[Merlin] Experiencing Slippage Into the Future 3/3
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The message came through three months after Morgause told him she’d contact him.
I found it. Come quick.
Just in time as well, seeing as Arthur couldn’t stop gritting his teeth listening to Merlin talk about a girl he had met the previous day- a girl he suddenly knew the life story of and had been going out with for the past month.
What was worse, Arthur had suddenly known her as well. He remembered seeing her around the past month, smiling shyly at Merlin while Arthur tried to glare her off. He remembered the morning when she had finally gathered her courage to approach them and hand Merlin a single rose before darting off, face redder than the petals.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had been advised to write everything down, and he was certain in his writing that he had never met this girl before (because he certainly would have written about a bird who had up and out asked Merlin out)...
“We have to go.” He said the minute he received the message, grabbing Merlin by the arm the moment the man exited the bathroom, hair still damp and towel tousled from the shower he had taken.
“Go? Go where?”
But Arthur didn’t waste any time, not when he had packed just in case weeks ago, knowing that any moment could be too late and that he had to be ready the moment Morgause had found something. Mordred’s words hung heavy in his mind at all times, and he couldn’t let it come true.
I’ve been looking, Morgause had said to him the day Perceval had delivered him to her. I’ve been looking for something that can disable to flood of information. Stop them from losing their minds.
He didn’t dare loosen his grip on Merlin even as he grabbed at the bags, handing one over to Merlin and swinging the other up over his shoulder, exiting the house and not bothering to lock it behind him. There was nothing in the house that could not be replaced, and nothing he would need to go back for. A brief look down the streets confirmed the emptiness at this time of evening, and Arthur spared a thought to wonder just how Merlin and Morgana managed to get around without being recorded by a single one of the cameras stationed all over the city. All over the country; all over the world. But it was a moot point as they weren’t recorded, and couldn’t be traced. Cameras seemed to turn a blind eye to them, to shut down when convenient, and it was awful convenient that Arthur happened to be walking right alongside Merlin.
Eight streets and a ride on the Tube deposited them back in the seedy area close to where Arthur had (first? The second time? Third?) met Merlin. It was an area that, five months ago, he would never have come to. Desperation, however, made short work of his pride.
We’re going to meet Morgana, Arthur had whispered to Merlin under his breath while they had navigated the streets, and he could see the thin man straightening, eyes sharpening as if a fog had been lifted from his gaze. This is important, Merlin. You must remember.
My memories. Merlin had whispered back, a soft exhalation of breath. Arthur hadn’t bothered to respond then, only moving to squeeze Merlin’s arm in confirmation.
Them. The two of them. They had grown up together, only they hadn’t. They were supposed to have grown up together. Something had gone wrong, and Merlin had disappeared. Or, something had gone wrong because the two of them had never met in the first place. Was a shared experience real if they both remembered it even if it never happened?
Arthur wondered about that, for the sake of the girl who was probably still waiting for Merlin, still fidgeting nervously about the date she had finally asked him on, despite the fact that the two of them had never really met before. Despite the fact that Arthur didn’t know her name, and knew that Merlin didn’t yet know her name either.
Morgause was waiting for them at the end of the journey, looking as sleek as she had the first time Arthur had seen her, the same brand of cigarette in her hand and the same dark kohl smudged around her eyes, barely seen from the shadow of the hat pulled low over her forehead and blond curls.
She didn’t react much to their presence except to give them a cursory glance and shift to reveal the open door behind her.
“Get in.” She said, as low and casual as ever even as she inhaled her cigarette. She looked as if she was part of the shadows, dressed as dark as she was, almost every inch of skin other than her face covered in heavy cloths.
Arthur didn’t question more, and tugged Merlin behind him as he stepped through the door and down the steps, leading to a wide, dimly-lit room with the bare minimum of furniture. A frail plastic table with a smattering of rickety chairs.
And sitting at one of the chairs with her hands folded on the table as calm as you please, was Morgana.
Arthur couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath. She looked exactly like he remembered her (but of course she would), down to the dark and haunted shadows under her eyes.
“Arthur.” She said, her eyes intent on his form even as Merlin bumped into him from behind. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” He didn’t dare to sit down yet, not when things felt so unsettled. Something felt wrong. “Morgause said she found the cure.”
