A/N: It's been so long that this is now the only chapter in my doc manager! The writing muse deserted me over the summer holidays, guess I kind of took a holiday from everything. Then the start of the school year was insanely busy. I'm still insanely busy but the writing muse decided to come back to me. For a while there I didn't think it would!

Sorry about the long wait. Now and again I think I just need a couple of months break. Now I'm back into the swing of things the writing flow will continue.

If you are still following let me know so I can thank you for your enduring patience! I like this chapter but just not sure about the end. Some people have critiqued this story for being too sad. I try to inject moments of humour to break it up along the way, but sometimes it's kind of unavoidable. When you really think about it being immortal would suck. I've also tried to flesh out Emma's character a bit more, some people didn't like her either. I try to keep the characters relatable and interesting, not sure if I always do though?

Please let me know what you think. Reviews are always very much loved and appreciated.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 6.

Merlin kept himself busy. He felt a bundle of nervous energy waiting to erupt. Emma, his once Emelyn, was now Arthur's cousin. The short time they had had together paled into insignificance in the one thousand and four hundred years he had lived. Yet that time of his life was one of the most precious. Once she was out of his life it was as if someone had turned out the light. He forced himself to forget her, unable to face living if he didn't.

He yanked at the stubborn weeds in the garden bed with sudden fierceness. What was she doing here in this time period? Were the gods taunting him now? Her pained face briefly flashed before his eyes, 'I'll always belong to you.'

Screw the weeds. With a flash of his eyes, every weed left in the seven by two foot garden bed wilted.

His shoulders slumped, in just under a week Emma would be here. In this very cottage and he would see her face once again. He raked a hand through his hair. The only comfort he could take was that she wouldn't remember him. And that was probably for the best.

'If not in body then always in spirit.' Her voice whispered on the warm air breeze.

He held her face in his hands, brushing both thumbs across her cheeks. Her amber coloured eyes gazed up into his, so trusting now and with that adoration he yearned to see again. Given all the hate and unforgiveness that had been her lot for far too long it was like a fresh breath of air.

'You going to push me away again, Merlin?'

He saw the tears in her eyes, his hands pushed through her hair, his fingers tangling in the loose curls. Slowly he shook his head, swallowing down the lump in his throat. 'No.'

He couldn't chance losing her again.

"Somebody is having a bad day," a voice spoke from behind, startling him.

He spun around to see Gwaine, heart thudding painfully with the remembered memories and attached emotions.

Gwaine's eyes scanned the garden bed.

"What happened to the gardener Arthur hired?" he asked.

"We don't need a gardener," Merlin snorted, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Typical of today's generation."

He leaned back on the heels of his feet. "Each generation that passes gets lazier."

Gwaine laughed. "Careful, you're beginning to sound your age." A frown replaced the easy smile. "It's not like you either."

Merlin averted his gaze from him. Gwaine was a lot more astute than people gave him credit for.

"I'm just tired," he told him.

He could tell Gwaine wasn't buying it. "Good time to be gardening then."

Merlin didn't know how to answer that.

Sighing Gwaine leaned over, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Best leave it to the gardener, hey."

Gwaine's gaze rested on his face, a quizzical look in his eye. "You seem distracted lately."

He dusted his hands on his jeans again, trying to act nonchalant.

"It's about a girl isn't it?" Gwaine continued.

He looked up startled. "What! … No!"

Gwaine sighed. "Her name happen to be Emma?"

Merlin's eyes widened in shock, how did Gwaine know?

"I was looking for a fiver the other day, my wallet was empty so I raided yours."

His mouth opened in protest.

"I meant to tell you, just that I got distracted by that bit of paper with her name and number on it."

Merlin shut his mouth and glared at him. Gwaine merely ignored his glare and put an arm across his shoulders.

"It's about time you got with a girl, so who is this Emma?"

He so wasn't going to be discussing her with Gwaine, bad enough Arthur forced him into it the other night. It had merely opened up a whole lot of memories he wanted to remain forgotten.

"Just some girl I met at a pub," he replied, "I've been thinking of calling her."

Hopefully that would now get Gwaine off his back. And it was part truth. He had run into Emma at a pub, and she had given him her number.

"So just do it," he encouraged.

Merlin nodded, a wry smile crossing his face. "I will be, this Friday night."

No thanks to Arthur. He swallowed, a wave of nausea washing over him at the thought. It was just his nerves causing it.

Gwaine patted him on the back. "Good for you."

Once Gwaine left, his shoulders sagged. He drew in a deep painful breath of air, straightening his back. You can do it, Merlin; you just have to survive the next few days … crap. He ran a hand through his hair. His eyes closed. If only the memories would stop. Or maybe it was a case of him not really wanting them to.

Now she was alive in the present, the past had a way of haunting him.

His eyes gazed down at Esme's lifeless body. He remembered when she'd first arrived at Camelot. It hadn't taken Audric long to be smitten with her.

