Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews. I haven't had anywhere near that many for any of the other chapters and so it was a lovely surprise. I can't believe it, but here is the last chapter! There will also be an epilogue, so you haven't got rid of me just yet. Anyway, on with the chapter; all your questions will be answered. Hope you like it! Please review!

Chapter 31

'No!' Arthur said firmly, scrambling over to where Merlin lay. 'Gaius, do something, now!'

'Sire-'

'I said do something,' he repeated sharply. Gaius looked at him, not bothering to try and reply, evidently knowing that Arthur would only shout him down. Instead, he did something much worse. He reached over and placed a hand on top of Arthur's. A hand which Arthur hadn't realised he had placed on Merlin's chest. Arthur met Gaius' gaze and saw the truth in the man's eyes; saw the pain and the grief already beginning to grow, leaving a mark that would remain for the rest of his life.

'No,' Arthur muttered. 'This can't…'

He looked around and recognised the knights that had been around him. Of course, now it seemed so obvious which knights would be here in the clearing for him. The grief was beginning to carve into their features. Gwaine looked on helplessly before giving a yell of anger and denial and then moving away from the group. No-one tried to follow or stop him. They all just looked on in shock: Leon, Elyan, Percival.

'This can't be it,' Arthur said to Gaius, shaking the man's hand off and fixing him with a hard stare. 'This is Merlin. This is…' he tailed off, his throat closing up. 'He's strong,' he tried again a few seconds later. 'He's strong, Gaius.'

'His heart has stopped,' he replied in a whisper.

'Then start it again!' Arthur shouted. 'You have magic Gaius; just tell it to start again. Make it beat.'

'Sire...'

'Please, Gaius,' Arthur continued, reaching over and gripping the man's hand. His gaze was intense and he could hear the pleading in his voice. He placed the older man's hand down over where Merlin's heart was. 'We did it; we made sure history stayed the same, we sent them back. He can't die now. He doesn't die now,' he repeated more firmly. 'Just tell his heart to beat, or make it beat; just try, Gaius, please.'

'Arthur, my magic is limited.'

'Then use whatever you have. I'm ordering you Gaius. This is not how it finishes.'

Arthur saw the faces around him -all of them- watching him with pity and worry. And Gaius most of all, although he thought he saw something like understanding on the old man's features as well, which was lacking in his knights. As much as they cared about Merlin, as much as they were his friends and allies, they couldn't understand the loss of the two men that were crouched down beside Merlin's frame. They weren't loosing a son and they weren't loosing a brother.

'Please,' Arthur whispered to him. 'I can't walk away unless I know we tried everything.'

'Neither can I, Sire,' Gaius returned, a resigned acceptance winding its way through his tone.

For several seconds, Arthur watched the physician close his eyes and take several deep breaths, his hand hovering over Merlin's still chest. The impatience grew in Arthur. How long had it been now since Merlin had drawn breath? They were running out of time, if they hadn't done so already. But eventually Gaius began to speak. The words were hushed and quiet and Arthur could hear the desperation in them. He looked away and instead focussed on Merlin's face, allowing his returned memories to well up in his mind; making sure that all that had been lost had been put back. They had. Each and every memory was there, as they had been before.

But it wasn't enough, Arthur realised. It wasn't enough to have memories of Merlin in the past and in times that were now over and done with, never to be revisited again. No, that wasn't nearly enough. What Arthur needed was the guarantee that in years to come he would be able to look back and find more memories of his friend and what they had accomplished together; times when they had messed around; times when they had learnt something new about themselves or each other. It wasn't enough to only have the past. He had fought for the last week to ensure that there was a future as well. There had to be a future for Merlin.

He scanned the man's face again, but there was no change. Gaius' hand still hovered above his still form, moving rhythmically up and down as he muttered words; as if he was pressing down on the air above it. Arthur realised that Gaius' other hand was doing the same above Merlin's mouth. For a split second, Arthur felt joy jolt through him as he saw Merlin's chest begin to rise and fall, but a shake of the head from Gaius told Arthur the truth: Merlin wasn't breathing; Gaius was doing it for him, forcing air into his lungs using magic. Still, it gave him the appearance of recovery and so Arthur waited. Waited desperately and pleadingly. Waited.

But there was no change, except for that which took place in Gaius' face; the last bit of hope that the man had held on to was fading –had already faded. He wasn't carrying on for Merlin's sake; he was carrying on for Arthur's. Normally, Arthur would have hated knowing that someone was telling him what he wanted to hear -one of the many things that he admired Merlin for was never telling Arthur what he wanted to hear if it wasn't the truth. But right now, Arthur was going to feign ignorance. If it bought him more time with an illusion of Merlin breathing and waking and living then he didn't care how long Gaius continued.

'Sire…' Elyan's gentle voice broke through his concentration.

'No,' he replied, not bothering to turn round.

'Arthur,' he tried again.

