Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter; I'm not completely sure about it, but I suppose that's for you lot to judge! Please review!

Chapter 30

Flames and screaming and pain; so much pain. And not just hers. Arthur opened his eyes to try and dispel the image of Morgana in her final moments, but as they flew back to the clearing, the monotony of the grey sky did nothing to reform the image into something that Arthur could bear to watch. He knew her. Only a few days ago he had played in the castle with her. She had watched as he showed her what he had learnt in his sparring lesson and then asked him to teach her the moves. He had refused at first saying that she was a girl, but she had promised that if he helped her she would show him a hidden room that she had found close to her own. He had had such a good time with her; they had chased around the castle, knocking into the servants and winding in and out of the guards.

And now she was dead; scattered to ashes; nothing left of her except the memories of all the evil she had done and the treachery she had committed. How could Arthur go back to her now, how could he ever look at her again? But then, he wouldn't have to would he. The King had said that their memories were being erased and, for the first time, Arthur wanted to forget. Despite all that he had learnt and all that he had discovered, he never wanted to have to look at Morgana and see the terrifying woman who had been filled with such darkness. He couldn't be around her for the next however many years knowing what end awaited her.

He would let Merlin perform the spell, let him take away the memories; they would destroy him if not. But what if the sorcerer wasn't strong enough to cast the enchantment? Arthur glanced behind him to where the two men were seated on the dragon. He wanted to ask the King how Merlin was; wanted the man to reassure him that everything would be alright now, but he didn't want to break into the King's thoughts. Not when he sat so pensively; ever watchful over Merlin, looking more and more worried as the time passed by.

And so instead Arthur focussed on his own Merlin. In contrast to his counterpart, the boy seemed to be getting stronger. He had continued to eat and drink small amounts that Arthur had insisted he take and he was beginning to look a little healthier. His skin took on a slightly less grey tone and he had begun to relax. After a few hours, he began to drift into sleep and only then did Arthur allow himself to relax as well. It was a strange feeling to him: to be concerned so intensely by the well being of another person, but somehow Merlin seemed to be able to push through all of Arthur's selfishness. It was hard to understand or explain and he frequently found himself trying to put words to his feelings. In the end, the closest he could come up with was that, despite how different they were, they were also the same, or at least part of the same thing, whatever that was. He was beginning to understand how it would be possible, in the future, for him to build the relationship with Merlin that he had seen between their two older selves since his arrival in this version of Camelot.

Or at least the bond that he had seen at first. Now, it was different. Now, the dark haired man barely moved, while the King kept a vigil over him; the tension on the man's face told Arthur that the relationship he had come to admire so much no longer existed. All that was left was his older self's desperate attempt to hold on to what he knew had been there before. It made Arthur feel sad and alone and fearful. He didn't want that for the King.

He glanced at the boy who was asleep in front of him.

'I really am sorry,' he whispered, finally uttering the words that had been chasing round his mind for days. To Arthur's surprise, Merlin stirred. Blue eyes fixed on him after a few moments of trying to focus.

'I told you it doesn't matter,' the boy whispered sleepily, barely aware.

'It does to me.'

'Does this mean we're friends?' Merlin asked him, a strange but welcome affection in his voice that Arthur found he liked.

'Yes,' he replied quietly.

The clearing appeared as the daylight faded. Arthur felt a potent mix of relief and dread fill him: relief that they were now so close to putting everything right and dread that they were already too late. He had watched Merlin constantly during the flight back, but the man had shown no improvement. If anything, he was getting worse; his breathing was shallow and he had begun to mutter and mumble in his fitful state of waking and sleeping. Arthur couldn't see how he would be lucid enough to cast the spell required to send the boys back to where they had come from.

Kilgharrah landed lightly, or what Arthur assumed passed for lightly to a dragon, but the four of them found themselves jolted to a halt and Merlin groaned in pain. Arthur began to untie the restraints that he'd placed around himself and Merlin, while the Prince did the same. It didn't take the two boys long to get down and Arthur was relieved to see that young Merlin was strong enough to do so with very little help; the Prince had been plying him with food for the majority of the journey and it seemed to have paid off. If only the same could be said for his counterpart.

Noise from around the clearing drew Arthur's attention as he struggled with the knots which he had tied so securely. Looking up, he spotted several knights and an older man who looked like a civilian. He didn't recognise any of them, but he guessed that they were here for him. Hadn't he asked the knight who was with them before to get help? He couldn't remember; with Morgana gone, even his memories of the last week were beginning to get slightly hazy. They had to be quick.