In youth she had been so vibrant and strong, but the years of toiling the land since the fall of Camelot had shortened her life. She was only 47.

His eyes drifted to Emma. She stood opposite to him, on the other side of the grave. The simple plain black dress she wore made her face appear paler than usual. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her shoulder length curls were held at bay with a black ribbon.

She looked so sad.

The pain in the pit of his stomach intensified.

Life was short.

How long did she have to live if she stayed here? It was a hard life. She would be expected to marry a farmer, bear him children. The thought bothered him. Was this the life for her? He couldn't imagine her living like this, knowing deep down it would slowly wear her down like it had Esme.

The five months they had spent on the boat he had gradually gotten to know all different facets of her personality. As she recovered from her experiences in the whore house, he began to see the girl he remembered; a girl who was spontaneous, warm, intelligent and full of life. But she had lost so much. There really was only so much a person could take.

Her eyes met with his. He saw the strained, haunted look on her face. It reminded him of the first month spent on the boat. She was locked into her own world of personal pain, not letting anyone in. He couldn't even touch her then.

Slowly she began to thaw, talking with him but still keeping him at an arm's length distance. Not that he even attempted to touch her, but sometimes he would forget and slip his hand into hers. She'd yank her hand out of his so fast, and stumble back like a frightened child.

He hated seeing her that way, it wasn't right.

Her trust had been so shattered that it would be a long time for it to repair itself, if it ever did.

He'd find himself wishing that he could turn back time, that he had returned with her to the village rather than telling her they could never be together. This damage would never have been done to her if he'd stayed. The guilt of his actions stayed with him.

Slowly her trust towards him returned. He'd refrained from touching her, even something simple as a reassuring hand resting on her shoulder. He waited for her to make the moves, and as to date she was comfortable enough being in close proximity to him, but that was about it. Sometimes her hand would rest on his arm, then she'd quickly pull away once she realised what she had done.

He wanted to ask her about it, but the one time he'd tried to do that she'd clamed up and not talked to him for several days. He never asked again.

She would talk when she was ready.

But now seeing her grieving over her mother, her arms wrapped around chest as if trying to hold herself together, he felt his own heart break. He couldn't handle it anymore.

'Emelyn,' he softly spoke, 'you don't have to suffer through this alone.'

He stepped around Esme's grave, holding out a hand towards her, as one would to a frightened child. Not knowing what to expect. Would she push him away, again?

His heart thudded painfully in his chest.

'I won't hurt you,' he murmured. 'You can trust me.'

He could see her resolve break. The next thing he knew she flew into arms. He could scarcely believe it. He held her in a warm embrace as she wept on his shoulder.

'Everyone I love leaves me.'

Her words broke what was left of his heart. 'I won't leave you again,' he wanted to murmur in reassurance, but that was a promise he wasn't sure he could make.

The days dragged by. Tuesday night was the worst, the night before he would see Gwen. Arthur stood in front of the mirror for ages. Not really knowing why? He'd already brushed and flossed his teeth four times that day.

God it was plain torture; waiting, always waiting.

Merlin walked around the house in a daze as well. And Arthur knew why but trying to get Merlin to talk was like pulling hen's teeth.

Finally Wednesday arrived, now he just had to survive the day. He gave Merlin a list of instructions, which he really didn't appear to be paying any intention to.

He sighed and gave up after ten minutes. It was hard trying to get a conversation out of Merlin these days. He was sorry he'd ever mentioned Emma now. He should have kept it all a secret and just surprised him on the given day. Whatever had transpired between Merlin and Emma had obviously been intense. He knew Merlin couldn't have married her, having already previously said that he'd never married. That then left him wondering if he'd stayed with her or not? Did she live to be old? Did she die young? Either way, Merlin would have lost her in the end.

It was something he really couldn't fathom, having died before everyone else in that other life. He had lost his father then and grieved, but now there was no love left between him and his father in this life time. In some ways his life would be so much easier with his father dead.

Turning the key in the ignition he caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror. For a moment it was like peering into the face of a stranger. He'd adored his father once, now he hated him and it just didn't sit right with him. Inwardly sighing he put the gear stick into reverse.

He was in for a long day.

Gwen frowned at her very much older complexion.

"So this is how I'll look when I'm 75," she sighed. "It's kind of depressing."

"It's not so bad," Merlin said alongside her.

She turned to him frowning. "My hair is white!"

"It's sort of fetching," he grinned, amusement dancing in his eyes and nudged her lightly in the shoulder. "Aww Gwen you look like one of those sweet old ladies."

She was about to elbow him before realising that at his age it might not be a good thing. What if she fractured a rib, but then it's not as if she was strong now either. Shaking her head she returned her attention back to the mirror.

"I have so many lines now," she moaned. "I'm so glad Arthur isn't going to see me like this."

"He still might in the future."

