AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Man, these in between the action chapters are hard to write. This one bugged me. I'm still not sure that I really like it.

Disclaimer: Pizza has two Z's. Add two more and it turns into pizzazz.

Merlin gasped, and his eyes popped open. He had stretched his magic far. He had seen crazy things; green eyes and blue eyes, burning with anger and hatred. He had seen twisting vines and flashes of light. He had seen explosions and water. He had felt heat and cold and wind. And blackness… so much black, black anger.

Merlin panted heavily. Something hot and wet trickled down his chin. Merlin wiped his face. His fingers came away bloody. His nose was bleeding. Merlin sniffed. That had happened a few times when he had really stressed himself and his magic. The vibranium walls had drained his reserves of energy.

Merlin stood up stiffly and washed himself at the sink. He sat on the bed and rubbed his aching back and ribs. He had searched for hours for even just the beginning of those visions.

Merlin pressed his fingers against his temples. The visions he had seen were so confusing. He… he even sort wished that he had his seeing crystal. At least he would have seen more. He could deal with the nightmares if he knew he could stop the catastrophe that was going to happen.

Merlin swallowed and carefully lay back on the bed. His ribs were healing quickly. It appeared his magic (which oftentimes seemed to have a mind of its own) was speeding up the healing process. Usually, the Old Religion left him to his devices when it came to injuries. Something big must be coming if the Old Religion was speeding his healing.

Merlin stared at the ceiling. He hoped that the Avengers (or at least Captain Rogers, Black Widow and Vision) would believe him. He had been alone for centuries. He had stayed hidden, kept away from close friendships, because eventually, his friends always left him behind.

Merlin was done hiding. He figured that if… when Arthur came again (Freya had told him that the time was approaching) Merlin would come to an end. Go back to Avalon with Freya and Arthur. But that time was not yet. Unless the person who was opening the door was coming inside to kill him.

Merlin didn't move as Bruce Banner stepped into the room. He was carrying a small plastic box, which he set on the floor. Merlin sat up. Bruce smiled. "I've come to check on your injuries," Bruce said. "Do you mind taking off your shirt?"

Merlin shook his head and carefully removed his shirt, tugging the sleeve over the bandage on his shoulder. Merlin dropped the shirt on the bed as Bruce changed the bandage on Merlin's bullet hole, and examined his ribs, where purple bruises were fading to yellow and light green.

"You're healing extraordinarily quickly," Bruce noted.

Merlin nodded. He didn't much care what he told the Avengers now. His secret was out. If the Avengers chose not to believe him, that was their problem. They couldn't hold him forever.

"My magic does that sometimes," Merlin told Bruce.

Bruce seemed intrigued. "Your… magic acts by itself?"

Merlin nodded an affirmative. "Sometimes, when the Old Religion senses something bad is coming, I'll get strange visions and such. The Old Religion is preparing me for what's coming."

Bruce frowned. "Steve told us that you told him that something bad was coming. Can you elaborate?"

Merlin sighed and rubbed his aching ribs. "Not much. I saw a few things… random, disjointed images, but nothing concrete."

Bruce handed Merlin a water bottle and a pain pill. "Swallow that," he instructed. When Merlin had finished, Bruce asked if he could sit down. Merlin nodded, and Bruce sat on the bed next to Merlin. Bruce was so curious.

"Your magic… has it always been so… volatile?" Bruce asked. "Steve also told me about the things you did, and how you nearly blacked out."

Merlin considered. Did he consider his magic volatile? At times, definitely. Especially when he was young. "Sort of," Merlin explained. "It was much harder when I was a child, but I gained more control over it as I got older."

"When you were a child? How long have you had your magic? Doesn't magic have to be learned, chosen?"

Merlin chuckled. "Magic chose me. I've always had my powers. My mother told me that I used them the day I was born. Just bursts of light and heat mostly, when I was young. Concussive blasts. Things got more complicated as I aged."

Bruce frowned. Having to rein in so much power at such a young age must've been terrifying. A thousand times more powerful than the tesseract. "Did you ever wonder if you were a monster?" Bruce asked. The question had started out as a thought, and popped out of Bruce's mouth before he could stop it.

Merlin seemed surprised by the question. Finally, he nodded. "Many times."

Nothing more was said. Bruce stood. He wasn't sure if Marc—Merlin—knew if he was the Hulk. Having access to the power of the earth… that was probably very stressful. Understatement, Bruce thought as he left the room, nodding to Merlin on the way out. Maybe even Hulk-level stressful.

Bruce still hadn't pieced together all the facts, but he liked going over things one bit at a time, to make sure that he understood all of it. There would definitely be more visits to Merlin (goodness that sounded so strange) in the future.

Merlin watched as Bruce Banner walked out the door. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the man. Merlin didn't know much about Bruce Banner. He knew that Banner studied gamma radiation, but that was pretty much the extent of Merlin's knowledge.

But why was Bruce Banner with the Avengers? Merlin thought for a minute. The only Avenger whose identity was unknown to the public was the Hulk. Why…?