'Gaius!' he heard the Prince shout. A moment later, the boy was racing across the grass to the older man, talking him to him quickly and urgently. The pace of the group increased further and by the time Arthur had undone the last rope holding Merlin in place, several pairs of hands were reaching up to help carry the man down to the floor. The soldiers seemed somewhat wary of Kilgharrah, but their rush to help Merlin seemed to override their fear. Within seconds, Merlin was laid out on the grass, the old man kneeling at his side.

'Are you a physician?' Arthur asked him quickly. A flicker of sadness passed through the man's eyes and Arthur realised that this man was someone he should know.

'Yes, Sire. I'm Gaius,' he nodded. 'What happened to him?'

'I don't know. We split up and this is what he was like when he came back. I tried to bandage the wounds.'

'What knocked him unconscious?'

'Nothing in particular. I think it's something to do with his magic. He seemed weakened when we faced Morgana.'

'You fought Morgana?' a knight asked in shock.

'She's dead,' Arthur nodded. A sudden silence fell on the group. Arthur wondered how long Morgana had been tormenting and terrorising Camelot that some of the best warriors in the kingdom struggled to accept that she was actually gone.

'Merlin killed her?' the physician asked.

'No, he couldn't,' Arthur explained. 'It was Kilgharrah; he saved us.'

More silence, and then hushed voices as Gaius continued with his work. The knights began off-loading the supplies that were strapped to Kilgharrah, while the boys hovered some distance away, talking intently, looking over at Merlin frequently and then back to each other. Arthur wanted to know what they were talking about, but he moved towards Kilgharrah first.

'Thank you,' he told the creature. 'We would be dead by now without you.'

'You still have a destiny to complete together,' he murmured in a low growl, which Arthur was sure everybody could hear.

'I don't know if that will be possible,' Arthur said quietly. He glanced over at Merlin; he was unmoving, and the faces of those around him were grave. 'Can you do anything to help him or to save him?'

'If I could, I would,' Kilgharrah said, 'but my magic is not as easily controlled as that of humans such as Merlin. I am more valuable as a guide and a sharer of knowledge. It is Merlin who then uses it. I am sorry, young King, but I have done all I can.'

'You're going?' Arthur asked, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice.

'The final part of your plan will be reinitiating the magic that Morgana used to bring the young warlock and Prince to this time; I would only interfere with the magic that will be formed.'

'But we can't do anything without Merlin; he's not even conscious.'

'Then it is fortunate indeed that you have a second Merlin on whom you can rely,' he replied with what passed for a smile; his knife-like teeth appearing behind stretched lips.

'What?' Arthur asked, but Kilgharrah had already spread his wings and jumped into the air. It was only a few seconds later that Arthur noticed the two other people that had been spectators to his conversation with the dragon.

'I can help,' said the dark haired boy who stood only a few feet behind him. They stood, both of them, looking at him with drawn, haunted faces, looking so much older and younger at the same time.

'I know you want to,' Arthur replied gently, 'but you're not powerful enough.'

'He doesn't need to be,' the Prince said. 'Before we got to the gorge, Merlin told us that he'd already set up all the spells, remember? He said there was just one needed to start it all going.'

Arthur tried to remember the conversation, but nothing came to mind. He barely remembered the flight over to the gorge. It was all he could do to keep in mind that they were trying to send the boys back to their correct time and that Merlin was the key to providing the magic. Everything was becoming unreal, like waking up and forgetting a dream. His memories of the last week were beginning to fade to the edges of his consciousness, soon they would be gone.

'Aright,' he nodded. 'Do you know the spell?'

'Merlin said he had it on him with the pendant,' the Prince explained. They rushed over to the warlock who lay on the ground being treated. Arthur followed them and felt a jolt of fear shoot through him as he realised that the man on the floor didn't look as familiar as Arthur knew he should have done. He looked away, trying not to think about it, while the Prince quickly searched through the dark haired man's clothing and retrieved a pendant and a scrap of parchment.

'This is it,' he said triumphantly, grinning at Arthur and then walking over to Merlin and handing them both over to him.

'What is it?' Arthur asked. Two sets of eyes looked at him in confusion.

'The pendant,' Merlin explained. 'The one Morgana used.'

'Morgana?' Arthur asked. He shook his head and then put both his hands in his hair. What was happening to him? He knew that he should have known those things. He focussed hard. Morgana? Morgana was…a witch. Nodding firmly, he lifted his head and put his arms back down to his sides. He could do this. Morgana was the witch who had tried to kill him and at the moment they were trying to send a younger version of himself and someone else back in time.

'Do you remember?' the Prince asked, while the dark haired boy mouthed the words on the parchment.

'I remember enough,' he nodded. 'You need to hurry.'

The dark haired boy opened his mouth, but a look of panic suddenly crossed the Prince's face.

'No! Wait, wait!' he shouted.

'What?' the other boy asked.

