7. Part 1: I've Got You
("Balinor the Dragonlord" from A Challenging Quest)
Mordred blinked at a wide expanse of swirling misty blue-gray, and realized it was the sky. He sensed his body was in motion, but he couldn't feel much, and it didn't concern him. He was being moved.
Then someone's face took up half the sky, and someone was speaking very fast, like a brook bubbling over the rocks and sticks that tried to obstruct it, urgently fluid.
"Mordred. Hey, Mordred. Can you hear me? Are you all right? Are you in any pain right now? Hold on, hold still, we're almost there. We almost made it – Arthur, your hand! No, for him…"
The movement ceased. Hands were thrust behind him, head and shoulders and neck, and he was angled upright through no volition of his own. The world swam, and he closed his eyes again – but before everything receded into nothing, he remembered how his horse had spooked and tumbled with him down the side of the mountain.
He remembered Arthur. And Merlin.
When Mordred opened his eyes again, his body was in motion, but of a different kind. Rocking, and mild distant thudding reverberations like he was still in a saddle, though his horse had surely fallen to its death, and through the fog he could see the ground too far away. The slender bare columns of trees, not numerous or close enough to be a forest or even a wood, sliding into view and passing eventually behind him, to either side.
His body leaned, tipping to one side and the further he leaned the faster he tipped and wasn't that a curious effect.
There was shouting, and he was grabbed roughly and pain whited everything out but somehow he was suspended between the sky and the earth – he'd fallen but he hadn't struck bottom-
This time? Last time?
A pair of strong arms gathered him up like scooping fish from a stream in a net, and it was Merlin's face above him – drawn with worry, but smiling to reassure.
"I've got you," he said, his voice deep as the earth. "It's all right. I've got you."
7. Part 2: I've Got You
("Sharing Secrets" and "The Sum of All Dreams" from A Once and Future Destiny)
Arthur was dreaming. In his dream, he sat at his father's desk in the executive office at Camelot Technologies, lounging back in the comfortably padded desk chair. On the cluttered desk he could see two things clearly – a framed photograph of Guinevere in a strapless white gown, smiling like she'd just won the lottery, and a glossy new brochure featuring photos of three men, grinning and confident – Percival, Gwaine, and Elyan.
He looked up as the office door opened, and Merlin sauntered in, casual and comfortable, in gray trousers and vest over a collared shirt, irreverent grin in place – though with an air of added maturity - and seated himself on the corner of the big mahogany desk. He snapped his fingers and the computer screen to Arthur's left lit up, flickered magically through a dozen images while Merlin spoke to Arthur, the impertinence of his expression sobering only partially. Behind him, the door pushed open as Leon put his head in to ask a question. Merlin answered him, turned to Arthur and said–
"Rise and shine!" The voice was wrong, somehow – deeper than Merlin's should be. Arthur forced his eyes open to blink at a blurry image of a grinning face surrounded by dark hair.
"Merlin?" he croaked.
"No, sorry. Wakey, wakey, princess."
Gwaine. "Leave me alone," Arthur grumbled, his senses awakening in spite of himself. He discovered himself face-down on the couch in Gaius' living room, his feet hanging over the far armrest. Someone grabbed his arm – his injured left arm - and tugged, sending jolts of pain through his body. He gasped and snarled, "Get the hell off me!"
Gwaine said to someone, "I have more appreciation for Merlin, now – he is surly in the morning."
"Arthur." Leon's voice. "I brought clothes for you. It's nine-thirty. Saturday morning." Arthur sighed and rolled off the couch. He felt stiff, and his shoulder ached dully. The smell of the cream Gaius had rubbed into his bruised muscles only a few hours earlier seemed a headache-inducing mix of mothballs and Old Spice.
"There's coffee, Arthur," Gaius called from the kitchen. He dragged himself to the guest half-bath under the stairs, washed and changed, but didn't feel quite himself until halfway through his second cup of coffee.
A muffled thudding sounded from the stairway, accompanied by the jingle of dog tags, and Gaius' little white Scotty darted across the room, leaped to the stool beside Arthur just as Merlin came sleepily into view.
