A/N Okay, I know I put "adventure" as part of the description, it's just taking me longer than I thought to get to those parts… my 'set up' is becoming more complicated… thanks for bearing with me.
Sorry for a longish chapter full of bits and pieces – but leaving any of them out didn't feel right to me…
Chapter 5 – The Kindness of Friends
Arthur held Gwen's hand as they sauntered down the length of the mall – just another young couple, together and in love – he was having the time of his life. Almost.
Behind them, Merlin's boots squeaked on the tile floor with every step, and Arthur found a momentary perverse pleasure in the strange looks other shoppers directed toward his friend.
"What are you doing?" Gwen said softly.
"An experiment," Arthur said. At her quizzical look, he rolled his eyes. "Gwen – I'm trying to make friends. You know my father is not going to assign him to me as my personal servant, this time." She chuckled.
Even if it used to grate on his nerves, he rather missed Merlin's insane loyalty, his persistent company.
"Here we go," he added, detouring all three of them into one of the stores. Abercrombie – perfect.
"What are we doing in here?" Gwen said, looking around – but mostly toward the female clothing displayed to the right half of the store.
"Can pay your phone bill in here," Merlin murmured snidely.
"Well, Merlin is soaking wet," Arthur announced, heading for the nearest shelf of jeans, next to an array of t-shirts. "What's your size, mate?" His friend stared at him blankly. Arthur said, "Here," and flung some clothing to him. The jeans hit him in the chest, unfolded as they dropped to the floor. Arthur said, "I think my dog can catch better than that."
A bewildered look crept into Merlin's eyes. "I don't need new clothes, I need dry clothes."
Arthur swept his arms wide to indicate the entire store. "Look, Merlin," he said, as though explaining to a kindergartener, "dry clothes."
"I can't –" Merlin caught the t-shirt Arthur chucked as it fell away from his face. "I don't get paid til Friday."
"Think of it as a bonus," Arthur said. "Come on – get going. You'll catch cold standing there under the air conditioning."
Merlin said, "It's not like you care," but lifted the jeans to his hand with one foot, and headed to the changing stalls at the back of the store, turning once to give Arthur another strange look.
"That was very nice of you," Gwen said, taking Arthur's arm.
"I get the feeling," Arthur said, "the guy could stand to have someone be nice to him."
"Mm hm," Gwen said, trailing off to sort through a discount rack.
Arthur requested an empty plastic bag from the cashier, a gum-popping little girl with a green stripe in her ponytail, and stopped outside the door of Merlin's changing stall. "Hand me your wet stuff, I'll put it in a bag," he said, and his friend shoved the clothing out under the gap between door and floor with one large foot. "Okay," Arthur continued, pushing the soggy articles into the bag. "Now give me the tags."
The door opened. Merlin's eyes were narrowed, suspicious, his mouth tight. "Why are you doing this?" he said.
A memory hit, like the thrust of a sword with all the anger and hurt of betrayal behind it. I do this because of who you are… Arthur took a deep breath to steady his voice, and said, "I do this because you're my friend." And I don't want to lose you…
Merlin's suspicious look didn't change. "I don't have friends," he said, and Arthur wondered if he meant, I've never had friends.
Arthur reached out to snap the bar-coded price tag off the collar of the t-shirt, and Merlin flinched as though expecting Arthur's touch to hurt. Arthur showed him the tag. "You do now – come on."
Clothing paid for, Gwen's compliments accepted with embarrassment, the three headed down the mall's main thoroughfare. Gwen trailed her hand along the safety railing keeping patrons from plummeting down to the first floor. They turned a corner and came out onto a large central area where the first floor was open through the second all the way up to the roof.
"There's the Sprint store," Gwen told Arthur, pointing. "And – oh, I want to go in there." She indicated a girly little shop, with jewelry and scarves and things crammed onto wall displays and spinning racks.
"Ok, we can meet at this bench, after," Arthur said. "Don't get lost, Merlin."
