Merlin: Reborn

:::

Modern AU, reincarnation. What if it wasn't just Arthur who was reborn, but everyone? Will Merlin be doomed to relive his entire Camelot experience in the modern life, or will things be different this time? Canon relationships, futuristic elements, rated T for violence.

:::

Chapter One: The Dragon's Call

:::

Merlin shouldered his threadbare backpack, a nostalgic sort of sigh sweeping from his lips in the same way the light breeze brushed over the tall grass in oceanic waves. It was a balmy spring day, not warm but not cold, and he was experiencing a strange sense of deja vu. He had crossed a hill top much like this one, in fact this very one, thousands of years ago... but Albion was no more, and England was its name now.

He looked down into the same valley that once held Camelot, and remembered why he had avoided it. The city of skyscrapers, of steel and brick and chimneys, had obliterated the trees for the surrounding acres. Nothing was left of the castle, some sort of sixty story business had been put there. There were a few markers here and there, citing historical facts that were true, but nothing predating the seventeenth century. There were trains and electricity and crime and... well, it just wasn't Camelot. It was a city called Camden, population peaking somewhere along the lines of six hundred thousand. Only a big city to those who grew up in Camden and had never been to London.

Merlin had been everywhere. London, Paris, New York, Johannesburg, Moscow, Sydney, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Cairo... But never for a long time. He always came back to Camden, looking for a moment over the crest of that first hill, and waiting. He waited for a sign, or some sort of confirmation, that today was the day. Sometimes he'd go to the edge of the lake and wait, to see what the magical waters would bring. Today wasn't the day, he supposed. Every day wasn't the day.

Sometimes he traveled as an old, bearded man. Sometimes as a young, peppy college student. He certainly went to college enough times to pass for one. He may or may not possess several years of school under his belt, but hardly enough degrees to prove it. He could never truly settle on one calling. He even tried medical school for a few years, but much like his work for Gaius, it was something he just couldn't fully commit to, but used the skill when he saw someone in dire need of it. Sometimes he traveled as a woman. Possibly an ugly woman, but, disguise was disguise. Living and traveling alone for most of your life can lead you into seedy, dangerous places. But Merlin always got out. That seemed to be his story. He was always the last one left alive, the one to carry the torch... alone... into a new century.

He had friends sometimes. He had classmates in college that he could tease, sometimes buy them a coffee when they had a late study night. For a time he joined a historical society in his elderly-bearded disguise, and for three and a half years, he taught British history and enjoyed it when young twenty-somethings called him Professor Dragoon. He once found himself as a bearded forty-year-old who hunted dangerous magical creatures, for people that would pay any price to rid themselves of, say, a minotaur, because they didn't want to go public about the existence of a mystical creature. He usually found some sort of loophole, to send the creatures away, and never kill them. The old religion was all but dead, and still Merlin balked at killing its spawn.

The dryads still existed, but they were small groups, and had developed into cults for the most part. The sixties and seventies were not good decades for religious fanatics... either they stayed true to their original beliefs and remained strong among decreasing popular opinion, or they became mutants of themselves, jumping onto the radical bandwagons of extremism. Once in a great while, he might find one or two. One dryad he met in a bar, drinking himself to death because the rock star lifestyle had left him empty and depressed. One he met in a hospital during practicum, and the dryad simply whispered, "Emrys. At last..." before he died peacefully in his sleep.

He latched onto a young politician named Kennedy once, joining his campaign team and working very hard to send out weird buttons and try to make people vote. He thought American politics were balderdash, but it was a fresh change to have a cause to fight for, and a young person to try and put on a metaphorical throne. After Kennedy was tragically shot in the head, Merlin walked... like a stiff shell of himself, unmade and undead... into a hospital, checked himself in, and wouldn't speak for nearly three weeks. It felt too familiar...

Eventually, the familiarity dissipated. After all, he was carrying his own camera and wearing a tie. There was talk of things like the Soviets and computers. This was an entirely different life. And it was time to go back on the road.

All roads led back to Camden, though. Camden was like a dragon's call among through a high wind... a command, not an option. It was calling to him now, as it always had.

But he didn't plan to stay. He never did.

:::

A large van roared by him on the road, blaring its horn like a ship and snapping Merlin out of his fog. The usual hot wind that accompanied the beastly automobile in it's wake seemed to push Merlin just ever-so-slightly to the left. To catch himself from falling, he took a step forward. Then another, then another. Suddenly, he was walking downhill into Camden. And he didn't know why.

Today wasn't supposed to be the day.

:::

Merlin felt himself grow suddenly nervous. He hadn't been into Camden, not really, not truly. Hovered on the town borders, perhaps, never doing anything other than standing on the hill like a peaceful guardian.

Not like the Middle Ages, anyway. He tried to help, but... after Gwen's successful reign as Queen of Camelot, and her following death, the lands erupted in war for the title and Merlin was still bitter. It was hard for him to stay. It had taken some time to get there, though. At first he was surprisingly optimistic. He knew... he knew he would come back, and then Merlin could march him triumphantly back into Camelot, into Gwen's waiting arms. They would rule together as they were meant to. But... he didn't emerge from the lake like Merlin thought he would. Nothing did, and Gwen's life came and went. The others died too. Gaius died with his forehead pressed into one of his giant, ancient books, right in the middle of a nap.

But the Pendragon family wasn't over. Only the ones that had died... stayed dead.

Gwen had a beautiful daughter, just a few weeks pregnant when... when he died... and despite the support of the Knights of the Round Table, the majority of Camelot flew into a rage when they attempted to put her on the throne after her mother's death. She would have been Queen Marian Ygraine Pendragon, with her mother's skin tones and her father's blue eyes, had she been Queen. Merlin was partially relieved when she chose love for a man named Mark Campbell over the throne. Marian moved to a small kingdom in the land of the Celts, where her red-headed fiery scot of a husband protected her from anyone who suspected her of being a royal in hiding. They had met and fell in love when he had often visited Camelot as ambassador for his land. Mark was staying in Camelot at the time of Gwen's death, and he was bold enough to ask the young princess if he might be of some comfort to her. Marian said, "You offer me comfort, but for the many years we've known each other, you have offered your respect, advice, even affection. Is there nothing else you can offer to me?"

"Only my heart, if you want it," he had answered. Gwen's advisors announced Marian's claim to the throne that night, and believing her to be inexperienced, the country erupted in protest, and nearby kingdoms began to gleefully look toward Camelot's borders once more, knowing a young monarch to be easily unthroned. It grew violently unbalanced. Marian was not unpopular because she was unwise, but because the people of Camelot had begrudgingly accepted Gwen's right to rule, and remained content only because she ruled well.

It was as if when Gwen passed, asking another woman to rule was just too much for their archaic taste. They'd been content long enough. Some even grumbled and wished it was like 'the old days when Uther was king', as if he hadn't been slightly tyrannical.

Marian abdicated. Within a fortnight, Camelot passed peaceably into the Godwyn's kingdom. Princess Elena, now an elderly Queen regent, and pixie-free thanks to Merlin's misadventure and Gaius's seduction skills with her governess, and her son, King Lee, ruled together, and Camelot became their capital city. The greed of other enemies slowly subsided into jealously and admiration from afar.

Marian was free to live her life as she chose, and she chose Mark.

They lived happily. Merlin watched from afar as an old fisherman in a nearby village, who stopped by their market and sometimes conversed with them. When it became clear that they were going to have a happily ever after, Merlin stopped acting as her guardian angel, and moved on.

The Pendragon family would live on, but Merlin was no longer tethered to it.

:::

The lives he knew rose and fell. The wars came and went. The religions and plagues arrived. He spent most of the medieval era wandering the area, keeping an eye on Camelot, watching it change from the city he knew into a strange, dirty sort of compacted town where the bubonic plague wiped out a largely Roman Catholic population.

Castles crumbled down and cities grew into their place. There was the Tudors, Shakespeare, the Industrial Revolution, Civil wars, slavery, destruction, invention, love and a war that encompassed most of the modern world. He played many parts.

He was once a hardened, bearded body guard to Queen Victoria. He became a olive grove farmer for a few years, working under a master in Rome. He got a job as an entertainer in the courts of Caesar Augustus. For a few years he traveled as the 'real' magician with an American circus in the late 1800s. He was adopted the persona quiet, shy foot soldier in the trenches of World War II. He made it out of Dunkirk, others weren't so lucky. He tried to save as many as he could.

:::

Finally, Merlin's optimism was replaced with grim realism, and a simple ability to live when everyone else couldn't. And... he... he never came back. Had the Dragon lied? All these years, and what was left was only a faint belief that destiny would win out in the end.

Nowadays, sometimes he entertained the thought of the Dragon being his own worst enemy, a manipulator and liar from the beginning. All he wanted was to be free. He didn't care if... if the rightful King of Camelot lived or died. He didn't care if Merlin believed he was a failure in creating a destiny that turned into the biggest lie of all. This was the Merlin that walked by the tall stone marker in the middle of the lake, and this was the Merlin who felt a rush of wind from a truck and didn't give the island a second glance. He had walked on, purposefully ignoring it. This was a Merlin who had given up.

:::

But what had changed this time? It's not like he hadn't been honked at before. Sometimes he got lost in his thoughts and stepped into the street. This was a different car, a different hilltop, a different disguise. He looked more like his old self now, black hair, large ears, big eyes. He wore a light brown jacket and dark blue scarf, to keep the spring time chill away. His body was just over twenty-one, give or take a few months, but his eyes were ancient, and his soul had all but evaporated with time.

:::

"Oi, careful," said a gruff voice. Merlin had walked right into another man on the sidewalk.

"Sorry," Merlin said hastily, going on.

He wasn't being called, and he hadn't felt or seen some sort of magical sign or vision. It was just one little step and it had turned to many, till he was standing on a street corner. He could smell food from a tavern, the exhaust of the traffic, the smell of the rain the night before. He passed an electronic store, the sort where they fill the entire storefront window with all the fanciest, flattest, highest quality televisions. Merlin had grown used to technology. He didn't really partake, he didn't go out and buy the latest apple product... but the thought of live pictures playing out of a flat machine still boggled his mind. It was a strange concept to grasp, even if it wasn't all that impressive nowadays.

A small crowd had gathered in front of the window, looking at the eight or twelve different TVs. Two were playing some sort of football cup, but the rest were displaying "LIVE!" footage, some sort of breaking news about a British man who had committed a crime, but because the crime had occurred in America, that was where the victim had chosen to press charges. There would be no deportation... this victim wanted capital punishment, and there is no death penalty in England.

"We spoke with Mr. Pendrake briefly this morning on the courthouse steps," said the anchorwoman. A slightly shaky video began to play of a young journalist woman, thrusting a microphone towards a man's face. The man was walking up the stairs to a courthouse from a black car to the front doors, away from the camera. "Sir, sir," she was saying insistently, "Can you explain why you prefer pressing charges here in America? Would it be because of the stance on the death penalty and the likelihood that Thomas Collins will be sentenced to death?"

"The United States law is non-negotiable," said a low voice. It sounded familiar. "He will be tried for the murder of my wife. Deportation was discussed and ultimately ignored. My government has been mostly compliant in this matter..."

"Then it has nothing to do with wanting revenge, sir?" pressed the journalist.

The man turned and looked into the camera. "I pride myself as a fair and just man," he said, coldly, "But for the crime this man has committed, there is but one sentence I can hope for."

It was Uther. He wore a business suit instead of a crown, but there was no mistaking him. It was him, in the flesh, as young as he was the day Merlin first saw him in the courtyard square, ordering a man to be hung for the use of magic.

Turning, and marching away from the camera, the journalist made a motion, it was back to the anchorwoman again... "That was from this morning and we are still waiting for news of the sentence, they are claiming this is one of the longest jury meeting to take place in Superior Court in ten years..."

