This is long after season four, and Arthur knows of Merlin's magic, though he's still a servant, not Court Sorcerer.

Credit goes to calynn jiana for inspiring this with her song-fic Losing Your Memory. Go read it and listen to the song. They are both amazing.

This is a bit heavy going. Apologies.

Merlin had known that this mission would be trouble; hunting down rouge sorcerers never seemed to end well. Arthur seemed to have sensed the lack of his usual carefree demeanour but left him alone to worry about it. The king knew that his servant never enjoyed killing, no matter how monstrous the opponent was.

The other knights seemed to be lost in their own thoughts for the entire ride out of Camelot and so their party moved swiftly and silently through the forests, stopping every now and then to check the trails they were following.

It was growing late in the evening before Merlin felt his magic jolt as it connected with someone else. Weary as he was, the strange sensation caused him to jerk violently, his head snapping up. Arthur raised a bemused eyebrow at him and he glared back, mildly annoyed.

"I think I felt something," he whispered, trying to keep his voice low. The king nodded without questioning him and Merlin felt a trickle of warmth fill him; he could still remember when Arthur wouldn't trust what he said, even when the evidence was waved under his nose.

Signalling for his knights to do the same, the king slid of his horse and drew Excalibur in one smooth motion. Merlin spent a moment to focus his energy, quickly forming a list of all the offensive and defensive spells he knew.

"Are you alright with this?" The king muttered to him quietly, worried that his magical friend couldn't go through with what they were about to do.

"He tried to kill you Arthur. Trust me, I'm fine." It was pretty much the truth. The darker side of his being was baying for the blood of revenge and the rational parts knew that this had to happen. But there was an old, mostly buried, very innocent piece of his soul that still believed mercy would always be the right thing.

'He tried to kill Arthur, Merlin. Ignore his magic. An enemy of Camelot will never be your kin,' he told himself sternly. When it didn't seem to work, he resorted to telling his innocence to shut up.

"Can you find him, Merlin?" Leon looked over at him expectantly and the warlock reached out with his senses, searching for the magic he had felt before. He had just located the source, off to his left, before he felt the power spiking.

"Look out!" He shouted to the others, though he wasn't entirely sure what he expected them to be able to do. In slow motion he saw all the knights prepare to fight, their muscles tightening, and then Arthur was being yanked off his feet by an unseen hand and slammed into the trunk of an oak. The king dropped limply to the ground, slipping out of consciousness.

Merlin could feel his blood rushing in his ears, an untold fury building within him. The air became electrified as his powers began to leak out and he could feel the wind beginning to rush around them. The enraged warlock spun towards where he knew the attacker to be, and with an outstretched hand, released all that he had been holding.

"What happened?" Gaius leaned over his patient, examining the gash on the back of the king's head. It looked messy, filled with bark and dirt, with dried blood matting down the blonde hair.

"The sorcerer knew we were there. He lashed out before I could do anything," Merlin sounded faintly distraught. "There was no time..."

"This isn't your fault Merlin." Leon's voice was steady as he laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. He could feel his thin frame trembling slightly. The king still hadn't woken up and it was getting to everyone. The sorcerer had been defeated quickly; never mess with an angry warlock with enough power in his little finger to bring down a castle.

"I should have been faster." His words were harsh, his tone not allowing for argument. Leon and Gaius wanted to contest the sentiment but it was at that moment that the king gasped and jerked in the physician's grip.

"Sire!" Gaius carefully steadied him, trying to avoid him moving his head.

"What happened?" He looked around blearily, not seeming to really see Merlin, who was standing only a few feet away. "Where am I?"

"You're in my chambers sire. I'm lead to believe that you were knocked out whilst fighting the sorcerer who attacked you a few days ago." Arthur seemed to digest that for a moment, still looking lost and confused.

"What happened to the sorcerer?"

"He is dead," Merlin supplied, his voice low. No matter how necessary the kill might have been, he still didn't like it. Arthur nodded slowly, until Gaius stopped him. He was trying to stitch the wound now it was clean but the king wouldn't stay still.

"How do you feel, my lord?" Leon took a half step forward, concerned by the unfocussed look in Arthur's eyes.