Her eyes met his in their reflected images. It was just as unsettling seeing Merlin that old.

"Yeah but he'll also be old so it won't matter."

Merlin tilted his head to the side, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Being old has its merits."

She turned to him frowning. "Like what?"

"Well, you have time again, time to do simple things like enjoying a conversation with the neighbour about trivial everyday stuff."

A slow smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. "Like those times we used to sit out on the courtyard on a warm sunny day talking about the old days when we were younger."

"Life moved slowly then," he mused.

His eyes met hers, a shared understanding passed between them.

"Looking at us here now, like this, old again, reminds me of that time," she continued.

"Only you were 60 there, and 60 isn't that old," he pointed out.

"But it was in those days."

Unless you were born into a privileged lifestyle the average life span for a man was mid 40's and for those who fought in wars considerably less. She had always lived in terrible fear that Audric would die in battle young, like Arthur had done. She was glad that she had died before him so hadn't lived to see it. But Merlin had. It had been his living reality.

She glanced at his face, noting the deep reflection in his eyes. How hard he had taken it when he'd discovered his immortality. And yet he had borne it for such a long time. Seeing him so old again, it was clear just what those years had cost him.

It made her shiver. It made her heart ache for him. But it was over now. Now he would get to live a normal life with people he cared most about.

Taking his old, wrinkled hand in hers, she lightly squeezed his fingers. "C'mon," she began, "Time for me to see Arthur."

Naturally the day had dragged by so painfully slow. He'd rushed home after work in his haste to see Gwen, half afraid that something would go wrong.

He needed have worried. Once he reached the living room she was there. She was … standing right in front of him. Before he even realised it she was in his arms.

"Arthur," she breathed.

His eyes sought Merlin's. Merlin gave a goofy smile and the thumbs up before disappearing.

He returned his attention to Gwen, drinking in the sight of her, his hands cupping her lovely face, swamped by tenderness and such longing.

"Guinevere," he murmured.

Time hung suspended as they gazed into each other's eyes. Then a low moan escaped his throat and his mouth claimed hers with such burning intensity.

She was here.

She was in his arms once more.

She really was alive.

His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, moulding her body to his so tightly he could feel the beating of her heart. She wound her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.

"Let's go to your bedroom," she whispered her breath hot against his neck.

A slow amazed smile crossed his face. "Guinevere …" he began.

She pressed a finger against his lips.

"Technically speaking it's been over one thousand and four hundred years Arthur, how much longer do we have to wait," she quipped.

Her hands were unbuttoning his shirt before he even had a chance to draw breath.

"You never used to be this frisky?"

Not that he was complaining, far from it. She was amazing.

"I guess living in the 21st century has changed me somewhat," she grinned. "And well we were married once."

Eyes fastened on each other. She nearly walked into the glass cabinet. He nearly banged his head on the lamp. They both laughed, totally speechless, elated. Their hands and lips roamed at will, touching, caressing and exploring with a kind of startled delight at the rediscovering of each other again. She'd forgotten how cute his ears were, how sensual his mouth was, how good he was at kissing and touching her. He'd forgotten the way she made those little moaning sounds deep in her chest when their kisses became too passionate. How soft and fluid like her hands moved over his body and how she knew all the right places to touch him. He marvelled at how he never had to tell her. She was just intuitive like that.

Somehow they managed to find the bedroom. And when they were totally spent with their lovemaking she lay in his arms and he played with her hair, just like old times.

"I'd forgotten how good you were at making love," she breathed with contentment.

"Nice to know I haven't lost my touch then."

Pulling back, she propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him.

"You were so much more clueless back then compared to now," she began, "you seem a lot more experienced."

"Like you said before, it's the 21st century."

She gave him a shrewd look. "Being so rich you must have had women throwing themselves at you."

"I guess, not that any of it mattered."

He leaned forward and claimed her lips, "Until I met you."

She smiled and lightly pushed him back. "You can't distract me that easily."

His slow warm smile made her toes curl. Damn the man. He began planting kisses down the side of her neck and any other thought she had flew out of her head.

Nothing mattered but the here and now.

Merlin sat on the back porch, whittling at a chunk of wood. Gwaine sat next to him, holding a bottle of beer. He took a swig, his eyes resting on Merlin's hands.

"Funny how no one really does that now," he spoke.

"It's actually soothing," Merlin admitted.

And right now he needed to be soothed. In two days' time he would be seeing Emma. He'd been feeling restless all week, barely concentrating on a single task at work.

"It's even soothing watching you do it, kind of like stepping back in time."

It was one of those cloudless nights, the dark sky dotted with stars. Gwaine, Merlin could tell, was in a reflective mood. He guessed that's why he wasn't at the pub. When Gwaine was like this, he was always his company he sought.

"You know if you blocked out the noise of the traffic, lay back on the grass and stared up at the stars you could almost imagine Camelot."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "You really want to go back to those times?"