Merlin heard a ringing in his ears, as if a grenade had exploded nearby. The anchorwoman's mouth was moving, but he heard nothing. His eyes were on the screen, pulling him towards the window. He put a palm on the cold glass, the chill raising up his arm and into his heart. His mind was vaguely screaming about going into shock, but he disregarded all instinct.

On the screen, the anchorwoman's mouth seemed to be saying that they were able to speak with the public relations rep of Albion Incorporated, who sat beside her at the table, and brought them a quote from the CFO herself. That man looked very much like Sir Leon, only with shorter hair... and then...

There was a photo of Morgana in the upper right hand corner, as beautiful as she once was before evil had sucked away all her color and light. She wore her hair in a tight bun.

We hope that this horrible tragedy can come to quick end, and that it will mean the beginning of healing and closure for the Pendrake family, the quote scrolled by on the screen as the anchorwoman read it out loud.

"Clearly," said the PR representative, the man who looked like Sir Leon, "Albion Inc. is not without leadership while the CEO is in America dealing with this horrible tragedy. The business is in the capable hands of Morgana Lewis, and will continue on undaunted."

"Is it true that the public has been pulling some investment?" the anchorwoman asked.

"Not necessarily," said the PR man, "It is a strange sort of world we live in. Due to the publicity, we've had more shares purchased this year than in 2011, which was our biggest year to date."

"Because the company has benefited, the internet has exploded with rumors of Uther Pendrake's involvement."

"Albion has no secrets and the numbers are public," Leon said gravely, "We gain nothing by this. The police concluded very early on that he had no involvement. Mrs. Pendrake was... heartbreakingly... Shot and killed while in New York, at a bus stop, for the fifty dollars in her wallet. Mr. Pendrake was in Camden, England, at the time, at Albion's corporate office."

Pendrake, the CEO of Albion Industries... here in Camden.

The Pendragons still rule Camelot, even if they're just look alikes... Merlin slipped into denial. It couldn't actually be them. Different names, same faces. It was impossible-what he was thinking. There was no such thing as reincarnation. The Dragon had lied, as he always did. Look-alikes happen all the time. Considering how many centuries Merlin had lived, it was no wonder that someone in the twenty-first century might bear some resemblance to someone in the ancient past. Maybe God ran out of ideas when creating new faces and used old ones.

"If you could make one thing absolutely clear to those trying to stir up controversy on message boards and radio talk-shows, what would it be?" asked the anchorwoman.

"We urge the public to respect the Pendrake family's privacy, any and all questions and queries received by office telephone or email... unrelated to the business and directed towards his personal life... will be ignored or transferred to the police. A family's nightmare is not a source for idle gossip. I would like to remind the tabloids we have the means to sue for liability, should the need arise."

"Taking no prisoners."

"We are taking this very seriously."

"Ah, well, we've got to take a quick break, and when we return, the protests in London continue but this time they are 'peaceful' protestors. Thank-you for your time, Mr. Reynolds."

"And you," said Sir Leon Reynolds... mister.

The camera focused solely on the anchorwoman again, and Merlin took a step backwards, away from the televisions. The ringing in his ears seemed to be growing worse. Thomas Collins... it had been so many years, he'd forgotten. But that was the name of the boy who had been beheaded on his first day in Camelot. He was certain of it.

"No," Merlin felt himself saying. "I can't do it over again."

"Are you all right, boy?" said a voice.

"No," said Merlin wearily. He had lived far too long. Far too long to do it all over again. It was too painful. He couldn't... he couldn't lose them. Not this time.

"No?" repeated the voice. "Whatever is the matter? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Merlin turned around and beheld the old gentleman behind him. Oh, god, it can't be. Merlin felt elated at seeing his guardian, his mentor, the only father he had truly known for more than a few days.

It was Gaius.

He wore suspenders and brown trousers, and a yorkie cap over short white hair. He wore a slightly oversized jacket, where a pair of spectacles stuck out of the front pocket. But it was Gaius, there was no mistaking that wise, judgmental face. His eyebrows were as crooked as ever.

What began as pure elation soon turned to horror. Merlin suddenly realized that it was indeed happening all over again. In a new life.

"No," Merlin repeated. "You're... you're not real."

"Good heavens," Gaius said in a surprised tone. "What an accusation. I can assure you, I am quite real. Last time I checked, anyhow."

Merlin held up a hand, as if urging Gaius to stay back, though he did not advance. "I won't do it again!"

Gaius instantly took a step backwards. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"I mean, I am glad to see you, but..."

"Glad to see me?" Gaius repeated. "I don't understand. Unless..." His eyebrows furrowed hilariously as he glared. "Wait a moment, I, I don't have my glasses on, but I do know you!"

"What?" Merlin whispered, dumbstruck. "How do you know me? How?"

Gaius took another step back and suddenly realized he was at the edge of the curb. In a millisecond, and he would have fallen, right into the street... Merlin had to make a choice. Deal with the consequences. See it through. Doing it all over again. Except instead of a railing, it was a curb. And there was no mattress to catch Gaius this time.

Merlin launched himself forward. The air fell into muted silence, as Father Time himself went to sleep when Merlin commanded him. Merlin tugged Gaius's jacket gently, pulling Gaius back from falling, and throwing himself onward in his place.

An approaching car honked loudly, but it was too late-the brakes screeched and the wheels shrieked, and the bumper slammed into Merlin's legs, knocking him into the street.

Merlin collapsed onto the pavement but caught himself with his left shoulder and right hand, stopping himself from rolling. Everything moved into slow motion a second time, the air beating like a pulse. If he didn't do something quickly, it could seriously injure him... maybe even kill him and run him over... What a fine time to use magic, to stop a car from hitting him when he was hoping to simply keep Gaius from the same fate.

With Gaius watching... was it worth the risk? He wasn't in the mood to die in a hit-and-run, that would be an anticlimactic ending to hundreds of years.

Merlin held up his hand, and the car froze within an inch of his face. Only Gaius saw the strange, golden light in his eyes, and a pulse of energy emanate from his palm. The bulb of magical energy, like transparent shimmers of heat, dissipated, and Merlin lowered his hand, letting out an exhale of relief. Time and space regained sound and speed as normal.

"Good god!" cried Gaius in shock, stepping forward.

"Oh my god!" shouted the driver from inside the car. The car was put into park and the driver's door opened. Merlin felt he shouldn't have been so surprised, due to the appearance of Morgana, Uther, Leon, and Gaius in less than ten minutes... but he was. He was so, so surprised, that it hurt. It made his heart hurt... so deeply, that it was if a wound had been opened that he thought had healed.

It was Gwen. The sight of her charming, captivating face, those soft brown girls around her heart-shaped face and dark eyes without all the sorrow... it made Merlin feel like weeping. In fact, he wondered if he was. His whole body had gone numb with shock. He probably would have preferred being knocked unconscious at this point.

"Oh no, oh god, I'm so sorry," Gwen was in a happy medium between chiding and hysterical. "Oh... oh my god... I am going to get fired. I've killed someone. I mean, I've hit someone. You're not, dead, I mean... can you hear me? Can you move? Are your legs broken? Please don't be broken!"

Merlin tried to shake away the roaring in his ears. "I'm-I'm fine..." He noticed she was wearing a sort of waitress uniform, black slacks and a white starched shirt, with a small black apron around her waist. The name tag on her lapel said Gwen: House Service.

"Let me help you," Gwen reached for him, her hands shaking and her expression panicked.

"No, no, don't move him," Gaius stepped off the curb. "It's best not to move them until we've checked for neck or spinal injuries."

"Guy!" Gwen exclaimed. "Oh... thank god you're here... I didn't think..." She suddenly looked at Merlin with revulsion. "He ran right in front of me."

"I'm so sorry," Merlin exclaimed. "I am so, so sorry."

"Tell me, Merlin," Gaius said, "Do you have any neck, back, or head pain?"

"How do you know my name?" Merlin asked weakly.

"It took me a moment to put it together," Gaius replied easily, "But you think I would recognize Helen's son! She sent me a picture, so that I would know you."

"You know each other?" Gwen asked shrilly.

"He's the one trying out for the internship," Gaius answered, "Renting that room I'm letting."

"You did?" Merlin repeated robotically. "I mean... I am?"

"Oh, god, he's lost his memory, I'm a monster..." Gwen sobbed. "Why did you walk backwards off the curb anyway?"

"He hasn't lost his memory, it's just a miscommunication," Gaius corrected kindly, more for Gwen's sanity than for Merlin's assurance.

People were beginning to honk their horns. Some passed, but some just pulled to a stop and honked and shouted. Gwen glanced at the growing traffic, and back at Merlin. "Can we move him?" she asked slowly.

"Can you walk?" Gaius asked. "We should not move a person who has been struck by an automobile, but..."

"I'm okay," Merlin managed to say. He was not okay, but it had nothing to do with getting hit by a car. He wanted to take Gaius and Gwen in his arms and hold them close and never, ever let them go. He wanted to run away, leave them all behind, and get out while he had a chance. He knew that if he saw Arth... him... he'd stay. And he didn't want to stay.

Gaius had mentioned his mother. He had called her Helen, not Hunith, but Merlin could assume at this point that it was the same woman. Gwen had called him Guy, which would be the closest modern equivalent to Gaius. He thought it was a stupid name. Would one name their daughter 'Gal'?

"Let me help you up," Gwen was saying. "Take my arm."

"Thank-you," Merlin said, leaning on her arm and slowly getting to his feet. His palm was bleeding and scraped up, and his shoulder hurt, and his legs would be horribly bruised... but his head hadn't struck the pavement. He was lucky.

He stepped beside Gwen as she led him back up to the curb.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance?" asked a middle aged woman, leading a growing crowd of awestruck onlookers.

"No, please, don't," Merlin said. "I didn't hit my head or anything. I barely touched the ground. Really. Thank-you."

"If you don't mind, you lot can move on," Gaius said sternly. "Give the boy some air."

The crowd grumbled and began to slowly disperse. They lowered Merlin onto a nearby bench, and helped pull his bag off his shoulders to set on the ground beside them.

"Are you... going to press charges?" Gwen asked worriedly.

"What? I'm... no! Of course not!" Merlin said indignantly.

Gwen was relieved but the look was quickly replaced with one of scolding. "How could you not look where you were going?" she asked. "I could have killed you."

"But..." Merlin began to use muscles in his face he hadn't used in... years. He smiled at her. "But you didn't. No harm done. Really."

"At least the room you're letting from me puts you in close vicinity with a physician," Gaius sighed. "If you have any dizziness, or blurry vision, or ringing ears... or anything of the sort... you must tell me immediately."

"Yes... sir, I will," Merlin hesitated. He worried that he would call him Gaius, and not Guy, and throw some sort of cosmic fate out of balance. Perhaps ruin everything. He didn't know.

"I just," he hesitated, "I guess I'm a little confused. Not... not because of a little road burn," he tried to add this lightheartedly for Gwen's sake. "But renting a room from you. My... mother and I, didn't exactly discuss..."

"Oh, I know all about your disagreement," Gaius chided him. "How she wanted you to wait and apply next year... I thought it would be good for you. The rent was my idea. She was far more apt to let you come if you lived near one of her old friends."

"But..."

"It's not any trouble. Really. You'll help with the housework and cleaning, at least until you get that paid internship, and then you can pay a nice, low rent. Get you on your feet. It's about time you left the nest."

Gwen looked back and forth between them. "You meant the internship at Albion Industries?" she blurted.

"Yeah," Merlin replied. Assuming so...

"But... but that means we'll be working together."

Gaius let out a snort.

"Is that a bad thing?" Merlin asked, forcing himself to smile again.

"Well, yes," Gwen said. "I mean, no. Not that it's a bad thing. But, I'm sure you can understand, how awkward it is. I mean, I've struck a pedestrian with my car! And he's a future coworker!"

