AS GWEN TURNED the key in the lock and opened the door, a number of multi-coloured rose petals, scattered across the floor, were whisked from one end of the room to the other due to the breeze she'd let in.

Gillyflowers (her favourite!) were placed on all the windowsills and on the arms of the couch.

In the center of the living room stood a box almost as tall as she was, and twice as wide, all wrapped up in glossy, shimmering silver-and-red paper, with a big puffy red bow on the top.

Setting her keys down on the table, Gwen put a hand to her mouth. What was all this?

She took off the tan baret she was wearing over her dark, curly hair, setting it down beside her keys, and went over to the box and started unwrapping it.

Inside, there was a slightly smaller box, also wrapped up in fancy paper.

Box followed box, protected by scores of red tissue paper as well, until the room was full of boxes and wrapping paper and tissue paper. Finally, there was only one box left: a small blue velvet one, the sort that held a ring.

Oh my God, thought Gwen, tears of joy and excitement filling her brown eyes. He's going to propose! I'm getting married!

But, strangely enough, when she gently popped open the blue velvet box, she saw there was nothing inside. What in the world...?

A voice behind her said, "You have to say yes first."

Gwen whirled around to see Lancelot standing in the far corner of the room, having been hidden, watching her the entire time, holding a big diamond ring between his thumb and index finger.

After moving to Canada, Guinevere and Lancelot had been unexpectedly reunited and had been dating for almost three years now. She couldn't believe he was finally proposing, asking her to marry him! Part of her felt a little guilty, though, knowing full well that she had -even that very morning- carefully checked over every piece of change she gotten back from the corner store, looking in particular for five pound notes, just to see if Arthur's number was on any of them.

Well, it didn't matter. Arthur was never going to happen. She'd been looking for that five pound note for five years and nothing had come of it. Through her own empty-headed belief that fate would work everything out, she'd lost Arthur. And she wasn't going to lose Lancelot the same way. She was going to marry him and live happy with him for the rest of her life. She loved Lancelot, after all, and she'd barely known Arthur, having only met him that once. Maybe that was fate's real answer. Perhaps it had wanted her with Lancelot all along. Not Arthur. She could have been meant to lose him in that elevator five years ago... Then again, she wasn't sure she really believed in fate much these days. She and Lancelot were together by coincidence, in part, but also because they worked at their relationship; it wasn't always smiles and roses. Just most of the time it happened to be. And was that so wrong?

"Yes, of course." Gwen ran over to him.

Lancelot took her hand and tried to put the ring on her finger, except it turned out to be too small.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

"Oh, sorry." Lancelot winced. The ring had only gotten as far as her second knuckle. "You're not going to read anything into this, right Gwen? I mean, it's just an honest mistake."

She shook her head. "No, of course not! We'll get it re-sized tomorrow." She kissed him on the cheek. "It's beautiful."

Lancelot grinned and gently pulled away from her. "I'm going to call Elyan, tell him you said yes."

"Why?" Gwen laughed. "Was he worried?"

"Well, not so much about you as about the party he's throwing for us tonight," Lancelot chuckle-explained. "If you had declined my offer of marriage, I fear poor Elyan would have had a very laborious lists of guests to uninvite."

"In that case, you can reassure Elyan," said Gwen, all smiles, "that there's absolutely no need to worry."

"Wonderful." Lancelot sighed happily. "How do you feel about Italy for our honeymoon?"

"It sounds very romantic," Gwen said, blushing and playing with the diamond ring on her knuckle.

"You've made me so happy, Guinevere," Lancelot felt he had to tell her.

"And you've made me so happy," Gwen said back. "You are everything that is right in this world. I had no idea... I didn't even know I could feel this way about someone."

Before running off to call Elyan and let him know he could put his mind at ease, Lancelot pulled Gwen back to him and kissed her once more, this time on the mouth.

ARTHUR THOUGHT HE was going insane. Completely, off his head, out of his mind, no kidding, madhouse ahoy, hell frozen over, insane.

He was supposed to be getting ready for his wedding to Mithian and everything -literally everything- was reminding him of Guinevere. She might as well have been a ghost, because she was seriously haunting him; every place he went, everything he did.

Gwen was bloody everywhere!

First, somebody paged for a Gwen over the intercom at the hospital, where they'd ended up having to take Gwaine after an unfortunate incident at the bachelor party (long story). Arthur had looked at the reception desk for her arrival, in spite of himself, thinking it just might be her. His Gwen. The Gwen whose copy of The Mists of Avalon he'd never been able to find. But, no, it was a rather large woman who reminded him of Merlin's friend Mary from downstairs.