"Life was harder, but simpler," Gwaine pointed out.

"I'd still prefer today, a lot less suffering."

He had seen enough of it, hoped he wouldn't have to see too much more of it in what was left of his future.

Gwaine took a swig of his beer, and Merlin felt his eyes rest on him, studying him no doubt, as if he was trying to figure him out.

"You ever get tired of living?"

A typical Gwaine question.

"Sometimes, but not now, now it's all been put right again."

"Merlin mate, you really are an enigma," Gwaine mused. "The world would be a dull place without you."

He glanced at him and smiled before returning his attention to his whittling.

"So what are you making?" he asked.

"A dragon."

"You really have a thing for them."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I am a dragon lord, guess it's in my blood."

"So what do you plan to do with it once it's finished."

"I don't know, sometimes I give them away to people close to me."

"Like the one you had made for Audric."

Merlin smiled at the memory of the little dragon singeing Gwaine's hair.

"And that one, are you going to give it to anyone special?"

His hand closed over the piece of wood, his heart constricting in his chest.

'Bring it to life Merlin.'

It was the only thing that made her smile after Esme's death. He loved to watch the way her eyes lit up once the wooden dragon came to life, the delight on her face, the smile on her lips.

He looked up to find Gwaine's curious eyes watching him.

He sighed deeply, shook his head. "No."

Merlin glanced at the clock on his bedside table and groaned. It was two in the morning and he hadn't had a wink of sleep. He rolled over onto his stomach, tugging the pillow over his head. He just wanted to sleep but the memories came instead. As he knew they would and he let them. There was no point in fighting it anymore. He had done such a good job repressing them for over a thousand years.

He could hear her soft footsteps cross the floor. He felt the mattress dip down as she sat on the edge of his bed. He rolled over and looked up at her.

'Emelyn?' He was puzzled by her being here, 'Something wrong?'

She bit down on her lip. 'Yes,' she murmured.

The tortured look on her face worried him. He waited for her to speak, the internal battle raging within reflected on her face. Her hands shook, she clasped them together in her lap.

'I-I want ..." her voice broke off, she quickly averted her eyes. 'I want you to make love to me.'

It was the last thing he had expected. He had to be hearing things? His eyes shot to her face, shocked and confused. She had barely let him touch her these last six months and now she wanted to make love!?

'I don't understand,' he slowly spoke, having found his voice.

She abruptly stood up and began pacing, wringing her hands together. His heart was beating irregularly in his chest at the sight of the pained expression on her beautiful face.

'I feel so wrong inside,' she spoke in a choked voice, 'I just want to feel normal again, whole.'

Her words made his stomach twist in painful knots.

'I-I just … feel so damaged,' her words broke off there, but the raw emotion on her face broke what little resolve he had left.

He quickly scrambled to his feet.

'Emelyn,' he began, approaching her.

She held up a warding hand, and he stood still. She turned her back towards him. He stood there miserably, wanting to help her, wanting to reassure her that it would be alright but who was he kidding. She wasn't okay. She may never be okay and it ate away at his very soul.

'This is all my fault,' he muttered, miserably.

She turned to face him. He saw the bleak shadows in her eyes, 'No … no it's not.'

A heavy silence fell. A dozen emotions flittered across her face causing his heart to break just that bit more.

'I wanted it to be something special, something beautiful.' She shot him a hopeless look before turning away in despair. 'Instead I was robbed, violated.'

He had been waiting for the day she would talk about it but he'd had no idea just how painful it would be to hear it, to see her suffering. He didn't know how to help her.

'Do I disgust you?'

He looked at her wordlessly. How could she think such a thing?

'No.'

'How can you say that Merlin!' she shot back, 'how you can you stand to look at me, let alone touch me.'

She looked so distraught, so uncertain and now he understood. She wouldn't let him touch her because she obviously despised herself, saw herself as being too tarnished to ever be loved.

Reaching out a hand he brushed a tear from her cheek. 'It doesn't' change how I feel about you.'

Colour suffixed her face and she looked away, wrapping her arms around herself, a self-protective gesture he had gotten to recognise all too well.

'Don't,' he said roughly, 'don't turn away from me.'

She stepped back out of his reach, but his arms went around her, stopping her. Expecting her to push him away, she blindly moved into his open arms. She clung to him, taking deep breaths as if to steady herself.

He buried his face in her hair.

'I thought if we made love it would make everything whole again, it would wash away the memories of it all being wrong.'

She pulled back and looked up at him, eyes filling with tears.

'I wanted to replace the memories of it being something special with someone I loved.'

His heart swelled with sudden hope. She still loved him. His lips brushed her forehead.

'It still can.'

'Do you love me?' her voice shook.

He gazed down at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Always.'

She summoned up a wan smile. The gesture tugged at his heart. She still looked so lost, uncertain, and he was filled with an overpowering urge to protect her. He brushed a thumb across her lips.