The cure. Because it was easier to treat it like a disease rather than the idea that the firewall around Merlin and Morgana’s brains had been breaking down. Easier to say that than to admit to a deterioration of data, because that made them sound like nothing more than computers.
But Morgause had been with Morgana the entire time.
Morgana didn’t look ‘cured’.
And the lightning, dim as it was, looked ominous.
There were no other exits for this room.
“Arthur,” Morgana repeated, and then spread her palms on the table, looking frail and tired. “There is no cure.”
The words were duel-toned and echoed, and Arthur spun in place, shoving Merlin behind him to see Mordred standing there, small and young against the figure of Uther Pendragon.
No. No. It was a trap!
“Hello, Arthur.” Uther’s tone was calm, his face expressionless. Arthur could hear as Merlin let out a noise behind him, surprise and shock and perhaps a hint of fear at the sight of the infamous business tycoon. The very same one who held a hand in all the laws the past decade and sent numberless techmages to their deaths or lifetime imprisonment.
There was no other exit. Mordred had taken up guard of the stairs, face hooded in the shadows just as Morgause’s had been. Morgana was sitting at the table. There was nothing in the room that could have been used as a weapon, unless Arthur wanted to wield one of the brittle wooden chairs. No dirt on the floor, no objects that could be used to defend either Merlin or Morgana should things come down to it.
“How-?”
Because Morgause should never have allowed Mordred or Uther down those stairs. Because he had been so certain the woman would have guarded Morgana within an inch of her life. That had been the only reason, the only reason, he allowed her near his sister in such a state. Morgause had promised to search for a cure. She had insisted that they had to stay separated in order to make it harder for Mordred to find them.
“Mordred,” Morgana spoke up bitterly from where she sat, “Rewrote her memories.”
“They’re not rewritten.” And it was a shock to hear Mordred’s voice in his head, sounding just as the boy did in the dream Arthur had with him, the very same voice and the very same lack of movements. He was projecting his voice into their minds through the Network. “I put her memories back to normal.”
The boy’s unnaturally bright eyes wandered over to Arthur. “Now you’re the only one left.”
“Only one left what?” Arthur demanded, hands closing into fists. No weapons. It didn’t mean he would give up, even if he had to fight his father. But it couldn’t be that simple. Uther Pendragon was not the type to rely on just one person to defend him, especially someone such as Mordred. There was no doubt that there was an entire squadron waiting for them outside the building, no doubt that back-up was already on its way if it wasn’t already here.
“You’re the only one left caught in the web, Arthur.”
And his father’s voice was so placating, so smooth. He sounded like he was discussing whether it would rain or shine the next week.
“Caught in your web.” He accused. Caught in Mordred’s elaborate plans, with Uther sitting in the shadows waiting for his schemes to come into fruition. “Category-10s. You’re the one who created them. You’re the one who should be held responsible, not trying to destroy them!”
“I am taking responsibility.” Uther was as calm as ever, waving a hand over to Mordred. “You’re right. They should never have been created. But can you see the potential, Arthur? Can’t you understand why I did this?”
“You could rewrite history.” Arthur’s voice was shaky. He had been thinking about this for months, after all. How does someone cope with that kind of power? “Everyone’s memories. Everyone has an up-link. You could write yourself as king of the world.”
He didn’t expect Morgana’s bitter laugh from behind him.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Uther responded, looking disgusted at the suggestion. “I would do no such thing. Memories are not to be tampered with. That is only an unfortunate side effect of it all, one that I will rectify as soon as possible.”
And in that moment, Uther looked more like his father again, rather than the monster who had tried to cover up Morgana’s disappearance.
“Do you really take me to be that kind of person?”
“There are laws against invasion of the mind.” Mordred provided. “Laws that they broke.”
Arthur gaped.
“They- they couldn’t help it!”
“Are you sure about that?” Uther nodded to Merlin’s barely seen figure behind Arthur. “Absolutely certain?”
Arthur spared a glance over his shoulder at Merlin, the man looking pale and drawn. Looking just like Morgana at this moment, their expressions twin resignation.
“I know it. I’ve had to watch them slowly losing their minds for five months. You can’t tell me that they faked that.” He had to watch as Merlin slowly lost his mind. He was sure Morgause had done the same in watching Morgana.
