Chapter Text
Something was off, and he could sense it, but couldn't quite put a finger on it.
The day was going just as usual, with the sun shining since 7 am and the wind blowing softly through the opened kitchen window where he could watch his herbs grow. But there was something distinct in the mood.
The kettle whistled, bringing him back to the moment, and he resigned on the feeling, deciding not to give it much thought. At the back of his mind, he had a vague idea, a sort of hope that, given a chance, would spread wider across his mind and give him the so hated shivers, like all those times ago when he was willing to embrace that fusion of cold and warm and visit the lake. But those memories of a beam of hope being mercilessly crushed by the sadistic slap of reality could still invade his heart, influence its bumping and inflict an intense desolation that left him deserted with a consuming emptiness. Another false alarm would not ruin his day. At least not today.
He finished preparing his tea, watered some of his plants adorning the kitchen, and passed by the lounge to pick up his backpack on his way to the door. Arriving at the bookstore was uneventful, just as it had been for the last three years, but an uncomfortable feeling of a lurking invisible presence out the corner of his eye waiting for him to visualize it still bugged him.
Brushing the feeling off, he unlocked the door and stepped in, not surprised to see the box containing the new arrival of books still resting forgotten on the floor. He left it untouched, proceeding to make himself comfortable behind the counter. Just when he was about to call his irresponsible assistant, the doorbell at the entrance rang.
“I'm sorry, Merls" the boy began his apology with uneven breath, "I swear I was about to sort those books when I had this call from my mom, 11 pm, asking me to come home earlier. You know how dramatic she is, with all the exclamations she does, I thought she was dying or something. It really sounded like an emergency and-“ Merlin cut his babbling short by putting his hand in front of him.
“Ssshhh” He admonished. “Yes, I know how she is. And you’re the male version of her, never shutting your mouth, but you need to stop.”
Eric slapped his hand away and rolled his eyes, much to Merlin’s amusement. “You are such an understanding boss”, he mocked.
Merlin shot his eyebrows up, “Oh, so now you acknowledge I’m your boss!”
“Don’t let it get to your head. You’ve said it yourself; I do this nonsense babbling all the time.”
Merlin laughed and allowed his friend to put down his bag and order his stuff before asking him to continue his unfinished work.
“You know," Eric began while lifting the box from the floor, "I bet in some past life there was someone always bossing you around, and now you’re just getting your revenge by abusing your power over good working people like me.” he accused with no real anger behind his words. Merlin smiled at that, watching as his friend walked to the back aisles to begin with the alphabetical distribution of the books, oblivious of the old memories his words unleashed in him.
Eric would be more grateful if he knew at least he didn’t have to undergo the judging glare of doom and the brutality of a raised sharp eyebrow that could force anyone to confess all their wrongs.
A few hours went by, with both finishing their task on labeling worn-out books again and attending to the customers who showed up during their shift. At around 3 pm, Merlin checked on some old files he found in a dust-covered box in the files room to take his mind off the annoying sense of oddity in the atmosphere. He was going through some old enumerations when he heard Eric giggling at something on his phone.
“I hope you are already done repairing those tomes, because you're not leaving until you do.” Merlin announced, not taking his eyes off the numbers before him.
“I’m halfway done," Eric answered aloof. "Mate, you should come to look at this weirdo, he's worse in public than you,” he snickered, returning to his phone to keep watching whatever stupid video he stumbled across.
Merlin sighed and stood up from the stool. He wasn’t really focused on what he was reading, anyway, and the irritating sensation was still there, so why not divert his mind with some absurd entertainment for a while.
He walked to stand beside his friend and look at the screen from above his shoulder.
“Check this lad out, he’s humiliating himself” Eric giggled, turning the phone around for the video to be full screen.
On the screen, a crowd was gathered around someone who was, by the tone of his voice, not in a friendly mood. What he was saying could not be heard clearly, since his words came out hoarse but voiced in what should be an intimidating tone, although there was an edge to it. Some of the witnesses snickered and murmured useless comments while watching the man. Others stood by the scene as helpless or curious as they could.