"If he gets the internship," Gaius said, with no lack of confidence but a certain degree of pessimism that he always had.

"I can't think of any reason why not," Gwen said. There she was again, that vessel of hope, like a sphinx that guarded a desert full of despair, never willing one to pass. The Gwen that Merlin remembered more readily, a source of encouragement and a moral compass for Arthur, was still in there somewhere... perhaps she would be that Gwen again, and leave the skin of her self-deprecation and doubt behind.

Oh, how he loved and cared for Gwen. To smile readily again would have to be a habit relearned, even if the emotions were there. For the first time in a long time, something akin to joy was bubbling up inside of him. These were his friends. His family. And they were all alive again by some miracle.

"Gwen, really. It's all right."

"How do you know my name?" she asked incredulously.

"Your... name tag. It says Gwen."

"Oh, right, of course. Well, I mean, you're not wrong... It's short for Guinevere. It didn't fit in the label maker... so... they shortened it. A little presumptuous of them, but, after all, they're my employers..." she paused. "I mean, not that they're rude or anything, it's just... it's not really my name."

To hell with the pain of loss. He wouldn't lose them all again. He's the great and powerful Emrys! Surely it could be different this time!

"Gwen is a pretty name," Merlin said, "So, it suits you."

"It does, doesn't it?" offered Gaius helpfully.

He knew the future, after all... well... maybe not this future in particular, but he knew a little of what may happen. And maybe... maybe it could work this time. Maybe he was getting his hopes up for nothing, perhaps everyone was reborn except Arthur. After all, the news anchor didn't mention him, and neither did Sir Leon, er, Reynolds.

And Arthur wasn't exactly in line to be King of England, the throne was slightly occupied by a Queen, her son and daughter-in-law, and a new infant. This was the modern age. It was all about Princess Kate and young George nowadays.

"Oh, um," Gwen said bashfully, "That's awkward... I mean, it's kind, but..."

"It's not awkward for me," Merlin assured her. "That's maybe not the best way to meet someone, though. Perhaps we can start over."

"Oh," Gwen said shortly. Merlin remembered the way she always second guessed herself when he first met her. "Oh, all right then," she said, "Let's backtrack. Hello... I'm Gwen." She reached forward to shake his hand.

Merlin reached forward, wincing at the pain in his shoulder and elbow. "I'm Merlin," he said, smiling a third time. It was easier this time. He was genuinely glad.

Another horn sounded.

"Oh dear, I should... you know... get my car out of the road," Gwen looked at Gaius. "You won't... tell them, will you?"

"Good heavens, who do you think I am?" Gaius exclaimed. "Do you think I serve on the Board of Directors to tattle on the near-miss of the maid? I have much better things to do. It is against my nature to put anyone in harm's way."

"I suppose that's true," Gwen let out a light chuckle. "Do take care of yourself, Merlin," she said down to him. "And... sorry... again." She turned and darted back to her car, and to the tune of more honking and swerving, ignored the road rage of the others as she carefully and methodically pulled back into traffic.

"So, tell me," Gaius said with ease, sitting beside Merlin on the bench. "How did you make the car stop?"

"Sorry?" Merlin had to play dumb... not that he didn't want the same support from Gaius he had before, but for the sake of the modern world. It didn't seem right.

"I saw your eyes turn yellow and you stopped the car from running you over," Gaius said. "I am an old man but I am not stupid. And I seem to have a vague memory of falling myself, before I found myself standing on the curb and wondering why you were the one in the road. What was that?"

A long silence. The equivalent of Hamlet's soliloquy ran through Merlin's mind, the great debate of 'to say or not to say'.

"Sorcery," Merlin attempted, in a tight whisper.

The word hung in the air, like a scent, but one couldn't tell if it were a perfume or a poison.

"Ah," Gaius sighed. "I thought your mother was wrong, but I see now that is not the case. There's not very many people who believe in that sort of stuff, you know. Your mother and I are of the few."

Merlin let out a long breath. "You... believe me?"

"Of course I do. Even logic at this point is in your favor."

"Then... people know... about magic?"

Gaius shook his head. "No, no, this is the modern world. I think it would be easy in an ancient time when faeries and druids were common-but this is the sort of thing that sends you into an asylum. Imagine if the whole world knew... it'd be disastrous. But still, you are gifted."

"Gifted, hm?" Merlin said, slowly, with a sigh. That sigh developed into a slight shudder, and suddenly Merlin felt tears gathering in his eyes. "Gaius, I..."

"Gaius?" he repeated with a laugh. "Good lord, I thought I had left behind that name in university. I haven't gone by my full name... since... did you mother tell you? That's terribly cruel of her, indeed. I hated my name. It sounded to me like some Roman general who slaughtered slaves, women, Jews, and Christians in a coliseum."

"Gaius is a fine name," Merlin protested, more hysterical than he meant to. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Good heavens, you are an emotional young man. Stop that... oh, fine, here you go." Gaius pulled a hanky from his pocket. "It's clean. And I don't expect it back."

Merlin held the hanky loosely in his hand. He hadn't held one since... oh, 1912, waving goodbye to a few of his college friends as they left England's ports on the Titanic...

"Gaius," he said, trying to have a little self control, "I know like it seems like we know each other, but, we've never met..."

"Well, yes, I know, but your mother has been one of my dearest friends since god-knows-when. We haven't met officially. I still put your name in the Christmas cards, though."

"Please-please listen. I have something I need to tell you."

"Consider me intrigued, but is it the type of conversation you want to have on a public bench?" Gaius gestured to a few people gathered nearby, looking a little too hooded and tattoo'd for Gaius's liking. One of the characters lit a cigarette, held it out, and tapped it, letting some of the ash fall terribly close to Gaius's nicely pressed trousers.

"This town is so charming," Gaius said dryly. "Let's go back to my flat. All right? Then you can weep as long as you want."

Merlin found himself snorting with laughter instead. "Okay," he responded.

:::

Gaius's flat was tall, and thin, and could be easily passed by if it were not made of different material than the two buildings bookending it. A long time ago, someone had found a particularly wide alleyway between two white clap-board houses, and filled it in with brick, creating a frightfully skinny flat perfect for one or two people to rent. Three small steps led up to a door with a knocker that looked strangely like a Questing Beast. Inside, there was a messy sitting room on the left, and kitchen behind it. In the front hall there was a small ladder that led to a loft bedroom, and below the loft, two doors, one for a bedroom and one for a bathroom. It was cramped.

It already felt like home.

"You will be staying in the loft," Gaius explained, pulling Merlin's bag from his hands and dumping it unceremoniously beside an umbrella rack that looked as if it were tripped over every day. "Like I said, the rent will be very low, since there's very little privacy."

"I don't mind," Merlin said quickly. "I just... this is very unexpected. My mother... mum. Mum and I didn't go over the details, and..."

"Well, here, this may clear things up," Gaius stepped into the sitting room and had to squeeze between the coffee table and armchair to reach an old laptop leaning against a magazine rack. He opened it up and sat in the chair, grumbling at the slow wifi.

"Ah, there, an email from your mother," Gaius handed the laptop to Merlin. Merlin slowly sat on the couch and tried to fathom the fact that Gaius knew how to use a computer and, now, he was staring at proof that his mother was alive.

To: dr.

From: 1960

RE: Internship opportunities

Guy,

I appreciate your willing to be a reference for an internship that, technically, Merlin hasn't even applied for. Things have been tense lately. We sort of argued, but, less of an argument I suppose than it was me feeling overprotective and him feeling independent. I wanted him to wait one more year, but he did not want to wait. I want him to leave this small town as much as any mother wishes for her son to accomplish his dreams, but I wasn't feeling ready to let him go yet... even though deep down I DO know the timing is right!

He wants to have a little space and I am under the impression that space will be waiting for him in Camden. I mean, that's where his father was born, and that's where you and him were friends once. It's part of the past but it could be a future, too.

So, here's what happened. Merlin left yesterday and I think he's coming to introduce himself to you. I didn't even get a chance to tell him you offered a room, so he may be surprised. I feel so much better knowing it's in a city with which we are both familiar, especially for Merlin... he is special, Guy, and I mean that.

I know it's hard to believe without seeing it for yourself. I know you trust me. But Merlin's skills are far beyond what we see in the movies nowadays. This is real, real power. The sort of magic in those old books we used to read about the druids in university, imagining how cool it would be if we could meet some. When you see his power for yourself, you'll get it. But he won't share willingly. Trick him into, I don't know, catching a falling water glass or something. Make sure he's watching and just push it off the table. You'll see. He's such a good kid, he won't be able to help himself. He'll stop it.

I am going to be honest. I am frightened for him. I want him to have a mentor, a guardian, someone to care for him as he takes his next steps into the bigger world. I'm afraid he might be a little naive, or a little old fashioned... whatever it is, he could use someone older and wiser who isn't me, his worried mother.

Call me when this reaches you. I'd call you myself but I had the urge to write you these thoughts at 3 a.m. I know you would not forgive me if I called you at three! By the time I hit send it might even be 3:05.

Talk to you soon

-Helen

"Oh," said Merlin.

"See?" said Gaius. "I knew that would clear the air."

:::

Merlin and Gaius ate dinner together. Gaius explained to Merlin what a terrible cook he was and pulled out two boxed dinners, peeled the plastic back, and popped them both side-by-side into the microwave. After six or seven minutes, the edges were fried (and possibly melting) and the middle was still chilled. Merlin ate with gusto anyway. The fact that Gaius knew he wasn't a great cook and still managed to create something slightly unappetizing with pre-made food was so homelike that Merlin felt his appetite renewed to a greater extent than it had for a millennia.

Gaius drank a small glass of sherry with his dinner. "I have an 7:30 am appointment," he said. "So I will be going to sleep early."

"So... you're a doctor," Merlin inferred.

"A family physician. I have my own practice, yes. It's very small."

"So how are you involved with Albion Industries?"

"Albion industries is first and foremost the greatest provider of medical instruments in all of Europe. It is the secondmost provider of factory jobs and often given a sideways glance for poor working conditions... but... anyway, it doesn't actually manufacture weapons but it does own a great many sub companies that create weapons, elevators, security systems, computers, stereos... if it has something metal in it, Albion is involved somehow. And I," Gaius shook his head as if he thought it was strange, "am on the board of directors."

"Oh, I see," Merlin said, but he did not really understand. "They wanted a doctor's real opinion for a company that creates medical supplies?"

"Hardly," Gaius laughed. "I am the product of a favor and an old friend. Twenty years ago, there was a... shall we say... a rather hostile takeover of the company. Uther's father founded the company, and when Uther became CEO, he fired many of his father's board and other employees, and practically started from scratch, pulling the best and the brightest from every other company in England. He wanted me on the board because we had been friends since the cradle. He is... a paranoid man, I'm afraid. He wanted an old friend that he could trust on his team."

"Oh," Merlin said. "Why... why is he so paranoid?"

Gaius shrugged. "He's... had a strange past."

"Does he know about magic?" Merlin blurted.

"Shhhh," Gaius hushed, despite the fact no one else was listening. "Yes. He does. That's... that's why things went so wrong, I suppose. There was a lot of strangeness with his father. His father may have even been magical, I never really knew. But Uther sees magic as a threat, especially when he has fought and clawed his way to the top. If someone can snap their fingers and take away everything you have, wouldn't you be a little paranoid too?"

"I don't have so much to lose," Merlin said, more darkly than he meant. "Not anymore."

"Good heavens," Gaius said again. It seemed to be his favorite saying. He pulled out a tiny card from a worn leather wallet, and handed it across the table to Merlin. "Don't take this the wrong way," Gaius said. "But... you seem more distressed than you let on. It might give your mother a little peace of mind, too."

Merlin took the card and squinted at the small, black symbol that looked like a clawed footprint in a scarlet ring. He turned it over and read.