"I..." He trailed off, looking around uncertainly – Gaius huffed in aggravation – before turning back to his second in command. "Where is my father?"

"How can his memory just be gone?" Merlin was huddled on his seat, curling into himself for strength.

"Head wounds are tricky things Merlin. There's no telling how bad the injury is, nor how permanent." The physician looked weary. He had spent the last few hours tending to the king, all the while explaining and re-explaining what he suspected: that the wound had damaged Arthur's skull and mind, and had affected his memory. So far as anyone could tell, he could remember almost everything up until the time Merlin arrived in Camelot, though it wasn't exact.

He could still remember Gwen, and his love for her.

He could still remember knighting Gwaine, Percival and Elyan (he may have remembered Lancelot as well but no one had the heart to ask him outright.)

He could still remember Morgana and Agravaine's treachery.

But no Merlin.

All recollection of the servant appeared to have been wiped clean; everything he had done, his friendship, his magic. To the king he was just a regular commoner, no one of any particular importance.

"So, he could get better? Remember... Everything?" The warlock had been about to say 'me' but he decided that it sounded far too selfish. There were more important things that Arthur needed to be concerned with than his servant, friend or not.

"I hope so. There isn't much in my books about these sorts of things. But he has remembered what happened to his father. It's a step in the right direction." Gaius smiled understandingly at his ward. "I know this is hard Merlin, but it'll get better. You should get some sleep, you look tired." He shooed the young man into his room, watching him go with a strange sadness in his soul.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks. And nothing had changed. Well, actually, a lot of things had changed but that was beyond the point. Arthur had remembered pretty much everything but according to his recollections, Merlin had never existed. It was as though he had just been entirely edited out of the king's memory.

And it was killing him.

To serve his best friend was a chore at the best of times – even if he never complained and secretly didn't really mind at all – but it would seem that serving a best friend who had no idea who you were was even worse.

He was as demanding and irritable as he had been when he had first met the boy, possibly made worse by the fact that Merlin found it very hard not to retort in the way he always did. He had made that mistake once and ended up in the stocks for his trouble. Arthur no longer saw a friend and so couldn't see the fondness in the light hearted insults and he certainly felt no fondness in return. It was rapidly becoming obvious that the king had no patience for his servant and punishments were a regular occurrence now.

Merlin took the aches and pains and bruises without complaint. It was hardly Arthur's fault that a sorcerer decided to throw him into a tree. But it still hurt. And he didn't really mean physically – he'd been in enough scrapes to be able to ignore his body's protests – but mentally it was taking its toll.

The other knights had rallied around him somewhat, coming to talk to him in the stocks, sparring with Arthur during training so he wouldn't take it all out on his servant. Gwaine even helped with his overload of chores when he could spare the time. And Merlin was touched but there was only so much they could do.

"Merlin, have you cleaned my armour?" The king's voice made it clear that the answer had better be yes.

"Of course Sire," he said politely with a slight bow. He really didn't want to end up in the stocks today for being rude, not after having spent all night polishing the damned metal in order to avoid said punishment. The normal Arthur would have noticed the dark smudges beneath the bright blue eyes but not this version of the king. He was as oblivious as ever.

"So, Merlin." The young man's head shot up at the strange tone in his master's voice. "I've been wondering how exactly you fit into everything. I've recalled pretty much everything else. Just not you. So tell me. Who are you, exactly?"

The warlock wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. It wasn't like he could put all the years together into a few sentences but at the same time it felt wrong to say he was nothing more than a servant, because that wasn't true, was it? He was hardly about to tell this stranger that they were best friends; he couldn't see that going well.

"You know that you are required to answer me when I ask you a question, aren't you?" Arthur asked harshly, exasperation clear in his tone.

"Yes sire. I... I'm Merlin. I've been your manservant for years now. I've been with you through everything that you've done." He bit his lip. It was best not to delve into the back story. He had been advised that it was best to let the king remember it on his own to minimise the stress of the whole situation.

"The knights... You're friends with them."

It wasn't a question but Merlin answered anyway. "Yes sire. I've known them a long time, and we've grown close." He kept his head down, not meeting Arthur's eyes. He didn't like where this was going.