Then he went to get his hair cut the following morning, half asleep in the chair from having been up all night, and some new girl came flouting in, saying that his usual barber was out for the day, but she was there and was just going to give him a quick trim so he'd look extra spruced up for his wedding. Arthur was fine with that... Until she said her name was Gwen. Suddenly he was jumping out of the chair, blurting out something about how he didn't want his hair to be too short in the pictures, how he and Mithian had to live with those pictures for the rest of their lives after all, showing them to the grandchildren and all that rot.

But even after he fled from Gwen the hairdresser, there was no escape.

He was in a taxi, stuck in traffic, with some totally weird, scruffy fellow on a bike overloaded with various tassels, bells, and horns, complete with a wicker basket on the handles and a nameplate that read TRICKLER in big capitol letters just belting out Heather Dale's The Trial of Lancelot like he was trying to out-sing the ghost of Whitney Huston.

"I'll die in love with GUINEVERE...!" scream-sang Trickler at the top of his lungs, bobbing his head like it was a rock or rap song, which was weird considering it was actually a very soft, folksy sort of tune...

And it wasn't like Arthur could just ignore him, since he was banging along with the soft beat of the music, drumming his fingers on the side of the taxi which he was pulled right up next to, completely ignoring the driver who kept honking the horn at him.

Looking out the window at the crazy wannabe bard/jester/rapper, Arthur made a face of total disgust, then told the driver to please for the love of God take an alternate route.

Poor though he now was, he didn't care if he had to pay extra. It would be worth it to get away from the nagging doubts that perhaps Merlin was right. That maybe he shouldn't be marrying Mithian.

Stupid Merlin. This was all his fault. Everything had been perfectly all right until he opened his big mouth and said Gwen's name in the toast!

GWEN WAS ENJOYING the party her brother Elyan had arranged for her, but she wished Lancelot would hang out more with her and her friends instead of going off to talk to his band-mates in the new-age music group he was in. She understood that it was important to him, but this was all set up by her brother, and most of her friends were here, if only Lancelot would be willing to spend a little more time with them. But he was always too busy being noble, rescuing his band-mates, or their distant family members a hundred times removed, from this or that impeding doom. It was always something.

So, instead of spending this celebratory party with her fiance, she was basically just sitting around talking with her best girlfriend Sefa, a quiet mousy girl who went to the nearby university, at a table, sipping a drink, just like they might do in her kitchen any other day.

A beautiful, dark haired girl in a tan trenchcoat with a crest that looked like a black panther with wings on the right-hand sleeve walked up to their table, looking a little disorientated, like she wasn't sure she was even at the right party. "There you are, Sefa."

"Oh, Gwen," said Sefa, getting up and standing next to the girl. "This is Freya Lake. She's a friend from the university. I hope you don't mind my inviting her."

"No, not at all," Gwen said quickly, reaching out to shake her hand. "Lovely to meet you. I'm Guinevere Leondegrance."

"The bride to be," Freya commented.

"That's right."

"Where's the groom?"

"Oh, Lancelot's off somewhere." Gwen rolled her eyes.

"I know how you feel." Freya looked down. "I hardly ever see my husband."

Gwen looked puzzled.

"He lives in England," Sefa explained, putting an arm around Freya consolingly. "She's here for classes, but he couldn't come with her. He's taking care of an elderly mentor and he's going to be the best man at a wedding really soon. There's no chance of him even coming out for a visit for several months at least."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Gwen, deeply sympathetic.

Freya shrugged sadly. "It's not your fault. Sometimes I think I should have never left. I could have stayed with him, but I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, even if it kept us apart."

"Well, I don't know if it'll help, but go ahead and have a free drink at the bar, on me," Gwen offered.

"Where is the bar?" Freya asked.

The room was packed, not to mention kind of smokey, as if someone had accidentally left a fog machine running; it was hard to pin-point exact locations.

"Sefa, why don't you show her?"

"Sure." Her arm still around Freya, she pulled her away. "Come along. They have some of the best wines and cocktails I've ever tasted."

"Enjoying your party, Gwen?" Elyan came up behind her, his arm around his girlfriend Lamia, a dark haired, snaky-eyed girl.

"Yes, this is wonderful, Elyan," Gwen told him.

"You are happy, then?"

"Very. Father would be so proud of you." They had lost their father shortly after Gwen's one and only meeting with Arthur, those five years ago. "You do so much for me. Some would say too much."

"It's my pleasure," Elyan assured her sweetly.

"You know he's only being nice because he wants you to let us house-sit for you while you and Lancelot go jetting off to a thousand and one places, wedding planning and then straight to Italy for your honeymoon," Lamia cut in, only half joking.

Elyan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Lamia. You know, I was going to ask her when she was drunk."

