A/N: Yikes, sorry about the late update, friends. It's all been a mental this month. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for your reviews and love :) Never fear by the way, this is not the last chapter!

Warnings for swearing.

Martin frowned; Arthur couldn't be offended, Martin had said far ruder things to him that evening already. And it didn't look like he was offended…it looked…

And then Arthur smiled, and Martin realised it hadn't been indignation he had been seeing on Arthur's face, but fondness.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet, Martin," Arthur said, and smiled a smile brighter than the sun.

There was a boat in the water.

Martin was watching it carefully, almost earnestly, as it floated slowly away into the mist before him. He didn't know why the boat was so important but it was, he could feel it. He couldn't tear his gaze away and he didn't want to. It was vital that he keep watching it, absolutely vital…

And then the pain hit him, a crippling pain so sharp that he could almost feel his heart break under it. Because he knew he would be alone and he didn't know how long for, but he was sure that for a while at least he would be utterly alone in the world.

He was grieving.

And the boat was moving further away from him.

Martin opened his eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling stared down at him. There was an odd noise, a sort of cooing, nearby but he couldn't find the energy to sit up and investigate. He was warm and comfortable, and for the first time in ages, he felt almost totally relaxed.

He blinked his eyes at the ceiling, then turned his head to the side, still a bit disorientated.

And then froze. He was in a flat, that flat, he was in the process of being kidnapped and his kidnapper was currently zoned out on the sofa, snoring lightly and lying completely still, his blond hair tumbled over his face.

Arthur Pendragon, Martin thought venomously. Arthur bloody fucking Pendragon more like.

Oddly, it wasn't alarm that Martin felt, or danger, at the sight of his kidnapper. It was a fierce, almost burning sense of relief. As if he was overjoyed to see Arthur. And yet there was something in the way he was lying, so still, with only the grey morning light on his face. Something disquieting.

He looked like a corpse.

Great. Five seconds of being awake in this stupid flat and he was already going crazy. Martin tutted to himself and sat up.

And promptly hit his head on the low ceiling.

He bit down on his shout, clutched his head and glanced over at Arthur. The prat hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't even interrupted his snoring. Martin wouldn't have put it past him to let Martin have the bed in the full knowledge that he would damage himself getting out of it.

Still…at least he hadn't woken up. Martin looked over at the door. It was unguarded as far as he could see. He remembered Goth G - Sarah - doing something to it before she left, but that could have been his imagination. It all could have been his imagination, actually. His inability to speak, that strange place disguised inside a completely different building. Maybe he had been so terrified that he had been making up things.

He pushed the bedsheets aside and kept one eye on Arthur while he felt around for his shoes and put on his hoodie again. The man didn't budge. Martin took a deep breath and tiptoed to the door.

His hand was just on the doorknob when Arthur's voice said, "Nice try."

Martin froze and turned around. Arthur was sitting up, grinning at him. "If it hadn't been for you hitting your head on the ceiling, you might not have woken me at all," he said.

Martin clenched his jaw, furious. "This is kidnap," he informed Arthur. "This is abduction. You could go to prison for this!"

Arthur smiled. His hair was all ruffled from sleeping, eyes very blue in the grey light. "Open the door, then," he said.

Martin stared at him.

"Go on," pressed Arthur.

Martin tried the doorknob. It wouldn't even turn. "It's locked," he said.

"Yes, by magic," Arthur said. He yawned and stretched. "I'm hungry. Make me breakfast."

Martin glared at him. "Make your own breakfast."

"Can't," Arthur shot back cheerfully. "Don't know how."

"Right," Martin said. "Because you're the King of Camelot, I suppose."

"Exactly." Arthur grinned at him. It was an irritatingly attractive smile.

Martin glowered, but he was hungry too and he supposed he would need to eat to keep up his energy for possible escapades later. "You," he informed Arthur icily, "Are the worst kidnapper ever."

Arthur winked at him. This was also attractive. "I'm going to have a bath," he said, standing up. "Sarah showed me how to work the shoo-wer, but I don't trust it yet."