'Our memories. We can't go back with them?'

'I don't know how to get rid of them.'

'We have to loose them somehow. We have to!' the Prince seemed to be getting more and more agitated as the seconds went by. Arthur wanted to intervene, but he didn't know why. He looked around. Where was he? Who were all these people?

The Prince. The Prince he remembered; a younger version of himself. The boy was looking wildly around and then fixed on a point just behind them where a group of people were crowding round a man who seemed to be ill. The Prince rushed over, followed by the other boy, who Arthur assumed was the Prince's friend. A strange compulsion to follow them overtook Arthur and he jogged to where they had both fallen to their knees around the seemingly unconscious man. The man looked very similar to the dark haired boy. Father and son perhaps? No. Arthur shook his head. That didn't seem right.

'Please, Merlin!' the Prince was saying, shaking the man's shoulder.

'Arthur, why is it so bad to remember?' the other boy asked, his voice full of sadness or disappointment.

'It isn't, not all of it,' he explained hurriedly, his focus never leaving the unconscious man – Merlin, if Arthur had heard correctly. 'But I don't want to remember Morgana and what happened to her. She's my friend, Merlin. My friend! She's good where I come from, and kind.'

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to work it out. Both of them were called Merlin? The child-Merlin held the Prince's gaze for several seconds; he seemed so sad, but understanding at the same time. He reached over a hand and rested it on the Prince's shoulder.

'I wouldn't want to remember that either,' he smiled sadly.

'Please help me to wake him up.'

Together, the boys began talking to the man, encouraging him to wake up, pleading with him. The physician watched sadly. He was doing very little to try and stop them and he was no longer treating the man's injuries, which suggested to Arthur that the patient didn't have much time left. It seemed a shame to the King that this man couldn't see how important he was to the two children. It was obvious that they trusted and believed in him above any other. He wondered what it was like to be able to put that much faith in a person.

'You try.'

Arthur was pulled out of his musings by the voice of the Prince.

'What?'

'Please,' the boy begged, 'you try. If anyone can do it, it will be you.'

'I don't even know him,' Arthur replied incredulously.

'What?' The dark haired boy this time: fearful, unsure.

'I've never seen him before in my life,' the King explained. Not that he seemed to be able to recall anything of his life at this point, but it didn't bring the alarm he was sure it should have done.

'What are you talking about?' the Prince demanded. 'It's Merlin! Your friend. You know him better than anyone!'

'I've never seen him before.'

'We're running out of time,' the old man said to the boys. 'His memories are gone.'

'We can't go back if we remember,' the Prince argued. He got to his feet and walked over until he was right in front of Arthur and then he knelt down on one knee. Arthur was surprised by the move. Why would anyone kneel before him?

King. The word echoed around Arthur's head. Yes, that was right: he was the King.

'Please,' the boy began, his voice shaking with tears and his eyes glimmering in the dull light. 'Even if you don't remember him, you need to try and wake him up. Ask him to use magic and take away our memories since we arrived here. That's all you have to do.'

Magic? Somewhere, something stirred in Arthur; an ugly monster that lurked at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away, disliking the darkness of it. Magic? He didn't know anything about it.

'Arthur,' the Prince begged.

Arthur looked at the boy and saw the desperation in his every movement. He glanced round at the rest of the group. They were staring at him, shock on their faces. Was it so terrible and unbelievable that he should forget the man lying on the ground in front of him? The man who, in all likelihood, wasn't going to last much longer anyway? Arthur looked at him again, but nothing sparked any familiarity in his mind.

But surely, all these people couldn't be wrong?

'Alright. I'll try.'

'Thank you, thank you,' the blond boy nodded and then moved aside so that Arthur could get passed.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the man and then knelt down beside him. The physician got up, looking older and wearier than he had done when he first started treating his patient, and the two boys took his place opposite Arthur.

Feeling somewhat stupid, Arthur reached out a hand and placed it on the man's slow-moving chest. A strange sensation began to flow through him, like déjà vu, but deeper and more powerful. It shocked him and confused him, but it gave him a sudden understanding of the situation and the person in front of him.

'Merlin,' he said quietly, and the name felt familiar on his tongue. There was no movement. 'Merlin,' he said more loudly, forcing some authority into his voice. The smallest stirring caused the man's face to crease up and slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes began to open. Arthur looked at him and felt a strange connection that he couldn't explain or break. Their eyes locked and although Arthur still didn't know who the man was he felt like he had known, or maybe could know in the future. Like hearing a story about a childhood event and knowing that it happened, but not remembering it.

'I need you to take away the memories of these two children since they arrived here.' He didn't understand the words that were coming out his mouth and it was evident that the man, Merlin, didn't either, but he gave a slight nod and then turned his attention to the boys.