“What is so funny about this?" Merlin asked, “This person must be lost and everyone around does nothing but stare at him instead of being of help. It is insulting.” he accused, reasonably distressed by the apathy of people.
Eric rolled his eyes “Merlin, I know you’re always this great equalizer or whatever, and believe me, I feel bad for him too, but wait ‘til you see the guy.” he excused, “Apparently, he’s one of those geeks from the nerd conventions and is just trying to seek attention.”
Merlin furrowed his brows and sighed, trying to think of reasons why he shouldn’t punch Eric for being this rude.
The video blurred a little before focusing again on a man in a black business coat carrying a briefcase, trying to approach the voice as one would to a frightened animal in the woods, but still, the subject in question could not be seen by the camera, so the person recording moved the angle to try and catch a peek. The man wearing the coat took a step back after his failed attempt at soothing the other person, retreating slowly, unintentionally offering some space for the camera to see.
A two-second glance was all it took for Merlin to feel his knees failing on supporting his lightweight. His back reflexively avoided the fall by leaning against the bookshelf behind him. The sun did not radiate its light as luminous as earlier that day, but it was incorrect to blame the overcast sky from the afternoon for the ashen aspect the boy with once golden strands was caring.
He featured skin grim and disheveled hair lacking of light, but his strong composure offered no weakness before the prying eyes around him. Albeit baffled, firm and impressive as the last day Arthur stood before the onlookers, with his armor intact and a dominant stance hiding his raw terror in facing an eyeful at a future he was alienated of. But behind his unflappable stand, there were his eyes, once mesmerizingly blue and filled with amenity, now lost and frightened. Absent of their once enchanting magnetism, missing the grant of haven one look at them could offer. They performed a restless analysis of these new grounds, calculating the chances against these many strangers, unable to focus for long in one place.
Merlin could not ascertain if Arthur had his sword with him. But the vivid color of the majestic cloak that never failed to encircle his back in a warm embrace made itself present, with its noble vigor absorbing everyone else's presence with its colorful intensity. Accentuating the spotlight on the man dressed out of a medieval history book. It couldn’t be. Eric stopped giggling and turned to see his friend’s sallow face when a shaky gasp escaped his lips, a small action that terrorized Merlin with the chance of provoking the event before him to vanish forever.
“Hey, Merlin, you alright?” his friend asked worriedly, but there was no response. Turning off his phone, he used his hand to softly shake the brunette's shoulder, calling him again, “Merlin! Hey!”
Merlin detracted his eyes from where Eric had held up his phone, feeling abandoned in a surreal existence in which the bookstore's floor was suddenly unstable and rippling under his feet, with his stomach contorting so cruelly the shivers caressing his back threatened to intensify with every passing second.
Merlin could still see Arthur’s ragged clothes and stricken face while confronting the puzzled crowd around him, so he resolved he had to reschedule his breakdown for later.
Careful not to be so obvious, he turned to the concerned face and opened his mouth to begin with the questions, but the first attempt at it came out as a raspy whisper, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Where is this from? Who posted it?” he questioned as casually as he could, cursing himself for being unable to stop his hands from shaking.
Eric snorted confused, “Why? You know that guy?”
To Merlin’s somber face was added a pained grimace, since that question certainly didn’t help him recover from the inner reel of words and images his mind was displaying for him. “Ye- yes. Yes, he is… a cousin” he answered, with the most sincere and tranquil intonation he could manage.
With brows furrowed, Eric seemed to analyze his face, examining the given answer along.
And maybe Merlin was a good liar after all, or maybe people around him just respected him enough to let him get away with keeping some things to himself. Either way, Eric sighed and took his phone out again in pursuit of some more information on the video.