"It's pronounced shower," Martin said automatically, but was only answer by the slamming of the bathroom door. "Prat," he added, mostly for his own benefit.

He turned back to the doorknob, but it stuck fast. In irritation, he planted his hands on his hips, and at the same time the sound of cooing that he had heard earlier came to his attention again. He glanced over at the balcony window. A crowd of pigeons were staring into the flat, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" he snapped at them. The pigeons cooed. He went over to the window, preparing to wave them away, but instead his eye fell on a bag of bird feed sitting on the sill. The pigeons were eyeing it - and him - hungrily.

Almost automatically Martin reached into the bag, grabbed a handful of seed, then opened the window and threw it out. The pigeons descended on it. He stood and watched them for a long time. The action had been as familiar as breathing, as if he had done it for centuries.

The sky rumbled above. He glanced up and saw that clouds were knotting together higher up, grey and thunderous. London was in for a storm.

He closed the window again and looked around the flat. It still didn't feel quite right. He didn't feel quite right. The place felt both familiar and unfamiliar, and he couldn't work out which feeling was strongest.

He needed to know more about this place.

His eye fell to the nearby bookcase, and he walked over to have a closer look. All of the books he had read before, but that didn't mean anything. They were popular books. He picked out the first Harry Potter book and had a flick through. There was an inscription in the front cover. Prof, it said in unfamiliar handwriting, Saw this and thought of you. Think you and Dumbledore would get on! Sarah xxx

Martin put the book back down, feeling suddenly unnerved. This whole place was full of memories that he didn't have but everyone else insisted were his.

There were some papers on the top of the shelf, so he had a rifle through. A photo caught his eye. It was in sepia, taken in a garden. A mixed bunch of people, almost as mixed as the ones he had met last night, were gathered around, looking at the camera, all dressed in what looked like Victorian clothes. And there was a man standing in the middle of them, an elderly man, but not quite Dumbledore-age. He had a short beard and what looked like dark hair with light coloured strands, and although the arms of many of the others were draped around his shoulders or otherwise touching him, his expression was one of the most abject loneliness.

He had Martin's eyes.

"What's that?" Arthur's voice said from behind him. Martin jumped, dropping the picture back on the shelf, then watched as Arthur's wet and very naked arm reached round to take it. His mouth went dry.

"Ah, you in your early days," Arthur said, a bit wryly. "Nice beard."

Martin turned on his heel. It turned out to be a bit of a mistake. He was not ready for a half naked Arthur with only a towel around his waist, especially an Arthur who had just gotten out of the bath and was flushed with the heat and dripping everywhere.

"Er," he said.

Arthur ignored him, studying the picture carefully. "This is a very detailed painting," he said.

Martin rolled his eyes. "It's called a photograph," he said, snatching it back.

Arthur gave him a blank look. "Where's my breakfast?" he asked.

Martin set his jaw, thought about a rude comeback, then stalked towards the kitchen instead.

He could feel Arthur's smirk following him as he went.

They sat on opposite sides of the table and watched each other warily. Arthur was doing his best to be patient, but having Merlin sitting opposite him, watching him with hostile eyes, was really getting on his nerves. And the worst was that he couldn't find a way to talk about what he was feeling. He'd never been very good at that, even during the Camelot days and particularly with Merlin.

He turned to his old technique - being annoying.

"Was cereal really the best you could do?" he sniped.

Merlin glared at him. "You're from the 6th century, you're not meant to know what cereal is," he pointed out.

"We had cereal." Arthur flicked a nut at him. "You used to try to serve it to me."

"You complained, I suppose." Merlin swatted the nut away.

"How did you know?" Arthur asked.

"It's kind of a habit with you," Merlin retorted.

Arthur grinned.

There was a rumble of thunder outside; they both turned to look at the windows. The sky was black and getting blacker.

"Storm's coming," Merlin said softly.

At that moment, the door swung open and Sarah burst in, looking a complete mess. She stared agog at the two of them calmly eating breakfast.

"You're still here!" she spluttered at Merlin.

