Summary: He had waited for him through the ages. Yesterday he spotted him in the Underground.
The Immortal One by frostygossamer
He had waited for him through the ages, as centuries came and went, waited for Arthur, whose fabled return sustained him and couldn't come a moment too soon. He was lonely. He missed the days of Camelot, the feasting, the hunting, the battles, the magic. Damn it, he even missed the hours of bone numbing drudgery.
Every day he missed his friends: Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and the rest. And he treasured his memories of the ladies of court: sweet Guinevere, his dear friend, and even Morgana, whom he had cared for before she went bad. Heck, he even missed Uther. Who would have believed that?
Most of all he missed his king, HIS king and friend, Arthur Pendragon, the 'Once and Future King' whom the seers has foretold would return whenever his land was in greatest peril, when he was needed most. And it was about time.
Then one day he was riding the Tube to work, as usual, reading once again his faded, battered and many times replaced copy of Malory's 'Le Morte D'Arthur', when he spotted him. He was running down the staircase towards the platform, hurrying to catch the train, but the doors slammed closed frustratingly just before he reached them. He saw the man's mouth twist in a familiar curse, as he stood fuming while the train pulled away.
He rose and tried to snatch a better look through the window at the rapidly shrinking figure. He knew that body language, that familiar bearing. It was him! Or was it?
The next day he looked out for him. This time he made it. The man boarded farther down the train, so he had to push through the throng of strap-hanging commuters to reach him. Until he was only half a carriage away.
He hesitated a moment, afraid that he was wrong, afraid that this was just another almost lookalike, another bitter disappointment. He had had so many before. He had been searching for so so long. The others, he had finally accepted, were long gone. Arthur was his final hope. Arthur had his destiny. Could it really be wrong?
He made up his mind and steeled himself to approach the stranger.
"Be brave", he told himself, under his breath. "For Camelot!"
He shoved through the last of the complaining travellers toward his goal, until he was face to face with his quarry.
"Arthur?", he breathed, almost afraid of the denial, the pain of another hope smashed.
"Arthur. It's me. We're the only ones left, you and I. Thank God I've finally found you!"
The blond stranger looked at him vacantly for a moment, vague puzzlement filling his eyes, and then he suddenly seemed to focus.
"You? !", he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of recognition and confusion.
There in the train carriage he pulled the other man into a hug. A hug that spoke of family and belonging and auld lang syne.
"Oh God", he breathed. "It is you...
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Leon!"
The end
A/N: Because we all know Leon is immortal!
Inspired by 'Awkward Moments' (Chapter 26) by Astiza: 'That awkward moment when it turns out Sir Leon's the immortal one, not Merlin'.