'Start the spell,' Arthur heard the Prince whisper to the other boy. He nodded and, grasping the pendant in his hand, recited the words of the parchment out loud.

For several seconds, there was nothing more than an eerie silence, the only sounds those of the dying man taking some deep breaths in an attempt to give himself the energy to lift his hand ready for casting the spell. But then a low hum began to resonate in the ground, as if the entire earth was shuddering.

'Arthur.' Arthur looked over to where the Prince had called to him. 'Thank you,' he said.

'Thank you,' the other boy agreed. 'You'll know why when we're gone. Thank you,' he repeated, nodding towards the man, who had now sat up slightly, with help from the physician. The Prince echoed those sentiments to the dark haired man.

'Goodbye,' the two of them whispered together.

Beside Arthur, the man was beginning to speak, his eyes burning gold. The two boys turned to each other and Arthur felt compelled to watch their exchange; it seemed so personal, so deep. So final. They said nothing, just looked at each other, seemingly understanding whatever unspoken message was being given. And then they moved closer and enveloped one another in an embrace, holding tightly.

The humming in the earth had turned into what felt like a low pitched cry, and light was beginning to rise from it, creating a flimsy film of brightness about a metre from the ground. The pendant, which had been clutched in the other boy's hand, was now resting on the film of light, shimmering with it, beginning to shine. The light flowed in and around it, as if trying to become part of it, before then rushing off again. Arthur watched it all in slow motion; saw every twist of light, every movement of the two boys, heard every strained word from the man beside him.

And then suddenly, the man's voice gave a last desperate cry as the spell finished and then slumped back down to where he had been lying before; moved gently by the physician. Arthur saw the spell hit the boys. For a second they tensed and froze and then, with a sudden relaxation, began to fall away from one another, unconscious, unaware. Arthur felt the urge to go and catch at least one of them, but with a flash like lightning, the light that had been a flat pool of twisting colours, imploded and rushed into itself to form a sphere; the boys in the middle of it, suspended in the air, their heads lolling and their arms hanging limply at their sides. The pendant dropped to the floor

Suddenly, the light in the clearing intensified and Arthur had to shield his eyes, as did the others who were gathered in the clearing, watching what was happening in awe-filled amazement. The light grew brighter and more painful, but Arthur fought through it and kept his gaze fixed on the sphere. The boys were glowing with light, like white fire. As Arthur watched, he saw the light begin to twist away from them, taking them apart. Their figures unravelled and curled away in strips of bright light, becoming indistinct and changeable, until there was just light swirling inside the sphere, and then an explosion of intense brightness and then nothing except for a powerful force pushing them back. The knights who had been standing were sent flying backwards and Arthur found himself being flung to the floor.

But he barely noticed. Instead, he gripped his head in his hands and screamed; his voice seeming to mix with another close by, as memory after memory seemed to blossom and flourish in his head with such power and force that it felt like his mind was being sliced into pieces by sharp blades of thought and emotion and feeling. He drew breath only to cry out as his entire life streamed through his head, every memory going so fast through his mind that he was unable to gain more than an impression of each one. People and places and situations hurtled through his mind, slamming into place as the jigsaw of his life began to fit back together.

His childhood. Games played, falling outs with friends, servants and training and his father never being around. Then older, and his father always being around; having to try and live up to the man's expectations. Battles and fights, quests, missions, loosing loved ones, grief, betrayal, love. Guinevere, marriage. Magic and hatred; magic and understanding. Laughter and boiling anger; compassion and coldness. Illness, healing, mistakes, hurts, regrets, hopes, terrible fears. Darkness and light. Lessons learnt, lessons taught; relearning. Trust and Merlin. Loyalty and Merlin. Friendship and Merlin.

Merlin.

Arthur opened his eyes and took several gasping breaths as all of his memories settled into their rightful places. There were tears running down his face and his heart was hammering as if he had just been running for his life, but he was lying where he had been thrown down as the sphere disappeared.

He pushed himself up, managing to pull himself into a sitting position. A smile graced his face.

He could remember. His memories were back; they had done it; they had succeeded; they were safe.

Arthur looked across to where Merlin was and felt a deep darkness encase his heart at what he saw. Gaius was holding Merlin's wrist, checking for a pulse. Seconds later he moved forward and put his ear to Merlin's mouth. He moved back slowly, his head dropping and his eyes squeezing tight shut as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Arthur felt his entire being shudder with shock. Because this was no longer the unknown man that Arthur could look at and feel nothing. This was a remembered Merlin, a remembered friend: loyal and trustworthy and devoted.

Arthur felt a silent scream echo through his mind, through every memory that had so recently been gratefully reclaimed.

This was where remembering brought nothing but pain.

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