Uther looked far older and more tired at that statement, like he was weighed down with the world and the responsibilities to do everything possible in order to correct it.
“Son,” He says, and his voice is grave and serious. “You’ve been gone for nine days.”
What?
He stayed quiet for a long moment before snorting. “Seriously? You didn’t notice my absence for that long?”
“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was a warning that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, heed this time.
“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” He wouldn’t be stopped now. Five months of running and hiding, of carrying this secret, of finding himself slowly coveting all of Merlin’s time and attention, leading up to this. “First you won’t even acknowledge Morgana as your daughter, and now you don’t even notice that I’ve been gone?”
It was wrong, his mind whispered to him, it was all wrong.
“Arthur.”
Again, he ignored Merlin’s hissed warning.
He finally dared to move, heart beating too fast to stay still even if he wanted to. Taking a step closer to his father and Mordred, he jabbed a finger in their direction, every muscle tense for the upcoming confrontation. For the upcoming truth that he had denied.
“You can’t just walk into their lives and-”
“Nine days.” Uther cut him off. “Nine days since you cracked the file, and since Morgause filled your head with lies. Four days since Miss Guinevere Smith last called you to check on your health, and was abruptly cut off. Not five months. Nine days.”
It was stated so matter-of-fact that Arthur could feel his knees weaken underneath himself. This wasn’t the admission he had been waiting for, not the confrontation he had prepared himself for. But somewhere in his head, the facts rang true.
Five months of worrying and watching Merlin fall apart, trying to hold on to his memories, of frantic calls to Gwaine and waiting for Morgause to come up with something (anything) that could save Merlin and Morgana.
Even if he knew that Morgana wasn’t really his sister. Even if Merlin hadn’t really been a childhood friend.
Nine days.
“It couldn’t have been.” Arthur denied.
“You know about Category-10.” Mordred’s eyes focused on Merlin. “But I told you about Emrys.”
“I admit the projects got more... ambitious.” Uther said. “Subject 01 was a mistake. 02... well, she didn’t work out so well, did she?”
Morgana growled at him from where she was sitting, and Arthur wondered for a moment if she was somehow shackled to the table. From what he remembered of Morgana, he knew she was the type who was rather fast and furious in her anger.
“Subject 04 was special. We were going to stop with him. He was supposed to be the one who succeeded.”
“If you hadn’t run away, Emrys,” Mordred’s tone was bitter. “I wouldn’t have been created. I suppose I should thank you for that.”
By this time, Merlin had managed to retreat toward Morgana, and she reached out to him, grabbing at his hand desperately to seek comfort.
Arthur was frozen in place, waiting for that last weight to drop because Uther always waited until the end to drop the bombshell. Because he knew there was something more coming up that he would need to know, especially about Merlin.
“Emrys was our last experiment. It was supposed to be our greatest accomplishment; a dream that scientists throughout the ages coveted but had never been able to achieve. But with our technology, Arthur, we could have done it! We have done it.”
“What are you talking about?” Arthur demanded.
“Augmented reality.” Morgana spoke from behind him, and Merlin’s silence was telling. He knew. Of course he did. “And virtual reality for Category-10s. Everyone in the world has it by now. A chip in their head, their up-links feeding information straight into their brains. Uther here,” and the name sounded like a sneer, an insult, “was seeking immortality.”
“There’s no such thing as immortality.” Merlin finally said, sounding resigned.
“No,” Uther agreed, and Arthur wished that he had sat down in one of the chairs close to Morgana. “There is not.”
But Uther’s attention was turned on Arthur. “But Category-10s were as close as we had ever gotten to it. You have experienced it yourself, Arthur. A change in memories. You life suddenly interesting when once it was dull.”
Dull? He couldn’t remember his life ever being dull.
“Project Emrys was a step up. To change a person’s perspective of time. To let them live... hundreds of years, lifetimes, within the span of a human life. Potentially forever.”
Five months. It certainly felt like a lifetime.
To experience grief, anxiety, hurt, and love all in one. It couldn’t have been nine days. It hadn’t felt like a sudden whirlwind. It felt like five months. It felt like another life entirely.
“One of our programmers sabotaged us.” Uther continued, and Arthur wanted to tell him stop, enough, but it wouldn’t have made his father stop. “Subject 04 was never supposed to be self-aware.”