The knights greeted him enthusiastically, which seemed to confuse him – whether because he hadn't expected them all to be there, or because the reincarnated version of their young friend who didn't remember them wasn't comfortable with so much goodwill at once, Arthur couldn't tell.
He was dressed in his green plaid pajama pants with a faded denim-colored t-shirt, which made him look even younger compared to the knights in their jeans – Leon in khaki cargo pants – than he was. He'd washed and removed his black nail polish, but the wrist-band remained in place, just down his arm from the white bandage around his bicep.
Arthur, knowing what to look for, saw the white line of the longest suicide-scar below the black leather as Merlin accepted the full mug of coffee his grandfather Gaius offered. Leon got up from the couch, followed by Percival.
Gaius unplugged the coffee maker. "What do you remember of what happened last night, Merlin?" he questioned, before turning to shift the microwave and unplug it as well.
Merlin said hesitantly to Arthur, "You were shot. We broke into the hangar to check on Camelot's drones, and the guards discovered us…" He scooped up the Scotty so he could drop down on the stool, keeping the pet curled comfortably in one arm, where it proceeded to lick and lick at his hand.
Gaius stepped closer to the refrigerator and unplugged a cell phone charger.
"Yeah," Arthur said. "Got a nice purple bruise on my shoulder blade in spite of the bulletproof vest – wanna see?" Merlin yawned and shook his head. "How do you feel – you were shot too, remember."
"I'm fine," Merlin said, with a wide almost-sincere grin. "Alive and awake."
There was a pause of silence as everyone else waited for Arthur to call Merlin on the fib. He didn't.
"What will we do about the drones now?" Leon said, eyes on Arthur.
"Well, for starters, we'll have to–" Arthur was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a sweet voice calling down the hall, "Gaius?"
"Come in, Gwen," Gaius answered, bending over beside the computer desk to unplug both the machine, and the floor lamp beside it.
She came around the corner, two dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in flat boxes balanced on her hand, and laughed at Gwaine's vocal praise, echoed more quietly – though no less gratefully – by Percival and Leon. She came to give Arthur a quick kiss and a cuddle inside the circle of his arms.
"I'm glad you're all right," she told him, her dark eyes bright with emotion. When Arthur released her, she went to hug Merlin also, reaching around his ribs to hold him tight. He looked astonished and uncomfortable, and patted her shoulder awkwardly.
" 'M fine," he mumbled. "Just a scratch." She pulled back to search his face. He forced a laugh and added by way of a joke, "I'm glad it's my left arm, anyway."
Gwen's brows drew down. "Because you're right-handed?" she said. "Does it hurt you when you use it that much?"
"No – if it was my right arm, it might've messed up Kilgarrah," Merlin answered, looked down at her.
The radio buzzed briefly, then Montgomery Gentry came into focus clearly, but softly… Didn't I burn, didn't I bleed enough for you… In the kitchen, Gaius' mug clattered and splashed coffee as he dropped it into the sink.
"Who?" Arthur asked, looking from the old physician to his grandson.
Gwaine began to laugh. "You named your tattoo?" he said.
Merlin looked up at them – all watching him – and confusion and fear spread across his face as he lifted his hand to cover the dragon tattoo hidden under the fabric of his t-shirt at shoulder and sleeve. "Merlin – who's Kilgarrah?" Arthur said.
"I don't know," Merlin said. His arms dropped away from Gwen, his hands pressing against the glass of the slider behind him.
I've faced your fears, the song on the radio whispered… Felt pain, so you won't have to…
"Arthur," Gaius said. "Kilgarrah is – was – the Great Dragon."
"How does Merlin know that?" Arthur said. He thought Merlin hadn't remembered anything – or had forgotten that he remembered. Or something.
"You'll have to ask him," Gaius said. Leaving the kitchen, he made his way to the entertainment center on the bookshelf to unplug the whole system.