'I want it to be special too.'

His lips brushed her forehead, 'When you are ready Emelyn.'

The most beautiful smile crossed her face. 'I love you,' she breathed, 'I'll always love you.'

Merlin wasn't sure what time he eventually drifted off to sleep. But when the alarm went off he could swear it was only a couple of hours. He groaned and tried turning the damn alarm off without much luck. It would merely go off again just ten minutes later.

He eventually managed to drag himself from the bed to the shower. He stood under the hot water, eyes closed, and the memories slowly receded into the back of his mind.

It was Thursday. And just one more day before he saw her again in a different time, and a whole different world to the one they had once fallen in love in.

Gwen watched him from the doorway, doing the usual morning routine of washing his face with water, then squirting toothpaste on his toothbrush before brushing his teeth. He rinsed his mouth with water, wearing only work trousers, she admired the view. He may have put on several pounds but it wasn't that bad and he was still undeniably cute. He glanced in the mirror, expression thoughtful, reflective before picking up his hair comb, running it through his hair. And it amazed her seeing him like this again, doing these simple tasks. How was it possible? How had this happened? Them together again and god but she needed him so desperately. Six months, had been a bloody long time. No thanks to Uther.

She wanted to pull Arthur into the bedroom, make love and forget life existed around them with all its attached complications. He tugged on his shirt and then his eyes fell on her; his expression unguarded, raw, and vulnerable. She took the few steps that separated them, gazed into his eyes and saw his need matched her own. Her fingers fluttered to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly she did them up, though she wanted to be doing the opposite.

"Shirts never had buttons back then," she spoke, her voice husky. "I remember how I used to help you dress," she continued.

A smile crossed his face. "Seems like just the other day."

"Glad to see you can dress yourself now," she quipped.

He gave a brief, amused laugh. "I can do a lot more for myself now, I can even cook toast without burning it," he continued, lightly tweaking her nose.

They looked at each other intently for a few seconds, still without moving. His hand brushed her hair back, coming to rest on the nape of her neck.

"Guinevere," he murmured, "It doesn't matter that things are different now," he continued, "we're together and we will find a way to deal with my father."

His lips lightly brushed hers, causing them to tingle before he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipped into her mouth teasing, coaxing. Her hands pressed against either side of his face. It really had been a long time since she had felt this alive and real, as if her existence was suddenly more than the everyday drudgery of merely living.

She had stumbled upon something special, long ago, back in that other time, her and Arthur, the connectedness they shared. A sweet surprise, one she had never expected. One she sometimes felt she never deserved, especially after what she'd done with Lancelot. Allowing insecurity to cloud her judgement, she thought she would have to pay the price for that one mistake.

But she hadn't. Arthur still wanted her, even before either of them ever discovered the truth about her enchantment.

Pulling back for breath, she noticed the stormy passion in his eyes. His hands came to rest on her shoulders.

"I am going to make you breakfast."

It was the last thing she had expected him to say and before she could answer he grabbed her hand, leading her down the stairs. She smiled at his sudden exuberance.

"Without burning down the kitchen," he continued, making her giggle.

Gwen was pouring the tea. He was buttering the toast. Gwaine was strutting about topless as usual.

"Put a shirt on Gwaine," he muttered as he put the toast onto a plate.

"It's in the dryer, I forgot to hang it out last night," he returned, followed by a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes, "Why, you jealous, Princess?" he grinned, grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"Don't be absurd," he scoffed.

Gwaine's grin widened. "Yes you are, and I can't say I blame you, what with you own physique turning to flab, but I'm sure Gwen finds you all soft and cuddly, isn't that right Gwen?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, sorry he had said anything now. He could see the hint of amusement in her eyes too.

"You see what I have to put up with every day," he muttered.

She giggled. He pointed at Gwaine. "Him."

"C,mon princess you know I can't help myself when it comes to teasing you," Gwaine smirked, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

"Yet you weren't this bad back in Camelot days."

"You would have put me in the stocks."

"Pity we still don't have them," he grumbled as he placed the plate of toast on the table.

"Yeah, and you're not the king, you can't tell me what to do," Gwaine added.

"Not that you or Merlin ever listened to me, especially Merlin," he muttered.

He wouldn't have had any other way either. His eyes met Gwen's across the table. She looked so happy again. If left him with a warm tingling sensation, something he hadn't felt in a while.

"Speaking of Merlin, where is he?"

He'd no sooner spoke his name when Merlin came stumbling into the kitchen looking like he hadn't slept in a week.

Arthur frowned. "You look like death warmed up."

Merlin reached for the kettle, "Didn't sleep well."

Arthur knew why and again felt a pang of guilt. He met Gwen's eyes and noted her concern, along with a number of questions.

He inwardly sighed. No doubt she would be grilling him about it later.