'I said no,' he growled back. He sensed the knights, all of them, move back a little way. They were giving him privacy, the chance to say goodbye. Gaius hadn't stopped what he was doing –Arthur could still hear his whispered spells- but he was slowing down, whether through choice or through the exhaustion of grief, Arthur didn't know, but it told him that time was almost up.

'Merlin,' he whispered harshly, putting his mouth closer to the man's ear. 'Wake up.' Nothing. No sarcastic comment; no half concealed sigh of annoyance. 'Please wake up,' he tried, his voice becoming quieter, more desperate. He didn't want anyone to overhear him, didn't want anyone to see, because he could feel himself beginning to break. He could feel the cracks spreading across the surface of his skin, little slithers of panic and disbelief and uncertainty which began to burrow into his mind.

This couldn't be happening. He tried to look ahead to the future, but it was like a blackness. If Merlin wasn't there helping him and guiding him, then how was he supposed to rule as King? If Merlin wasn't there sharing his wisdom and perspectives, then how was Arthur meant to make the right decisions? If Merlin wasn't there to blatantly disregard rank and protocol and propriety, then who was going to keep Arthur grounded when he walked down the wrong path? Yes, Guinevere was there and he loved her and relied on her, but when it came down to it, he was there to protect her and keep her safe; to be strong when she was struggling.

She had walked with him through his kingship; they had faced their new roles as reigning monarchs together; working out their places and their responsibilities. But Merlin had been there for years before that. Merlin had persisted with him when he was an arrogant, naïve Prince; a bully and a thug. Merlin had been on the receiving end of that particular aspect of Arthur's character hundreds of times over the years, but he had stayed and endured.

He had been so patient with Arthur in so many ways: waiting for Arthur's views on magic to change; waiting for him to grow up and learn the value of humility. Waiting for Arthur to realise that he wasn't an idiot servant, but a good wise man who saw things so much more clearly than Arthur did a lot of the time. Merlin had waited for all those things with enduring patience and loyalty, and sometimes, Arthur guessed, with a resigned desperation, just hanging onto the destiny that he had been told he was part of.

Arthur had faced every major event and decision with Merlin by his side. He had faced betrayals, hurts, grief, changes, all of them, with his friend right next to him at every step, even when Arthur hadn't asked for the companionship or been grateful for it. Merlin had felt every hurt; seen every tear, even the ones Arthur had tried to hide. He had shouldered responsibility for Arthur's many mistakes and been a touch stone every time Arthur felt at a loss.

No. He couldn't do this without Merlin. All the reasons why that were true were circling around his mind, pouring down through his body, breaking it apart from the inside. He could feel the dread and grief ripping away at his insides, gnawing at him, until every muscle in his body was tensed. Yet there was nowhere to hide; nowhere to run to; nothing to fight. He could do nothing to stop this from happening and that knowledge was shattering him from the inside out.

'Merlin,' he tried again, leaning even closer to the man. 'You probably already know this, and I think I must have known all along.' He closed his eyes and laid a hand on Merlin's head. 'I can't do this without you.' Looking at Gaius, Arthur saw the old man squeeze his eyes shut in defeat and shuffle back a few inches, his hands reaching down to grasp one of Merlin's. Arthur carried on, more urgently now. 'I know you don't follow my orders, Merlin, but this isn't an order anymore.' Merlin's chest sank down, Gaius' last breath of air leaving his body. 'I'm asking you, my friend: please wake up.'

He didn't have to do anything. He just lay there, letting everything go on around him. Everything seemed fine without him having to get involved. It was peaceful and calm. Except for that voice. No, the voice definitely wasn't calm, but it was quiet and so Merlin ignored it and instead revelled in the fact that it didn't hurt anymore. He was glad, especially as he could remember it hurting a lot. He thought about trying to remember why, but realised that he didn't care all that much; all that mattered was that he didn't have to do anything, just lie there and be still. He was good at it.

The peace around him enveloped him further; he sank into it, until everything else seemed to become muffled and distant. Perfect. But then that voice started again, loud in his ear. Had he wanted to move, he would have frowned, but it was easier to continue letting himself be swallowed up by the gentle nothingness.

Still the voice continued; urgent and pleading. It irritated Merlin, especially when he realised that it was drawing him out of his comfy oblivion. The words were becoming clearer, not just odd sounds as if someone was speaking through thick walls. Panic swept through Merlin as he realised that it was beginning to hurt again. He didn't want that anymore; he just wanted to sleep and rest, even if it was forever.

'…can't do this without you.' Merlin tried to ignore the words, but they had brought him to a sharper awareness than anything he had experienced in the last few minutes. He tried to ignore them, but something in the tone refused to relinquish his attention. To his annoyance, he found himself trying to place the owner of the voice. Surely that would only bring him back to reality even quicker. Before he could switch his thoughts to something less taxing, he found familiarity rushing through him. That was Arthur. Of course it was. Who else would be able to annoy him at a time like this? The thought sent a rush of amusement through him and he found himself trying to smile, but it didn't work.