"The Great Dragon," Leon said suddenly, and pointed at Merlin. "You rode out with us to fight it. We didn't expect to survive the encounter…" The former knight didn't add, Don't you remember, but they all heard the question in his voice.
Arthur thought momentarily, maybe this isn't the best time for this, as Merlin's eyes flicked from one to another like a trapped wild thing. Maybe this is the only time for this – he'll be safer if he consciously remembers his magic, rather than waiting for it to explode out of him because of an emergency.
He turned deliberately away, caught the other knights' attention, and signaled to them what he wanted, hiding the motions from Merlin with his body. Gwaine backed up to lean in the doorway of the front hall almost nonchalantly. Leon eased toward Merlin as Percival took up position in the corner to block the pane of glass in the sliding door Merlin had once walked straight through in a preoccupied rage.
Yeah, didn't I do my best/ And wasn't home here when I left?
Warily, Merlin watched them all move, until Arthur leaned close to force eye contact. "Merlin," he said softly. Two sides of one coin. "Don't you remember?"
Something flickered in those deep blue depths – Arthur glimpsed a longing so profound, a hope so faint and yet so vital – it almost left him gasping for breath. Gwen reached to touch Merlin's bare arm, and he flinched away like she'd stuck him hard with a pin. He dodged around Arthur to the other end of the kitchen counter, pale and breathing hard.
"I don't – I don't know what you mean," he choked out.
"I am King Arthur," Arthur said. "This is my Queen." Gwen smiled tremulously at the pale sorcerer, coming to stand at Arthur's side. "These are my knights of the Round Table." He gestured to the other three men.
"Why are you saying this?" Merlin whispered, cringing away from Arthur's gaze. He put his fists up beside his temples. The Montgomery Gentry song dissolved into a crescendo of static.
"Your grandfather is my court physician," Arthur continued. He hated that his words – as true as truth – hurt his friend, but… they felt so right to finally say out loud, to finally acknowledge instead of pretending for the sake of the one member of their company who didn't remember any reason to trust and befriend them. "And you – you have magic. My sorcerer."
I use it for you, Arthur – only for you… The words rang out between them, unspoken.
"Why are you saying this?" Merlin said again, raising his voice. The printer chugged like it had no paper remaining for a print job. The tv flickered as though someone was channel-surfing at top speed, with accompanying changes in volume. "Why are you making fun of me?"
Merlin was a nickname for Camelot's wizard with computers. And Arthur knew about all the psych meds and therapy strangers had punished his friend with, when he was a kid and had no one to support him and tell him, you're not crazy, you're special. He could only guess how hard it had been for Merlin to deny the dream-memories and accept everyone else's version of reality and possibility and sanity, all those years ago.
"I'm not," Arthur said, softly but clearly. "You're my friend." He approached the sorcerer step by deliberate step. Maybe it was cruel to use his own dying words, but he wanted so badly to reach Merlin. "And I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."
"Shut up!" Merlin cried, twisting away. "Shutupshutupshutup! It's not true it never was true you're not him I'm not him my name is Marvin and there's no such thing as magic!" He was shouting at the top of his voice by the time he finished.
"Merlin!" Gaius called above the chaotic white noise of the townhouse's electronics, a sign of the sorcerer's subconscious agitation Arthur and the rest had come to recognize. "Please, calm down!"
Merlin rounded on the old man violently. "It's not me!" he screamed. "I'm not doing anything!"
"My boy," the physician entreated with the utmost kindness, "everything is unplugged."
Merlin jerked back as though the old man had slapped his face. Instant silence reigned. Gwaine – the only other Arthur could see in his peripheral vision – glanced nervously at his two companions by the glass door.
"Come," Gaius said gently. "Come, sit down for a minute." Merlin allowed the old man to pull him to the couch, sit beside him. Merlin's eyes were blank and dark in the whiteness of his face and he allowed himself to be led and maneuvered like a sleepwalker. Gwen passed Arthur hesitantly to take the seat at Merlin's other side, slide her hand into his.
"When I first saw you," the old man said brokenly, "you saved my life – that fall from the balcony would have killed me."
