AN: I dreamed this story, but in my dream there was no happy ending. I decided to give this a happy ending though, so I hope you enjoy! Warnings for violence.

There was a man sitting next to Arthur. He was playing a game on his phone, leaning back in his chair, his carry-on at his feet. God, he was gorgeous.

His neck bent gracefully over his phone, and his pale skin was half-hidden underneath a smattering of black scruff. It accentuated his cheekbones and sharp jaw, sloping up to curve around a pair of plump, pink lips. His eyes, his eyes, framed in long dark lashes, were the most shocking blue that Arthur had ever seen.

Arthur swore his heart stopped beating when his gaze, traveling aimlessly, fell upon the man seated next to him. He could physically feel the world slow to a halt, as if all of time and space evaporated into nothing at the sight of this man.

He had to ask him out. This airport was the size of a small town, so surely there was somewhere Arthur could invite this man that would be nice, but not too nice for someone you only just met, where they could talk and laugh and exchange numbers and be back in time to board their flight in an hour. Yes, he manage that. He thought he'd seen a little sandwich shop earlier, all the way on the other side of the airport.

Arthur opened his mouth to get the man's attention, hesitated, and closed it again. The man hadn't noticed him yet.

It should be simple to just say "hello," and "we're both going to be sitting here for another hour, can I treat you to a drink to pass the time?" or even just to put on a dashing smile. He'd been able to do all of these things and more to woo the ladies and gentlemen that had caught his eye in the past. A show of teeth and a greeting was usually enough to have anyone in his arms.

But he couldn't do it. This man's beauty had liquified any skills he might have had in the art of being smooth, leaving behind a pitiful mess of want. No words came to mind, only the desire to have this man look at him, to have the opportunity to look into his eyes properly, or find out just how soft those lips were.

Just ask him out, Arthur told himself. Here is the most beautiful human being you've ever seen and you've got an hour to kill. What have you got to lose?

Before Arthur could think of anything to say, the man seemed to sense the gaze on him.

Seeing those blue eyes directed on him was almost as shocking as seeing the man himself.

There was a slight line in the man's forehead as his brow wrinkled in confusion, but his lips were tilted into a polite smile.

"Hello," the man said.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but was too shocked by the discovery of the man's deep voice to come up with anything, so it was after a prolonged pause that Arthur managed to stutter out:

"Hi."

It was more like a breath than a word, but the man seemed to have gotten the message because his smile changed from the polite stiffness one gives to strangers into something more relaxed. Encouraged by this, Arthur spoke again.

"I'm Arthur," he said, "uh, Arthur Pendragon."

He held out his hand, and it hovered for a moment before the man reached out to shake it. Someone watching the interaction would have noticed the awkwardness of it, but all Arthur could think when he felt the man's skin was yes.

"Merlin Emrys," The man replied.

Merlin.

"Merlin," Arthur couldn't help grinning around the word, "It's nice to meet you."

Merlin nodded, but said nothing. His smile hadn't gone, though, and his expression was turning into one of simultaneous amusement and bewilderment at this random stranger.

"Going to London?" Arthur asked, just for something to say.

Merlin glanced down at the bag at his feet.

"Yeah," He said. "I was here to visit a cousin. She lives here in New York City so I don't see her much anymore."

Arthur nodded along. "Right," he said, "What does your cousin do?"

Merlin shrugged. "She's trying to be an actress, though why she decided Broadway was better than West End I have no idea."

"Is it going well for her?"

Merlin eyed Arthur carefully. "Uh, yeah," He said. "Sorry if this sounds rude, but is there anything you needed?"

Arthur blinked.

"Needed?" He parroted.

"It's just, I was wondering why you're talking to me."

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Arthur asked, heart sinking.

Merlin shook his head. "No! No, not at all, it's perfectly fine, but people don't normally just randomly talk to strangers, you know?"

Arthur shrugged, and wondered if Merlin could see the way his pulse was thumping wildly in his throat, probably turning his face bright red and hot.

"There's quite a lot of time until boarding. And I-" saw you and I thought I'd like to know you. "Thought this would pass the time," He finished lamely.

Merlin visibly relaxed.

"Alright then," he said. "So what were you doing in New York, Arthur?"