Merlin stared at her blankly. "Well yeah," he said. "You locked the door on me."

Sarah gave him a long look. She looked more rattled than Arthur had seen her. "How can you be so calm?" she barked. "Can't you feel it?!"

Merlin looked at her blankly. "Feel what?"

It was the first time Sarah seemed properly upset by the new Merlin. Her bottom lip quivered a little. "This storm is no normal storm," she said. "It's got magic in it, dark magic, angry magic, Morgana's sodding magic, and if you had your right mind, you'd be able to sense that! Even someone with a tiny shred of magic could sense this. And you're the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the planet and you're just sitting and - and eating cornflakes!"

Her lip quivered again, and she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.

Merlin stared over at Arthur, wide-eyed. It was a familiar look, an old look from thousands of years ago, the look that Merlin had flashed Arthur a million times in the past when he had done something wrong and wasn't quite sure what it was. Arthur couldn't help but smile at it.

"Told you the cereal was a mistake," he said.

Sarah marched out of the kitchen about ten minutes later, looking a little red around the eyes but with her jaw set in determination.

"Right," she said, "We're going to the HQ. Coming, Merlin?"

"It's Martin," said Merlin exasperatedly. "And do I have any choice?"

"No," said Arthur.

They left.

The sky was pounding with intent when they left the building, so much so that Martin could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, silently hating the two who had grabbed his shoulders and were frogmarching him along the street, but all his hatred abandoned him when Arthur foolishly started crossing a busy road without looking first and Martin saw a car heading straight towards him.

The car was going too fast. Arthur was going to get hit.

Afterwards, Martin would not be able to say how he had done it - it seemed that time just slowed down for him. The next thing he knew, he had shaken free of Sarah's grip, flung himself across the road and tackled Arthur to the opposite pavement, the two of them missing the speeding car by a millimetre.

Time flowed back into its proper tracks again. He was suddenly starkly aware that he was collapsed on top of Arthur, and that Sarah was yelling and shouting somewhere in the background. He raised his head. Arthur was staring at him, with a dumbstruck, slightly stupid look on his face.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked.

Arthur blinked at him. Then smiled. It was a large, lazy smile, and did nothing to relieve Martin's concern.

"Did you hit your head?" he asked. "Arthur, are you - "

"I'm fine," Arthur interrupted. "I'm - I'm fine, it's just…" He smiled again. "You can't stop saving me, can you? Even when you don't know who I am."

Martin stared at him, then felt himself start to blush from head to toe. He picked himself up off Arthur, just as Sarah came running towards them.

"How did you do that?" she asked. She was flustered but chattering excitedly. "It was - I've never seen anyone move so fast, it was - it was magic!"

The clouds above them made a sudden cracking sound, as if they were splitting apart. Sarah grabbed Martin's arm, helping Arthur to stand with her other hand.

"She's sensed it," she said. "We need to get to the HQ as soon as possible. Now. Now."

She dragged them into a run. Martin followed, because at this point he didn't have a clue what else he could do.

They bundled into the HQ altogether, just as the sky was really thundering above them. The rest of the group were there, clustered around what looked like a crystal ball and when they looked up to see Martin, they all slumped in relief. They were looking various states of dishevelled.

"Thank god you're all right," Donald said. He gave Arthur a wan smile, who nodded in return.

Sarah turned to the door, locking it fiercely and no doubt using her damn magic so that Martin couldn't escape, he thought bitterly. "We nearly weren't," she replied. "Morgana sensed the Prof's magic when he accidentally used it. The storm's worsened."

"We'll be all right in here," Turk said. "I've strengthened the charms around the HQ as much as I can. As long as Merlin doesn't do magic again, she shouldn't be able to find us."

"Her magic is stronger than all of ours," Small Creepy B - Dan drawled. "She could find us. She could totally beat any of us."

"Any of us but Merlin," said Arthur.

They all turned to look at Martin. He groaned. "First of all," he said, "It's Martin. And second of all, I didn't use magic, I just…I don't know, I'm faster than I thought I was. And thirdly…" He looked up at them. They were all staring at him, watching him as if he were some skittish, rare animal about to bolt. "I need a drink," he finished miserably.