John Kilgharrah - Counselor, Life Coach, Psychologist

Sessions by appointment only

Merlin began to laugh. "No," he guffawed. "NO! Kilgharrah? Oh... god, no..."

"No what?" Gaius replied, abashed. "What's so funny?"

"I am not going to see a shrink," Merlin exclaimed.

"Anyone who refers to a counselor as a 'shrink' probably needs one," Gaius said sternly. "You will call that number at the bottom and make an appointment, or you can kiss the loft room goodbye."

"Oh, come on, Gaius, I haven't even seen it yet."

"Fine by me, you won't grow too attached!"

Merlin was still chuckling. He turned the card over in his hand. It wasn't really the dragon, right? If it was, Gaius would have said 'Merlin, you must go down to the basement of Albion Industries and talk to the giant creature living down there' and not 'go see a counselor, you worry me'. If it wasn't really a dragon, with scales and fire and bat wings... then what did Merlin have to fear? After all, dragon or human, Merlin was more powerful than either. Maybe the name was coincidence... since, obviously, that theory had worked out so well previously.

"All right," Merlin tucked the card in his pocket, sobering. "I'll go. I don't mind."

"Good!" Gaius stabbed his potato and meatloaf mash with his plastic fork.

:::

When Gaius said goodnight, Merlin gathered his bag and went up the ladder to the loft. It wasn't entirely open, as the railings did not run the length of the room, so only the center of the room and a small writing desk under a window were visible from the entry way below. A partial wall on either side hid a bed to the right and a small wardrobe to the left. It was small, and utterly familiar.

Merlin dumped his bag on the floor. He had never been a neat person. Why start now? He pulled off his jacket and slung it over the back of the desk chair. He stared at the full length mirror on the wardrobe door, seeing himself as Dragoon the Great. He had wandered many years as an elderly man. He ran around the world as middle-aged man. He spent a great many years looking young.

That was the trouble with being an immortal man with the powers to change appearance at will. Eventually you forget which ones are the disguises, and which ones are really you. Merlin found himself staring at Dragoon's reflection and wondering if that was his true self, the depressed, white-bearded wizard that trudged across the globe trying to pretend his past wasn't a long line of headstones bearing names long gone.

A blink of the eye- the beard was gone. Merlin stared at the youngest version of himself, not a child, but like the day he came to Camelot. Before Uther. Before...

He wouldn't think about him. No.

There was a paper in his hand, given to him by Gaius before going to bed. It was the application for the internship. Merlin looked it over for a few minutes, filled it out as best as he could (he had used magic over the past many decades to secure what he needed to exist in a modern world... like a birth certificate and a fake driver's license) and left it on the desk.

Then he finally gave into his shock. Uther, Leon, Morgana, Gaius, Gwen. All had returned in some form. Different roles, different society, same faces, all with the same potential to be heroes and villains in some futuristic sense. He fell sideways into the bed, shaking, holding his knees to his chest. Something prevented him from being able to feel all the emotions that clamored for his attention. He could hardly think, but he had to be mentally prepared for what tomorrow might bring.

:::

The next morning, Gaius greeted him with a cup of black coffee and a battle plan. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Merlin rose early to see him off and eat breakfast together.

"To give you an advantage," he said, "When you drop off your application, you should introduce yourself to the other employees there. Tell them you're a friend of mine. It's possible that they'll offer you an interview today, so dress nicely. Their latest applicants have been unimpressive so far."

"I don't even know what this internship is for," Merlin burst. "There's no job description on the app. What if it's for something I can't do?"

"They'll review your skills and place you where you are needed. Perhaps you'll be doing data entry. Or you'll work in the mail room." He chuckled. "Perhaps you'll be working with Gwen as a maid."

"A maid!" Merlin echoed.

"Oh, and Merlin," Gaius sobered quickly. "I never had a chance to say thank-you for yesterday."

"Oh... well... anyone would have done the same."

"Not really. Your magic is unique."

"You don't know anyone else like me, do you?" Merlin asked hopefully.

Gaius hesitated, and then lied. "No. No one quite like you."

"But you DO know others with magic?"

"It's not for me to say, Merlin. There are people that I know whose trust I have been given, and I cannot break those vows. So please... don't ask." Gaius gave him an apologetic smile. "What was it you wanted to tell me yesterday? I'm afraid we never got around to it."

Merlin considered the ripple effect this could have. Would it destroy what strange little corner of reincarnation he had stumbled upon? Would it erase everything and throw the world out of balance? There was no way of knowing.

"Gaius," He tried, "What would you say if I told you I was hundreds and hundreds of years old?"

Gaius raised a pair of crooked eyebrows. "I would say you were mad. Your mother remembers your birth being twenty or so years ago, as do I when I received a card that said 'it's a boy'. Why? I do not understand."

"What if her memories had been altered by a greater power?" Merlin pressed.

"By yours?"

"No, something that even I cannot fathom."

"Then I would say this is a very strange turn of events," Gaius frowned.

"Hypothetically," Merlin lied. "If I had lived hundreds and hundreds of years, and in the ancient past, when druids and dragons and pixies were real, and worked and lived in a castle that used to exist in this very city..."

Gaius looked slightly pale. "How old are you, Merlin? Really? Enough with the hypothesis. Be honest with me, or I shall phone your mother."

Merlin tried not to grin. The fact that he even had a mother to telephone was astonishing to him. "Gaius," Merlin said, "Gaius sounds like an ancient name because it is an ancient name. I've known you before. I've known everyone before. You don't remember me. How could you? This is 2014. I knew you... in... I don't even know. Gaius, I am old, so very old that I have forgotten. I lost count sometime after 800."

Gaius seemed to be taking the news rather well. "I suppose I must come to you for aging advice. If you are so old. What has kept you so well-preserved? Magic?"

"I... I guess I'm immortal. I don't actually know. Something happened to me in a crystal cave and it has kept me from dying."

"I see," Gaius said, though he clearly did not. "A crystal cave. I've read of such a thing. A crystal cave, a holy grail, a garden of Eden. It is a literary archetype, you might say. And what do you mean by 'knowing everyone already'?"

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"I will if you make a good case for it."

"I knew you, once, when Camden was ancient and a citadel was on the very hill that Albion Industries sits upon. Uther was king, you were his physician. Morgana was... complicated. You were my guardian. Gwen... well, Gwen was a servant, and then... I shouldn't say. We had a great many adventures. We were happy."

Gaius stared at him incredulously. "This... this 'other me'... was he the same?"

"Very much the same, but your hair was longer," Merlin said. "I just... I haven't seen you all... since a terrible battle occurred, and hundreds died... my friends..."

"You've been running ever since?"

"Not... running. Watching."

"I know a runner when I see one," Gaius said. "It's impossible to believe, Merlin."

Merlin's face fell.

"But," Gaius added, "It explains the weeping. I knew from the moment I saw you that there was something ancient... and very very wrong... about the way your eyes saw the world. You looked like someone who had seen a ghost."

"You said as much."

"Then I suppose it to be true. My instinct tells me you are truthful. My practicality says that such a thing is impossible. But I grew up in a modern life, and magic is considered impossible, yet it does exist. So why not reincarnation?" Gaius paused, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. "I cannot believe it," he said, "but I trust you. And your mother. If there are greater powers at work, then who am I to question it?"

Merlin spontaneously launched forward and gave him a hug. "I have missed you so much," he cried, "And for the past several hundred years, I have wanted your advice and guidance more than anything. ANYTHING."

"I am afraid that, if you are as old as you say, there is nothing I can possibly teach you," Gaius answered flatly, but he hugged Merlin back. "I know I don't know you, but if you know me, then I am sure you can understand. It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to resuming an ancient friendship that I have no memory of."

He pulled back, looking at Merlin critically. "Then you are not quite so inexperienced as your mother made you seem. Tell me, not how, but WHY have you lived so long?"

"I am a sorcerer," Merlin said, humbly, "I have been called Emrys. And for some reason, the persona of Emrys is not just a sorcerer, but the greatest sorcerer. I'm supposed to be that one. But why, I do not know..."

Gaius suddenly shouted. "Emrys! THE Emrys! Your mother, father, and I used to study incredible tales of Emrys. Ancient stories that no one believes in anymore. You are really called Emrys?"

"Yes," Merlin's voice hitched. "I am."

Gaius was shaking his head in bewilderment. "The Last of the Dragonlords."

"Yes, I am," Merlin said again, "A pointless title, I guess, without any dragons."

"I suppose you saw the passing of the last dragon in history?" Gaius asked excitedly.

"I did."

Gaius smacked the table too excitedly. "I knew it! I knew they existed!" He made himself calm down, coughing embarrassingly. "Does your mother know about any of this?"

"I thought my mother was dead," Merlin explained, feeling the weight leave his shoulders. No secrets. Not this time. Secrets are what destroyed everything in the first place. "I've been everywhere, across the world, trying to bide my time... till... nothing, I guess. I haven't had much to live for I suppose. But I came to Camden yesterday, just to have a look. And I found myself here. And you're here, alive. And apparently so is my mother."

Gaius shook his head. "It is a strange world we live in, Merlin. Some great magic is at work. Why do you think that is? Is it the bloody apocalypse?"

Merlin glanced away. "I don't know."

"Ah, there you are, running away again."

"In ancient times," Merlin attempted, "In my youth, Uther was not a great king. He was at war with magic. He committed genocide a hundred times over."

Gaius frowned. "Were we friends then? Uther and I?"

"A little. Once. When you were younger. He cherished your wisdom. But when you urged him to have any compassion... he thought it was a weakness. He even sentenced you to death once under suspicion of sorcery."

"Whatever for? Why did he hate sorcery so much?" Gaius asked.

"Sorcery took his wife away from him."

"Ygraine," Gaius said in surprise. He laced his fingers together thoughtfully. "You were watching the television when I saw you. His wife..."

"Was murdered in America, yes, I saw that. His wife was killed then, too." He sighed tiredly. "I am glad to see you all again. I am. But... there is a lot that happened. Too much to explain. Things that can never happen again, and yet..."

"Here we are."

"I don't want to go through all of it all over again."

"But what is the point? Why must you go through it all again? Why are the people of your past being reincarnated, if that is indeed what has happened?"

"I think it's because..." Merlin sighed deeply, his heart pounding. "I think it's because of Uther's son."

Gaius cocked his head to the side. "Arthur? The fates have aligned and rewritten the future to bring back the past for the sake of Uther's irresponsible son?" Gaius laughed a little. "Arthur is a rich, spoilt playboy. He spends his father's money and enjoys the big cities. He has no interest in growing up or coming into his inheritance... it is a family-owned company, after all."

Merlin hadn't heard his name spoken in ages upon ages. He hadn't spoken the name himself since the last day that he was alive. But it was clear now... he was back. And he would need Merlin more than ever.

"That has made things very clear," Merlin nodded gravely. "If he is so terrible as you think, that must be why I am here. I am here for him."

Merlin wasn't always the best at hiding his feelings. Lying, maybe, to keep a secret, but not able to conceal his emotions. Gaius could read it all over his face.

"Oh, Merlin!" he exclaimed, touching Merlin's arm briefly. "He was your friend, wasn't he?"

"My best friend," Merlin nodded slowly. "My king. The greatest king England has ever known. And the stories don't even remember him."

"No, no they don't," Gaius poked him sharply. "But they remember YOU. You are the key to-whatever 'this' is. If you are indeed Emrys, the great Emrys that old dusty volumes have held sacred your legends and adventures, then if you believe Arthur needs you, then that must be exactly what you must do. Be there for him."

Gaius stood and collected their empty cups of coffee. "And Merlin, the future is not set in stone."

Merlin looked up at him hopefully.