His friends sent him an irritated blue-eyed glare, and straddled the backless bench, slouching forward over his possessions – the wet clothes in the Abercrombie bag, and his messenger bag. Arthur went into the Sprint store, watching through the window as Merlin slipped a beat-up laptop from the bag and opened it on the bench between his knees.
"How may I help you, sir?" the clerk said to Arthur.
"I'd like to pay my bill," Arthur answered, and gave him the number of his cell phone, taking it out to text Gaius that Merlin was with them, so he wouldn't worry. He glanced up again – Merlin wasn't paying attention to his computer screen, but seemed to be watching something or someone down on the first level. After a moment of concentration and a flurry of typing, he stood, balancing the computer on the safety rail as he looked over.
"Shall we use the credit card number we already have on file for this account?" the clerk questioned, and Arthur waved him to go ahead, his curiosity piqued by his friend on the walkway outside. "All done, then, sir, would you like a receipt or your confirmation number?"
"No, thanks." Arthur left the store and approached Merlin from behind. He didn't understand what he saw on the screen, lines of code or something, but followed his friend's gaze down to the first floor.
A casually-dressed young man was working a small crowd at a booth selling remote-controlled helicopters, calling out his sales spiel as he manipulated the miniature aircraft upwards toward the ceiling, spinning it around and allowing it to drop back down – right toward two teenaged girls, who squealed and ducked, before it rose again with a whir of its motors.
Merlin's black-nailed hand moved over his keyboard.
The helicopter shot straight up toward the rain-streaked glass of the ceiling, accompanied by gasps from the people. Arthur watched the sophisticated toy zip around in a large circle, before descending in a slowly-tightening spiral. It dropped several feet to hover before a preschool-aged boy, who laughed as it darted and lunged like a dragonfly, staying always out of the boy's reach. Then it returned to the airspace in front of the two girls, where it pivoted to face away from them, then proceeded to wave its tail rotors provocatively back and forth, drawing giggles and shrieks from them.
Beside Arthur, Merlin laughed softly. Arthur glanced over, caught a gleam of gold – and looked sharply at the booth minder. The young man alternated between watching his craft, shocked and mesmerized, and furiously working the control he held in his hand.
Merlin chuckled again, and the aircraft zipped through the air to begin looping the seller, around and around at increasing speed, always threatening but never touching a single person, or the display of stacked models.
"What are you doing?" Arthur said.
"That signal," Merlin murmured, "is distinctly easy to override."
Arthur felt his mouth drop open. "You're controlling that thing?"
Merlin glanced at him and grinned – a genuine, carefree, goofy Merlin grin, and turned back to the performance.
Arthur bumped his shoulder, careless of the effect on the tiny chopper, scolding, "Merlin!" He caught another flash of gold as Merlin spared him another mischievous glance, before a second helicopter from the display rose to join the first – the booth tender jumped like he was shot, nervously and desperately fumbling with his now-useless controls.
Merlin's fingers, Arthur noted, were simply waving about the touchpad of the laptop, not actually making contact. The two helicopters jumped and frolicked like mating finches, twirling and buzzing, chasing and stopping and flitting away again. The small crowd had grown, and the second-floor railing was lined with people laughing and pointing.
"What's going on?" Gwen said from behind them.
Merlin slammed the laptop closed, and the two toys dropped to land gently at the relieved seller's feet. "Nothing," Merlin said innocently, and bent to slide his computer bag into his bag.
Arthur continued to watch as the rest of the spectators erupted in spontaneous applause – and many approached the booth to inspect the merchandise displayed.
"He's going to sell quite a lot of those," Arthur observed to Merlin.
His friend's face was expressionless, though a twinkle of humor danced in his eyes. "Good for him," he said neutrally.
"Did I miss something?" Gwen asked. "Arthur?...Well, are you two hungry? The smell of those pretzels is driving me crazy, and the food court is down this way…" She took Arthur's arm, and Merlin again followed them.
Arthur shook himself mentally. That was magic, he was sure of it. That guy might sell dozens of those mini-helicopters off that demonstration. And once again, Merlin didn't even think of claiming credit, but preferred to go unnoticed.