"And I've never minded how inappropriate it is?" The warlock actively bit down on his tongue to stop himself from pointing out that he was married to an ex-servant and that all the knights who were his friends, with the exception of Leon, all used to be commoners. Very little of the king's life was 'appropriate.' But he didn't let himself voice that thought. Even with normal Arthur he would be careful to even hint at that, let alone now.

"No sire, never," he murmured. His eyes were still stuck to the floor.

"Huh," was the only reply. Arthur didn't sound like he was buying it, even though it was the honest truth. Then, without another word he headed towards the door, sweeping past the servant. Once he reached it however, he paused. "Are we friends Merlin?"

And the only thing that stopped the warlock blurting out the truth was the tone in his king's voice. Arthur was looking for him to say yes, to give him a weapon to be used at the king's whim. He didn't care for the scrawny man in front of him, not anymore. If Merlin told him the truth, no doubt he would be punished for lies or some other circumstantial reason. So he said nothing, no matter how much it caused his gut to clench in the injustice of it all.

"I suppose not. I mean, I can't remember you," Arthur said callously when it became clear there wouldn't be a reply. "How important could you possibly be?"

Merlin could feel the blank shock and hurt on his face as the king swept out of the room. Even for this strange Arthur, that was cold. And all of a sudden Merlin understood something deep in his soul and it made his heart burn with the great sadness that overcame him. His friend was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

"Gaius, I think I'm going to stay with my mother for a while," Merlin offered that night as they sat down to eat. The old man's eyes flashed to his ward's face, taking in the tired, downcast expression. Since the warlock had returned home he had been unusually quiet, no doubt considering how to broach the subject.

"And Arthur?" He enquired after a moment. Merlin flinched almost imperceptibly.

"He can cope for now. Besides, I think he wants a break from me." It was the sort of the truth. The warlock didn't doubt that right now, Arthur just didn't care. For a long while, Gaius didn't say anything, just watched his ward slowly begin to eat. Eventually he came to a decision.

"I can't stop you if you want to go Merlin. You know Arthur better than anyone. If you think it will help, maybe it's best." The warlock smiled unhappily in thanks, finishing his meal quickly and going to his room to pack his meagre belongings. He wouldn't be leaving until the morning but he wanted to be ready to go at dawn. He really didn't want to run into any knights full of questions as to why the king suddenly had a new servant – a timid boy called Simon who had looked terrified when the young man had approached him earlier that day – or why Merlin's possessions were all crammed into his travelling bag.

Once that was done, there was only one other thing to take care of. He had to say goodbye to Arthur. He wasn't completely sure he had the confidence to face his old friend again but he was doing his best to assemble some form of courage. Even now, he owed the king a proper explanation.

"My lord, I need to talk to you." Merlin peaked his head around the door tentatively, spotting Arthur sat at his desk doing some paper work. He ushered the warlock into the room looking annoyed at the interruption. "I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving Camelot for a while. I've found a replacement servant until I return."

'If I return,' he added mentally and then almost kicked himself. If he was going to get through this with any dignity intact, he couldn't dwell on the permanence of this farewell.

Arthur eyed him warily, looking for some ulterior motive or something just as suspicious, then nodded slowly. He still seemed confused but didn't protest.

"Where are you going?" He seemed to be asking more out of forced politeness rather than any genuine curiosity. Maybe he had realised that he had been a little harsh to the servant earlier. It didn't matter anymore.

"Home." Merlin didn't expand. All of a sudden he was aware that he was uncomfortable spilling his feelings to this man who he barely knew. The king wasn't his friend now, that Arthur was gone. And the man in his place had no right to search through Merlin's mind.

"I was led to believe this was your home." Again, the politeness was forced. It grated on the warlock's nerves.

'Not anymore.' He didn't say it but he sorely wanted to. He settled on: "I come from a town North of here. Ealdor." For a moment the king just looked at him, the nodded and gestured towards the door. As Merlin reached for the handle, he paused. "Take care, my lord." With that, he was gone.

Arthur was almost certain that he was dreaming. He had several arguments towards this design, the big glaringly obvious one being the man stood in front of him. Merlin. The dark haired boy was staring at him as though he was a surprised as his master.