Balinor, Arthur thought, remembering Merlin reminiscing about his parents. About the man, the scientist, who had apologised to him over and over.
“Liar!” Morgana accused, voice loud and wild against the easy tone Uther had spoken with. “You didn’t create us! We were- we were children! Arthur,” Her voice was desperate. “Arthur, don’t believe him! We’re real, we’re not some experiments created in a lab- we were children, we had gifts, and they changed us! They took our gifts and twisted them and they took away who we were!”
Morgana turned her attentions back to Uther, voice venomous. “You monster. I’m your daughter and you know it, you bastard, and you still did this to me. You can’t treat us like this; we’re people!”
Again, Arthur wondered why Morgana hadn’t taken a chair to physically beat her way out, but a glance at Mordred’s eyes told him all he needed to know.
Those eyes were glacial.
Morgana was supposed to have a probability program to predict the future. Merlin twisted a person’s perception of time. Mordred... Mordred...
Arthur was still frozen where he stood.
Oh.
Uther’s eyes were just as cold. “I don’t have a daughter. You inserted the files. You tried to changed my memories.”
Morgana let out a choked laugh. “No. No, you were the one who went and changed your memories. You changed history. You created us to deny my existence, because you just can’t stand that you have a daughter and Ygraine wasn’t my mother.”
“Silence!”
But Morgana didn’t stop. “You wanted to forget that you were a cheating bastard!” Her eyes sought out Arthur’s, pleading. “We may not have grown up together, but I am your sister!”
Those were the words that broke Uther’s calm, and he shook with fury. “You were a mistake! You were a laboratory mistake and I should never have created you, but you are not. My. Daughter..”
Arthur didn’t know what to think. He knew, knew more than anything else that Uther had loved his mother more than anything, because his childhood had been the carnage of his mother’s death. He had heard stories, stories of how happy Uther and Ygraine had been together until she fell ill during her pregnancy.
From his memories, he knew that Morgana was older. His older sister. That meant that was before Ygraine had died.
But that couldn’t be true.
At the same time, he couldn’t get Morgana’s words out of his head.
His conflicted expression drew Mordred’s attention as the boy turned his icy gaze on him.
“We’re not real. We’re not supposed to be sentient. We’re not made to survive in the outside world.” In contrast to the rage between Morgana and Uther, Mordred looked perfectly calm. “We’re programs. Interfaces to create a virtual reality for mankind. Organic composites to relate to human brain chemistry, each of us a separate program to prepare the way for the next stage of human evolution.
“You need to let them go, Arthur Pendragon.”
“They have caused enough damage.” Uther snapped.
“If we’re not people, then why don’t you just make something to replace us? Or can’t you find more children to experiment on?”
“Because it took nearly two decades to complete your programs. You are an expense I can not condone the loss of.” The elder Pendragon seemed to have settled by now, his anger mostly gone. “And now you have nowhere more to run. This escape of yours was short lived.”
His attention shifted. “And Emrys. You will come back without a fight.”
“Come home.” Mordred’s tone was more emotional than when he had spoken to Arthur, sounding almost pleading. “This world is nothing but pain and hurts. It’s cold and it’s hot and tiring. It’s terrible.”
“But it’s warm.” Merlin’s voice was small, resigned. “It’s beautiful and terrible, and so very alive.”
“We can make that world again. We’re supposed to make worlds. You can take what you want from this world and we’ll remake it. A world that’s beautiful but without pain. One that never decays or rots, but stays eternal.”
Merlin looked pitying. “That would make it terrible.”
Uther’s attention remained on Arthur. “I am explaining this to you, Arthur, because I think it is time you know. This is what we’ve been doing the past two decades- creating a world that can last forever. A better world.”
“No,” Arthur tested the denial on his tongue. “You’ve been- you’ve been making advances in the way the Network can be accessed. Bettering the up-links.”
No, that wasn’t true, and Arthur knew it wasn’t true. He had the past five months to try and accept the fact that Uther Pendragon had began a program that twisted a person’s brain around to his own use. He knew there was a reason for it because his father always had a reason.
He hadn’t expected this to be the reason.
“The Network is a thing of the past. The world moves on, Arthur. You don’t know yet what this project can do for people. Once we have the core stabilised, there’s nothing that can’t be done. People could live... close to forever. In a world of their choosing, where suffering is just a distant memory.