"I hope you know that," Gaius said. "I can see it your expression. You loved Arthur. Whatever happened to him, it hurt you deeply." He put the cups in the sink. "It doesn't have to be the same again." He turned and collected his jacket and soft-leather briefcase. "You, and only you, create the future," he said sternly. "And if it is your job to take care of Arthur, please, do so as soon as possible. He is a complete pain in the arse. The more he can learn from a thousand plus years of your wisdom, the better! I urge you to start right away before he lands himself in jail or discovers that he is the father of eight children by eight different conquests."

Merlin found himself laughing. "I will."

:::

Albion Industries was tall building. Sixty floors or so. The entire city below the hill was reflected on the first several floor windows, and those above it reflected the gray, cloudy sky. It looked like a tall, prestigious mirror, and it was even more intimidating inside.

The lobby was very wide, silver and white, with potted palms and shining marble on every exposed edge. It was so spacious, with only a few waiting chairs in a few lines around the room, that it took considerable effort to walk from the front doors to the small receptionist desk at the far end. To the left were a dozen elevators, to the right, a winding staircase that shone from the light in the windows. There wasn't really any roof. Each floor had a balcony that looked down into the lobby below, so that the real 'ceiling' was a skylight fifty plus stories up. Like a courtyard. Merlin felt himself rolling his eyes at how shiny and new everything looked. A lot of pomp and circumstance. He felt as if he were walking on a lake, the sky above was reflected in the floor below, and everywhere he could hear the puck, poock of women's tall heels and the low hum of men on cell phones. People meandered through to the elevators. Some clutched briefcases and ran because they were late to something. There was a school tour circling by the marble stairway, following signs that pointed behind the open stairway that said 'cafe'. There were eight tables and chairs set up around the fancy, mediterranean style cafe, the kind that belonged on the patio of an italian villa, not a glorified vending machine. They didn't have a break room like most offices. They had a cafe.

Merlin felt like the whole thing was self-indulgent.

After all these years, the Pendragons were still like royalty.

:::

"Hi," he said to the lady at the front desk. Her brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she wore black-rimmed glasses over a friendly, pretty face.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a welcoming tone.

"I am here to turn this application in for the internship," Merlin said, eyeing the grandiose company name on the wall behind her desk. The letters for Albion Industries were as tall as him. He pulled out the paper from his bag and winced at how wrinkled it had become. One of the corners had ripped off.

"Oh, I see," the girl accepted the papers with an amused smile. She glanced at him sympathetically. "Would you like me to make a copy of this?"

"Wait-really? Could you?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, one moment," she stood up and went to a door behind her, opened it, and slipped inside. After less then ten seconds, she was back, handling the ripped paper to Merlin. In her hand, she held a warm, fresh copy with no visible problems. "This is the one I will send upstairs," she said kindly. "If you could wait for one moment, let me call someone."

"Sure," Merlin said, stepping back from the counter.

She dialed an extension and put the phone to her ear. "I have another internship application," she said. "Yes, it looks good to me. I faxed it to you. Yes, that's the one. You would? All right. Give me a moment." She put the phone to her chest. "Do you have some time for an interview today?"

"I'm free all day," Merlin declared, a little too enthusiastically.

"Perfect," she responded. "They have some time now, if that would be convenient."

"Yes, yes it would."

"I'll send him up," she said into the phone. "Before I let you go, may I also schedule your conference call for Monday at three?"

Suddenly, a pair of hands slammed down onto the counter beside Merlin, causing him to flinch slightly to the right.

"Is the CFO here today, Elaine?" drawled an impatient, condescending voice. A voice that, oddly enough, Merlin knew like the back of his hand. But he did not turn to see who possessed it. He was frozen.

Elaine's face changed from one to genuine friendliness to strict, cold professionalism. "Excuse me for one moment," she said into the phone, "No... no I am not putting you on hold." She pulled the phone down again. "Yes, Arthur," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "Morgana is here today."

"Good!" the voice said, tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter. "Tell her that I won't be in tonight for that meeting."

"Actually," said Elaine, "I was instructed to tell you that you must go upstairs and speak to her face to face immediately. I am no longer allowed to deliver your messages verbally."

"Oh, really? Why's that?" he said in a mocking tone. "You just made that up." He suddenly read through her expression. "That's my father on the phone right NOW, isn't he?"

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't," Elaine replied with a poker face.

"Tell him he needs to forget about seeing the bloody trial in person and get back here."

"Sir, I am going to have to talk to you later about your Monday conference, I have customers waiting," she said politely into the phone. Then she hung up.

"Customers!" barked the man. "I am not a customer. And that totally was my father. You could have just told him."

Merlin's heart was pounding so hard he thought for sure others could hear it. He couldn't bear the silence anymore. He had wandered too far to be a bystander for any longer. He had to remind himself what it meant to speak and be heard.

"Why don't you call him yourself?" Merlin found himself saying, surprising himself. He turned and looked beside him.

It was Arthur. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, entirely not appropriate for a company like this anyway, but it was unmistakably Arthur. His hair was a bit longer and messy, and his face seemed young, and very-very-astonished.

"Excuse me?" Arthur asked.

"I said, why don't you call him yourself?" Merlin repeated.

"Why indeed?" Arthur asked. "Maybe it's none of your damn business."

Elaine's mouth fell open.

Arthur turned back to her. "I won't be here today. You can inform Morgana or pretend I never showed up, whatever. Just remember I still have some pull around here."

"Are you threatening my job?" Elaine exclaimed.

"Take from it what you like," Arthur sneered.

"Come on, that's enough," Merlin fought the urge to grab Arthur by the arm and drag him outside to give him the biggest talking-to of his life. This... this was NOT Arthur. He spoke like him. He looked like him. But this was not his Arthur.

"What?" Arthur turned to Merlin again.

"I just..." Merlin hesitated. "I think you've said quite enough, my friend." His breath nearly caught on the word friend. If Arthur had heard it, he might have thought it was from fear, and not from sadness. "And... I saw the news. I'm sorry about your mother."

"I'm sorry, who the hell are you?" Arthur exclaimed.

"I'm Merlin," Merlin attempted to smile, but his insides were churning. He stuck out his hand clumsily.

"Oh, we don't know each other," Arthur pretended to sound relieved. He ignored his hand. "You called me 'friend'."

"My mistake," Merlin said quickly. It really was a mistake. They weren't friends. Not like this. The Arthur that was his best friend was long gone.

"Yes, I think so," Arthur grinned stupidly. He glanced Elaine again. "Don't forget what I said."

Elaine remained stone-faced. "Of course. Sir."

Arthur turned to Merlin again, pretending Elaine wasn't even there. "She, and all the other imbeciles that work for my father, like to try and make my life as difficult as possible. What is the point really of having a secretary if they aren't obedient OR sexy?"

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, and then burst, "Don't be an asshole, Arthur." It was something he might have said to his own Arthur. He wasn't afraid to call him out.

Elaine coughed. Arthur's face went from immature scoffing to a disbelieving glare. "You might want to rethink what you've just said if you want a job here," Arthur said grimly. "I noticed you have one the applications in your hand. If you want that to have any worth, you should know one thing, and learn it quickly-if you work for my father, you work for me. It's very simple. Now, why don't you try that again?"

"Yeah, uh," Merlin didn't feel at ease. He wasn't laughing as he did last time. "Don't be an asshole, sir."

Arthur suddenly snorted. "You can kiss that job goodbye."

"Rather the job than my dignity," Merlin snapped, "I could never work with anyone who thinks harassment in the workplace is all right. Especially to a female coworker. It's the most basic, pig-like behavior a moron like you can enact. I thought it might be difficult to..." He gasped, and changed tactics, "You're far worse than I thought you'd be."

Merlin wanted to call him names. He wanted to hate him, if only for a moment. He wasn't always sad about losing Arthur. Sometimes he went for years at a time where he resented Arthur for dying. Protecting Arthur was his purpose, and with Arthur getting himself killed, it removed Merlin's purpose. Merlin spent many years mourning his best friend, and an equal amount of years blaming him for all that went wrong. A friendly punch in the face might actually make him feel a little better.

Arthur gaped at Merlin. "Perhaps we should take this outside."

"I will call security right now," Elaine barked. "Both of you. Leave. Now."

"I'm assuming this means no interview," Merlin fought the urge to whine.

"Get out," Elaine pointed to the door. "That means you too, Arthur Pendrake. He's right. It's harassment. Take it where your drinking buddies are actually impressed by it."

Merlin turned and began to walk quickly away. So, no job. No internship. What would Gaius say? Surely he couldn't stay with him if he didn't have a job. What a disaster!

He shuddered slightly. Arthur was following him across the lobby, just short of tripping on his heels and trying to sound tough by popping his knuckles. When they went through the automatic sliding doors and into the wide plaza outside, the sun broke through the clouds and lit up the wide stairs and a massive fountain at their feet. The fountain was some modern, boxy stone statue in a pool, and it was sort of shaped like a dragon. Water poured out of what could have been the mouth.

"Running away, are you?" Arthur's voice followed, taunting him.

Merlin stopped, and turned. "I don't run away."

"Oh, don't you?" Arthur laughed rudely. "I think I know a coward when I see one."

"You're a bully right now, it is as simple as that," Merlin said slowly. "And as long as you are, your potential is completely useless."

The word 'useless' seemed to hit Arthur entirely the wrong way. His face went gray and he clenched his fists. "You know I'm wealthy enough to ruin your life, don't you?" he asked, completely serious. "Three phone calls could end you."

"I wouldn't even try, if I were you," Merlin said.

Arthur looked at him appraisingly. "I could take you apart with one blow. Just ask the paparazzi."

"I could take you apart with less than that," Merlin said, suddenly fighting the urge to laugh. Life was too complicated to be hopeless. If Arthur could quote himself hundreds of years in the future, then he could change. He could become the friend that Merlin missed with all his heart.

"Really?" Arthur taunted. He pretended to speak like some sort of doctor or counselor. "Because I'm a rich twenty-something who just lost his mother? Vulnerable and weak enough for a skinny little twig like yourself to take me apart with less than a blow?" He lapsed back into his Arthur voice of the past, with plenty of ignorance and ego. "Why don't you let an underdog like myself get a head start?"

Merlin barked, "GO ON THEN!"

Arthur took a swing at him. Merlin tried to duck, but Arthur launched himself at him, punching him once in the ribs, and then a second time in the face. The hit was so hard it spun Merlin off balance and he fell at the top of the stairs, stopping himself from rolling down them.

"HEY! KNOCK IT OFF!" A security guard came running out of a smaller building below the stairs, a small visitor's center near the entrance to the parking lot. "Hey! COOL IT!" He ran up the stairs two at a time, and kept Arthur from pouncing on Merlin and hitting him a third time.

"Arthur, come on, mate, give it up," the security guard said tiredly. His name tag said Jeff. "You're already waiting on if that paparazzi is pressing charges for that... mild altercation outside the bar. Don't add another."

Arthur jerked away from Jeff's attempted hold. "Have a nice life, wanker," he said to Merlin.

"You too," Merlin said sarcastically, adding quietly, "...old friend."

Arthur straightened his jacket and walked pompously back to the parking lot. Jeff held out a hand and helped Merlin up.

"Oi, mate, you got a nice lip there," he said, and Merlin felt a bead of blood gathering from a split lip. "So, what's it to be?" he asked as if reciting a script. "Pressing assault charges? Suing? Calling the police?"

"What?" Merlin asked, shaking the cobwebs away. "No, none of that. Forget it. I called him an asshole and made him angry."

"You called him that, eh?" Jeff chuckled, pulling out his phone absentmindedly and briefly texting for some reason or another. "That's brave of you."

"Was it?" Merlin sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Huh. Well. I've got to go."

"You sure you don't want some ice or something?"

"No... no... I need to leave. Thanks though."

"Anytime, mate," Jeff straightened his sleeves and made sure his radio was still attached to his belt. "Anytime."