The two days spent with Arthur went by too quickly. Just the thought of having to go back to Camp Bastion filled her with dread.

"Don't worry Gwen, I'll find a way so that you and Arthur can be together," Merlin reassured her as he drove her to the hotel.

They were both disguised as old people again. This time she didn't mind.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"The long silences," he sighed, "Says it all."

And Merlin had also been unusually quiet.

She glanced his way. "Arthur told me about Emma."

She noticed how his hands stiffened on the steering wheel.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No," he bluntly replied.

She felt hurt, since when had Merlin become a closed book?

"You used to tell me everything."

He turned his pained expression to hers. "I just can't talk about this Gwen."

Silence filled the car yet again. After a time Gwen couldn't stand it anymore. Reaching out a hand she grabbed his one free hand and squeezed it.

"It will be okay."

Merlin sat on the sofa, hands clasped together, trying to remain calm. Don't think, just don't think about it, he silently chided. The memories are just that, memories she will no longer have. He would be a stranger to her now.

That thought alone left an empty feeling inside of him.

His life had never been normal or average despite him wishing otherwise. Being immortal had come with a price; nothing lasted forever. Except him, he was the anomaly.

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging on the blunt ends. Just don't think … don't think … don't go there.

He couldn't leave her. Not again. Never again. She was the one to leave him in the end.

Time always would be against them.

She was happy playing the role of the village spinster, spending her days educating the children, and her nights with him. There were many happy years spent with her despite the pain to come.

It made her leaving him all that much harder. And that day came. It was inevitable.

The same sickness that had claimed Gwen had also claimed Emma. The only saving grace was that she had died peacefully enough.

The last day spent with her was forever buried deep within. He hadn't allowed it to resurface in over a thousand years.

Now wasn't the time either.

"Merlin! Merlin!"

Arthur's abrupt voice startled him. He welcomed the disturbance.

"I'm in here," he called back, his voice sounding strained to his own ears.

Arthur appeared and glanced at him, a frown denting his forehead. "You look pale."

Trust the prat to point out the obvious.

"I can still call this weekend off, Merlin," he stressed, "I can say I'm sick or something."

"No, its fine Arthur, I'll just hide out in my room."

Arthur sighed. "You can't hide out in your room for the whole weekend, besides how bad can it be?"

"It's not that," he muttered, yanking a hand through his hair.

"What then?"

His hands came to rest on his thighs, he hung his head. "I'll be a stranger to her, and she won't be the same girl."

Feeling the restless agitation increase in its intensity he abruptly stood up and began pacing. "I spent many years with her Arthur. I knew every tiny little detail about her."

"You said you never married."

He turned and shot him a piercing look. "I didn't."

Arthur frowned. "You lived together."

"Something like that."

"She never fell pregnant?"

"She couldn't."

How much it had distressed her for a time.

'Probably for the best,' he'd try to console her. Not that it had worked. 'I don't expect an heir Emelyn, I'm just happy to have you.'

He shook his head to brush away the memory, his eyes meeting with Arthur's shocked gaze.

"I buried her," he stated emphatically. "And now I'm about to see her again, only it's not really her …' his voice broke off there when the doorbell chimed.

He tried to rein in the turbulent emotions coursing through him.

Arthur glanced at his watch. "They are half an hour early."

Merlin swallowed. He couldn't deal with this right now. "I'll be in my room," he muttered and made a hasty retreat.

Arthur watched Merlin quickly leave the room and sighed.

"Just bloody terrific," he muttered under his breath.

And why hadn't Merlin told him any of this sooner? Then he certainly would have done things differently. It's no wonder he'd deliberated about contacting her these last six months. Hopefully he would found his way out of this funk he was currently in and face Emma. The sooner he did the better it would be for him.

Making his way down the hallway he opened the front door. His Aunt Katelyn stood there, a suitcase in hand. She was alone.

"Where's Emma?"

"In the car, don't worry; she'll come out when she's ready."

Her and Merlin truly did make a good pair, he mused. Leaning forward he kissed his Aunt on the cheek.

"It's good to see you again Aunt Katelyn."

She smiled warmly. "You too. I've been looking forward to having some 'one-on-one' time with you."

So did he, and Morgana. Hopefully she would be forth coming with information regarding their father.

"Come inside."

He took the suitcase from her hand.

"I'll give you the grand tour."

Merlin paced the confines of his room. This was ridiculous. He was being stupid. He'd already seen her at the tavern that one time. And he'd been okay. But then that was before all the memories had returned. He'd spent the next six months staring at that damn bit of paper with her phone number on it, fighting a war within himself. Did he leave the past in the past? What he had shared with her in that distant era was something precious, something special.

Losing her had been … unbearable.

She lay on the bed, looking so pale. His nails dug into the palms of his hand at the sight of her. He swallowed the giant sized lump in his throat. He felt so useless, so powerless.