“We’re just missing the two core components. We need them back, Arthur. They won’t even remember this, won’t feel it.”
Arthur pursed his lips. Any other time, and he would have considered it carefully. He would have hired people to look through the schematics and then see how much it would cost to buy the patent of it because he was a Pendragon through and through and he understood how much virtual reality would sell. It was a great pitch. If it could work.
But not at the cost of Merlin and Morgana’s lives.
“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to the other man. “Arthur, you need to know. I’ve been searching.
“The tree was real. It was real. It was really there.”
His up-link itched, and he felt a buzz in his pocket. His phone. The one Merlin had replaced as an apology to recking his last one, even though Arthur wouldn’t get to use it. He would be the only one who could hear the unusual ringing, since it was wired to his up-link so that he wouldn’t disturb anyone by answering a call.
You remember my ringtone, right?
“No.” Arthur finally said, testing the word. “I don’t think you get to choose this for them.”
And outside, the world exploded.
-
They ran.
It felt different this time, but not.
His muscles ached at the speed, and at dragging both Morgana and Merlin behind him. He felt betrayed (but by who? Morgause because she had promised to look after Morgana? Morgana for hiding all of this from him? Uther? Mordred for finding them? Or perhaps he was just mad- furious, livid, enraged -at Merlin for not saying anything.
Because Merlin had known.
He couldn’t get far, not with the two behind him, and at Morgana’s desperate gasps for him to stop; stop, please, I can’t run anymore, and Merlin’s breathy intakes of air, Arthur growled and shoved them both into the a nook of an alleyway before following, taking one last look around for pursuers.
No one he could see, but he could hear noises of people shouting.
They couldn’t stay for long.
“Stop, stop,” Morgana was still huffing even with her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath. Merlin was only a little better, the other man having stayed mostly indoors for the past five months (no, no, for the past nine days but Arthur was sure that Merlin had never been the type to run around much since he had been a techmage in the first place and apparently brought up in a laboratory in the second) and mostly hacking the Network.
“If you want to get away, we can’t stop for long,” Arthur warned them (and he was aching as well, but that was mostly his heart).
Merlin was breathing heavily, but he kept blue eyes focused on Arthur.
Arthur paced, listening hard as the shouting slowly caught up with them. He was only able to give them a few seconds before he grabbed Morgana by the shoulder and hauled her up again, ignoring her protests of pain.
“We’ve got to go, and we’ve got to go right now.”
“I can’t.” Morgana protested, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Arthur- Arthur, I’ve Seen. You have to take Merlin and get out of here. With me, you won’t make it. There’s not a single chance of you making it. But just the two of you... you might. Maybe.”
Arthur bit down on his tongue. “I’m not leaving you behind; Gwen would kill me in my sleep-”
“Arthur.” And she grabbed on to his head, forcing him to look her straight in the eyes. “Guinevere has never met me before in her life. You only think she’s my best friend, but she doesn’t know who I am. You know this.”
He did. The knowledge didn’t help when the mere idea of leaving her behind weighed too heavy on his mind.
Morgana shoved at him. “Go. Go. At the very least, get Merlin out of here! They can’t complete the program with him, so let me at least have that. Go!”
“I’m not leaving-”
The shouts drew closer and Merlin stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as Morgana shoved once more at Arthur.
“Go. Turn left at the next intersection. Take the tube three stops. That’s the area least heavily guarded. I don’t know if you’ll make it, no matter what I tell you there will still be heavy odds against you, but if you go now you’ll at least survive.
Pay attention, Arthur. If you had just left me here without my saying so, I would hate you forever. But you’re not. You’re going because I’m tell you to go right now or we’ll all die.”
Arthur didn’t waste another moment; he grabbed Merlin by the back of his jacket and pushed him forward before he dashed off himself, refusing to turn around even as one arm hovered continuously over Merlin’s person. He wouldn’t say goodbye to Morgana because he’d see her after this. Even if Uther managed to get her, Arthur would get her out again.
He could hear her behind them, shouting as the men finally caught up to her, cursing and struggling even as Arthur and Merlin left her behind.
“Morgana-” Merlin managed to gasp out, but Arthur ignored him and pressed him to go faster. If Merlin had the breath to talk, then he obviously wasn’t running fast enough.