Arthur treated Gwen to a plateful of buffet-style Chinese, regretting the paper plate and plastic-ware, while Merlin stood in another line for Burger King. Arthur supposed it was probably to keep him from spending more money on Merlin – the line was longer, and Merlin still waiting when Arthur and Gwen chose a table.
"Arthur – this is so weird," Gwen said. "I mean, I'm used to all this modern stuff, we both are, we grew up here, but it's weird seeing everyone from Camelot so comfortable here, too."
"I'll tell you what's weird – that's weird." Arthur pointed to the little blonde girl working the Burger King register – and clearly flirting with Merlin. Who was clearly taking it in stride, as though perfectly comfortable with a pretty female coming on to him.
"Oh, Arthur, stop it," Gwen chided. "You know what I mean."
He shrugged. "We'll get used to it."
She studied him, twirling her fork in lo mein. "You're - different," she said. "You had so much depending on you, before," she continued softly. "A kingdom." I remember. "But now…" She tipped her head to one side.
"Now just the fate of the free world," he said, only half-joking. "No – I know what you mean," he added. "My father did have – high expectations of me, growing up – but not like before." Growing up a prince, he'd rarely met anyone his equal in rank – in a prep school, in an Ivy League school, there were plenty of others with as much money and power – and many with more. A school full of teenage boys behaving to each other – and to him – like arrogant prats. Merlin would have loved it – Merlin. He'd probably gone to public school – several public schools.
Arthur lifted his head and looked around, seeing his friend seated alone at a small table some distance away. Flashes of memory, countless banquets where Merlin stood quietly behind Arthur's seat, waiting to serve. More than one picnic, Merlin loaded down with cushions and rugs and blankets and more food than they could all eat in two days. He'd complained – vociferously – but cheerfully, performing all that was asked of him willingly, even if Arthur gave deliberately superfluous orders.
"Merlin, what are you doing?" He raised his voice.
Merlin froze mid-bite, glanced around as if seeking the answer. " 'M eating," he mumbled.
Arthur kicked out the chair beside him. "There are four chairs here, Merlin," he said. "If we'd meant to leave you out, we could have chosen a table with two chairs."
Merlin looked at Gwen, who smiled and beckoned. "Come on," she said.
"Speaking of my father," Arthur said as Merlin sprawled in the seat and leaned over his tray, bony elbows firmly planted on the table. "During this morning's meeting, Merlin, there was something you almost said to him."
"Yeah – jackass," Merlin mumbled around a mouthful of burger.
Gwen tried to hide her smile. Arthur stuck his finger in Merlin's face, resisting the urge to laugh. "Watch it – that's my father. I'm being serious. What were you thinking about that glitch with the projector?"
Merlin looked him right in the eyes for three seconds. "Nothing," he said, in the same innocent tone he'd used to lie to Gwen.
"Uh-huh," Arthur said, agreeing in a way that left no doubt of his disbelief. Well, they'd have to discuss it later.
The rain had mostly stopped by the time Gwen parked her car at the curb in front of Gaius' townhouse.
"Thanks for the ride," Merlin mumbled to Gwen, escaping from the back seat like they'd been holding him prisoner, and galloping up the steps to the front door.
Arthur stepped out of the car to call over, "Hey, Merlin – some guys from work are getting together Friday night – you want to come?"
Merlin paused, hand on the doorknob, staring at Arthur, then ducked his head in a stiff, awkward nod.
From inside the car, Gwen said, "Arthur, remind him not to leave his wet clothes in that bag – they'll get moldy."
"Merlin!" Arthur shouted again, and when his friend turned, he pointed at the plastic Abercrombie sack in his hand. "Make sure you wash that stuff right away."
His friend's smirk was obvious even from that distance. "I know how to do laundry."
Arthur laughed. Of course he did – how many years did he manage his king's laundry, after all? "See you, Merlin," he called.