Merlin was intensely focused on the thumb movements his friend made on the screen and, struggling not to look as desperate as he felt, suffered from a disgusting feeling when the video said it was posted an hour ago.
Depending on which side you saw it, it could be good or bad.
For Merlin, it was catastrophic.
An hour already, and Arthur could be anywhere, or nowhere at all. Where was he going to start? It wasn't that Merlin had ever doubted his king's abilities, but the alarming portrayal of his features was haunting him. He was alone and forced to interact in an utterly modernized world, a reality beyond anyone’s imagination back then, probably expecting to see at least one familiar face to put him at ease. If only Merlin had taken his task seriously; if only he hadn't been so selfish and had reminded himself he was not here to wander around, but to wait for Arthur, he would have gone to Avalon to help in his rise. Despite the chance of it being a false alarm, his duty was left clear more than a century ago. No matter how long it had been or how he could feel, he could not permit himself to fail his king again. He would not.
Scrolling through the post’s comments, he took away the phone from Eric to view them himself faster and to, hopefully, find the leads he desperately needed. There was a comment which said the incident occurred in front a café Merlin had visited a couple of times, near a botanical workshop from where he had occasionally bought some of his herbal plants.
His impulses were telling him to get out of there right then and run to begin looking for Arthur, flee with no explanation, but his sense of reason told him that leaving so abruptly to run like a maniac across the city was simply ludicrous. Not a good plan.
He fidgeted with his hands to try to soothe some of his tension, quickly thinking of some excuse. “Listen” he began, “Uh… I think I remember my aunt telling me he was coming on holiday this year, maybe he got too drunk and got lost on his way back. I must go get him; I’m the only relative he knows from around here.” He tried his hardest to sound convincing.
Eric looked at him and Merlin couldn’t decipher if with disbelief or just puzzlement. “Uh... Of course, go” he finally said. “I’ll take care of this. Call me if you need anything, Merls." Merlin took that as his leave and turned around, but Eric grabbed his arm, "I hope your cousin’s okay," he added finally and let him leave.
I hope that too, Merlin thought. He gave his friend a nervous smile in response and hastily made his way to the door.
He ran for a couple of blocks before ordering a taxi, feeling grateful for his disturbed appearance for silently communicating to the driver to do his best to arrive at his destination as quickly as possible. The six-minute-long ride hurt Merlin like a second eternity, cruelly filling him with the frustrating impotence of watching with every second passed his chances in reaching Arthur slipping away from him.
Taking out his phone when he arrived, he kept reading the post’s comments, seeking to find his next stop. Several were meaningless, from people tagging other friends and joking about the man’s outfit; some others expressed distaste at the spectator's insensitivity. After a minute, one comment in particular, drew Merlin’s attention, which said someone had called emergencies to aid the man.
Merlin felt the ache twisting his guts mitigating at that, unlike the persistent throbbing in his head, which refused to relent. He clicked to read the replies, scrolling through diverse opinions until he reached one comment giving detailed directions to which hospital they had taken Arthur. Merlin could not help feeling bad for whoever it was that had the misfortune of transporting a man like him, in the state he was, to an unknown place where he probably thought they were going to kill him. Thinking about the chaos the blonde would cause was unquestionably better than opening his mind to the feasible bad outcomes Merlin knew that could have.
He ordered another taxi, now forcing his mind to stay blank except for the instructions he had already made up to follow and get to Arthur. If he allowed himself to think, to remember… He was not going to get far.
Ten minutes later Merlin arrived at the hospital, after using a few ancient words to regulate the traffic, not worried about the driver noticing since he was rather occupied in avoiding a crash.
He entered the building running like a madman, causing some heads to turn in his direction. A young nurse stopped him midway and asked him to calm down.
“Please, who are you looking for?”, her voice calm and tender.