It was easy to fall into conversation after that, finding their rhythm as they went back and forth. Arthur was swept up in Merlin's voice and the sweet lilt of his accent. He found out that Merlin grew up in the country and moved to London after University to work at his great-uncle's shop selling dusty parts for engines and motors. He'd set up his own little shop in right next door where Merlin fixed people's broken computers and televisions, with a tiny one-room flat above it and a bakery next door that sold the best lemon muffins he'd ever tasted.

The more Arthur listened to Merlin, the more he found himself entranced by him. He discovered that he loved the way Merlin's eyes crinkled into slits whenever he smiled wide, and the sound of his laughter, how he hunched slightly over and shook as though it was a secret meant just for him and Arthur. His hands waved when he talked and Arthur watched them move through the air, sending vibrations into his very heart. Every passing minute unfolded a new part of Merlin's history, and Arthur wanted to learn all of it.

Before Arthur knew it, forty minutes had passed. It felt like two. Time ceased to exist, apparently, while Merlin was talking.

He was just beginning to tell his story when the first shot rang out.

"What about you?" Merlin had prodded, "I've told you my life story. What is there to know about Arthur Pendragon?"

Arthur had been slightly taken aback after spending so long listening to Merlin. He'd forgotten he'd told Merlin nearly nothing about himself. He'd like to wave his hand and beg Merlin to keep talking, if only Arthur could continue to hear his voice, but Merlin was leaning on the armrest and looking at him with the most profoundly interested expression that Arthur was helpless to resist.

"Well," He cleared his throat, "I was originally born in Cornwall, but-"

BANG!

There was a shot, and then a scream, and then there were more screams as people looked around for the source of the sound and saw, to their horror, seven people dressed in black and carrying guns.

More shots rang out. Security staff were already on the ground with red staining their shirts.

Everything was confusion and chaos. People leapt out of their seats and ran, screaming for the exits, scooping children into their arms and leaving their bags behind.

Merlin was already out of his seat and stumbling back, eyes fixed on the shooters. Arthur looked at the terror on his face and heard the screams and the shots, and everything he'd been feeling for the last hour crystallized into one thought: save him.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and tugged, fiercely pulling him away from the danger. Merlin turned his back on the group of shooters and together they ran, swept along with the rest of the terrified people.

Shots deafened Arthur's ears, and with each loud bang came another bout of screaming which split Arthur's head in two. In his peripheral vision he saw someone fall to the ground, clutching their side, and the people around her either stopping to help her or trampling over her, unwilling to slow their flight. Bang, bang, bang went the guns, even when more security started to arrive, and bang bang bang they continued over the roar of screams. Arthur grit his teeth and squeezed his hand around Merlin's, pulling him closer, faster. He could hear Merlin's panting in his ear, either from exertion or fear or both. He squeezed back.

And then the breathing in his ear became a cry of pain, and Arthur felt Merlin's hand tug down. Arthur jerked back, looked down and saw Merlin stumbling.

His eyes caught Arthur's as he fell, and Arthur had no choice but to drop to follow Merlin to the floor.

Merlin's blue shirt was quickly darkening with blood spilling from the rip in his throat. Arthur might have screamed, he wasn't sure. Merlin's hand was still in his, but it was jerking wildly as his other hand flew to scrabble at the wound.

"Merlin," Arthur whimpered, pressing his own free hand to try to staunch the flow of blood. It did nothing but coat his hands in warm liquid and send terror racing through Arthur's heart.

People were jostling him from side to side, someone's knee collided with the side of Arthur's face. Arthur bent to gather Merlin into his lap and wrap his arms around him, shielding him from further harm.

"Stay with me," Arthur whispered, his voice shaking, but Merlin's eyes were wide and uncomprehending. There was a terrible gurgling sound coming from the direction of his throat where the blood became filled with air bubbles as it gushed. He was trying to speak, but Arthur couldn't make out the words.

"It's alright," Arthur said, even if his voice sounded panicked to his own ears. He stroked the hair back from Merlin's face, streaking it with blood. "I'm here," Arthur said, "I'm here, Merlin, I've got you, you're safe, you're going to be safe, Merlin, please…"

But Merlin's eyes glazed over suddenly and drifted shut, and his violent shuddering ceased. He lay limp in Arthur's hold.