It was impossible to tell, from Merlin's expression, whether he heard or not.
Gwen said to him, so softly Arthur almost couldn't hear, "You were in the stocks when I introduced myself. You didn't seem to mind the people of Camelot throwing tomatoes at you – like it was all in good fun. I told you, I thought you were very brave."
Gwaine left the doorway to perch on the coffee table, knee-to-knee with Gaius, and touching his young friend's green-plaid covered leg. Arthur drifted sideways to take Gwaine's place, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.
"I remember a fight in the tavern," the rough knight said lightly. "The odds were against us… Wasting good ale smashing that jug on some guy's head. You were throwing plates…" Plates? Arthur wasn't sure he remembered that. But yes, that sounded like Merlin.
Leon left the slider, and Percival followed him, both knights moving to the rear of the couch as Merlin sat back, away from Gwaine, his eyes unfocused, his face tense. Leon said, "I remember nights out on patrol, teasing you about your stew, pretending we ate it all and left none for you, telling you it was too–"
"Too salty," Merlin whispered. A tear dropped from the corner of his eye, brushing his cheek as it fell. Leon leaned down to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.
The biggest knight said, "I remember a Round Table."
Another tear followed the first down Merlin's face. Gwen was crying silently, too.
"We were a handful planning an attack against an immortal army. I said to our king, your enemies are my enemies." Percival covered Merlin's other shoulder with one big hand.
Arthur's mouth was dry, and his heart was pounding. He remembered that moment distinctly. He stood from the carpeted stair, and rounded Gwaine to stand in front of Merlin and Gwen, sympathetically squeezing her friend's hand and watching his face hopefully for the recognition and realization they all had been waiting for, since their reunion in the present Camelot.
"Everyone stood but you," Arthur told Merlin. "You had no need to proclaim your loyalty." His voice sounded hoarse to him. "But I – I needed to hear it anyway. I said… Merlin?" His attempt to recreate the tone he'd used – something like expectant sarcasm - failed utterly. "You said…"
"Don't fancy it," Merlin whispered, his eyes still vague, focused somewhere over Arthur's shoulder. "And you said–"
"You have a choice, Merlin," Arthur told him, past a painful lump in his throat. He meant it, too. If Merlin chose to continue oblivious, Arthur would not fault him. "You always have a choice."
Merlin's gaze drifted sideways, until his blue eyes locked onto Arthur's, and came alive. He nodded at Arthur, managed a husky whisper. "All right, then."
He was willing. He was always willing, no matter what it required of him.
A surge of pure and affectionate gratitude for the loyalty of his friend swelled in Arthur's heart, and he reached down to ruffle Merlin's black hair.
At his touch, Merlin's eyes closed, his body stiffened – Arthur realized they were all touching him at once. Merlin's arms flew out to the sides – Gwen and Gaius twitched back to avoid being struck – his hands splayed with such sudden tension that his fingers bent backwards. He inhaled, a dry ragged sound, his lungs filling slowly and inexorably, like his body would consume all the oxygen in the room.
Everyone else froze.
Merlin rose to his feet, Arthur's hand still on his head, like a puppet that the king lifted. As one, the others released their hold on the sorcerer, and Arthur let his hand drop also.
Merlin exhaled in a soft sigh. Then he opened his eyes. "Arthur," he said only, as if they were alone in the room.
"Yes." Arthur waited, his heart hammering in his chest.
"You're alive." Simply, almost childishly spoken.
"Yes." He felt like they'd just plunged over the first hill of a roller-coaster…dropping with hilarious exhilaration.
"It's good to see you again." Merlin nodded once, as if confirming something to himself. "Please excuse me, sire." He stepped past Arthur, who let him go, not knowing what else to do, and walked carefully to the stairs. He ascended them with the same deliberation, and a moment later they heard his bedroom door close.
The roller-coaster reached the bottom of the hill and stalled out. Arthur looked down at Gaius, who wore a dumbfounded expression. The others exchanged glances as if to ask, what just happened?
"Is that it?" Gwaine said. "Is that all it took?"