Martin made instant coffee. Arthur watched the process, completely nonplussed and far too curious for his own good. "I don't understand how those granules make a drink," he said. "Doesn't it make the drink gritty?"

"No," Martin replied bluntly. He wasn't interested in furthering his explanation - he was too busy eavesdropping on the group around the crystal ball.

"She's doing a similar spell to the one I use," Jocelyn was saying, "Except more violent. She's ripping apart London, using a combination of her magic and the magic of London to find the Professor's magic. The Professor is so much more powerful than anyone else, he'd usually be easy to find. But she knows he's enchanted, so its taking her longer."

"Didn't take you very long," Turk pointed out.

Jocelyn grinned. "Oh, well that's because I had a very good teacher." She smiled over at Martin. Martin looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"All right," he heard Sarah say after a brief pause. "So she's building up magic to target the Prof. Just how far can she go?"

"Very far," Donald replied. "London is full of magic. All sorts of magic, or so the history books say. So many feet have trod these paths. So many lives have been lived in this city. London is bursting with power. And if it all gets built up, it can turn into something…well, something terrible."

"You mean it can destroy the city," Dan said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"There's a high chance," Donald replied.

There was a rather awful pause.

"Anything we can do about it?" Sarah asked at last.

Jocelyn rubbed her forehead. "I might be able to mislead her to somewhere else until she gets tired and can't do any more searching. It'll give us a little time. But I'll need your help."

"You have it," Sarah said instantly. The others nodded earnestly.

Outside the storm rumbled. Martin sighed. He was starting to get a headache. This was turning into the craziest twenty-four hours he had ever lived through. First all this nonsense about him being some legendary old wizard and now the nutters were onto a fresh delusion. One storm and they were banging on about Morgana and the magic of London. They all needed a really good psychiatrist, the lot of them.

He glanced sideways at Arthur. Arthur didn't seem so bad. Certainly less bonkers than the rest of them, though considering he thought he was the King of the Britons from the 6th century, that really didn't say much. "I need to get out of here," Martin said to him.

Arthur glanced at him. "Merlin, you can't. Morgana will find you."

"I don't," Martin said through gritted teeth, "Fucking care. Please. I just. Just for a bit. Please."

Arthur wavered, which was interesting. Martin had assumed he was made of stronger stuff. Maybe when it came to 'Merlin', he wasn't.

"Please," he tried again, more softly.

Arthur cracked. "We need to go outside," he announced to the others.

He was treated with a variety of sarcastic looks. "Whatever," said Turk.

"Dream on," said Dan, and flashed Martin a toothy grin.

"You can't," said Sarah. "She'll find you in seconds!"

Arthur approached them. "We can at least purchase some food for the day," he said aloud, then muttered something to Sarah that Martin didn't catch. Whatever it was, it worked - Sarah hesitated, then glanced over at Martin.

"Shite," she said.

In the end, they would only allow the two of them out of the building if Turk put his strongest invisibility charm on Martin and Dan worked his own magic on him. He sat Martin down and said firmly, "You will not move from Arthur's side for anything. You will not use any type of magic. You will do whatever Arthur says," and Martin felt the same pull inside him, a tug that forced him to obey the brat, and he could do nothing to fight it.

He didn't talk to Arthur until they had moved off the streets into a small, nearby park. The sky was grey, black and thunderous, but there was no rain. Arthur kept flashing it nervous looks, but said nothing. There weren't many people in the park, but the ones who were weren't look at Martin - their eyes just seemed to slide off the space he was in. He suspected Turk's charm was working.

"All right," Martin said, once they were properly walking around the park. "What did you say to Goth Girl to let me go?"

Arthur frowned. "Goth Girl?"

"Oh, right," said Martin. "Sorry. Sarah. That's my nickname for her."

"You have nicknames for us?"

"Stop dodging the question, Blondie."

Arthur frowned, then grinned. "I told her I might be able to get through to the old Merlin if we were left alone for a bit."