:::

Merlin walked stiffly out the gate and into the parking lot, hanging a left and skirting around the edge. The Albion Industries lot bordered a nicely kept park at the edge of Camden, where tall pines graced the edge of a lake that used to be much, much larger, and was now more of a pond. One on hand, automobiles were packed tightly together like sardines. Arthur marched through them, angrily, till he went into the back of a limousine and it slowly pulled out into the city. On the other side, a serene, natural setting beckoned.

After seeing Arthur, all Merlin wanted to do was chase after him. He wanted to find him and cast some sort of spell over him to make him remember. But this wasn't the same Arthur. This was not the Arthur who lived and died for Camelot. This was a boy who had lived for himself, and had been born sometime in 1990. He had experienced all the wrong sides of growing up in a wealthy family. And he had just lost his mother, though he hadn't acted like it.

Merlin chose the park.

He turned and went through the arch in the fence and felt the coolness of the trees lace their green arches overhead. He felt himself smile a little at the beauty. The paved path that went through the main portion of the park wasn't exactly solitary, it was also a shortcut to an older, suburban neighborhood of Camden on the other side. There was a little traffic along the way, parents and children, joggers, dog-walkers, a man sitting on a bench with newspaper and a bag of seed that he casually tossed out to the birds.

Merlin turned off the path and stepped onto the squelchy grass, following a slight slope down to the embankment, thick with reeds and stumps. The water lapped slightly at the shore from some disturbance far beneath. Time had changed the land till it no longer resembled the same land Merlin had known, but part of him wondered if Freya waited beneath the surface... watching over him.

He found a more private nook where the embankment grew three feet steep, and below was a small rock beach the length of a porch. He descended the bank and went to a dry boulder, his boots making a crunch, crunch on the gravel. He sat on the rock and looked out over the waters, his mind racing and his eyes blank and dead, like a doll's eyes.

Merlin picked up a tiny rock and threw it across the pond, his eyes flaming in orange at the last minute to make the rock plick, plick across the surface far longer than it would if he were an ordinary stone-skipper.

Suddenly, he stood up. He wouldn't be defeated. Arthur was a brat then, and he was a brat now. He would change.

Merlin just needed to be the one to help him.

He turned away from the waters and marched determinedly back to civilization, turning a small business card over in his hand.

:::

He went to the address on the card. There was some sort of spa parlor where it was supposed to be. Inside, women and men were receiving hair cuts and looking at magazines while their feet soaked in bubbling concoctions. Merlin frowned with perplexity and walked around the back, finally coming across a stairwell that cut down into the ground and ended at a door into a basement. The sign above said Killgharrah Counseling.

"All these years," Merlin said to himself, shaking his head, "And he still can't wheedle his way out of an underground cave."

He trotted down the steps and tentatively tried to open the door. It was stiff and required a bit of convincing to open fully. The bell above dinged as if it were thick with rust, and he had to blink his eyes to adjust to the dim waiting room. There were two chairs, a water fountain, and a tiny table with two magazines from 1970. There was an empty desk with a phone, and a filing cabinet gathering cobwebs.

"Appointment only," said a voice from a darker doorway across the room. There was no mistaking that voice. Merlin half-expected a long snout and fiery tongue to appear.

"I don't have a phone," Merlin answered honestly.

"Oh," said the voice thoughtfully. "Then I suppose you must come in."

A light clicked on in the darkness. Merlin stepped out of the lobby and followed a shadow into the second room, where there was two comfortable armchairs, a small bookshelf stuffed with old psychology books, a tiny espresso maker, and a coffee table covered in messy papers and markers. The shadow turned and gave Merlin a critical look, as he gestured towards one of the armchairs. "Have a seat, Merlin."

"How did you know my name?" Merlin asked, sitting gingerly in the chair to the tune of creaking, shrieking old springs.

"Gaius said you might come," said the man, lacing his fingers together as he sat in his own chair across from him. "And he was right."

The man was old, perhaps eighty. He had sandy gray hair, cropped short, and a short beard. He wore a beige shirt and gray trousers. He matched the setting around him, dated and dusty. "So, Merlin, let me begin by asking you one thing."

"What's that?"

"What made you decide to walk through my door today?"

Merlin paused. "Destiny."

John Kilgharrah tilted his head. "Strange, that so young a person would be so concerned with the great fate known as destiny."

"I have gifts, and I know they're for a reason," Merlin pressed. "I just... I need to know... if I am supposed to do it all over again."

"Let me ask," said the man, "Is because you have attempted something, and failed, and question whether or not it is worth to try again? Many others your age ask those same questions."

"I... I don't know if I failed. The first time. You said I didn't," Merlin added the last part before he could stop himself. "You said I didn't fail. Did you lie?"

There, it hung in the air. The question. In the silence lay the answer.

If this had been a man reborn into a life ordinary, he would have asked Merlin what he was talking about, what he meant, did he mix him up with someone else, or had he been drinking?

John Kilgharrah asked none of these questions. He simply stared, waiting. He carefully considered his answer, as if he were afraid flames might follow the words. "I did not lie, young warlock," he said in an ancient voice that Merlin knew so well. "I merely did not finish the sentence. You hadn't failed... yet."

"I knew it," Merlin said triumphantly. "You know who you are... DRAGON."

"I am no longer a dragon, as you can plainly see. You cannot command me," Kilgharrah added the last part with slight sternness. "I must be a dragon to answer to a dragon lord."

"I wasn't going to try," Merlin replied. "You've been unreliable at best. What happened to you?"

"All in good time, young one," Kilgharrah said, smoothly and irritatingly. "I disappeared as a dragon, and now I am in human form. That is all you need to know."

"No... this whole thing was orchestrated by you, I just KNOW it. I will find it out."

"Big words for such a small wizard."

Merlin scoffed. "You can't say that anymore. You're not a giant flying reptile."

"You are a small wizard," Kilgharrah said in a tone that spoke of repressed anger for centuries. "Too small to do what had been entrusted with you."

"What do you mean?"

"The time for the Once and Future King is long, long past. There was a time when the monarchy still existed in a way that was open for Arthur's return. You were supposed to bring him back... not long after Guinevere's passing. You failed to do so."

"Even I can't bring back the dead," Merlin protested.

"Unless you made the greatest sacrifice!" Kilgharrah suddenly stood up and pointed at Merlin accusingly. For a moment, his eyes glowed orange much like Merlin's when conducting magic. "Unfortunately you have a talent for survival."

Merlin stared at the man, his stomach twisting inside of him the way it does when you've received horrible news. "I... I was supposed to sacrifice myself?"

"Apparently it was unclear to you," Kilgharrah calmed himself and sat in his chair again. "You had not failed. Arthur was... supposed to die, as he did. Fate had realized the only way for you to confess your magic was to kill him. Arthur's death was an open door for you to tell him the truth... and it worked. Arthur knew your great secret."

Merlin felt like a knife was twisting inside of him. "If it was so important for him to know about my magic, why did... I mean, why was it so important that he know? If I was meant to tell him... to begin with..."

"You were stubborn. After years and years, you were so good at keeping your secret, the only way for you to be moved to the truth was to kill the one you were keeping it from."

"That's barbaric!" Merlin nearly shouted.

"You were meant to bring him back to life with this knowledge, and Arthur would reclaim the throne as a risen king... but it would be different this time. With his knowledge of your magic, he would end the war against our kind, and accept that sorcery can be used for good. The power of your death would have given Arthur the clear mind to love magic as you had."

"MY death!"

"Then Albion would be reunited in harmony."

"Without me..." Merlin whispered. "You believe I was supposed to die in his place."

"I am surprised you did not think of it, if you loved Arthur so," Kilgharrah said sarcastically.

"Being separated from my dearest friend is so painful it is nigh unbearable," Merlin said softly, "Whether it was him who died, or me."

"Yet you still did not make the choice... the right one. The spell would have been easy to create, and yet you underestimated your own ability. If you had recited the verbal spell for transference, while placing your hand over Arthur's heart, your life force would have left, and it would have been granted to him. Then you would have died, and Arthur would wake up. He would see that you had sacrificed yourself, and would live the rest of his life honoring that... magic would have been instilled as a goodness in the land, not an evil."

Merlin hid his face in his hands. "I can't listen to this..."

"I'm afraid you must," said the dragon without sympathy, "You hadn't failed at first. Arthur was supposed to die. But he was, also, supposed to live. That is when you failed him, and the kingdom."

"I didn't know I could transfer my life for his. I thought you had to have the cup to do so..."

"The cup was just a vessel. You know the rule of magic, if a life is given, a life must be taken, as it is when a life is taken, one may be given! This is when I knew... I knew... that you had failed. Emrys must just be a name to you, and not what you are."

Merlin stood up. "I-I would have done it. If I knew. I would have done anything to make Arthur live again."

"Without you?" Kilgharrah said in a judgmental tone. "You said separation was the real problem. If you knew you would pass beyond the veil and STILL be forever separated from him, would you have done it?"

Merlin felt as if he had run for miles. His chest heaved, and he couldn't see to make himself stop. For a moment he was trying not to breathe. "I don't know," he blurted. "I have to go."

"Fine, go then, but you'll be back."

Merlin turned towards the door, and paused, steadying himself against the frame. "I know." He turned and looked at the man, his eyes bloodshot. "I will find out why, and how, you brought us all back."

"No," said the man icily. "You won't."

Merlin sighed, as if he hated to admit it. "Kilgharrah," he said, "You may not be a dragon anymore, and therefore I cannot be a dragon lord by default... but we are both human, and humans are completely capable of inflicting pain."

The man flinched.

Merlin hated himself for saying it, but the words came out like poison. "In this world," he said, "I still have the power. I have magic. You are nothing but a man. Men are weak and can be made to talk."

Kilgharrah smiled slightly, his teeth a little too angular. "If that makes you sleep at night, young warlock. Be my guest."

Merlin stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. A shower of dust puffed from it, and Merlin ignored the sound of John Kilgharrah chuckling after the dust had settled. The sound of his laugh was unnerving, and made his skin crawl.

:::

Merlin wandered Camden for several hours. He knew not where he was going or why. He knew he must face Gaius and try to explain what happened, and how that might be exactly what was supposed to happen. Gaius would be upset that Merlin lost his opportunity for the job, but surely Gaius could see that maybe it just wasn't the right thing to do? Merlin would need some sort of situation that placed him in close proximity to Arthur, and an internship might not accomplish that.

He found himself wandering downtown Camden, where all the buildings were tall, brick, and pressed closely together. The alleyways were dirty and the traffic was bad. Merlin tried to remember the delicious smells of an open Camelot marketplace, but couldn't remember.

He wandered into a shop, a sort of small retail store, privately owned, with a variety of products. He walked down one the aisles, considering getting something for Gaius to smooth the news over.

"I wonder if Gaius still likes chamomile tea?" he wondered out loud. He stood beside someone who was also examining the tea, completely in their own separate universes.

"I'm afraid tea is going to make my teeth turn yellow," said the woman beside him. Merlin shook himself out of his thoughts and glanced beside him, and all but leapt back at the sight. It was Morgana. Of all that he had seen, he couldn't believe her... dressed in one of those impeccable business suits, tailored with a pencil skirt, high heels and flawless hair. She looked wealthy, proud, and... warmer. Warmer than she used to be. There was something healthy about the way she smiled, so unlike the Morgana that Kilgharrah had refused to call anything but 'the witch'. This woman was not a witch. She was a hard worker.

And she was looking at tea choices like any other English citizen.

Merlin didn't answer her statement. Perhaps she was talking to herself.

"My question is," Morgana said again, "Wouldn't it not matter if I had yellow teeth? I have been on several magazine covers, and am noted for good looks and being a 'tease'... whatever that means. Business men, men in parliament for God's sake, sometimes have awful teeth and still grace covers or signs and no one will make a remark. Is this sexism at work or will I regret drinking tea just for the fact that tabloids will rip me apart for it?"