Merlin had the answer ready, but something stuck in his throat made it difficult to voice. It was annoying to have his hands clammy and every light in the room dazzling his eyes, all dragging him to an edge where collapsing and giving into the swallowing darkness seemed more pleasant than facing what lay ahead. He needed to get a grip on himself. “They told me they brought my friend here. He’s blonde, tall-”
The nurse tried to hide his annoyance at the vague and common description of a patient with a soft smile. Merlin realized he was losing precious time with the lack of detail. “He was wearing a knight’s costume.” he almost wailed at her.
She shot up her eyebrows, immediately understanding. “Oh, yes! He was admitted an hour and a half ago.” she informed him and was about to continue when something in Merlin's face stopped her, "He is okay," she assured kindly, "he just had a few bruises and showed symptoms of dehydration. We had to sedate him, though. He was very distressed.”
Merlin didn’t blink at that. He was sort of expecting it. He just hoped Arthur didn’t experience great horror with so many people operating such strange instruments around him.
“We took him to the second floor. He must be resting now.”
Merlin was about to demand them to take him with Arthur when the lady spoke again, sensing his impatience. “I can take you there so you can check on him and wait until he wakes up. I’ll just need an ID, please.”
Merlin nodded and handed her the false identification he fixed on his way there with unsteady hands, anxious and fearful of taking the lift to go see his friend.
He followed the nurse through the hall to grab the lift, waiting until a couple of doctors holding small notebooks cleared their way out to step in. Every small movement the lift made had acute repercussions in Merlin, who experienced the funny sensation of being carried up in a building inside a metal box like the very first day he stepped into one so many years ago. With the awareness of a hollow in his tummy and the dull motion from the ascending trip, but this time it was all too much to bear.
His forehead was sweaty, the portion of skin in his thumb he unconsciously had scratched began to sting and his ears could hear nothing but his accelerated heartbeats, every one of them meticulously resounding to be the most overwhelming sounds his body had challenged him to withstand.
"There was a funny name he kept murmuring." the nurse informed, startling him. "He repeated it until the sedative took effect. What was it? Mervin... Melvin..." She murmured as if tasting the names on her lips.
Don’t, please.
"Merlin!" He was enthusiastically named when she fitted it correctly. Merlin froze.
On the small blue screen, the number changed and the doors opened with normality. The nurse stepped out and waited for Merlin to copy the action.
Blocking the apparently meaningless chat from the lift and everything else from his head, he gulped and followed the girl down a corridor to the left, walking with more confidence than he actually felt, until reaching an open door with a tiny window at its side.
He stopped cold where he last set foot in, accidentally focusing his vision on the target way too soon.
Perhaps he heard the young nurse excusing herself and leaving, but the truth was everything around him froze the exact moment his eyes locked on a peaceful face, with eyes shut but moving behind eyelids to follow imaginary paths from dreams. Arms leisurely resting by the sides, with a few needles underskin, connecting the pulse to a beeping machine on the right.
Merlin's whole lie of maintaining his stance perfectly balanced and his mind under control shattered with as much simplicity as an old china piece, breaking into insignificant bits and scattering all over the floor, leaving nothing but dust. The only truth left, his awfully conscious sanity exposing before him proof of the completion of the ancient prophecy. It was all 21st-century life-saving technology, showing the steady beat of a healthy man who died more than a thousand years ago. A man that, for the world, was just another bloke who only had too much to drink.
The bleep coming from the device confirmed the breathing and vibrating glory of his king being alive, while the fluid injected to restore his vitality bragged in front of him its power to do something he wished he could have done back then.
But even as he resented the fact a machine accomplished what he never could, he directed his hand to place it above the warm feeling flowering within. Because, after waiting for longer than what a man should be allowed to walk this land, that part inside him that was long lost now surged again, just like Arthur, vowing to begin its crawl back to where it belonged.
Only then Merlin let go of his facade and allowed himself to let the weight of a century of solitude and rage take the toll on him. Only then he didn’t attempt to contain the stinging in his eyes and let the tears mark their path down his cheeks. It was him. It really was him.
Arthur was back.
Arthur was home.