Both Arthur and Gwen were quiet as she drove him back to his house. It had been, he reflected, an exhausting day. Hopefully they'd made some progress. Hopefully they'd make more before global tragedy struck.
"Its just right here," he told Gwen. "Pull close enough to the side here to reach the code box – it's 11-15."
Gwen obeyed, and the iron gate blocking the driveway shuddered to life, cranking open to admit the car. "Arthur – wow," she said, gazing up at the three-story brick home, slowly rolling into the carport. "I still feel like Cinderella," she said, sounding not entirely happy.
"Gwen," he said, waiting until she met his eyes. "It's really not all it's cracked up to be," he said, referring to a second childhood raised in luxury. He saw in her eyes the remembrance that he'd grown up without his mother – again – and her own vivid experience of how difficult his father could be. He put one finger under her chin and leaned forward to kiss her.
How many lovers, he wondered dreamily, had the privilege of a second first kiss? It was familiarity and the love of trusted years and the patience of deferred longing, blended with the tentative sweetness of novelty and the spark of first connection.
Tears spilled out of her eyes as he moved away. "Please don't, Guinevere," he whispered, wiping them away with his fingers. "It will be all right."
She nodded, steadying herself with a deep breath. "I have to go," she said shakily.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, and placed another kiss on her forehead before getting out and shutting the door, watching the blue Mazda wind down the drive and exit the gate.
The next day Arthur found himself assigned to the regional office, whose manager decided that Arthur's time was best spent traveling through eastern Virginia, meeting clients and performing follow-up calls to make sure installed technology was working to everyone's satisfaction. Dave, Arthur's partner for the day, was just the opposite of Hans – gregarious and crazy for his country music.
Arthur spent much of the driving time on his cell phone, texting Gwen to collect cell numbers and addresses from Percival and Gwaine, networking them all together with Leon and Gaius. He knew where he wanted to take Gwen for dinner the next night, but was undecided on a good place for them to meet Merlin.
Murphy's pub, Gwaine suggested.
Hes 18, Gwen texted back.
Fast eddie's billiard café, was Gwaine's next suggestion.
Percival's contribution was responsible for five minutes of cellular silence. Can I bring my wife?
!? from Gwaine. Yes, Arthur texted. Who? How? from Gwen.
"You're quite the social butterfly," Dave joked.
"Making the most of my time," Arthur said.
HS swthrt, Percival responded. Posted bragg out of a.i.t. She came along.
Kids? wrote Leon. Not yet. Arthur laughed out loud. Dave rolled his eyes.
They returned to Camelot at half past six; all of Arthur's friends had already left for the day. Arthur slung his bag into the passenger side of his own vehicle, a white '64 Mustang, and drove himself home.
Friday Arthur spent buried in Accounting. His tired and burning eyes were much soothed by the sight of Gwen waiting on her front porch in dark jeans and a creamy sleeveless top that simultaneously complimented her skin tone and clung to her curves. He leaped from the Mustang to open her door for her.
"You are a sight for sore eyes," he told her sincerely, and inhaled her scent as she leaned to kiss his cheek.
Dinner at Bertucci's was nice. They were seated opposite the brick oven, which was nice on a warm summer night. The drank sangria together with grilled chicken marsala, and just talked, like two old friends catching up on each other's lives. He was glad to hear that both her parents were still alive, and she laughed to hear him describe his difficulties mastering the foil in his fencing lessons.
"Horseback riding, no problem – they told me I was a natural," Arthur said. "Fencing – I'm King Arthur, right? I mean, I was basically born with a sword in my hand. But that – doesn't help you with fencing. It's completely different."
She laughed, dark eyes gleaming with contented amusement. "I talked to Elyan yesterday," she said. "He used all his vacation time earlier this year when our great-aunt passed away." She waved the explanation away as irrelevant. "Anyway, next week he's deployed to sea duty for six months. He can't come here unless he goes AWOL."
"No," Arthur said. "He swore an oath. If it turns out we absolutely need him, we'll figure something out."
Gwen checked her watch – a dainty silver thing – and said, "We've got half an hour to meet the knights at Fast Eddie's before Merlin comes at ten-thirty. He is coming, right?"
