Arthur sat in the uncomfortable chair, wishing he could just leave this gods awful room.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

This was the tenth time the woman –Dr. Lacy Quinn– asked Arthur the question.

"I told you," Arthur began, but was cut off. Again.

"That you're not from this world," Dr. Quinn finished with annoyance. "Yeah, you and half the population. Now let's do this one more time." She leaned down, putting the weight of her arms on the table in front of Arthur, "What. Happened. To your boyfriend?"

Arthur frowned, but didn't say anything else. He already told her everything; he was Prince Arthur of Camelot, he and his manservant Merlin were sent to this place by a sorcerer named Lolloc, and all Arthur wanted was Merlin better and the both of them to go back home.

When it was clear Arthur wouldn't speak again, Dr. Quinn huffed out her frustration.

"Listen, Arthur," she said his name like she didn't believe it was genuine, "Your boyfriend got out of surgery just a few minutes ago. Tell the truth and you can see him." She leaned forward, her hair casting a shadow on her face, which only made her seem more threatening. "But lie to me again and I'll throw you in jail where you will never see your boyfriend ever again."

"I told you the truth," Arthur said, begging her to understand. Jail didn't sound like a good thing. It sounded far too similar to dungeons. "Please believe me!"

Dr. Quinn threw her hands up in the air, her face showing exhaustion.

"You're tired?"Arthur wanted to shout at her. "I've been in here for what must been hours with no food, no drink, and no idea what the hell is going on! Did you see your best friend betray you? Did he then go and die on you in this strange, mad world? No! You don't have a right to be tired!"

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Quinn proposed tensely, "Let's start with something else, shall we? Why are your prints no in A.D.S.T.G.?"

Arthur looked at her with what he's sure is the most confused and pathetic visage to ever grace his face, let alone mankind. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Stop!" A man barged into the room, flashing some sort of paper. "John Smith, lawyer. You need to stop harassing my client and let him go immediately."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Quinn looked positively flabbergasted. Arthur enjoyed that look.

"You heard me. John Smith, lawyer," he pointed at himself, then turned his finger towards Arthur. "Arthur Pendragon, client."

Arthur's smile slipped; he felt his caution rise up like a wall. How did this man know his name?

Dr. Quinn raised one of her strangely precise (and thin) eyebrows. "Oh? Then tell me, John Smith, why is this man not in A.D.S.T.G.?"

"Hmm?"

"A.D.S.T.G.," Dr. Quinn smirked. "Alien DNA Sequences Throughout the Galaxy."

Arthur looked at the man, his savior, with big eyes.

"Oh! A.D.S.T.G. Yes, yes. Alien DNA…" the strange man waved his hands exaggeratedly. "That thing. Well, the answer's simple really." He paused, looking around the room with excitement. Bringing up his hands, again, to do this strange gesticulation that had him spreading out both arms entirely, he said, "Witness protection."

"Witness protection?" From the way Dr. Quinn's eyebrows furled hesitantly, Arthur felt hope well up within him. Maybe he could get out of here after all!

John Smith nodded. He put his hands up to his chest, holding the strange strips of cloth (that could apparently stretch) in both hands and looking quite smug. He crossed his feet, which was a strange thing to do, especially when standing up, but Arthur wasn't going to say anything.

"Okay then. What about his clothing? Why is your client wearing armor?" Dr. Quinn crossed her arms, her eyes daring John Smith to falter.

"Oh that one's even easier. Cosplay." More hand gestures were involved.

Again, Dr. Quinn repeated John Smith's explanation with a combination of distain and uncertainty: "Cosplay?"

"Oh, most definitely. Now, seeing as I answered your questions, I'm going to take my client up to see his friend–"

"Boyfriend," Dr. Quinn interrupted.

John Smith cocked his head. "Boyfriend?" He looked at Arthur, saying, mostly to himself, "Hmm, so Merlin's a western door, eh? Well, good for him!"

Realizing that both Dr. Quinn and Arthur were staring at him, John Smith, gave a fleeting smile, grabbed Arthur by the arm, and said, "Cheerio! Call me if you need me."

They walked down the corridor briskly.

"Th-Thank you," Arthur said sincerely, allowing his "lawyer" (whatever that is) to steer him towards the stairs.

John Smith grinned. "Oh, it was nothing. I owe Merlin a few favors anyway."

"Wait," Arthur dug his heels in, forcing them both to stop. "You know Merlin? How?"

"That's a question you should ask him," John Smith told Arthur, not unkindly.

Arthur shook his head. "He… He lied to me. He betrayed me."

"Then why are you still here?" There was something in John Smith's tone that told Arthur he knew exactly why Arthur was still here.

"Because… Because I don't know the world out there!" Arthur pointed at one of the walls. "I don't know what's going on at all!"

John Smith tutted. "Oh, Arthur don't sell yourself short. You know where we are."

Arthur blinked. "W-What? No I don't!"

The look Arthur received wasn't disappointing like his father's, or slightly annoyed like Merlin's, but…somewhere in between.

"Merlin's home," Arthur whispered, his eyes downcast. "That's what Lolloc said. He'd take us to Merlin's home. And once there, we wouldn't be able to stop him." Hesitantly, Arthur looked up, "We're in the future, aren't we?"

John Smith nodded as if it weren't a big deal. "And I'm sure there more to it than that, isn't there?" John Smith prompted, smiling patiently.

More than not wanting to be stuck in the future by myself? Arthur wanted to ask bitingly.

He wanted to ask…to hide the fact that it was true. There was more to it, yet how this man knew, Arthur had no idea.

"And…" Arthur swallowed nervously, trying to articulate the words to this complete stranger. "And I want…" He couldn't say it. Arthur, the Prince of Camelot and Slayer of the Great Dragon and a thousand other useless titles, couldn't say a few simple words.

"And you want to make sure Merlin was okay," John Smith finished for him kindly. "You want him to live."

Hearing the words, regardless of them being in a stranger's mouth, Arthur's throat suddenly felt very dry. "Yeah," he said quietly.

"Tell you what," John Smith proposed. "I'll escort you up there, to Merlin's room, and, so long as you promise to tell him exactly why you chose to stay, that you wanted to make sure he would be okay," he reminded, as if Arthur has already forgotten, "I'll fix that little blip about the A.D.S.T.G. How's that sound?"

"I…" Arthur bit his lip. "I still have no idea what that means. Or how you even know who I am. Or how you know Merlin."

"Oh, don't worry yourself with it." John Smith waved his hands about some more. He became serious. "Do you promise?"

Arthur's throat was still painfully dry; he licked his lips.

"…Yes."