top of the loss of his family, the ones who would have loved and supported him through it, no matter what…
"I don't mean to say merely that it will be difficult for him to remember, although that will surely be the case, if we are able to accomplish it at all," Gaius went on. "I mean to say – perhaps your father refused his memories because of certain horrific incidents in his war against magic users. Merlin may well also refuse to accept who he is. The mind does strange things, after all, in the attempt to protect itself. And I shudder to think what it will mean for all of us, if he remains oblivious to the truth."
"What do you mean?" Gwen asked.
"King Arthur has returned," Gaius said somberly, gesturing at Arthur. "It was prophesied that his return would be at a time of great need. Since we no longer reside in Albion, it may be assumed that the threat you returned to face may be more – global. Without Merlin – the greatest sorcerer of all time…"
The room was deathly still. Arthur refused the attempt to figure out what threat he might be required to face – first things first. Merlin.
"Does he have magic this time?" Gwen said softly.
Gaius looked at Arthur, one eyebrow raised. "Perhaps," he allowed. "But if so, it is – uncontrolled. Unconscious, even. When Merlin came to Camelot – the first time – his power was raw, untaught, but undeniably strong – instinctive. The things he did were not random, but intentional – and almost always done to help or defend those around him. Right now he is not capable of even a small percentage of the power he had at his command – before."
Arthur dropped his gaze down to the folder, his heart aching at the thought of what his friend had suffered – had lost. His fingers idly flipped the bottom outside corners of the pages. "What's missing, Gaius?" he said. Merlin had lived through disbelief before, had handled knowledge and responsibility alone, before. There must be something else that contributed to his elective amnesia.
"I beg your pardon, sire?" The old man inclined his head respectfully, but Arthur was willing to bet Gaius knew exactly what he was talking about.
"There are pages missing," Arthur said. "You mentioned - medical records?"
The old physician's face remained impassive. "I'm still studying those myself, my lord. I want to fit each incident into a timeline before I draw any conclusions."
"Each incident?" Gwen said, one hand at her mouth.
"Nothing serious," Gaius claimed. "An accident here and there."
Gwen was relieved. Arthur was not. If it was as simple a matter as that, the old physician would not have removed the pages from his report. But he knew – from long experience – that he would have no luck pushing Gaius with questions until the old man was ready to give his conclusions.
"When?" Arthur said.
"Saturday morning," the old man promised. He reached for a small square tablet and scrawled on it, ripping off the sheet to hand the address to Arthur, who stood. "Breakfast?"
"I'll be there," Arthur said.
Outside, it was still raining steadily, though not yet dark, due to the longer summertime hours. Arthur noticed the silver Prius, Gaius' car, he expected, remembering Merlin's unannounced arrival at the bus stop. But it was empty. He glanced around, while Gwen hurried to enter her car, but didn't see his friend anywhere.
"What are we going to do?" Gwen said, starting the engine of her blue Mazda once again.
"Well, we could go for Chinese," Arthur said. "I know this great place not far from here."
She whacked his shoulder. "About Merlin."
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. It's Merlin, after all – he's always difficult."
Gwen pulled out of the parking lot and turned north. "He did always manage to get himself into trouble," she lamented. "But at such a young age – and without his magic –"
Arthur remembered he's a wizard with computers… the flash of gold in Merlin's eyes… the exploding toaster oven… "I'll keep an eye on him," he said.
"But it's different this time, Arthur," Gwen argued. "You can't just order him… he's eighteen, and this is America. He could quit Camelot, he could leave Gaius –"
"Gwen – pull over," Arthur said sharply.
They'd just passed a rain-drenched figure slogging along the shoulder of the road – a tall, skinny figure with shoulders hunched against the pervasive wet, hands in his pockets, sodden black hair thick about his face and collar.
Gwen's face showed her confusion, but she obeyed.
"It's him," Arthur told her, checking the side mirror, twisting in the passenger seat to look out the rear window.
"Is he walking home in the rain?" Gwen said, turning to look also.
"Maybe he got tired of waiting for Gaius," Arthur said, opening his door and standing up on the gravel of the shoulder.
A car flew past, spraying water from the road. Merlin stopped walking, peered at him suspiciously as rain dripped in his face.
"Get your butt over here," Arthur called to him, "and in out of the rain."
Merlin looked beyond them, back the way he'd come, as if searching for a viable alternative, then slowly approached, taking his hands from his pockets to grip the strap of the messenger bag crossed over his chest. The black of his t-shirt stood out ridiculously through the thin white material of his long-sleeved dress-shirt. He bent to see Gwen in the driver's seat.
She managed a little wave. "Hello, Merlin," she said, and her voice shook.
"Are you kidding me?" Merlin said sarcastically to Arthur. "You want me to be third wheel on your date?"
"Oh, it's not - exactly – " Gwen fumbled, embarrassed.
"Come on, don't be an idiot," Arthur said. "You're soaked through – get in the car." He opened the back door. Merlin still hesitated, watching him warily, then slid into Gwen's back seat, slouching, and rubbed the wet hair out of his face. Arthur slammed the back door shut before getting in also.