Sitting down on the edge of her bed he brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead.

Her eyes opened, a slow smiled crossed her face.

'Merlin,' she murmured, her voice barely much more than a whisper.

It was pure torture seeing her his way. She'd always been so strong, full of life. The years he had spent with her the happiest moments of his life that he had had in a long while. Now it was about to be ruthlessly snatched away from him.

She raised a hand to his face. 'Don't grieve.'

'How can you say that,' he got out in a choked voice. 'You are going to die and I can't heal you … Emelyn.'

He couldn't bear the thought.

'It's my time.'

He vehemently shook his head, wiping furiously at the tears that refused to stop.

'I'll be alone.' His own voice sounded pitiful to his ears.

He screwed his eyes shut. 'T-This was always going to happen.'

'We've had 30 years, Merlin.'

It wasn't enough. She didn't understand how it would be for him. Nobody did.

'And I'll keep on living.' His voice sounded bitter and broken in his ears.

He could barely bring himself to look in her eyes and see the pity there; hiding his pain by burying his face in the rumpled sheet of her bed.

She was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. A black hole opened up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't save her, just like he couldn't save Arthur all those years ago.

His was a cursed life. Destined to watch people he love die over and over again.

'I'm so sorry Merlin,' she whispered, her voice sounding as sorrowful as he felt.

Her fingers were stroking his hair.

'You must remain strong. Don't shut the world out, that's not you.'

He didn't want to hear it. The world could go and be damned for all he cared.

'Merlin.' There was urgency in her voice now.

He raised his face, his eyes meeting with hers.

'You once told me that I didn't have to suffer alone.'

He sucked up the raw pain, took a deep breath. He had to try to be strong.

'You don't.'

A wan smile crossed her pale face. 'Neither do you.'

But he had suffered, alone, and for a long time. The world was always shifting and changing but his fate remained the same. He felt frozen in time.

His eyes gazed down at Emelyn's lifeless body. Her hair, now streaked with some grey, curled across her thin shoulders.

She was beautiful even in death. He wanted to imprint her face in his memories so it would never fade, knowing it would with time.

Thirty years ago he had stood upon this very spot, with Esme's body being lowered into the ground.

This wouldn't be the first, and it wouldn't' be the last time he'd mourn someone's passing.

Within the space of not more than a day, the entire façade of his life crashed down into fragments around him, and there was no chance of the pieces fitting back together.

She really was gone.

He would never see her again.

Forever was a long time to wait.

The sudden, sharp shrilling of the doorbell brought him back to present with a jolt.

It took a moment for him to get his bearings. He blinked against the brightness of the afternoon sun streaming through his window. Running a weary hand over his face he pushed the memory back into the furthest recesses of his mind. He took a deep fortifying breath, feeling emotionally drained, that was the problem with reliving memories.

And the irony, the day of her funeral he believed he would never see her again, but here she was in this very house, downstairs doing who knows what. Just that … she was here … she existed … she …

The doorbell chimed again, making him frown. Hadn't Arthur's Aunt and Emma already arrived? Why hadn't Arthur answered the door because there was no way he was going downstairs? He needed to collect his composure, get his emotions in check, along with his head.

The doorbell chimed again for a third time, and then it didn't stop chiming. Whoever it was they were sure impatient and where was Arthur!?

Muttering under his breath Merlin made his way down the stairs, his anger rising at whoever it was continually pushing the doorbell. They sure were rude. He wasn't in the mood for it.

Yanking the door open he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

"Excuse me but who do you …" his words died off as his eyes rested on the girl standing there, a black duffle bag in her hand.

His eyes rested on her face, shocked.

"Emma?"

Was it really her? She looked so different. His eyes raked over the clothes she wore, black jeans, black tank top, and rested on her face. What was with the black eyeliner? And her hair … what had she done to it?

"I suppose Arthur told you about me," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Her voice was so jarring in its familiarity. He swallowed, trying to get his erratic thoughts together.

"Um yeah … he mentioned you and his Aunt were staying the weekend."

She didn't remember him from the tavern at all?

"And you were about to say before the cat got your tongue?"

Was she provoking him now? He noted the defiant gleam in her eyes. Her eyes … they hadn't changed. About the only familiar thing he could find at present, and it left him feeling unsettled.

"The doorbell …" he stammered, gesturing to it with his thumb, "You seemed to be having a problem with it."

"No one was answering," she simply replied.

He frowned. "You obviously don't have much patience."

She shrugged as if she didn't care. "You are right, I don't."

His frown intensified. What was with the attitude? He didn't remember her being this way outside the tavern that day. So what had happened to her for her to change in that time?

Now that he thought about it he should have grilled Arthur about this present day Emma. Who was nothing like the Emma from his memories?

"I don't suppose I can come in?"

He shook his head to clear it, "Um yeah."

She shoved her bag at him as if he was the servant, and pushed past him. He stared after her in momentary disbelief before pulling himself together, and following her into the living room.