"Right, so you lied," said Martin.

Arthur gave him a long look. "Not necessarily," he said.

They went to a Tescos and bought all kinds of junk food, then sat on a park bench and went through their hoard while the sky darkened above them.

"You bought four packs of cheese and onion crisps?!" Martin yelped when he examined Arthur's spoils.

"I like cheese and onion," Arthur replied defensively.

Martin rolled his eyes. He had turned his back on Arthur for a second in the supermarket and when he had looked again, Arthur had been holding up bottles of ketchup and salad cream and sniffing them suspiciously. If he was pretending he was from the past, he was very good at it.

"I prefer salt and vinegar," he said, for something to say. But Arthur had suddenly glazed over again, his face losing all its expression, and Martin didn't know what to say. It had happened before, when he had been eating his way through cereal earlier, and he hadn't known how to respond then either.

It was Arthur who broke the silence. "Martin," he said. "Tell me about your life."

Martin frowned. "Why? You don't even think it exists."

Arthur's eyes swept the grey sky again. "Just…tell me," he said.

Martin looked pensively at his sausage roll for a bit. "Uh," he said. It seemed a bit odd to be describing his whole life to this madman. "Well. I've lived in Fulham all my life…"

Arthur crunched on a crisp, losing his blank expression almost instantly. "Fool - ham?"

"Fulham," Martin corrected. "It's - it's like an area in London. I lived there with my parents and my sister when I was a kid."

Arthur blinked. "Sister?"

"Freya. She studies, uh. S-somewhere far away, I can't really - "

Martin cut himself off, a chill going up his spine. Why couldn't he remember where Freya was? He remembered her, her pale face and dark hair and sweet smile. He remembered he cared for her. But where was she now?

"You don't talk to her much?" Arthur asked. He sounded odd.

"No," Martin said. "Uh."

"Or your parents?"

"No…" Martin glanced at Arthur. He was staring at Martin intensely, with a similar look that the other group had had on their faces. It made Martin want to start running and never stop, and then he remembered he couldn't do it because he had been commanded not to, and his irritation doubled. "Look what does it matter?" he snapped. "So I don't talk to my family much, so what? Plenty of people do that."

Something gentled in Arthur's expression "It matters because they don't exist," he said. "None of them do. Because you're not Martin, you're - "

"Merlin, yes, I know, I know," Martin snarled. "Do you even know how insane that sounds? You think I'm not me, but I have all these memories. I remember the first time I rode a bike, I remember going to uni, I remember meeting friends and travelling, I even remember my first job in a newsagents - I just, I remember everything and then you turn up and you tell me it's all lies, it's all made up and actually I'm this person from legend?"

He took a quick breath in. The sky above them rumbled.

"Morgana did this," Arthur said at last. "It was Morgana."

Martin rubbed his head. "For god's sake. Morgan's formidable, but she's not a fucking sorceress."

"Then tell me - how did you meet?"

"We - I - I don't know, we just knew people in common I guess - it doesn't matter!"

Arthur looked at him, so fiercely that Martin couldn't help but meet his gaze. "You keep saying that," Arthur said. "That it doesn't matter."

His eyes were very blue. Annoyingly blue. Bit like the rest of him. "It doesn't," Martin replied.

"It does." Arthur was staring straight at him, and suddenly Martin was aware of how little space there was between them. "She's taken Merlin from me and I want him back."

Martin swallowed, then met Arthur's eyes. "Well you won't get him from me," he said.

"Really," said Arthur, like it was a challenge, and then leaned forward and touched Martin's cheek with his fingers.

Martin's heart skipped a beat twice - once when Arthur's fingertips touched his skin and then a second time when he looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the same eyes…but in another place. In another time. And they were dimmed and growing dimmer, and he was cradling that face in his arms and shouting, but no amount of shouting could do any good, Arthur was slipping away and those eyes were closing and and and -

"No!" Martin shouted and rocked backwards. Arthur jerked back in the opposite direction, and the sky above them howled suddenly in warning.