"He knows where and when," Arthur said, signaling for the check. "The rest is up to him."
Arthur and Gwen were the last ones to Fast Eddie's. The three knights were already there, halfway into their first round of beers, supplemented by chips and salsa. A tall, leggy brunette sat under one of Percival's big arms, evidently giving as good as she got to Gwaine on Percival's other side. All three men leaned back, roaring with laughter at whatever she said, as Arthur and Gwen made their way to their table.
"What's so funny?" Gwen said.
"Gwen, this is my wife Kathryn," Percival said. "Kath, meet Gwen, and Arthur."
"Nice to meet you," the leggy brunette said. "These guys are laughing at my taste in humor. No Monty Python fans to be found."
Gwen started giggling. "You mean, Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"
Arthur said, astonished, "It was the Cup of Life, you know, not –" and the three knights started laughing again. "No, no," Arthur continued, deceptively calm. "Laugh all you want, I felt sorry for poor King Arthur, trying to focus on his quest when he was surrounded by babbling idiots."
"No Guinevere to be found," Leon agreed with false sorrow, winking at Gwen.
"I," Gwaine announced, "always thought that bridge-keeper was too tall."
"Yes, well, how about Gawain?" Percival said. "How sad, to be defeated by a killer rabbit." Gwaine punched his big friend in the shoulder, without much effect.
"With nasty big pointed teeth," Kathryn took up the joke. " 'That rabbit is dynamite!' "
Leon murmured into Arthur's ear, "Bet you wished you had that holy hand grenade of Antioch at times, didn't you, sire?"
"It would have come in handy on more than one occasion," Arthur agreed, glancing at his watch. Half an hour til Merlin showed. If he was coming at all.
Percival cleared his throat, lifting his half-full bottle of beer, and passing a newly-opened one to Arthur. "A toast, gentlemen," he said, and his voice was abruptly serious. "To Lancelot, the bravest and noblest knight of all."
"Always willing to sacrifice for his friends," Gwaine agreed.
Leon said, "Here, here." Arthur drank to the toast, passed his bottle to Gwen for her to participate.
Kathryn looked from one to the other, not sure how to take the gesture. Gwen caught Arthur's eye and immediately invited Kathryn to sit down with her in a nearby corner and order cappuccinos.
"So – sire," Leon said. Percival and Gwaine leaned in also, with serious expressions. "Merlin's coming?"
"I hope so – but before he does, there are some things you lot need to know," Arthur said. "He had a rough childhood, this time, and – Gaius thinks he can remember, eventually, it'll be up to us to remind him. But for tonight, I want him to relax and find trustworthy friends, again. I don't want anyone to tell stories of old times, or ask him any questions beyond what would be appropriate when meeting someone for the first time."
"He doesn't remember?" Gwaine repeated.
"No – and he doesn't have a handle on his magic, either, so we'll all have to be careful not to –"
"Magic?" Gwaine said. "Merlin had – magic?"
Leon didn't react, but there was a thoughtful look in his eye as he considered Arthur.
"Oh," Percival said, rubbing his chin. "Right."
"Come on," Arthur said. "It can't come as a surprise, anymore. Surely you've heard – read – seen the stories. The legends. Sword in the Stone, anyone?"
"You mean," Gwaine said, pale and shocked, "that our Merlin… was the Merlin?" Arthur nodded.
"It makes sense," Leon said. "It fits. He'd have to be more important than just your servant, or your friend, even, to return."
A twinkle broke through Gwaine's astonishment. "Did he ever change you into a fish, your highness?"
"Shut up, Gwaine," Arthur retorted. "This is serious."
"Aren't you angry with him?" Percival asked quietly. "I mean – we all knew your father's attitude toward magic…"
"You all remember the sorcerer from Camlann?" Arthur said.
The three knights nodded, and Leon added, "We would not have won that battle, if not for him. We would not have survived that battle."
