Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews and also to my annonymous reviewer for their encouraging comment. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Chapter 6

Merlin sighed and put his head in his hands. He had been up half the night trying to find some reference to magical time manipulation, but he had discovered absolutely nothing, not in any of his magic books -and he had acquired several over the past year. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling them sting, biting into the corners like a needle. They felt dry and scratchy and all he wanted to do was close them for several hours and let sleep calm his thoughts, but he had to carry on.

Slamming the book in front of him closed, he moved onto the next one, trying not to wince as his head throbbed at the sound. He had been back to Gaius again to change the dressing, but it still ached mercilessly. Reading by candlelight wasn't helping either. He looked at the mountain of books by his side and grimaced; although considerably smaller than it had been earlier, the pile was still big enough to occupy Merlin for several days.

As he flicked through the pages of the next book and found nothing even remotely related to time travel, the desperation of their situation hit him afresh. The idea that he wouldn't find a solution to this was beginning to grow in his mind. Perhaps what had happened the previous night had been something completely new? Perhaps the combination of Morgana's magic and his own had produced a result that couldn't be replicated again even if he tried. And if that was the case then what would happen to them…to all of them?

He shuddered as a breeze swept in from under his door, but his reaction had nothing to do with cold; the evening was warm and the fire was lit. Rubbing his eyes he tried to block out the images of himself and Arthur disappearing into nothingness while their young counterparts were left to handle a Kingdom that had fallen apart. Once or twice he imagined Morgana stealing into the castle and carrying on her plan. In all likelihood she had realised how Merlin had protected the two boys; she would have seen the magic transferring from their old selves to their young selves. She knew that the real Arthur and Merlin were currently unprotected. Now would be her opportune time to strike at them. Merlin only hoped that her backfiring spell really had weakened her as much as he thought. If she did decide to attack them it would be much harder to fend her off.

Of course, by now Merlin had managed to place several protective spells on the King when he wasn't looking and sometimes even when he was. Arthur would be protected from a few minor attacks –very minor-, but from Morgana? Merlin shook his head. On the other hand, the boys were covered from head to toe in a thick layer of wards and enchantments, not that he'd mentioned that to them, but at least that was something he didn't have to worry about. That was about it though when it came to his things-not-to-worry-about-list. Everything else was very much in his hands. Unless he could find a solution they were all still in danger. He slammed the next book shut. Useless.

What could he do?

There were two existences at stake here, it was true, but there were four people whose lives stood to be completely destroyed. And what about Albion? He and Arthur had worked to create a kingdom that was fair and noble; a place of safety where people felt that their lives could be lived out in peace and with meaning. What would happen to the society that they had fought to build? Merlin put his head in his hands, trying to block out the doubts and thoughts that were twisting through his mind in ever more terrifying and horrible scenarios. He didn't know what to do.

His door slamming open abruptly pulled Merlin from his sleep. He let out a startled yelp and was surprised to find himself with his head on a book, the first page opened and clearly unread. The fire had died in the grate and dawn light was beginning to seep through his curtains. He looked round in confusion to see Arthur standing at his door. He looked like he'd all but run from his room despite the fact Merlin's quarters were only a corridor down from his own. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, he looked like he'd thrown a shirt on and he still had marks down his face where the materials of the blankets had been pressed into him.

'Arthur what are you doing?' Merlin asked, his voice coming out hoarse and croaky. He coughed and carried on. 'I still can't tell you anything, I must have fallen asleep.'

Merlin had been expecting Arthur to start ranting at him for making no progress in finding a way of sending the boys back, but instead he looked at Merlin, focussing carefully on him as if looking for something.

'I think we have another problem.'

'What is it?'

'Merlin, what happened the first time we met?' Merlin turned round in his chair and looked at Arthur again; maybe the King was sleep-walking.