"What do you mean, is that all it took?" Arthur snapped. His head felt heavy, and the throbbing in his shoulder spread down his arm and up his neck. "In which century is that considered normal behavior for Merlin?"
Overhead, the lights flickered. Lights in all three rooms, the hallway – flickflickflickered, then buzzed brilliant, at double or triple-wattage, then faded, slowly, down to a single orange glow in the recessed lighting of the living room. Arthur looked uneasily at Gaius, who pushed himself up, but Arthur was the first up the stairs.
He hesitated at the door of Merlin's room, then knocked. "Merlin?"
The hall light flared briefly.
"Arthur?" Merlin voice sounded slightly muffled, yet it was exactly the same light cheerful tone his servant had habitually used, fifteen hundred years ago. "Was there something you needed?"
Arthur pushed the door open. Merlin lay on his side on the bed, curled in the fetal position, arms wrapped around his head. A carousel of loose objects floated mid-air, bobbing and circling the room. The desk lamp and the alarm clock-radio tugged gently at their cords like rowboats tied in a current.
Arthur ducked a pair of boxer shorts and a sock, brushed away two pencils that bumped his shirt like enormous blind dragonflies to come to the middle of the domestic maelstrom. He seated himself on the side of the bed next to Merlin's knees. The cigarette lighter with the white dragon on it danced past.
"I thought you might need something," he said to Merlin. The flying objects stilled, hovering.
"Me?" Merlin said, still unmoving. "What?"
Oh – time. Company. A nap, a sandwich…Understanding.
"A friend?" Arthur tried.
Merlin's arms dropped and he twisted so his shoulders were flat on the bed. His eyes were a dull, exhausted blue centered in purple-brown hollows. The rest of his skin was stark white, except for a faint green shadow on the side of his face, and a darker green-brown along his jaw. Bruises, gained in Arthur's service - again - when he didn't even remember who he and Arthur were supposed to be, to one another.
"A friend?" His whisper was harsh. Arthur reached to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin clung to his forearm as if to anchor their souls together through that contact. "I'm a sorcerer." The loose detritus of Merlin's bedroom rushed once around the room, then hovered once again in place.
Arthur remembered keenly the last time Merlin had said that – they'd been touching each other in much the same way, only it had been Arthur in the prone position, fighting deep internal pain. "I know," he said.
"I have magic," Merlin repeated, as if he didn't think Arthur understood.
Arthur said, "I'm glad."
Merlin stared at him. Then his body convulsed, and he screwed his eyes shut in pain, grunting at an invisible onslaught, then another – anotheranother – the floating objects slammed backward into the walls, then slid downward to come to rest.
"Gaius!" Arthur raised his voice knowing the old physician was waiting at the door.
Gaius hurried in, bent over Merlin on the other side. "I don't know, sire – a seizure?" he said.
Tears leaked down Merlin's temples, and sweat stood out on his face. He moaned and clenched his teeth, squinted at Arthur and gasped, "Stay with me? Stay with me…" He curled onto his side again, squeezing Arthur's hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the side of Arthur's wrist.
"I will," Arthur said. Remembering how he'd had to leave Merlin, before, there so near to the lake – and yet so far. "I will stay," he promised.
Merlin shuddered and panted, each breath harsh in the still, shadowy room. Gaius tried once to open the blinds, but when the young sorcerer gasped and whimpered at the light, the old man had left the room dim.
Leon came to the door, letting Arthur know that his father had called to inquire about his son's whereabouts, and that he, Leon, was going to go back to the brick house to resume his duties for the CEO of Camelot Technologies, but would check back with them on the morrow.
"Talk to him," Arthur said, speaking of his father. "I trust you, Leon, to know what to tell him and what to leave out. See if you can warn him, get him to believe the truth of this threat coming at us, concerning the drones."
"Yes, sire," Leon nodded.