Martin leapt off the bench but couldn't seem to go any further. Then he remembered Dan's command and swore colourfully, and stayed where he was. The grief, that same overpowering grief he had felt in his dream earlier that day, rolled through him, making him gasp and bend over, clapping his hands to his knees and trying to breathe.

When he looked up, Arthur was kneeling beside him, face completely white. "I'm sorry," he said. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He was very carefully not touching him. Martin took in a shuddering breath, and then another one. "It's Martin," he said weakly.

Arthur's face crumpled a little. It was the first time Martin had seen it. "I wish it was you, Merlin," he said.

Martin straightened, feeling oddly hurt. "I don't want to - " he started, but then the sky screamed, really screamed, screamed like a woman could, and they both ducked under the sound.

"What the fuck was that?" Martin said. "No seriously, what the fuck - !"

Arthur had gone pale all over again. He seized Martin's sleeve. "Run," he said.

They ran.

The entire group looked as terrified as Arthur felt when they finally slammed their way into the HQ. Arthur was trembling so violently, he knew he was shaking Merlin's sleeve. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but at the same time Sarah met his eyes, her own wide and wet, and he was breathless in horror all over again.

"No," he said.

"Arthur," she said. "I'm sorry. But Morgana's enchantment - if it gets any stronger - "

"No," Arthur snapped. "You can't - not when we've just found him!"

"It's not him!" Sarah shouted, and there were tears going down her cheeks now, blackened from her heavy mascara. "It's some kid called Martin, it's not even him we're protecting, Arthur!"

"It is," Arthur gritted out. "I was getting through, I know I was getting through, if we had more time - "

"We don't," Jocelyn interrupted calmly. "I'm sorry, Arthur. But if she goes any further, London will fall apart."

Arthur shook his head. "She wouldn't do that. She'd destroy herself as well."

"Arthur," Donald said. His eyes were dim. "When you last saw her, did she strike you as a sane woman?"

The last time Arthur had seen Morgana, Merlin had killed her. She had been gloating, eyes black with revenge, dressed in rags and wild hair. There had been nothing of the old Morgana left. She had not been his sister.

And then he imagined what a Morgana hundreds of years in the future would be like.

He glanced over at Merlin, who was white and shaking. He remembered what Merlin would do in this situation, what he had always done - he would give the person a choice.

"Well?" Arthur said. "What do you want, Merlin?"

Merlin stared at him. His eyes were Merlin's eyes - somehow both young and terribly old at the same time - but the expression in them was all Martin's.

He looked at Arthur as if he was scared of him.

"I want to go home," he said.

"You are home," Arthur replied quietly.

There was an awkward silence. Merlin shook his head slowly. "No," he said.

"Arthur," Jocelyn said quietly. "We have to let him go."

Arthur stared despairingly at Merlin. All those years, he thought. All those years he had waited, watching Merlin from across the water that separated them. Yet now when Merlin was a mere hand's breadth away, he was somehow even further from Arthur than he had ever been before.

"I waited so long," he said, and was surprised to find the words come out in a sort of croak. He felt his vision blur and blinked hastily.

Merlin's face was one of absolute pity. "I'm sorry," he was saying. "It's just - it's not me. All right?"

Arthur said nothing.

"I'm Martin Earlton," said Merlin. "And I want to go home now."

Arthur blinked down. He was still clutching hold of Merlin's sleeve. He let it go.

From behind him, Sarah whispered something, and the door to the HQ opened. "I'd advise not going to the cops about this," she said airily. "They won't find us and you'll get done for wasting their time. But I'm sure - " And then she choked a little on the words and had to cough before forcing the rest out. "I'm sure you're clever enough to work that out anyway."

Merlin showed no signs of having heard her. His eyes were on Arthur's. He backed towards the door slowly.

"Goodbye," he said to Arthur.

Arthur said nothing. Merlin left.

The group behind him seemed to let out collective gasps and sighs. Arthur stayed staring at the door.

Merlin had never said goodbye to him before. Even when Arthur had been dying, they'd never said goodbye.

Outside the windows, the storm started to dissipate.