A Knight's Cloak, Part I

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The call came in the early evening, just as Merlin was thinking about starting dinner. The ring-tone was the general one. A stranger, then. Likely another bloody telemarketer, he reckoned.

"Hello," he answered. In the background most of the Knights were loudly debating about how much modern English they'd need to know before they could go out and chat up women, while Arthur had a one-sided dispute with the narrator of a documentary on cannons in warfare (not at all hampered by the fact he only understood one word in ten and had no idea what cannons were), and Gwen - bless her - ran the vacuum.

"Hello?" a woman's voice asked hesitantly. "Is this Mr. Martin Emmerson?"

A sinking feeling came over Merlin. "Just a moment," he said as he stuck a finger in his other ear and quickly got up and strode outside to the front step. "I'd use the common language of being a general all-around handsome bugger," he heard Gwaine assert to all and sundry as he left.

"Sorry. Yes, this is Martin Emmerson."

The woman sounded a bit dubious. "The Martin Emmerson who served with 712 Squardron at Hornchurch aerodrome during the war?"

Merlin nearly said yes, but caught himself just in time. "No, that was my grandfather."

"Oh!" the woman seemed relieved now. "I thought you sounded a bit young. But I'm glad you're a relative; I've been making ever so many calls trying to track your grandfather down. Can you give me his number?"

"Uh… that might be a little difficult."

"Oh, heavens, he hasn't passed on, has he? I mean, I know at his age it would be likely, but Dad had never heard…"

"No, no, he's alive." Sod it, Merlin cursed, why did I say that? Thinking fast, he said, "It's just that… well, he's not really in a fit state for calls, you know?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I understand. I'd hoped… but well, I won't bother you any longer."

"I could pass a message on," Merlin offered.

"Well, if you think it would be all right… It's not urgent, well, I mean, not for him or really not for anyone, it's done…and…"

Merlin took in the rambling, teary voice and the way it broke off and unconsciously hugged himself tighter, trying to convince himself it was just against the chill of the autumn air. "Ma'am? Are you still there?"

"I'm sorry. Please let your grandfather that his old friend Harry Caldwell passed away last night."

Merlin eyes shut tightly with pain and he sank down slowly to huddle on the cold stone step.

"But only if your family thinks he's strong enough," the voice continued. "I… I didn't ring you meaning to cause any problems."

"No, no, of course not," Merlin replied automatically, doing his best to reassure the tearful voice over the phone. A thought occurred to him. "Is this Thea?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Thea. Thea Dodd now. How did you know?"

"Harry… I mean, my grandfather told me how excited your father had been when you were born."

"Really?"

"Yes. During the war, wasn't it?"

"That's right. Dad had sent Mum to Canada when he found out she was expecting. To escape the Blitz, you know. I didn't get to meet him until the whole thing was over. I was nearly five."

"I remember," Merlin said without thinking and then rushed to cover himself, "I mean, I remember granddad saying that. It had made him so sad at the time, but he was grateful your father did get to see you eventually."

"I know. It was hard adjusting to having a father around when it'd been just Mum and I for so long, but then so many didn't get to meet their Dads…" Merlin had a sudden pang of sympathy for Thea quite apart from her current loss; he knew what it was like to not have a father around. He might have been just as put out if Balinor had returned when he was in some perverse childhood possessive stage. Still though, at least Harry and Thea had got their chance, and a sad smile flitted briefly across Merlin's face as he remembered the pure joy he'd felt for his friend at the time.

"I'll let you go now, Mr. Emmerson. I hope I didn't disturb your evening."

He drew himself up and swallowed hard to try and hide the wobble in his voice. "Martin, please," he corrected. "And no, of course you didn't disturb me. It's fine. I'm glad you let me know. I'll be sure to tell Granddad when I can."

"Martin, all right. And thank you. I hope your Granddad gets better, though I don't suppose the old dears do at that age, do they?"

"No, I guess not." So many lies, so much hiding even now… It's a wonder I've ever been able to get close to anyone, Merlin thought.

"Goodbye then, Martin."

"Goodbye, Thea. I'm terribly sorry for your loss. Granddad told me so many stories when I was little… well, he always made it sound like your father was a wonderful man."

"Thank you, Martin. I'm glad to know he's remembered so well. Goodbye." Sniffling gently, the grief-stricken woman suddenly rung off before Merlin could wish her goodbye again.

Something clenched in Merlin's chest and then settled heavily against his heart. Tears pricked at his eyes as he listened to the far off sound of children playing in the woods somewhere to his right.

Harry… damnit. You were the last one.

But of course that wasn't true, was it. He was the last one. He always was.

From inside the house he suddenly heard Gwaine calling out for him, "Merlin! There's a picture of beans on one of these tins you showed us! Does that mean there are beans inside?"

Merlin was unable to deal with his friends' endless needs just then. Tears making slow, burning tracks down his cheeks, he quickly walked away into the darkening evening.