Merlin said nothing.

"Well?" Morgana urged, picking up a box. "What do you think of..." she suddenly realized who she was standing next to. "Oh," she said stiffly, nearly dropping the box. She looked away, and realized her associate... ("Security guard?" Merlin wondered) was standing, arms crossed, at the end of the aisle, watching the front door. "I thought you were my..." she began. "Never mind."

"It's all right," Merlin said kindly, putting his shock on standby. If he had the chance to do this over, he had to do it right this time. Morgana had been such a great friend once, before bitterness and fear warped her into something evil. "You know," Merlin said, trying to smile, "I find that... the..." he grabbed a small box. "The Night Draft tea is really good."

Morgana glanced at him curiously. "Really."

"Oh, yeah," Merlin went on, "It's good for... erm... people who have trouble sleeping."

Morgana tried to hide the fact that she was quite interested in this. "Oh," she said, "And you recommend it?"

"Definitely, yes," Merlin said eagerly. "It's quite relaxing." He leaned forward and whispered, "And who gives a damn if your teeth turn yellow?"

Morgana let out a sharp, surprised little laugh. "Please don't ever tell anyone of such a petty concern. When you're a woman in an important business and have worked hard to get to the top... one small weakness can make it all disappear. Tabloids will pounce on any physical manifest, even if it doesn't determine intelligence or ability."

Merlin sighed. "That's unfair."

"That's life," Morgana answered.

Merlin handed her the Night Draft tea. "I think you might need this."

"Do you?" Morgana smiled at him, but she accepted the box.

"Yeah, you know, it was a funny thing," Merlin began to lie in an easy way that he had perfected over centuries of secret identities. "As a child, I used to suffer from nightmares, but my mum made me this tea and I'd sleep soundly through the night. I would imagine that if you work a stressful sort of job, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Morgana stared at him, her face a mixture of suspicion and incredulousness. "It cures nightmares?"

"It did for me," Merlin said. "Why...? Do you... I mean, do you have bad dreams?"

Morgana glanced around the store again. There was no one else but Merlin and the security guard. "Have you been talking with someone?" she demanded in a low voice. "Who is your source?"

"Source?" Merlin exclaimed. "No one. I haven't talked to anyone. What do you mean? Are you police or something?"

Merlin hoped for Morgana to believe that he had no clue who she was. It worked.

"Oh," she said. "You're not a journalist."

Merlin laughed. "I am not a journalist. I am very unemployed. Merlin," he stuck out his hand. "My name is Merlin. What's yours?"

She hesitated. "Morgan," she shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Morgan," Merlin picked up a rather large, indulgent bag of chamomile tea for Gaius. "I wish you... success. With everything."

"Thank-you," said Morgana, looking genuinely touched. She watched him with a sort of cool amusement as he walked to the front and purchased the tea. Merlin heard her whisper to her security guard, "Maybe if Arthur had intelligence and manners like that, he would be CFO, and not I."

It made Merlin feel suddenly cold, and he shivered. Morgana was already beginning a battle between two hearts... a heart that desired love and acceptance for who she was, and a heart that turned to ice and desired nothing but a throne.

:::

"YOU TRY TO BRIBE ME WITH TEA!"

"I'm sorry, Gaius... I thought you liked tea..."

"I LOVE TEA. THAT IS NO EXCUSE."

"I just thought it would soothe things over."

"YOU BLEW YOUR CHANCE! DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOUR PLACE WAS AT ALBION INDUSTRIES? SOMETHING ABOUT DESTINY?"

"Probably, but..."

"IF YOU'VE REALLY COME FROM THE ANCIENT PAST TO SAVE ARTHUR PENDRAKE, THAT INTERNSHIP WAS YOUR BEST SHOT!"

"I know, but..."

"NO BUTS, MERLIN! IT IS AN OUTRAGE. TRULY IDIOTIC TO START A FIGHT WTH THE CEO'S SON..."

"Wait, I told you I didn't get the job, how did you know about the fight?"

"THE SECURITY GUARD IS AN OLD FRIEND, AND HE MAKES FREQUENT STATEMENTS ON HIS BLASTED TWITTER ACCOUNT. NOTHING IS SACRED WHERE THAT FAMILY IS CONCERNED!"

"He tweeted!" Merlin suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. "With his mobile! About our fight!" He suddenly imagined his fight with Arthur in the marketplace. He and Arthur had delivered blows with medieval weapons at an ancient market, with maces and ropes and magic... everything was organic then. That was his reality, no matter how long he lived in the modern day, the era of Camelot was HIS era. And the thought of someone viewing the fight and posting what happened to the internet just seemed unbelievably hysterical.

"THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER, MERLIN!"

"Gaius, it IS! It is hilarious! Can't you see that?"

"NO, I BLOODY WELL CAN NOT."

Merlin coaxed himself into a wheeze. "Ahahaha..."

"You are a marvel, Merlin, you know that?"

"No, no, it's... it's just crazy. All of this. I am not a marvel. I might as well be mad."

"You probably are."

"Gaius," Merlin suddenly realized, "Does... Arthur ever..." (snicker) "Tweet?"

"Certainly, I think it might be all he ever does."

"Can you show me?"

Gaius rolled his eyes and opened his laptop, shoving it onto the table non too gently. He typed in 'twitter Arthur Pendrake' and waited for the results. "There," he said finally, "That's probably his page. He posts those silly six-second videos of him spouting out vulgar language and drinking hard liquor."

Merlin clicked on the page and waited, tapping his fingers impatiently. The latest tweets were posted a few hours ago.

Heir_Albion: [3 hrs ago] I don't give a flying f*** about these interns

Heir_Albion: [1 hrs ago] Picking up Dad from airport, heading to secret location? What?

Heir_Albion: [1 hrs ago] Stop asking about the trial. Watch the f****** news.

Heir_Albion: [20 min ago] Father/son dinner. Thanks for all the kind tweets, we're OK.

This was followed by a blurry picture of Arthur trying to pose beside his father. They appeared to be in some sort of lowly-lit restaurant. Arthur was holding a glass of vodka, his father was calmly eating dinner with a glass of wine beside it. Uther was hold up a hand towards the phone to block his face from being in the picture, and Arthur's expression was one of annoyance. So much for father/son bonding time... Uther didn't appear to be interested at all.

"They went out?" Merlin exclaimed. "But the news of the trial was breaking news yesterday!"

"You may not realize this, but," Gaius replied, "Ygraine and Uther have been divorced for quite some time. She left him. You are not looking at a devastated man in love, you're looking at a supportive and thoughtful ex husband."

Merlin considered this carefully. That was complicated. "Where is this?" Merlin asked Gaius.

"What makes you think I know?" Gaius asked.

"I know you know. Uther is your friend. You're on the board of directors. Surely you've gone to a lunch meeting. Where does he like to eat?"

Gaius sighed at peered at the picture. "It's Ford & Bottles. He does his business luncheons there. Whenever they try to do dinner, Uther always manages to turn it into something business related." Gaius shook his head. "If both of these people spent less time with media and more time with each other, perhaps the chasm between them would not be so wide."

"But she divorced Uther, not Arthur... And he and Arthur go out to dinner in a public place?" Merlin asked, shaking his head. "That seems... wrong. Shouldn't Arthur get to grieve in private?"

"Uther does not like to appear weak. He will keep up appearances until it breaks him, I'm afraid."

"That is stupid. Poor Arthur."

"It is stupid, considering the verdict and the discoveries made thus far."

"Wait... what? What are you talking about?"

Gaius rolled his eyes and clicked out of the twitter page. "Social media is a terrible news source. Ugh." He pulled up the BBC news. "Ygraine Pendrake's murderer, Thomas Collins, admitted in his final statement to being part of a company designed to by and sell products, namely drugs and guns... and human trafficking..."

Merlin snorted. "What, like a mafia family?"

Gaius did not laugh. "Yes."

"Oh."

"This was not a bus-stop robbery like previously suggested, but he waited until the last possible moment to confess the truth. This was part of a greater conspiracy."

"Why would he kill Arthur's mom? Surely she wasn't threatening an American mafia family. That's completely bizarre and far fetched..."

"What makes you think this has anything to do with America?" Gaius said. "Uther is a ruthless business man. His business's very existence undermines those around him. The threat, my boy, is probably to someone... some group... in England. If you've seen the whole country grow up around you, my boy, then you know of the gang problem. Ygraine's death was not random. And now that Thomas Collins's sentence has passed... and he will eventually be dead by lethal injection, there is no incentive for him to say more. America would not negotiate any parole if he were to inform their police. Ygraine was followed to America and killed there for reasons that will never be known."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't suppose magic is involved at all?"

Gaius shrugged. "I couldn't possibly tell you. And the newspapers certainly won't."

Merlin stood up. "Arthur could be in danger."

"Perhaps."

"From the... the bloody mafia!" Merlin grabbed his jacket and put it on quickly "I'm going to Ford and Bottles. Where is it?"

"... The corner... of... Haworth Street and Baker Road! But Merlin! What can you possibly do? Slide into the booth beside them and say 'Excuse me, Mr. Pendrake, I'm just here to protect your son?' That's ridiculous!"

"I can't stay here and wait to see his face on that stupid computer screen. I am not playing the game anymore. You said yourself the future isn't set in stone. I am creating my own destiny. Like it or not, Arthur will NOT have to fear the same fate as his mother, not if I have anything to do with it."

The door slammed behind him.

Gaius let out a tired sigh, and shut down his laptop.

:::

Ford & Bottles was a restaurant and pub, dimly lit in rich chestnut wood walls and private booths. Merlin walked in and realized it was the sort of place that required an invitation.

"Reservation for Paulson?" said the couple in front of him. The host let them through, and before he could turn and ask Merlin for his reservation, Merlin's eyes lit up, and a small stack of menus spilled out of the podium. When the man bent to pick them up, Merlin slipped past.

It was crowded near the bar, so he pressed against others uncomfortably to move around them. He glanced over the tops of people's heads, trying to see where Uther and Arthur would be sitting. A sixth sense seemed to make him notice Uther right away... it didn't matter what decade they ended up in, Merlin still felt intimidated and unnerved by Uther's presence. He'd never forget that his first impression of him was seeing a beheading that Uther had ordered against a young sorcerer. Merlin had been so, so afraid then that it would be his fate to suffer the same death.

And yet, Merlin never fully realized his power to the point that he had nothing to fear. He could escape a cell if he wanted. He could disappear. He could get away from a terrible death with a few simple spells if he wished... no. Death wasn't the problem. Failing his destiny was. If he was discovered, he would be sentenced, and he would be forced to run away. And Arthur wouldn't have been safe without him.

Like now.

Merlin spotted Uther in the corner booth, back to the wall, facing the rest of the room with an unreadable expression. He did not notice Merlin's keen glance, he only scanned the room as a man surveys a kingdom... too high to see detail. Arthur was not with him, he was sitting at the bar, ordering another drink. Merlin didn't like the way Arthur ordered, and the way the man responded with "the usual?" and handing him a full glass simultaneously.

It was one thing for Arthur to be a bully and be mended. But if he was an alcoholic, that would create a whole new set of problems. Merlin found himself hoping that it was just an extra stressful day for him and usually didn't drink this much.

Of course... back in the Camelot days, Arthur would have a glass of wine or ale with every meal. Everyone did. That was a staple item... and yet in the modern world, that would be alcoholism. Merlin felt instantly perplexed by this... Arthur probably wasn't drinking any more than he did back then, but time had changed society deeply. It was no longer acceptable.

Someone bumped into Merlin's shoulder, hard, and said nothing. No "excuse me" nor apology. Merlin tried to shrug out of the way, but it was so crowded, he felt like a pinball machine. The jazz band in the corner began to play one of those slow, sad tunes, something like a Florence Mills song. Florence Mills had performed so much that she unexpectedly dropped down dead at a young age, and as a result, all her songs sounded painfully nostalgic and haunting. It made Merlin shudder slightly. The song and the crowd was at a strange disharmony that made him feel like an unwilling participant in a scary movie.