Time stopped.

Afterwards, when the shooting stopped and the screaming dissolved into sobs and the sound of people retching, and after the bodies had been cleared away and photos had been taken and witness statements given, Arthur collapsed into a chair. He didn't know where he was. Still in the airport, probably, but this was a smaller room, with more comfortable chairs and tables and a bar along the side of one wall. There were others in here who had seen the shooting and who either had already given statements or who were waiting for police to talk to them. No one spoke. There was only crying and one woman breathing heavily into a paper bag with her husband rubbing her back, looking sombre.

The shock had passed, leaving behind the weight of grief in Arthur's chest. Merlin's image swam before him, his lovely skin torn and splashed with red, his ringing laugh drowned. It left Arthur feeling cold.

"Bad day?" Came a voice.

With a great effort Arthur lifted his head to see a girl sitting in the seat next to him. She wore a ragged brown dress that bunched over her knees, showing her thin, hair shins and dainty bare feet. Her face and tousled hair was smudged with dirt, and yet her gentle smile made her pretty.

Arthur heard her voice but her words didn't register, so he stared until she spoke again.

"You're Arthur Pendragon," She said. Arthur nodded, too exhausted to wonder how she knew.

"My name is Freya," She said.

Arthur said nothing, did nothing.

"You've been through something terrible today," The girl, Freya, whispered, still wearing her gentle smile. "You lost someone very dear to you, didn't you?"

Again came the image of Merlin lying dead.

"I barely knew him," Arthur managed to say. His voice was hoarse.

"Yes," Freya said, "But he would have been dear to you. You were halfway to loving him already, weren't you?"

Arthur frowned.

"I'm tired," He told her, "I don't want to talk about this."

"I understand," Freya said, "I know it's hard. But there's something I want to show you."

She was still smiling. Any other time Arthur might have glared at her for it, but right now he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Come with me," Freya said, and she extended a small hand towards him. This too was smudged with dirt, and the end of her fingers were calloused and blunt. Arthur eyed it warily.

"I'm tired," he said again. "Please. I just want to sleep."

"You already are," Freya said, and nodded past Arthr to the seat on his other side. Arthur turned and saw, to his astonishment, himself, slumped over and snoring softly.

"How…?"

"Don't worry, you'll be back," Freya promised. "Please come with me."

Arthur didn't take his eyes off himself. He was wearing a white button-down that once had been crisply ironed. Now the bottom half was the color of rust from where Merlin's blood had spilled onto it and dried. There was still a smear of brown on his forearm, and chunks of his hair was matted where he'd clutched at it with his bloodstained hands.

"Arthur," Freya murmured, "This is important. Come on."

She took hold of Arthur's hand and pulled. He went with her, unresisting, and finally pulled his gaze away from his own sleeping form. Nobody around them seemed to notice that he and Freya had stood up.

"They can't see us," Freya informed him, as if reading his thoughts. She pulled him towards the door and gave him a reassuring smile over her shoulder before pushing it open.

Arthur stumbled at the absence of a floor as he stepped through the door. Freya held his hand tight and Arthur didn't fall.

There was nothing. There was an endless expanse of white that half blinded Arthur. Freya guided him, and after Arthur blinked and squinted, he saw that they were walking through a thick mist. It wasn't cool, but wasn't warm either. At his feet it felt like he was walking on air.

Through the mist he could make out shadows and shapes and wisps of color that were gone as soon as Arthur caught sight of them.

"Where are we?" Arthur whispered.

"Time," She answered.

"Where are we going?"

In answer she only squeezed his hand and continued to lead. They walked for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes. Arthur gazed around him, trying to make out any of the shapes and colors in the mist, but they disappeared too quickly.

Finally Freya slowed and came to a halt. She nodded ahead of them, and Arthur looked.

They were standing in Heathrow airport. People shoved past with phones pressed to their ears and suitcases dragging behind them. Nobody took any note of Freya and Arthur standing hand in hand in the middle of it all.

Arthur was about to ask Freya just what nonsense was this, until he saw something and his words died in his throat.

He saw himself, this time standing with his hand resting on the handle of his suitcase. His shirt was white and free of blood and he was laughing. No wonder, for standing with him was Merlin, without a wound in his neck, laughing.