"Hang on," Gwaine said, lifting one hand into the air. "That whole long-white-beard thing – that was Merlin? Our Merlin?"
"What do you mean, your Merlin?" said a voice behind them, and they all jumped like rabbits.
Merlin stood there, hands in the pockets of jeans belted around his hips, black t-shirt with the faded logo of a winged skull across his chest. Hard, wary look in his eyes, belligerent jut to his chin.
In the corner, the juke box clicked over to a Beatles song.
Arthur recovered first. "Glad you could make it," he said to his friend. "You met Leon the other day. This is –" he stumbled a little – recognized the song as "Magical Mystery Tour" - and decided to go easy on Merlin, for tonight, "Gavin Kraft, and – Peter Spiers."
"Pete," Percival smiled, reaching to take Merlin's hand, as Gwaine smacked his shoulder in greeting.
"You want something to drink, mate?" Gwaine said. "Oh – you're underage. Coke all right, then?" He escaped toward the bar to place the order
"Over there is Gwen," Arthur continued. "And Pete's wife Kathryn." Gwen waved, spoke to the other girl, and both got up to approach the newcomer.
"Kathryn, this is Merlin," Gwen said.
"Merlin – good to know you," Kathryn said. "Another character out of that movie."
Merlin visibly relaxed in response to the brunette's warm friendliness. "What movie?" he said.
"Monty Python and the Holy Grail," Kathryn said, grinning. Gwaine returned from the bar, four bottles clutched by the neck in one hand, and a fizzing Coke in the other. "Although, they did have Tim the Enchanter – throwing fire right and left." She mimicked the character, tossing imaginary fireballs, imitating the eruption of fire with a feminine explosion sound.
Leon drew in a startled breath, while Percival tensed for whatever action became necessary. Gwaine almost dropped his liquid burden. Gwen looked at Arthur with frightened eyes.
Merlin looked at each of them in turn, motionless and startled by their reactions. He finally said, in a very dry voice, "Disappearing in a cloud of smoke and fire may be useful on-screen, but I hardly think anyone is capable of it in real life."
Gwen gave a shaky laugh. Gwaine opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows. Leon put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, as much to reassure himself, as Arthur.
Arthur took a deep breath, himself. "Rack 'em up, - ah, Pete," he said. "We came here to play some pool, didn't we?"
The rest of the evening passed almost uneventfully. Arthur was proud of his men, the way they talked to Merlin and drew him gradually out of his protective shell, in a friendly and nonthreatening manner.
At one point Arthur noticed Gwaine pointing out the eagle-and-flag tattoo Percival sported on one big forearm, then rolling up his sleeve to display what Arthur thought – from across the room, he couldn't be sure – was a bikini-clad girl in a classic pin-up pose. Merlin, lounging beside them at the table, set down his Coke and waved his hands in protest. Then he leaned over the table and peeled up one sleeve of the black t-shirt to expose a glittering gold-and-brown dragon's head curling down over the white skin and wiry muscle of his shoulder, picking up his cigarette from the tabletop ashtray as Gwaine and Percival admired the artwork.
"Leon, I must be dreaming," Arthur said, turning to lean backwards against the pool table. "What the hell is that?" Merlin, smoking and showing off a tattoo?
Leon, bent over the table with his stick trained on the cue ball, raised his eyes to take in the tableau, and smiled. "He seems to be enjoying himself, Arthur."
"Yes, but…" That's not Merlin, Arthur wanted to complain.
"None of us are the same, sire," Leon said.
"I know, it's just…" Arthur sighed and said no more. I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you.
Later in the evening, Arthur could have sworn that Merlin switched his glass in exchange for Gwaine rum-and-Coke, the former knight complaining loudly about the inadequate ratio of alcohol to soda in his drink.
And again, Merlin demonstrating to Gwen a better way of sliding her stick through her fingers to prepare for her next shot. He turned his head to exhale his lungful of smoke away from her, and as he straightened, his attention remained on her hands, never once taking in her unintentionally provocative pose as she concentrated on lining up the balls. The other men would know not to check out Guinevere's posterior – especially with their king right there – but Merlin didn't know, and yet was a perfect gentleman.