The person who had bumped him was making a steady beeline right for Arthur at the bar. Merlin was a second shy of shrugging it off, when suddenly, that person pulled a hood up and over his head. Why would he do that indoors? Unless...

"MOVE!" Merlin barked, shoving someone out of the way.

I am not going to lose him... he thought desperately, his mind screaming it, over and over. Not again. Not again. Not this time.

The person in the hoodie had reached Arthur. Something flashed in his hand, and Arthur was turning towards him, a look of pain and surprise on his face-

Merlin lunged for the hoodie, slamming into the man's arm with all his weight. The arm was crushed between his body and the counter, and the knife in his hand shone in the low candle light. The man twisted like a slippery creature out of Merlin's grasp, but Merlin was too fueled by adrenaline and rage to be escaped from so easily. Hoodie was facing away from him, and Merlin tackled him to the ground. There were screams and the band stopped playing. The bartender was roaring angrily for them to "break it up". Someone noticed the knife, and the screams increased. Patrons were jumping from their seats, some were spilling through the doors. Arthur had barely moved from his bar stool, his face ashen. People were on their mobiles, calling police and media and what-have-you. Uther had leapt out of his seat, crying, "Arthur! Get out of there!"

Merlin had slammed him into the floor, his knee pressed into the man's back. His eyes turned orange, and the knife flicked out of the man's hand and skittered across the floor. Then Merlin used both arms to hold his down, and though he flailed, he was beaten. It finally spurred others into action. Two large security guards were suddenly at their sides, practically shoving Merlin off the assailant and lifting hoodie to his feet. The hood fell from his head, and Merlin expected to see a familiar face... Lady Helen, Nimueh, or something.

But this was a face of a stranger. He was white, had a shaved head, and dark brown eyes. His grim expression looked altogether soulless. He looked deep into Merlin's eyes and spit out every form of every word that begins with an F, and then the police were there, taking over the scene and asking questions and Merlin felt so, so lost, the crowd... everyone... the adrenaline was draining and disappearing as a shadow...

Arthur was watching him. He was stepping off his bar stool, reaching for the counter to steady himself, and nearly falling. Why was his skin so gray?

"Hey," Merlin found himself shouting. His voice was hoarse and unfamiliar. "Hey, call an ambulance!" He turned towards the police, trying not to panic. "He's hurt! Come on!" He leapt forward and caught Arthur from slipping to the floor in a haze. "Come on, mate. Sit back down."

"Let me through! Let me through!" Uther's voice commanded in his lordly tone.

Merlin ripped his scarf from around his neck, and wrapped it around Arthur's arm. The man had slashed him, first, in the top of the arm, rendering him in too much shock and pain to defend himself drunkenly against a murder attempt. The second blow that never made contact would have gone right through the ribs and into his heart.

A woman got onto a phone and began to repeat the scenarios back to the emergency services on the other end. "What's his blood type?" she asked Merlin. "How much do you think he's lost?"

"I have... no idea... he's a stranger, I only just met him today," Merlin replied anxiously. "His dad is here..."

The blood was beginning to soak through Arthur's black t-shirt and the red scarf. Merlin shook Arthur, whose head was beginning to slump towards the counter. "Hey! None of that!" He snapped, slipping one hand under his arm and using the other to put pressure on the deep cut. "You had a higher pain tolerance in the past," he muttered. "Although unconsciousness is still your go-to move. Typical."

"You," Uther was suddenly right by his side. "Don't move. Keep that pressure. ARTHUR," he said loudly. Arthur's eyes were sliding in and out of focus, but they widened slightly at his father. "Arthur! You'll be all right. Just looks like a mere scratch." He turned to the police. "Where is the damn ambulance?"

Instead of growing calmer, the place seemed to have erupted into more chaos. Police were trying to get statements from witnesses, the man in the hoodie was taken into custody, the bartender was trying to clean where drinks had been spilt, a stretcher was being rolled in. Arthur rolled his eyes at the sight of it. "I don't... need... that," he said, his words slurring.

"You're drunk enough to need it," Merlin replied.

The paramedics gently moved Merlin out of the way, and one was lifting Arthur out of his seat and down onto the stretcher. They ripped his T-shirt sleeve to have access to the wound and began to press clean gauze over it. Uther was slowly filling them in on Arthur's medical history. It seemed as if... all might be well.

Arthur was saved. Or, at least, from bleeding to death. It would need stitches... a lot of stitches. It would leave him with a nice scar.

Merlin's eyes nearly started to fill. Arthur glanced up in a drunk, pained sort of expression, embarrassed with the attention and angry that he was appearing weak in front of a generally large crowd. His gaze turned from hardness to one of perplexity at realized just who had saved his life. "You!" He squeaked hoarsely.

The police came over to get Merlin's statement.

Uther, to Merlin's great surprise, turned and intercepted them. "This boy saved my son's life," he said, "I saw it all from the corner. The man you arrested slashed at him with a knife, and this young man knocked him right to the ground and held him until security took over. He's a hero."

Merlin still had to stutter through his statement, but Uther stood right beside him, arms crossed over his chest and watching Merlin with a stern expression. The bartender and a few other witnesses had all validated Merlin's heroics, and luckily, not one person believed he was just starting a fight.

"There are still some good people in this world," the policewoman said wearily. "Your son is lucky he was there, Mr. Pendrake."

"Yes he was fortunate," Uther replied. "But I do not believe in luck. I believe in purpose and reward. I'm going to offer this boy a job."

Arthur's face turned from one of pained passivity to one of apprehension. "Father! Please, don't do anything like..." He was unable to finish, as the paramedics decided at that moment that they would make him lay down and wheel him out to the ambulance to transfer him to the hospital.

"Catch you later," Merlin said awkwardly.

"How can I contact you?" Uther asked.

"Oh, uh, I don't have a phone..." Merlin paused. "I'm living with... my mentor, Dr. Guy Brook."

"Gaius!" Uther repeated. "Whatever for?"

"He and my mother are old college friends, and I am looking for a job in Camden..."

"Stop." Uther pulled out his business card and handed it to Merlin. "Call this private number in the morning. I'm sure you know that having a reference such as Dr. Brook will give you any job that you desire in Albion Industries."

"What?" Merlin exclaimed. "I mean..." he paused. "WHO are you?"

"Uther Pendrake, CEO of Albion Industries," he shook Merlin's hand so hard that Merlin felt that his fingers might actually bruise.

"I'm Merlin..." He remembered his mother's email address and hoped he was right. "Merlin Hunith."

"You saved my son's life. That took courage. You'll find that in a business like my own, I am surrounded each and every day by weaklings, cowards... shades. When I find a person with the skills and the power, I claim them on behalf of Albion and all that we do. Call this number in the morning. I have a job opening."

"I... um..." Merlin turned the card over in his hand.

"If you have something to say, say it. Above all else, I appreciate communication."

"I already tried for the internship, and it didn't really work out..."

"Oh, no," Uther brushed him off. "This will not be for an internship. Arthur and I both employ private security. They'll watch doors and enjoy crowd control, but in reality, they are not body guards. I have thought over the past several months that Arthur needs a body guard. Someone to watch over him. And, at times, someone to protect others from Arthur. I'm sure you've seen the papers."

Merlin shrugged.

"What is your background? Self defense? Boxing? Kung fu?" Uther asked.

"I... I worked as a body guard before, for five years or so." Merlin added, in a whisper, "Right out of school, I was employed by the royal family." (unfortunately, Merlin knew how easy this story would be to fabricate. Magic is the most unfortunate vessel for creating all sorts of illegal paperwork and lies.) "I did not wish to renew my contract and came here instead."

"And no doubt, Guy will validate this job history?"

"Yes."

"As far as I am concerned, you are hired," Uther said. "Come to the office tomorrow and fill out the paperwork. Congratulations. You're going to work for the best company in the world."

He turned and began to exit the pub, talking in low tones to the police as he walked by. Merlin stood there in absolute shock, holding the business card loosely in his hand.

Uther stood by the front doors and looked with severity into the busy street. His chauffeur opened the door to the limo at the curb. "To the hospital, sir?" he asked.

"Home," Uther said stiffly. "I'm certain Arthur is in capable hands. And I do not believe it was serious enough for him to be kept overnight. Wait for the doctor to call, and then go pick him up. I, however, have two early-morning meetings, and will be going to sleep."

"Yes, sir," said the chauffeur with a stiff smile, which quickly changed to a disheartened frown as soon as Uther was inside and the back door was shut.

Merlin watched, sadness for Arthur overwhelming him. No wonder he was so unhappy.

The limo pulled away and Merlin stood uncomfortably on the sidewalk. People walked by, talking quietly amongst themselves. Police milled around and looked as if they were quite busy and doing something important. There was a crowd across the street trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

"I'm a bloody bodyguard to Arthur Pendragon," Merlin realized out loud. "This time I won't have to pretend I'm saving his life. I can just... save him."

He reached up to adjust his scarf and remembered it was gone. It was with Arthur, who was at this time, alone at a hospital.

Not for long.

A cab pulled up to the curb, and Gaius's face stared at Merlin through the open window. "I see you've made a bloody mess of things," he said wryly.

"I was right," Merlin said, surprised with himself. "I saved Arthur's life."

"Where is he now?"

"At the hospital."

"And Uther?"

"Home."

"Ah," Gaius beckoned Merlin to the cab. "It is as I suspected. You made breaking news, Merlin."

"Really?"

"Amateur footage of you knocking some man to the ground is already all over the news. You were on the BBC's main webpage in seconds."

"He tried to stab Arthur."

"Stabbings happen in pubs all the time, Merlin. You were lucky that instinct pushed you to follow Arthur to this one." Merlin slipped into the cab, and shut the door. Gaius leaned forward to the driver. "St. James Hospital, please."

"Really!" Merlin said. "We can do that?"

"It does have a certain benefit being an old friend of the family. I've known Uther since childhood, and I was Arthur and Morgan's pediatrician when they were children. When Arthur gets into... scrapes like this... I am the one who checks on him and updates Uther with vital information."

"Uther and Arthur were not close then, either," Merlin said. "Arthur was desperate for his father's love and approval more than anything."

"It is the same here. You are not far off." Gaius took a deep breath. "I attended Arthur's secondary school graduation in Uther's place when Uther couldn't be bothered from a meeting that had run too long."

Merlin's mouth dropped open. "That's... that's horrible!"

"It is."

Merlin look his head. "If it's really my destiny to help Arthur... and do better than last time... I will have to find some way for them to mend. I am afraid that their relationship was always complicated, right into a bitter end... which seemed to repeat itself. Arthur could never truly escape from all that. It clung to him."

Gaius nodded thoughtfully. "It would benefit any within hearing distance if their relationship improved." His mobile phone began to ring. Gaius looked at the screen, and the caller I.D. said Arthur Pendrake.

"Your destiny is calling," he said dryly, answering it. "Yes, lad, I thought I'd pop by and see you. No, your father went home."

Merlin listened to Gaius's side of the conversation with growing sadness, and yes, a little bit of dread. Every word that ever seemed to mean anything to him-failure, destiny, safety, magic-they all seemed wrapped up in one great, anxious cloud that would hang over him until he could figure out how to translate his old life into a new one. How to expect dangers at every turn. This was not a world where he saved Arthur from a bandit's stray arrow or a poison chalice. Organized crime and random pub attacks were sort of beyond him, despite being hundreds of years old.

"I am not so wise for my age," Merlin thought, watching the city lights through the window as they drove by, blue and orange and twinkling under a twilight sky.

:::

Please review and let me know what you think about Modern!Arthur and an emotionally tormented Merlin :) Should I continue?

:::