"There's no need for that," Gwen laughed. "I would be delighted if you both wanted to spend some time at my house while Lancelot and I were away. Better than it just being empty. And we needed someone to take in our mail anyway."

"Woo-hoo!" cheered Elyan, pumping his fist in the air.

Lamia let go of his arm, spun around twice, apparently quite giddy, and hugged him excitedly.

Watching her brother and Lamia rush off, all happy about house-sitting, their guest of honour temporarily forgotten, Gwen noticed that Sefa had left some money on the table.

This included a five pound note.

Could it be?

She knew she shouldn't check, but she did.

And there was nothing. It wasn't the note she'd had Arthur write down his number on.

Part of her was a little relieved, but also sad at the same time. Would she always be asking herself What If?

ARTHUR SCRAMBLED UP the stairs to Merlin's flat. The door wasn't locked, so there was no need to get out his keys; he turned the knob and let himself in.

Unfortunately, he was met with a rather disturbing sight. No, it wasn't anything important -like their toaster, fridge, or newly installed water filter- being repossessed (that had happened before); it was far, far worse.

Gaius and Merlin were doing karaoke.

They had gotten the blasted machine hooked up to the television (although Arthur had repeatedly lied and said it was impossible, totally and absolutely incompatible with their telly model, just so they wouldn't) and were singing Don't Go Breaking My Heart.

Or, rather, Gaius was just saying the lyrics in a dull monotone voice, like he was reciting an extremely dry poem, and Merlin was the only one actually singing.

"Don't go breaking my heart," Merlin sang, holding out the microphone to Gaius as the colour on the screen changed, indicating a duet.

"I...couldn't if...I...tried," Gaius read, squinting.

Merlin pushed a button that made the lit up lyrics a little bigger and easier to read. "Oh, honey if I get restless..."

"Baby, you're not that kind." Gaius was still squinting, but he was getting a bit more into it, at least, sort of nodding his head to the music.

"Oooooowhoooooo," Merlin belted out. "Nobody knows it..."

Arthur, watching, horrified, in the doorway, shut the door behind himself and announced, "And this is why I can't bring people over."

"Arthur." Merlin turned off the music and handed Gaius the microphone. "You're early. I thought you'd be out all day."

"You didn't get a haircut," added Gaius, stating the obvious as he tossed the microphone aside onto the futon behind him.

Folding his arms across his chest, Arthur snapped, "I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown, so if you're quite finished, Merlin, I need to talk to you." He glanced at Gaius. "Alone. Sorry, Gaius."

"I can see when I'm not wanted." Gaius grabbed his coat and walked out of the flat.

"So, what's wrong?" asked Merlin, once they were alone.

"Kitchen," said Arthur, walking over that way. "I think I need to sit down."

Sitting down at the kitchen table, Arthur had hoped he would feel more at ease, but he didn't. Not really. Everything was still seriously a mess. Guinevere was still everywhere. Even just looking at Merlin as he took a seat across from him was reminding him of Gwen. He'd met them both on the same night.

"All right," said Merlin, somewhat mock-seriously. "I'm here to help you with your quarter-life crisis. Let's begin with some psychoanalyst." He held up an imaginary clipboard and cleared his throat dramatically. "And how do you feel about that, Mr. Pendragon?"

Arthur frowned. "Merlin, what've we said about you trying to be funny?"

"I shouldn't." He smiled sheepishly.

"Now, back to the problem at hand."

"Which is?"

"Guinevere."

"What about her?"

"Only that's she's everywhere!" He threw up his hands in exasperation.

Merlin's forehead crinkled. "What?"

"She was at the hospital," Arthur began, "she's a big girl now, like Mary. Then I have to make do without a haircut because Gwen's going to cut my hair. Next thing I know, I'm in a taxi, being serenaded about dying in love with Guinevere!"

"Arthur." Merlin reached across the table and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You realize there are medications you can take to get rid of these paranoid delusions."

Arthur shrugged his hand away. "I'm telling you, Merlin, the universe keeps revealing her to me. It's like my life is stuck on auto-play and it keeps going over the same bit until I want to throw myself off a bridge!"

"Don't do that," Merlin advised him. "That would be messy."

"Thanks for that," Arthur snapped sarcastically, "because I was literally about to call an information hotline and ask for the location of the nearest bridge."

"All right, all right. But what about Mithian?"

"I don't know." Arthur shook his head. "All I do know, is I have got to find Guinevere, if only to reassure myself she's not everything I'm remembering. And I can't do it alone. I can't order you, as my best man, to help me find another girl so soon before my wedding, but I can't do this alone. I need your help. Can I count on it?"

"Yeah." Merlin nodded, half-smiling encouragingly. "I'm in."

"Great." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get started."