Several weeks ago, Merlin's presence was almost a given in the king's dreams; spending all your time with one person will do that to someone. But more recently he had featured less and less, as the king forgot more and more. Arthur hated that more than anything: the fact that his best friend was slipping away from him, fading into insignificance. He needed Merlin now more than he could say but he knew that in waking all memory of the happy-go-lucky boy would be gone once more. And it was killing him.

Every night when he slept, he remembered everything that had been bashed out of his head by the errant sorcerer all those weeks ago. Every night he would realise everything that he had done.

"I forgot you." He stated quietly and the three small words filled him with a deep sense of loss. "How did I forget you?"

"Many things change Arthur. Maybe destiny decreed that you were one of them," Merlin replied, keeping his voice just as low. "What do you remember?"

"You. Gwen. The knights. My life. But not when I wake up. Every morning I lose you somewhere along the way. Every night I remember. Are you real?" Suddenly it seemed very important to establish if he was talking to himself or to the man who would always be his best friend.

"Yeah, I'm real. I know you told me to never use my powers to meddle with your head but I felt that this once you would forgive me. Besides, I never had the chance to say a proper goodbye."

"Goodbye? When did you leave?"

"I thought you said you remembered?" Merlin's personal brand of fond exasperation coloured his words. "Today. I came to see you. What did I say?" Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion and with the jolting nature of dreams, he was suddenly standing in his chambers watching Merlin quit his job – however temporarily – and himself sitting there, offering no argument whatsoever.

Merlin – the real Merlin, not the shadowy figure of his memory – was watching him with a resigned smile on his face.

"I'm sorry Arthur." The king's head snapped up in surprise.

"What are you apologising for? How is all of this not being blamed on me?" Slowly, the warlock shook his head.

"I'm apologising for leaving. I probably should have stayed, waited. But I..." He hesitated only briefly before he decided he really had nothing left to lose. "I couldn't stand you hating me every day. It was too much to deal with." And Arthur felt something within him break at the vulnerable agony in Merlin's voice.

"Then, I'm sorry. For making you suffer. For making you think that you need to apologise for walking out on me. If I'm honest, I'm surprised Gwaine hasn't threatened to beat me up yet. I would have thought he'd come for my blood when he found out you were leaving," it was meant as a joke but a flash of guilt crossed the warlock's face. The king knew him well enough to recognise it. "You didn't tell him did you?" He raised an eyebrow in disapproval that would have had Gaius smiling with pride.

"Not as such. One goodbye was enough, thanks." There was a greater sadness there than the words implied.

"My god, Merlin, I'm so sorry for this. I can't believe... What have I done?" If he could have, he'd hit himself. No doubt Gwaine would satisfy this urge as soon as he put two and two together.

"This is not your fault Arthur. You didn't mean to forget, and you didn't force me to leave. This one's all on me. I didn't muscle into your dreams to guilt trip you. I came to see my friend again. Never thought I'd say it but I kind of missed you for a moment there," he smiled genuinely for the first time in days.

"You're telling me. I've had the pleasure of spending every night hating myself and dreading the morning. Would it really kill you to let me sleep in every now and then?"

"Maybe not but you might." It was only joke and Arthur laughed with his friend. After a moment, the levity of the conversation faded.

"Will I remember this when I wake up?"

"I don't know. You haven't remembered anything else. This is still your dream; you're in control. All my magic is doing is allowing me to remain here for now." Again there was the sadness and this time the king felt it spread through him too. He couldn't be sure if it was due to the connection of their dreams or if it was his own emotion. It was more than a little disconcerting but he didn't say anything. He knew that if Merlin became aware of his discomfort, he would sever the connection immediately and Arthur wouldn't see him again.

"Is there anything you can do? To help?" He was getting a little desperate.

"I'm not really sure. I sort of hoped this might help. Messing with your memories could potentially do serious damage and I'm not taking that risk. But Arthur, your memories are still here. This dream is proof of that. That wound didn't erase me entirely. Search for me, and I'll still be there. Like always." The last was said with a fond smile.