'Arthur-'

'Tell me what happened,' he said firmly. Merlin stared at him for several seconds and then inwardly sighed and did as he was asked. It was best to keep him happy. He cast his mind back to his early days in Camelot. He remembered meeting Gaius and saving his life when the old man fell from the balcony in his room, after that he'd gone out on errands and then…

Merlin froze. What had happened then? He tried again. The first time he had met Arthur. He remembered all the Court being covered in dust and cobwebs and then seeing a knife being thrown at Arthur, remembered pulling him out of the way. He shook his head firmly. He'd already met Arthur by then, he was sure, but when? What had happened? He looked up at Arthur, panic filling him.

'I don't remember,' he whispered. He stood up and walked several paces across the room, looking at the floor, trying to summon the memories. 'Lady Helena…no that was after. I saw you…' he shook his head and put a hand to it. 'I must have…we…' It was useless. 'I don't remember.'

'Neither do I. I had to ask Gwen,' Arthur replied, shaking his head and beginning to pace as well. 'Apparently I was tormenting a servant, using him as a moving target and you told me to leave him. And then later on we fought in the lower town.'

'Sounds like something you'd do,' Merlin said with a tight smile, but it faded very quickly. The incident didn't sound familiar to him at all. 'But I don't remember you doing it,' he continued slowly.

'What's happening Merlin? This is because our young selves are here isn't it?' Merlin sat back down. 'You said yourself that nothing's changed yet; that as long as those two are safe then so are our pasts. Why would our memories go?' Arthur was still pacing, but he kept on looking at Merlin, waiting for a response. Yet the warlock had none to give. Why would their memories be affected? Unless, or course, time and history already knew that Merlin was not going to find a way to send the boys back and was beginning to rewrite the past in order to accommodate that fact. Was that even possible? 'Merlin!' Arthur shouted, making the warlock jump. 'What is happening? Magical issues are your area of expertise, not mine. This is what you're here for.'

Merlin knew that Arthur was worried, maybe even a little scared, but the words still stirred an anger in him that he rarely felt. Was that the only reason he was here: to advise Arthur on magical issues?

'Then I'm afraid I'm not doing my job properly, because I don't have any idea what's happening.' Merlin murmured. He knew that his tone betrayed his irritation.

'I don't have time for this Merlin. I'm loosing my memories and-'

'In case you hadn't noticed, so am I,' Merlin argued back. 'So believe me when I say, I'll do everything I can to work this out, but at the moment I don't know. And you're not helping.' He saw Arthur's eyes narrow in anger at his tone and flippancy, but Merlin didn't care; he was doing everything he could.

'Make a guess then,' he replied, his tone low and dangerous.

'I don't have any guesses.'

'You're lying,' Arthur told him sharply, pointing his finger. 'Remember, Merlin, you lied to me for years. I know what it looks like.'

Merlin's head snapped round to face Arthur, each word cutting into him. Would he never be free of Arthur's resentment for what he had done? Every time he thought that the King had forgiven him, something would come up. A year ago there had been a magical attack on Camelot. Merlin had been set up, made to look like the guilty one with not a single alibi for any of the incidents that had occurred. Of course, Gaius and Gwen had never doubted him when he said he was innocent and he knew that the knights had believed him, but Arthur hadn't. He hadn't turned on him, but there had been mistrust in the King's eyes on more than one occasion. He hadn't had Arthur's trust, not completely. The doubt had been there, evident to Merlin and evident to everyone else and it had hurt Merlin more than he had ever let on. He remembered the days when Arthur had trusted him unquestioningly at every turn. Even now, he found himself wishing for them once again.

There had been other times as well; little comments that Arthur had said innocently, but that Merlin had known were, to some extent, a product of his continuing reservations as to where Merlin's loyalty truly lay. The warlock wasn't even sure that Arthur realised he didn't trust his friend completely, but Merlin knew. He knew deep down, and every time he was reminded of it, it cut into him. He had sacrificed so much for Arthur, why couldn't he see that?

This though, this was different. Arthur's words had been said to hurt Merlin, to guilt him, to force him to do as he was asked: in this case to tell Arthur what he suspected, regardless of the fact that Merlin knew nothing for certain. He lowered his eyes from Arthur's, but not before he'd seen a brief look of regret pass across the King's face. The tension in the room was suddenly palpable and Merlin heard the words of their exchange repeating in his mind. Arthur must have felt the same because quickly his fierce expression softened and he took a half step forward, his own head bowing slightly.