Maybe the changes were only surface-deep.
Last call sounded, the rest loudly proclaiming their surprise at the lateness of the hour, they made their way to the dimly-lit parking lot.
"Anyone need a ride?" Leon called. "Gw – ah, Gavin?"
"Yeah, pro'ly," the dark-haired knight slurred.
"Come on, my soldier," Kathryn chuckled out loud, pulling Percival toward a red Silverado. "Let's get you home."
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, as he ushered Gwen toward his Mustang, one arm around her shoulders. There was no answer; he turned. Merlin stood about five steps from the door of Fast Eddie's, gazing beyond the streetlights with an oddly tense look on his face. "Merlin!" Arthur called again, opening the passenger door for Gwen.
Merlin turned his face toward Arthur, not focusing on him completely. "I rode the bus," he said distantly.
"Last bus went at 12:30," Arthur called back. Vehicle doors slammed, engines started – Percival and Kathryn in the Silverado, Leon and Gwaine in Leon's Crown Vic. Down the street, out of sight, tires squealed. Merlin took two long steps forward, turning sideways as if to see down the side street dead-ending just off from Fast Eddie's parking lot. Oncoming headlights lit him, oddly vulnerable in jeans and black t-shirt. A sudden flash, and a second set of headlights illumined him from the side. He took a wandering step forward, lifting his face as if to sunlight. Arthur thought his eyes were closed.
Light careened toward light, splashing together in the night. Merlin twisted suddenly, shock and horror on his face, his eyes gleaming golden.
"Arthur!" he screamed, from the very bottom of his soul.
Arthur was frozen – one set of headlights barreled out of the side street, tires squealing as the turn was taken too sharply. The vehicle skidded across lanes – as the approaching car swerved, and jumped the curb into Fast Eddie's parking lot.
Arthur ducked, lifting an arm to shield his face, utterly helpless before the four-thousand-pound chunk of metal hurtling uncontrollably toward him –
SCREEEEEEEEEEEE. Metal on concrete, skidding, sliding… stopping. Arthur looked up, confused – the turning car gunned its motor, disappeared into the darkness.
He turned his head – there was the second car, not six feet from him – on its side, undercarriage exposed, tires still turning, white bulge of airbags showing through the slice of window visible.
Voices shouted. Gwen cried out his name.
Arthur turned his head to see Merlin, perfectly white under the streetlight, one hand outstretched, his whole body reaching for Arthur, a good twenty feet away. Merlin straightened stiffly as he watched.
Gwen was on Arthur in a rush, Leon close behind with urgent questions for his safety. He was aware that the other knights, Kathryn, were out of their vehicles. Leon left Arthur to attempt to open the uppermost driver's-side door of the car.
Arthur stared at Merlin, who stared back.
Then Merlin dropped to his knees. His head tipped forward, as if he meant to study the pavement just in front of him. Then he collapsed.
ScrubbedCeiling – thank you for a thoughtful review! As far as 'Hans' goes, you're probably right. He's based on someone I knew, but I wanted to change the name while keeping the nationality of my friend… if it bothers anyone else, let me know, but it's a minor character… while this is my first FANfiction, I have been writing for more than a decade and I hope getting better with time…alas, actual publication is very hard to achieve.
I'm not sure if I can lay any claim at all to Merlin, being an American myself… but ancestry coming from the same area that the Saxons did… um, well, we'll not go there…. That admission goes hand-in-hand with any apology due UK readers, I'd honestly prefer the return to happen there, only I'm not familiar enough to make it believable… thus the D.C. area.
…..*…..
Text translations:
Murphy's pub
Hes 18
Fast eddie's billiard café
Can I bring my wife?
!? (excitement and questions)
Yes
Who? How?
HS swthrt. Posted bragg out of a.i.t. She came along. High school sweetheart. Posted (Fort) Bragg out of AIT (Advanced Individual Training, comes after basic in US Army).
Kids?
Not yet.