That alarmed him. Why couldn't he move?

'I know you don't follow my orders, Merlin, but this isn't an order anymore.' Arthur's voice was closer, but Merlin was distracted again. Something had changed; something was different. Up until now, a rhythmic hum had surrounded him. Comforting, predictable, sustaining. And then suddenly it was gone. There was no pressure on his chest, no feeling of subconscious movement in his body. He was still. Completely and utterly still.

Dying. He realised it suddenly. He was dying. His mind snapped to full focus. Everything came back to him. All that had happened. Those last confusing moments when he had sent the boys back not having a clue who they were or what he was doing, but acting on instinct. He had been injured, drained. There was nothing left for him to give. But then, did he really want to give anymore? He had done what he set out to do. He had sent the boys back; Arthur was safe; history was correct; the future was assured. There was no need for him to go back, even if he could.

'I'm asking you, my friend: please wake up.'

Merlin had only ever heard Arthur use that tone of voice on a few occasions. It was the one he used when all other options were gone. When his ability to fight was of no consequence, when there were no arguments or explanations he could give. All he could do was ask and hope. It was in those times that Merlin most took on board what Arthur was saying and doing. Those few times when Arthur completely and utterly let his guard down. And he was doing it now; the Arthur who was crouched beside Merlin was vulnerable; he had no defences left. Just the hope that Merlin would hear him and do as he asked.

When it came down to it, there was no question of what Merlin would do. He and Arthur were friends; they relied on one another and they were always there for one another. And while Merlin didn't agree that Arthur still needed him in order to be to be a good King, he didn't want to miss seeing it.

His mind made up, Merlin climbed the rest of the way out of his oblivion, now fully aware of everything that was going on around him. But still he couldn't move. Try as he might, he couldn't get his muscles to obey him.

'It's been too long, Sire,' he heard Gaius say; the old man's voice quiet and cracking.

'How could this happen?' Arthur was asking. His voice, too, tripped unevenly over the words, before Merlin heard him take a deep shuddering breath; sucking it in heavily, before expelling it in an angry denial.

'No!' he yelled. Merlin heard the sound of fists hitting the ground. He tried again, tried to get his eyes to open, just so his friends could see that it wasn't all over. But he couldn't. Surely this wouldn't be how everything finished for him: one last failed attempt before his body ran out of air and was forced to shut down everything, including his mind. Would the last thing he ever heard really be Arthur shouting and then sinking into barely concealed cries? That wasn't good enough.

Pushing aside his panic, Merlin tried one last thing to bring himself back to life. It was the only thing he had at his disposal that didn't rely on his ability to move. His magic. That was all he had left. He reached into the place inside of himself where it resided, but it was drained. After his escape from the gorge, facing Morgana and erasing the memories of their younger selves, there was barely anything left. Evidently magic didn't replenish itself in a dead host. There was a tiny amount, but it would not be enough. He used his senses, magical and physical, to take in his surroundings, looking for anything that could help. And then he felt it.

The pendant. It lay only a few metres away, still steeped in the magic that had been used to send the boys back. Powerful magic. Enough magic.

With the last bit of magical strength that he possessed, he reached for the object, lifted it off the ground and pulled it close to himself. He heard the voices around him.

'Arthur!' Leon called. 'Look!

A pause while Merlin pulled it closer.

'What's happening?' Arthur asked, 'Gaius, what's happening?'

Merlin continued to draw it in, but his power was fading, running out, disappearing. He tried to use the last bit of strength to fling it towards himself, but the pendant fell short, only a few inches from his body; it was the last thing he sensed before his magic was gone.

That was it then. He felt a deep sadness permeate his being; felt his body begin to shut down. He had tried and it hadn't been good enough. He allowed himself to slip away, but just as the last vestiges of his consciousness were fading, he felt and heard something around him.

Scrambling bodies, confused voices. And then he felt it; a tiny diamond of ice and cold and power rushing through him as a hand grabbed his own and pushed the pendant into it. He felt his fingers being closed around it, felt the way its magic rushed through him, replenishing his stores until he felt the power was his to command again. Without any further hesitation, he forced the magic into his body, into his heart and lungs, into every part of it, until he felt like there was a fire billowing from every surface. And then, just as quickly, the fire subsided, the pendant dropped from his hands, depleted and useless. Hardly daring to hope, Merlin told his body to breathe.

And it did. He felt his chest rise, felt the blood rush through him, and finally, he opened his eyes. Arthur's face, bright with hope and crusted with tears, swam into focus.

Through the pain that had returned with a vengeance, and through the exhaustion that had almost overtaken him, Merlin managed to smile.

'I'm awake,' he croaked. He saw Arthur close his eyes in relief, before placing a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder.

'About time too,' Arthur breathed, smiling at him. His face sobered, the full severity of the situation settling on him again. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

'For waking up like you asked?'

'For everything,' Arthur replied.

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