Arthur saw himself dig around in his pocket and take out his phone. He handed it to Merlin with a smile, and Merlin took it eagerly and began tapping away. Putting his number in, Arthur supposed.

Arthur started forward, but Freya kept him firmly in place.

"You can't touch him anyway," She told him, "We're only here to see."

Merlin handed the phone back. The smile hadn't left his face. The other Arthur looked happily at the new number in his phone before replacing it in his pocket. They exchanged words, then began to walk towards the doors that lead outside the airport and to the city. Arthur watched them go. They stayed side by side, bumping shoulders every so often, until they were outside. Then they turned to each other. For a moment they just looked at each other, and Arthur's heart broke at the look of contentment on both of their faces.

Then they reached out and shook hands, lingering before pulling away. They turned and began to walk in opposite directions, looking back over their shoulders as they went.

"What was that?" Arthur asked when both visions were out of sight.

"It was you," Freya answered simply, "In another time. Look."

She bade him turn around to where there was an unmarked door that looked like a broom closet. At Freya's nod Arthur opened it and found himself in a living room.

He'd never seen this living room before, but it was achingly familiar in a way that Arthur didn't understand. A blue couch sat against a wall painted in a lighter shade. The walls were hung with unframed canvas paintings of bright reds and greens. Two bookshelves were crammed on either side of a television set, overflowing with books and picture frames. Some Arthur recognized as photos of his own family, but there were also people he hadn't seen before. There was an older looking woman with wise, kind eyes who held a dark-haired toddler in her lap, and a young pretty girl with dark skin wearing a purple dress.

The picture in the middle made Arthur stumble. It showed himself and Merlin, wearing suits and turned towards each other as if they hadn't known the camera was there. Their foreheads were touching and their faces, though only slightly smiling, contained more joy than Arthur had ever seen in himself.

A sigh made Arthur look away. Walking into the room from a hallway was Merlin, dressed in a threadbare Tshirt and boxers, clutching a phone in his hand and looking wretched. There was a ring on his finger.

Arthur followed, another version of Arthur, wearing boxers and nothing else.

"Merlin," Other Arthur said softly, "Look at me, please."

Merlin's face contorted and he wrapped his arms around himself.

"Babe," Other Arthur said. He reached out to touch Merlin's shoulder. Merlin didn't throw him off, so Other Arthur stepped closer to wrap Merlin in his arms.

"I'm sorry," He murmured, pressing his nose into Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin only hiccuped, and then a sob escaped from his lips, and then he was crying, heaving in Other Arthur's arms. Other Arthur held onto him, tightening his hold and swaying where they stood.

"H-he," Merlin stuttered, "He was going to ask Elena to marry him."

"I know," Other Arthur said.

The sky outside the window on the other wall was dark. They must have been woken by the phone that Merlin was clutching like a lifeline.

"Shh," Other Arthur hushed as Merlin cried. "It's alright. You'll be alright." He reached around to ease the phone from Merlin's grip. When it was gone Merlin's hands hung limply at his sides. Slumped as he was against Other Arthur, he started to fall when Other Arthur stepped away. Other Arthur caught him and held him upright as he stepped gently around and pulled Merlin into a hug. Merlin melted into him, eyes falling closed. He buried his face into Other Arthur's chest and curled his fingers around his waist.

Other Arthur scooped him up and carried him, bridal style, over to the couch where he sat heavily, cradling Merlin to his chest.

"I was hoping he'd grow to like you," Merlin hiccupped, "He never did."

"But he stuck around," Other Arthur said, "Your friendship meant that much to him."

Merlin whimpered, miserable. "Will was my best friend," He whispered. "How could this happen?"

"These things are unpredictable," Other Arthur sighed, rubbing soothing circles along Merlin's back, "It's terrible that car crashes happen all the time."

Merlin sobbed again.

"Shh," Other Arthur soothed, "I'm right here. You'll be alright." He pressed a kiss to the top of Merlin's head. "Sleep," he whispered, "I love you. I've got you."

Freya pulled, and Arthur was torn away from the scene. He tried to keep watching. He didn't know who Will was, but whoever it was meant a lot to Merlin. And in this scene, he and Merlin meant a lot to each other, too. They were married, it looked like, and living together, so in love.