Suddenly, the dream room they were stood in jolted and twisted sickeningly.

"Merlin?" He shouted in confusion. "What's happening?"

"Someone's waking you up. I have to go." His voice was fading as the dream collapsed, sounding more than a little panicked. "Search for me Arthur. I'm still there."

The king awoke with a gasp. His head was spinning wildly and he was entirely disorientated but he knew that there was something important just on the fringes of his consciousness. It was a feeling he had grown familiar with over the last couple of weeks and it frustrated him immensely. He wanted to remember. It was agonising knowing that he was missing part of his life, but had no idea how to reclaim it. Where was Merlin? He was always better at personal reflection than the king...

"Merlin!" He hadn't meant to speak aloud. The word had slipped out of his mouth as the realisation hit him like an arrow to the knee**.

"I'm sorry sire? Merlin left this morning," the voice was timid and quiet and the king looked up to see a young boy – Steve or Samuel or something – trembling slightly in fear. His eyes were as wide as plates as he gazed at Arthur like he was a dragon about to eat him.

'I need to find him. How could I let this happen?' He didn't question how the memory had returned – he had vague images of a dream half forgotten – but now it was there he couldn't work out how he hadn't remembered instantly. Who forgets the other half of their destiny?

"I'm going for a ride. Would you please saddle my horse?" He shot it at his 'new servant,' pulling himself upright as he did so. He would have to dress himself this morning but how difficult could that really be?

"Of course sire!" Samson(?) said quickly, ducking into a bow that almost banged his head on the floor before rushing out of the room. Arthur made a promise to himself to ask Merlin for the boy's name as soon as he found him.

Grabbing at random articles of clothing, the king spent the next ten minutes struggling his way into a shirt and breeches before pulling on some boots that could really do with a polish (another job for Merlin). Arriving at the stables, he found his war horse saddled neatly, with enough provisions for the rest of the day tucked into the saddlebags. It would seem that the nameless servant was actually quite competent.

Deciding not to dwell on such matters, the king led the horse from his stall and out into the brightening courtyard. It was still early but the castle was waking and in the distance he could hear the townsfolk stirring as well. He loved this time of day – despite what Merlin said about him not being a morning person. He liked the tranquil peace, much calmer than the noisy crush of people that would gather at the market in an hour or so.

Putting his musings to the back of his mind he rode out of the courtyard, pushing his horse into an easy canter as he headed for the main road North. He had no doubts that Merlin had meant what he had said about going home and he also knew that even though the warlock was hardly the defenceless servant the king had once imagined, he would not risk travelling through the forest alone. No, Merlin would follow the road, hitching a ride with a personable farmer if he could more than likely.

It took longer than Arthur would have liked to make it out of the city and onto the road. Here he could move into a gallop, tearing across the Earth like a bat out of hell. He needed to find Merlin. He wasn't sure why he felt like time was of the essence but he didn't think anything good would come of the warlock reaching his destination. Maybe the king believed that if Merlin made it home and saw how welcoming his mother was, he would finally realise that Arthur just wasn't worth it.

'Of course that won't happen. Merlin will always forgive you. No matter how much of a 'prat' you are.' He reassured himself. It didn't exactly work but it helped a little.

Merlin was tired. He had barely slept the night before, preparing everything and then lying awake trying to decide if this was the right thing. By midnight he had given up and set off. He knew the walk would be long and tiresome, so he figured he might as well get it over with. About an hour before dawn he had moved off the road and began to chant, ready to say his real goodbye to his best friend.

Once that was done, it was all he could do not to curl into a ball there and then and sob himself into blissful oblivion. But he didn't. He dragged himself back to his feet and began to trudge onwards, his heart heavier than he could remember it being. Maybe going home was the best thing after all, seeing his mother would do him good. He had missed her, in the way only a child can when separated from their parents.

It was around midmorning when he heard the hoof beats. He could hear them from a long way off and he felt the ground tremble slightly beneath his feet. In a momentary panic, he darted off the main road and into the bushes, blending into the shadows of the roadside. As the horse and rider raced past it took the warlock all of a second to recognise them and in the next he was shouting.