"Are you cold?" Gwen said solicitously, her hand hovering over the controls of her car's air system.
"I'm fine," he said to her, giving her a faint echo of the wide irreverent grin they remembered.
""Do you live far from here, Merlin?" Gwen said, checking her mirrors before pulling back onto the road. "I'm Gwen, by the way.'
"My grandfather has a townhouse in Old Town Commons," Merlin said. "That's about five miles past Landmark Mall."
They drove in silence for several minutes. Arthur found himself wavering between the emotions of anger and amusement – how long had it been since he'd sat in a small enclosed space with Merlin, without having to tell him to shut up, at least twice a minute? Answer: 1500 years. This Merlin evidently felt no need to fill the silence with inane chatter.
And Arthur missed it.
Gwen, to judge by her expression, was uncomfortable, scared, and excited. She glanced over at Arthur as if expecting him to know what to say.
Well, I don't. I don't know what to say.
"So, Merlin," Gwen said brightly, at last. "I hear you're spending the summer with your grandfather."
"My life," Merlin said expressionlessly, "is an open book."
Gwen shot Arthur a please-rescue-me look. "Won't you miss your family?" she tried. "Won't your parents miss you?"
Arthur froze, not daring to look at his former queen. She knew. Why would she say –
"My parents died a long time ago," said Merlin, glacially calm, as if imparting facts completely unrelated to his own life.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gwen said, her distress evident and genuine.
Merlin shrugged. "It was a long time ago."
"What happened?" Arthur asked. Maybe it was a step in the right direction – Merlin hadn't mentioned his father's death yesterday when Arthur had asked.
Merlin turned his head to gaze out the side window. "Car accident," he said casually.
Arthur resisted the urge to turn all the way around in the seat, as Gwen shot him another look. Had it always been that easy for Merlin to lie?
Then he remembered what Gaius had said – withholding the truth to protect others. An active-duty death and a robbery-turned-double homicide were much more horrific to tell. Arthur just wished Merlin wouldn't try to protect him from the truth… and yet, he himself had already decided not to tell Gwen and the knights many of the details he'd learned from Gaius' file on Merlin – wasn't that almost the same thing? The same thing as Gaius telling Gwen that Merlin's medical files bespoke a handful of accidents?
Gwen braked smoothly in response to a yellow light, preparing to stop and wait.
"Do you have other family, then?" Arthur said. "Who did you grow up with?"
There was a near-silent click, so quiet and fast Arthur almost missed it, then music blared from the car's speakers, so loudly that Gwen jumped, and the car jumped, stopped abruptly as she hit the brake.
THINK OF AUGUST WHEN THE TREES WERE GREEN/ DON'T THINK ABOUT THE WAY THINGS MIGHT HAVE BEEN…
"Sorry!" Gwen yelled, twisting the volume dial, to no avail.
THINK OF ME, THINK OF ME WAITING SILENT AND RESIGNED/ IMAGINE ME TRYING TOO HARD TO PUT YOU FROM MY MIND…
"Let me do this," Arthur commanded, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You keep your eyes on the road." He pushed a button with the power symbol on it.
THINK OF ME PLEASE SAY YOU'LL THINK OF ME WHATEVER ELSE YOU CHOOSE TO DO…
A horn honked behind them, interrupting the song. "Green light," Arthur hollered.
THERE WILL NEVER BE A DAY WHEN I DON'T THINK OF YOU!
"I've got it – just go," Arthur said, pushing other buttons, twisting the volume dial. There was silence for a single instant, then music poured forth again, and he realized he'd just forwarded to the next song on Gwen's cd.
I ONLY WISH I KNEW YOUR SECRET… HERE IN THIS ROOM HE CALLS ME SOFTLY, SOMEWHERE INSIDE HIDING…
"I'm sorry!" Gwen called again, and the volume decreased rapidly in response to Arthur's manipulation. "It's never done that, before." She gave a shaky laugh. "Phantom of the Opera at full volume, huh?"
Arthur had his suspicions, but was willing to let it go. "Hey," he said to Gwen, "pull in here."
"Landmark Mall?" she asked, but followed his directions.
His idea was completely on the spur of the moment. That, and he didn't want to let Merlin leave their company, yet. "There's a Sprint store in the mall," he said. "I want to pay my phone bill."
"Uh – and my dry clothes are right around the corner," Merlin protested with the tone of voice that said he believed Arthur was being an utterly selfish prat.
Gwen found a parking space near the mall entrance. "Come on in with me," Arthur invited, looking at her.
Her chocolate brown eyes searched his, and trusted. "Okay," she said, removing her key and unbuckling her seat belt.
"Am I supposed to wait here, or walk home?" Merlin said.
"Or just come inside," Arthur said, exaggerating the obvious good sense of the suggestion. Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, his clothes still plastered wetly to his thin frame. His hair dripped, and he glared at Arthur.
Arthur got out of Gwen's blue Mazda, and opened the back door. "Oh, come on, Merlin," he goaded cheerfully. "Don't be such a girl."
Merlin unfolded himself swiftly and defiantly from the seat. "Don't be such an ass," he shot back. "Okay, let's get this over with."