"Why are you showing me this?" Arthur asked, as Freya led him down the hallway where Merlin and Other Arthur had come in. There was a bedroom and a closed door that Arthur supposed must be the bathroom which Freya placed her hand upon.

"It's important," she said. "This is all what would have been."

"Why?" Arthur demanded.

Freya paused with her hand on the door.

"Why are you showing me this?" Arthur shouted, "What good are you doing?"

Freya only looked at him and pushed open the door.

The room they stepped into was one Arthur did recognize. This was his father's house, the one he'd spent his childhood equal parts running around with his half-sister and being disciplined by his stepmother. This was the living room, lavishly furnished with expensive furniture and imported rugs that Arthur had always had to remove his shoes before touching. Now the room was decorated for Christmas, with a large tree towering in the corner.

Here was his family. Uther sat in a big armchair with his back to the fireplace, with his wife Catrina in the chair beside him. Morgana was on the couch with her legs folded beneath her, a toddler with long black braids dozing in her lap. Next to her was Merlin, looking considerably older than the last vision, and Other Arthur cross-legged on the floor at his feet.

A boy verging on his teenage years lay on the rug beside Other Arthur, playing with a phone.

"Gareth, put that away, this is family time," Other Arthur said.

"I'm almost to the next level!" The boy protested.

"This is family time," Other Arthur repeated firmly. "Put it away."

"But Dad!" Gareth looked to Merlin, who shrugged.

"Listen to your father. At least wait until after dinner."

Gareth pouted.

"But that'll take ages! Yana and Grandma Hunith aren't even done with the potatoes yet, and knowing Yana she'll mess it up and have to start over!"

"Don't be mean to your sister," Merlin said, "And remember, Grandma is helping her. It'll be fine."

"So put the phone away," Other Arthur said.

Gareth scowled and put the phone down. Merlin placed a hand on Other Arthur's shoulder, who reached up to hold it against him.

"Can I at least have a cookie before supper?" Gareth asked.

Other Arthur looked up at Merlin. Both shrugged.

"It'll spoil your dinner," Uther warned.

"I don't care! It's Christmas!"

Merlin rolled his eyes but grinned. "Alright, you can have one."

Gareth shouted joyfully and sprang to his feet to run into the kitchen. In his absence, Other Arthur leaned up to grab a kiss from Merlin. Morgana watched them from the end of the couch.

Then there was a shout, and Gareth came running back into the room with both hands stuffed full of cookies and two in his mouth. He was pursued by a girl younger than him, with short brown hair, a festive red apron dusted with flour, and a furious expression on her face.

"Gareth, those aren't until after dinner! Put them back!" she screamed, but Gareth only laughed, muffled by his mouthful, and ducked behind the couch.

"Daa-ad! Daddy!" The girl, Yana, shouted. "Make him stop!"

"Gareth!" Other Arthur said sharply, but Gareth only giggled and crammed the two cookies in his mouth to furiously chew on them.

"Hey!" Yana charged, but Gareth was faster than her and started running again, making it almost past the couch until Other Arthur reached out and caught him around the legs.

"We said one cookie," he chastised. Gareth struggled, but Other Arthur held him tight. Yana caught up to him and grabbed at the cookies in his hands.

"Not till after dinner," She repeated stubbornly, then marched off back into the kitchen. Other Arthur gave Gareth an affectionate squeeze before releasing him. Gareth sat back down on the rug with a rather smug look.

It was too much. This life that Freya had shown him was so happy, so unlike anything Arthur had ever imagined for himself. Here he was in love and had children. Here was this happy life that looked so real, as if Arthur could reach out and grasp it in his fingers. It was devastating.

"Why did you bring me here?" Arthur whispered. Tears were already streaking down his face.

"To show you," Freya answered. "This is your destiny, Arthur. This is what would have been, what should have been."

"But it didn't," Arthur growled. He was trembling. The mist was coming back and the Christmas scene was fading. He kept his eyes fixed on Merlin, his eyes bright with joy as he watched his husband and his son.

"It should have," Freya said. "Sometimes the path of destiny is lost when we are hit by something unexpected. It takes great power to set you back on the course."