The horse was reined in, breaking its mad dash. Sweat poured off the animal's flanks and his breath misted in the morning air, harsh and ragged. But Merlin didn't see that. He was watching the man on the beast's back, who simply stared back for a moment, looking just as uncertain.

"Merlin?" He said eventually. He slipped from his horse, landing softly and gripping the reins to keep the animal in check.

"Sire?" He couldn't help it. He had spent the last few weeks trying to be as respectful as he could to his king; it was a habit hard to break. He saw Arthur wince minutely and a faint grimace raced across his features.

"I remember, Merlin. I can remember it all." The words were quiet and the warlock was praying that he hadn't misheard. "And... And I've never been more sorry. For everything I've done." They would both deny it later but Arthur's voice was shaking slightly with suppressed emotion.

"You remember?" He needed to be sure.

"I remember," he repeated slowly. He looked on the verge of breaking down and Merlin was shocked to realise that Arthur didn't expect to be forgiven. It was only then he discovered how his face had formed a distrustful scowl and his arms had crossed firmly across his chest. With a start he found that he was furious. But no, that couldn't be right, he wasn't angry at Arthur. It wasn't his fault. But the anger was there.

"What about the dream?"

"Last night?" The king guessed. "Bits. It's all a little fuzzy. But everything that you've done for me in the past – for Camelot – is back. As well as the way I've treated you. All the things I said, I... I didn't mean them. Merlin, believe me, I didn't mean any of it." Was he pleading?

"But you did. Well, not you. The you without me." It was all getting so confusing that Merlin was finding himself a little lost. "I know that what happened with that sorcerer wasn't your fault, it was mine. But Arthur... Why are we friends?" It was rare that the two acknowledged their brotherly bond but the warlock needed to know. Arthur stammered for a moment, thrown slightly.

"Because you're a good person." He said eventually, after all it was true. It was hard to put into words how their impossible friendship worked. It just did.

"I was the same person I always was two days ago. And you hated me." The king couldn't really contest that. He had certainly treated Merlin like dirt on his shoe that had no right to be there.

"Because I didn't know you. I hadn't had you around forcing me to realise things I should have known all along." Arthur wasn't good with expressing his feelings and his words were a little disjointed. "We're friends because you were the one who bullied me into being the better person. Who stuck with me when I needed someone to lean on. Who tells me what I need to hear whenever I'm lost. Merlin, you're the person who makes me who I am. And I was angry at you before because I saw that you were the kind of person that I wanted to be. The kind of person that I forgot that I was." He stopped, dragging in a deep breath. He was bearing his heart to Merlin and he wasn't quite sure how he would cope if the servant walked away now.

Merlin... didn't know what to say. There was still that perplexing anger swirling through his system but most of his being was trying to recover from how very touched he felt. It took him a minute to comprehend that his vision was blurry due to the tears that had sprung, unbidden, to his eyes. The king was still watching him, biting his lip in worry.

"Please Merlin, say something." It was nothing more than a whisper.

"I... thank you." It seemed the most logical place to start. If there was anything even vaguely logical about this whole conversation. "It means a lot." He stopped there. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts. He had little doubt he'd be going back to Camelot now; how could he possibly walk away from his king now? He didn't have the heart to be that cruel.

"Merlin. I understand if... if you still want to go. I won't stop you. But I want you to know that you are always welcome as my servant, whenever you wish to return." Another thought occurred to him and he added: "Though I must admit, this replacement of yours is turning out to be much more competent than you." He smiled and Merlin found his door back into normality.

"Well, we can't have that. You might get even more spoilt." He flashed one of his personal grins at Arthur and saw the hope leap into the king's eyes.

"You'll come back?"

"I'll come home," he confirmed and for the first time since the sorcerer's attack, the pair found themselves smiling at each other like the true friends they were.

I didn't want to write the reunions between Merlin and the others right now, though at a later date I might write a comedy piece along that vein. Thoughts and opinions?

This is officially the longest one-shot I've ever written. I'm quite proud :)

**I couldn't resist. Please don't judge me.

ALSO: I sent this to VHunter07 a few weeks ago, and haven't heard back. If you are still out there, please message me! Until then, this is unbeta-ed.