'Merlin-' he began, but Merlin couldn't listen to an apology. Arthur had said it and he meant it.

'Fine, here is what I guess, Sire,' he began slowly.

'Merlin-' Arthur tried again, speaking gently.

'Perhaps history can't cope with them not being in the correct time,' he continued as if Arthur hadn't said a word. 'Maybe it's trying to adjust our pasts accordingly, and the first thing to go is our memories.' He looked up. Arthur stared at him, evidently considering whether to continue with his apology attempt, but Merlin knew he wouldn't. The King sighed.

'Are you saying that our memories are going to begin disappearing?'

'It seems so.'

'How fast?' Arthur asked in alarm.

'I don't know. It's been hours since our young selves arrived and only one memory seems to have gone. Is there anything else you can't remember?'

'How would I know, Merlin? How would we even be able to tell?' Arthur asked sharply. Merlin took a deep breath at the tone, trying to calm himself, but he knew his voice was clipped when he next spoke.

'Well you can tell that you've forgotten about our first meeting. You'll be able to tell because you'll know you remembered it at one point.'

'You know that doesn't make any sense don't you Merlin?' Arthur told him, turning round and pacing once again. For a split second, Merlin thought about making some witty self-depreciating comment about him never having any sense, just to lighten the mood somewhat. That was what he normally did; accepted Arthur's criticism with humility, patching up a misunderstanding between them with a few gentle words, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was tired, Arthur was angry at him for something that wasn't his fault and he didn't want to listen to another comment from his friend about how useless he was.

'Well, by all means, have a go at working it out yourself,' Merlin replied, standing up and gesturing to the pile of books, read and un-read, on his desk. With that he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed towards the door.

'Where are you going?' Arthur asked in a harsh tone. It only set Merlin on edge even more.

'I'm going to speak to Kilgharrah to see if he can help, but then I do lie to you all the time Arthur, so who knows? Maybe I'll go to the tavern or go and find Morgana and plan a way of taking over Camelot.' Merlin knew he was being petty, knew that the comment wouldn't help, but he didn't care. He opened the door and slammed it shut as he stormed into the corridor, leaving a stunned Arthur behind.

A bang from somewhere awoke Merlin from his sleep. He groaned at the thought of having to leave the bed. It was by far the most comfy thing he had ever slept in, but then considering he'd only ever slept on the floor that wasn't saying much. He got the impression, however, that this bed would be more comfortable than most beds. He was, after all, staying in a castle. A castle! Merlin grinned to himself. As much as he missed his mother and worried about whether he would ever get back, he had to admit that he found the whole situation very exciting, even if it was terrifying at the same time.

If only he didn't have to share the experience with Prince Arthur. He really couldn't imagine how the two of them could ever be friends. He lifted his head from the pillow and saw Arthur glaring at him from where he lay. Merlin sighed; what could he possibly have done? He'd only been awake for five seconds. He was about to point that out to the obnoxious Prince when another muffled bang sounded from the corridor. With a frown Merlin climbed out of the bed, shuddering at the sudden lack of warmth, and tiptoed across to the door. He was surprised to see the Prince close behind him. As quietly as he could, Merlin opened the bedroom door a crack and peered down the hall. He felt his head being pushed down as Arthur joined him, but complied and knelt down without arguing.

The view of the corridor was restricted from this angle, but Merlin distinctly saw his older self heading away and the King standing in the middle of the hall, watching the man go.

'Merlin, what's the matter with you!' Arthur shouted.

From where he knelt eavesdropping at the door, Merlin frowned. He hadn't heard the King talk to his friend like that. He sounded angry, very angry.

'Merlin!' the man shouted again when the warlock didn't turn around. 'Just stop you idiot!'

'He told me I couldn't speak to you like that,' Arthur hissed, Merlin resisted the urge to elbow him in the stomach, figuring that he would lose the fight that would ensue.