"This is my destiny?" Arthur asked, awe and anger and exhaustion preventing him from questioning whether destiny is such a thing. "To marry Merlin? Have children with him?" The image had faded completely. "Merlin is dead!" Arthur shouted angrily, "He was shot in the neck at the airport! None of this can ever happen!"

Freya looked at him sadly.

"Why are you torturing me like this?" Arthur bellowed, "What can I gain here? The knowledge that I would have been deliriously happy if Merlin had lived? A life that I will never get to have! What good can come of this?"

"You needed to see your destiny," Freya said.

"What for? It's been destroyed now!"

But Freya only smiled at him.

"Be happy, Arthur," She said. Then her fingers loosened and let Arthur's hand fall.

Arthur woke with a start. Freya was gone, and the mist was gone. Arthur patted himself down, wondering what the hell that girl had done to him, when something made him pause. He looked down.

His shirt was no longer stained brown. It was as crisp and white as it was before the shooting. In fact, at his feet was his carry-on, and overhead he could hear a woman's voice over the PA system, calmly announcing boarding times and arrival times.

Arthur, heart hammering in his throat, dared not to hope. He lifted his head ever so cautiously until he saw that he was sitting at the gate for his flight to London, and seated next to him was a man playing a game on his phone.

The digital clock above the counter told Arthur he had one hour until boarding. Everyone around him was calm, even bored, flipping through magazines and nodding along to their headphones and nobody looked shaken as though they'd just been shot at.

Merlin was there. He was alive and just as beautiful as before.

Arthur couldn't help but stare. Where before time had stuttered to a halt, now it seemed to pick up. Around him people moved in a blur because time was moving too quickly, and if he didn't keep up it would explode.

Merlin seemed to sense Arthur's gaze on him. He looked up from his phone.

"Hello," He said, smiling a polite smile. His eyes were so blue.

Arthur was caught at the sight of those blue eyes turned on him, so sparkling with life.

"Hi," He managed to breathe out, "I'm Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin seemed a little taken aback.

"Merlin Emrys," he replied. Arthur stuck out his hand and grinned as Merlin shook it, feeling a rush of high at the contact of Merlin's warm skin, the lively pulse fluttering beneath the skin of his wrist.

"Listen," Arthur said, "You're going to London, right?"

Merlin nodded and withdrew his hand.

"There's not another hour until boarding," Arthur said. He tried to sound casual, but he knew the speeding time was zipping through him, making his voice high and the color bright on his cheeks. He talked anyways. "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. Just to kill time, I mean."

Merlin's eyebrows rose.

"I don't even know you."

"I know," Arthur said, "But we're both...going to London. It's always nice to make friends, right? And there's an entire hour to kill before boarding. Might pass the time. There's a great little sandwich shop just down that way." He pointed down the hall.

Merlin looked warily where Arthur was pointing, then back to his face.

"How do I know you won't drug me or something?"

"I won't," Arthur promised, "You'll thank me, you'll see. I'll even pay."

"You're really desperate for entertainment, aren't you?" Merlin asked.

"I hate being bored," Arthur shrugged. "What do you say?"

Merlin thought about it, chewing his lip, then seemed to decide that no harm could come of it. He reached down to grab his carry-on.

"Alright," he said, "Lead the way then, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur grinned and leapt to his feet. He fought the urge to take hold of Merlin's hand. That would come later. That would all come later, the touching and the laughing and the crying. It would all come, eventually.

Hope flared in his chest as he and Merlin walked away from the gate.

"Wait," Arthur said suddenly as they passed a security guard milling around near a window. Merlin looked confused, but Arthur was already jogging over to the guard. He leaned in and told her, in a low whisper, about the shooting, and pointed in the direction where the seven people had come from.

"What was that?" Merlin asked in alarm, as the security guard started talking furiously into her walkie-talky.

"Something important," Arthur replied, "So, sandwiches?"

Merlin looked after the guard, then shrugged and turned to walk with Arthur to the sandwich shop, away from this gate, all the way on the other side of the airport.

Arthur almost skipped with the giddiness he felt. Time was shifting all around him, speeding up and slowing down and standing still all at once. He took in a deep breath and looked over to Merlin and smiled. Here he was, he reminded himself, with Merlin safely beside him.

Time settled, and Arthur was content.