Gwaine came to see if doughnuts – or rum – might help. Percival, at Arthur's request, brought a stack of cds and inserted one at random into the player now on the floor beside the desk. Gwen crept in to recline beside and behind Merlin on the bed, brush his damp hair away from his face and exchange worried looks with Arthur. Merlin did seem to relax at her presence, but when the jolts of pain started again, and increased so rapidly that he was shaking, he took one hand from Arthur's grasp to push her weakly away from him, as if to protect her from whatever assailed him. Then clung to the former king again as if his touch was a lifeline in a hurricane.
"What's the matter with him?" Arthur heard Gwen ask Gaius, in the hall outside the door.
"Medically speaking, I cannot explain his condition," the old physician replied in a low voice. "But my guess is, he's remembering."
"Everything at once?" Gwen's sweet voice was tense with horror. "But it took months for us to remember a lifetime…"
Gaius said only, "Yes…"
He entered the room with a tray, water and food for king and sorcerer. Merlin managed to swallow a couple of Percocet with some water, but only Arthur ate, one-handed.
"Can't you do something for him?" Arthur said to Gaius in a low tone.
"I'm afraid all we can do is wait," the old physician said.
The cd player spilled soft music into the room and Arthur didn't really listen, except to one song. "Good Man". I felt like a great man when I was with you/ Those days I felt honor were far they were few they were mine… Goodnight my friends… goodbye the dreams that all danced their way into my life…
Merlin stilled for a moment, opened his eyes to look at Arthur, as if making sure he was still there. Then, trembling uncontrollably and damp with sweat, Merlin whispered, "Arthur, I need to tell you – so many things. I have to explain… I'm sorry…"
"No," Arthur said firmly, shocking the younger man into silence. "No, you don't. You don't owe me explanations or apologies."
"You must want to ask me–" Merlin persisted.
"What's done is done," Arthur said. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about anything you like – but later. You just rest now."
Merlin let out a chuckle, which dissolved into a coughing fit. "Who are you," he wheezed, "and what have you done with my Arthur?"
A horse of forever we rode in our youth/ I walked into heaven through hell in these boots…
Arthur said, "You'd rather me call you a girl and threaten you with chores?"
"You haven't got armor–" Merlin's body jerked, and his face twisted in pain. "Or stables."
Arthur couldn't help smiling through his concern. "I've got a Mustang you can detail," he said.
I feel a great love while I'm here in your arms/ You were all brothers and fathers and sons, you were mine…
Merlin's laugh was cut off by an agonized hiss. "You – changed," he managed.
"We all did," Arthur said simply.
I can finally see the light… I can finally see you in the night…
"Tell – me?" Merlin said.
So Arthur began to talk, about his childhood, his favorite legends and stories, how he made armor from cardboard boxes and packing tape in his playroom. He told of a vivid dream, the night of his twelfth birthday, wherein the mightiest sorcerer in the world was not a formidable old man, nor yet a cartoon with a pointy hat, but a gawky young country boy who spoke his mind and gave his respect only where it was earned.
He spoke of his father's reaction to young Arthur's recounted dreams, the distant amusement changing to cold impatience changing to stony censure. Then, though he had no one to tell the fantastic scenes he dreamed, he looked forward to bedtime as no other middle-schooler did, as though he watched a privately-played movie reel, watched the life of the prince he believed he was named after unfold, knowing from the beginning the magic of Merlin – famous, legendary, beloved Merlin – and by turns impatient, incredulous, and hopeful for his older self. Seeing so much more than he ever had before.
At fifteen, when he was introduced to his father's newest employee, a chauffer hired also for his defensive skills, he recognized Leon Tweed, and the last piece fell into place.
He remembered being a king, administering a kingdom, bearing responsibility for soldiers sent to war and peasants in the path of danger, he remembered betrayal and loyalty, lies and nobility – all before he graduated high school. He remembered waiting with impatience and no small amount of trepidation for his destiny to begin anew.
When Arthur finished, his throat sore from so many words, Merlin was sound asleep, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, his body completely relaxed, his hold on Arthur's hand firm.
The former king slouched down in his chair against the bedroom wall, angling his legs to share the support of the bed, and fell asleep himself.