Oh, thought Merlin. That explains things.

Bruce Banner was the Hulk.*

That would explain the questions, and the willingness to believe Merlin's story. Bruce Banner had undoubtedly seen some strange things in his time. He was the Hulk after all. Most likely, anyway.

Merlin pondered for a minute longer. He decided that he liked Dr. Banner. Merlin also decided that he was bored. He wished that someone else would come in.

His wish was granted immediately. Merlin looked up in surprise.

Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. They stepped inside and closed the door. "Hey, look, I'm sorry that I shot you," Natasha mumbled, looking at the floor. "I was just… stressed about Clint. He's my best friend."

Merlin nodded. "Okay. Was there anything else that you wanted?"

Natasha sat against the wall and Steve stood with his hands folded. They were both dressed in street clothes. "I want you to tell Steve and me your story. Start from the beginning, and just… tell us what you can."

"All right," Merlin said. He was fine with telling his story. He hadn't ever really told anyone the full scale of it; he probably never would. There was just too much to tell.

So Merlin highlighted the story, explaining how it had been his destiny to bring magic to Albion. He explained how he had ultimately succeeded, even at the heartbreaking expense of Arthur's death. Camelot, and Albion with it, had flourished in the era of magical peace. Things had begun to fall apart after Gwen died.

Since there was no heir, the throne was fought over and Camelot nearly fell into a civil war. Merlin had attempted to resolve it, but to no avail. So he had disappeared into the shadows. He had watched sadly as Albion fell into ruin. The enmity between those with magic, and those without had rekindled.

And Merlin had lived on.

Natasha and Steve stayed quiet the whole time. Once Merlin was finished, Steve asked a question. "Were you Arthur's advisor, like in all the stories? Was he a kid when you met him?"

Merlin chuckled. "A child, yes. A kid, no. He was older than I. I was eighteen. He was approaching his twenty-first birthday. And I wasn't his advisor. I was his servant."

Natasha frowned. She hadn't ever heard a story where Merlin was a servant. Neither had Steve. But that would explain his position in the painting Bruce had found. No important advisor would be in the background like that.

She had brought the painting to show to Merlin. It was leaning right outside the door. Steve brought it in and showed it to Merlin. Natasha watched Merlin carefully, studying his reaction.

The hardest reaction to hide was surprise, Natasha knew. She had used the surprise tactic many times. And Merlin wasn't trying to hide anything.

Natasha saw it. There was a flash of surprise, then recognition. Merlin gently touched the paint. A spark seemed to ripple down the edge of the painting. "I remember this one. It's actually a good likeness of Arthur and the knights. One of the few."

Merlin seemed to be in his own little world. And Natasha was convinced. Mostly. There really was no way to be absolutely sure if Merlin really was who he said he was. But Natasha was excellent at seeing through lies, and the moment Merlin had seen the painting, she had known that he was telling the truth.

At least, what he thought was the truth. Perhaps the man really was crazy and actually thought that he was the Merlin.

But Natasha knew crazy. And this man was not crazy. So that meant he was telling the truth. Natasha believed him. She wasn't sure about Steve, but….

"Hey… Merlin."

Merlin looked up, startled. "Yeah?"

"I want you to know… that I… I believe you."

Steve watched Natasha curiously. He hadn't expected her to accept the story so quickly. It was pretty out there. He wondered if her experiences in the Red Room had anything to do with it.

Steve was generally good at getting a read on people as well. This guy had been a warrior. Perhaps it hadn't been a known fact back in Camelot, but Steve could tell that this guy had been in more than his fair share of fights. And not just because of the faint shadows of his scars, but the look in his eye. The way he talked. That was an aura that couldn't be faked.

"I believe you too," Steve said.

Merlin seemed dumbfounded. "You do?"

Steve and Natasha nodded.

"I don't believe that you mean any of us harm," Steve told Merlin. "Natasha and I will try to get you out of here. I want your help finding this thing that was coming. You said it was bad. I want as much help as possible to sort it out before it gets worse."

Natasha nodded. "I'd like to hear more of your story, later," she said. "It sounds interesting. And by the way, we might not be able to get you out of here for a while. I'm pretty sure that Tony is going to be a stubborn idiot when it comes to you."

Merlin nodded and watched silently as Steve and Natasha filed out. They said that they had believed him. Was it a ruse? Why would they lie? There wasn't a good reason that Merlin could think of, but his brain was a bit shot at that moment. He hadn't expected the two Avengers to actually believe him.

Merlin looked back down at the painting that Steve and Natasha had left with him. He touched the paint again, feeling its cool texture. Steve reminded Merlin of Arthur. Brave, honest, true, a leader. Merlin liked Natasha and Steve. He felt that he could trust them if something went wrong.

Merlin decided that he had made the right choice. He was going to trust the Avengers to help him sort out the problems that were coming. If only all of the Avengers believed him. He didn't want to do anything to create a rift between them.

*I think after 1500 years of learning different things, Merlin would be able to figure that out. He's a smart dude.