He knows there's something different about the boy. Not a boy at all, is he? No not a boy. Something ancient, maybe? Maybe even before his own time. Maybe something humanity had forgotten. And look at him just sitting there, away from his parents, listening, watching, but so, so different. Yes, not a boy at all. Not even human, though no one would know it. Even by the look in his parents' eyes he can tell they believe they'd given birth to him.

But oh this creature was special. This creature was different, and how he loved things that were different. Unique. Perhaps the last of his own kind, because the Doctor can always tell when they're the last. It's in their eyes, the pain and suffering. The weight of it resting on their shoulders. The knowing, and that's the worst of it. The knowing.

But then all of that is forgotten because whatever is outside that train, whatever is moving on this planet which should hold no life is coming for them. And he sees the boy, and oh the boy looks scared. But not as scared as he should look. No, not at all. He looks like perhaps… perhaps he's playing at it.

But even that gets forgotten because whatever this thing is, it's taken his voice. It's taken his movements and he can hear them screaming, just barely above the din in his head. The buzzing as he's drained of life, of knowledge, of his own history. And they're shouting and dragging him and as he's there he sees the boy. The boy's crying, he's crying and he's struggling, and his hand is reaching out.

To throw him out?

Oh no. No, no, no not at all because his eyes are shifting. They're changing and beyond the tears they're turning gold…

The ride back was silent, and the boy sat there with tears still in his eyes. And he looked at him, the Doctor, staring at the boy and he could feel it. Nothing like he'd ever seen. And how he loved new things. The parents they were… human. So very, very human. And this boy was special.

But Donna was there, then, and as frightened as he'd been, and as hurt as he'd been, it didn't matter because the boy was still there. Somewhere.

"You look like you could use this." His voice didn't carry far in the little bar they had set up, but that was okay because the hadn't gotten the scotch from that place anyway.

His chin trembled a bit as the Doctor pushed the glass into his hand, and he didn't turn it away. "Why are you talking to me?" Ah now he could hear it, the centuries, the millennia in his voice. Not ordinary, not at all.

"Why shouldn't I be talking to you… Jethro, was it?"

He swallowed and nodded, and then sipped on the scotch. Ah and there it was, a recognition because what he was tasting hadn't been tasted in so many thousands of years, it was possible this boy had forgotten the taste of it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

His smile was only a little tense, pulling back at the corners of his mouth almost against his will. "What is your name?"

The boy's eyes narrowed just a bit. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

The Doctor laughed. "Yes, yes there it is. You're not new, are you? Not new at all. Old, in fact. Older than I am, and that's a spectacular feat. I suspect you've come here from a time long forgotten."

He took another drink then, and the Doctor could see it in his eyes. The shaggy black hair, the immortal face, and the flicker of gold in the eyes. Old magic, is what they called it. The Old Religion. The Doctor wouldn't even really know about it, if he hadn't been so clever, and if the legends hadn't been so fantastic and wonderfully brutal.

"Merlin," he finally said, and looked almost surprised to hear the word aloud.

"How long has it been since someone's called you that."

The boy, Merlin, then smiled. An actual smile, even if it only lasted a second. "Too long, Doctor."

"You knew the truth. On the train. What were you trying to do?"

Merlin shrugged and sipped the scotch again. "I was trying to help you. But… it's been a long time since I've been able to help anyone."

"Magic," the Doctor said very slowly. "Old Magic."

Merlin nodded.

"Why do you look like a boy, Merlin? Why a child?"

Merlin chuckled and gave a little shrug, and for just a split second, the Doctor glimpsed what the boy had once been. "I can look however I want, Doctor. Just like you."

"Oh not like me," the Doctor said, and grinned. "Not like me at all, are you Merlin? Not me, but definitely not like anything else. A true immortal."

Merlin nodded. "Wasn't supposed to be that way. He was supposed to come back you know. The king. He was supposed to come back and reclaim Camelot, and I would have been free to go then."

"So what happened?"

Merlin smiled sadly and gave a half-shrug. "I suppose he missed the train home."