In the corridor, the dark haired man had finally stopped.

'What do you want?' he asked the King angrily.

'What's wrong with you?'

'You don't care what's wrong with me,' Merlin replied incredulously, a humourless laugh falling from his lips.

'Look, Merlin,' Arthur answered, 'I haven't got time for your girlish reactions. You might not realise, but I have a small problem to deal with.'

'That's right, Arthur: you have a small problem; you're the one who is suffering through this whole ordeal; you're the only one who has anything to worry about.' Merlin's voice was low, but every word was perfectly audible to the boys listening at the door.

'You really don't have time to waste being dramatic,Merlin.' Arthur's tone was dismissive and he began to turn away.

'Wasting time?' Merlin replied. He shook his head. 'You know, Arthur, you never change.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' The King turned back menacingly, his tone dangerous.

'It means that you're selfish and arrogant.' He ran a hand through his hair as if deliberating something, but then he took several steps towards Arthur. 'And it means that at some point you need to realise that I'm not the clumsy, useless servant that you first knew. I never was.'

There was a moment's silence, but then Arthur moved forwards until he was directly in front of Merlin, a finger pointing at the warlock.

'Are you threatening me?'

At the door, Merlin heard the Prince snigger; he ignored him and turned his attention back to the scene in the corridor. His older self suddenly looked sad; he wasn't angry now and he didn't seem to want to argue anymore. He laughed, but there wasn't any happiness in it. He looked defeated, like he'd given up. He shook his head and turned away, but then seemed to change his mind. He looked back at Arthur and began to speak; this time his voice was quiet.

'When have I ever threatened you, Arthur? When have I ever done anything to make you doubt my loyalty? Everything I have ever done is to protect you and to protect Albion. Whether you believe it or not, it's still the truth.' He stopped again, but he didn't move, just stared at the King with pain filled eyes. 'And just in case you've forgotten, I didn't start this. This is Morgana's doing; this was her plan. And yes, my magic brought them through, but if I hadn't done something we'd both be dead by now. So the least you could do is realise that I am doing everything I can to put it right; I've been up most of the night looking for anything that can help.' He sighed and stepped back. 'I don't know what you want me to do, Arthur, but this is the best I can manage. If it's not good enough for you then you'll have to find yourself another Court Sorcerer, and if that's all I'm here for, then just say the word and I'll go, but until then I'm going to do my job, Sire.' With that the warlock turned and disappeared round the corner. The King just stood still for several seconds, evidently at a loss for words.

Closing the door silently, Merlin found himself feeling somewhat shaken at the exchange that had just taken place. Something felt wrong about it, as if the King and Sorcerer hadn't spoken to each other like that before, as if something had changed. Merlin closed his eyes and hung his head.

When he finally looked up he expected to see Arthur smiling smugly at him, but the Prince was now sat on the bed, staring at the floor, his face pale. Merlin frowned and hesitantly pushed himself off the wall that he was leaning against.

'Are you alright?'

'He said Morgana. Morgana was the witch that did this.'

'Who's Morgana?' Merlin asked slowly. He didn't recall the name being mentioned since they had arrived; he didn't remember Arthur or Merlin even giving the witch's name, but from the Prince's reaction she was evidently someone he knew. 'Arthur?'

The boy jumped as if he had been hit and stood up, facing Merlin menacingly.

'Don't talk to me.'

'But-'

'I'm not your friend, and from what I can tell, I never will be.'

He smiled smugly, his eyes narrowing. Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Arthur was right, that wasn't how two friends spoke to each other; that wasn't how they treated each other. Both of them were upset, Merlin knew, and he wanted to help. He didn't know how to help a King, least of all Arthur, but perhaps he could help Merlin.

With determination, he threw on his clothes over his night wear and headed to the door.

'Where are you going?' Arthur asked.

'What do you care?' Merlin grinned. 'We're not friends.' With that he opened the door and, seeing the corridor was clear, headed off in the direction that his namesake had gone. The last thing he heard was the Prince's voice calling him back.

He ignored it.

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