She was so different to Emelyn that it wasn't too hard to disassociate his feelings from her, and from that past she obviously didn't remember.

Turning around she looked at him. "This is quaint." Some sort of smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. "I love cottages."

She did? "Yeah you seem really enthusiastic about it," he added sarcastically.

He didn't know why he was responding this way? Out of everything he'd imagined over the last week this, her, hadn't been it. Right now he didn't know what it was he felt. She was a stranger to him. She was just some girl that sounded and looked somewhat like his Emelyn, but it wasn't her.

Her eyes slowly scanned over him, a frown denting her smooth forehead.

"Do I know you? You look familiar."

Dropping her bag on the ground it was on the tip of his tongue to say no. Let her figure it out for herself.

"Hey Merlin," Gwaine called as he walked through the front door.

Damn it. How many times had he told Gwaine to call him Emmett for this weekend?

Emma's eyes widened.

"You're that guy from the tavern."

He sighed. It probably was only a matter of time before she figured it out.

"I didn't recognise you," she hastily said.

"I had less hair then," he said, his gaze resting on her cropped hair. "You had more of it."

She brought a hand up to the back of her neck in what he could almost swear was a self-conscious gesture.

"You never called." There was a hint of accusation in her voice.

"I was in hospital for a long while."

Gwaine came into view and stopped short when he spied Emma.

"I see we have company." He circled in around her. "And who might you be?"

"It's Emma," he said.

Gwaine shot him a look, a silent word exchanged between them - the Emma?

Merlin nodded.

"So you're Emma," he smiled at her.

She frowned. "Yes."

Gwaine seemed a bit taken back by her abruptness. He glanced at him again, as if to say, 'and you like her?'

Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze.

"And you happen to be Arthur's cousin?"

"Yes."

"No one told me about it."

Merlin felt Gwaine's accusing eyes rest on him. "I thought he had."

His accusing gaze shifted from him to Emma, who stood there stiffly, looking unapproachable, and back to him.

"Okay, I can see you two are riveted with each other and want to be alone," he drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I'll leave you two love birds alone."

Merlin glared at his retreating back.

"Don't mind him," he muttered, "Just that's … Gwaine.

"You live here?" she asked.

He returned his attention to her, noting the confusion mingled with curiosity on her face.

He nodded. "Yes, Arthur and I are friends."

"You were a medic in the Army?"

"I still am."

Her eyes wandered over him again. "You are better now?"

Did she actually sound a bit concerned for a moment?

"Yes."

God, this was awkward. She seemed just as unsure of him as he was of her.

"So where is my room?"

Just that like. No further questions? No asking why he hadn't called? She was so … bewildering.

"I'm not sure; you'll have to ask Arthur."

And where was Arthur? He needed him right now. The one person he'd wanted to avoid for as long as possible was standing right in front of him.

"You want a drink?" he asked, not knowing what else to do or say.

"Is it strong and alcoholic?"

He blinked. A hint of amusement flickered across her face.

"It's okay, coke will do."

He pulled himself up with a start. "I think I can manage that."

He led her into the kitchen. She sat down; he grabbed a bottle of coke from the fridge and poured her a glass.

"How old are you?" she asked.

She just had to ask. She always had been too curious.

It took him a moment to remember what his age was supposed to be.

"23," he replied, handing the glass to her.

Her face scrunched up. "Really, you only look about 19."

Oh the irony. "I'm a lot older than I look."

Her eyes skimmed over him, again. "You're a bit skinny."

There were no flies on her, he silently mused. "So are you," he shot back.

A hint of a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. "It's probably from smoking too much."

If she wanted to make a bad impression of herself she was certainly doing a good job of it, but he had a feeling most of it was an act. Now that the initial shock of seeing her again was beginning to subside, he was able to think rationally.

He had had 30 years to know every facet of her character, along with her defensive mechanisms, and already he was beginning to figure her out in this 21st century.

"Yeah, I heard it was a good way to lose weight."

Her smile widened and she shook her head, bemused. "Are you always like this?"

Smiling in return, he poured himself a glass of coke. "Yeah, I'm afraid so."

He glanced at her. "Ask Arthur, he'll tell you how annoying I am."

A soft chuckle escaped her throat before she quickly suppressed it. Then a sort of surprised look crossed her face, as if she hadn't expected herself to be amused by him.

"No, I don't believe it, but you are different," she admitted, a warmth in her voice, "In a good way."

A pain he couldn't describe clutched his heart. Then he realised why. It wasn't the first time she had said this to him. And a slow realisation took hold. She really was the one and the same.

His hand shook as he raised the glass to his lips.

She had been, and she still was Emelyn.

After all these years, time was moving, his time with her, once again moving.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! And don't worry, I'm definitely back in the writing game :) Though I still think my writing is a tad rusty, sigh.

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