They skidded around the turn, Merlin flailing as he nearly lost his balance into the street, shoving through a group of school kids who looked at them strangely and then started whispering as they heard the people yelling behind them.
Arthur managed to grab a hold of Merlin’s jacket again and yanked the other man along with him. He had to leave Morgana behind but he wasn’t about to lose Merlin as well. Morgana would take care of herself. She knew exactly what would happen, what to do in order to create the best situation for herself.
His feet practically flew down the stairs at the Tube entrance, and he could feel Merlin stumble against him but now wasn’t the time to tease about clumsiness.
Gwaine had already provided the distraction, so the rest would be up to him.
Merlin yanked on his shirt, hard. “Train.”
Which direction?
It didn’t matter, since he was sprinting for it before the doors closed, yanking Merlin in along with him.
Three stops. Three stops. Right. They just had to wait three stops.
There was no one else in their section, which was surprising seeing as it wasn’t very late. Merlin had collapsed into one of the seats, head hanging between his knees as he breathed heavily, while Arthur managed to lean his weight against the wall as he dug the heel of his palms into his eyes and tried to convince his heartbeat that it could slow down now.
Any second now.
“Mordred knew.” Merlin’s voice was stuttered with quick breaths, sounding miserable. He shifted and twisted in his seat. “He knew, all along. The whole thing with Morgana, he knew how to avoid her. He knew how to think around her. How did he know?”
The train stuttered to a stop, and the two of them tensed, watching the platform carefully. There was no one there, but it didn’t stop them from holding their breaths until the doors closed again.
One stop down.
“How did he know?” Merlin breathed to himself, never looking up.
“We’ll figure it out.” Arthur promised. “We’ll figure it out when we get out of here, first thing we do.”
But Merlin shook his head. “God. I knew it. I’m so sorry, I knew you should never have been involved. I should have turned out away when we met. Should have said no when you tried to coming into hiding with me. Should have-” And he rubbed at his face, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair. “I should have tried harder to keep you away.”
You couldn’t have, Arthur wanted to say. That’s something that Morgana must have known as well.
“Yeah, well, we can’t do anything about that. So let’s just work on getting out alive.” Alive and undetected by his father or by Mordred.
Arthur sunk to the ground, unheeding of the dirt that would normally have bothered him to no ends. He was never going to be able to go home again, not ever. Not knowing what Uther was trying to do, because even if once he would have applauded his father for the expansion of technology, he could never condone what was done.
Even if he hadn’t known Merlin and Morgana personally; he wouldn’t have condoned it if he had just heard about Nimueh, about Freya. But now that he actually did know two of the people his father had locked away, Arthur couldn’t stand around and do nothing.
He needed a plan to get out. Morgana had specified that while the third stop would be less guarded, it wasn’t safe. And Arthur had to get both himself and Merlin out somewhere safe, and then come up with a plan to go back and get Morgana.
It was just another one of those moments where Arthur wished that Merlin had control over his powers. If he could convince a few of the men trying to catch them that he had been a lifelong friend...
But that would be too easy. Surely those men would have some kind of defense against anything Merlin or Morgana could do.
That would possibly why Mordred was able to work around Morgana’s powers.
The train slowed again, and once again the two of them tensed up, ready to run or hide at a moment’s notice.
Again, there was no one there.
Suspicious.
The doors closed, and he could hear Merlin let out a breath of relief. Arthur needed time to think this through. A method of getting them out, unnoticed and undetected. If luck held out, the next station would be empty as well, although ground level might be a bit harder. They could hide out for a while, but his father was not the type to give up, and hiding would only give the men more time to surround the area. That meant a quick break; dash into the evening crowds and hopefully blend away, and he would ask Merlin to edit any camera footage that might have caught them later.
Simple.
But there was one thing he had to know first.
“Merlin.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, too tense and he got strands caught on the ring he wore on his finger, although the pain just helped him focus. “Did you know?”
Merlin’s voice was strained. “Know what?”
“Five months.” Because Arthur was sure, sure, that he had spent five months arguing with Merlin over just about everything in existence. “Did you know?”
There was an incriminating silence.
“You knew.” Arthur concluded, voice tight. “Did you have control over that? Or is that another bullshit thing that I just happened to be caught in because I was standing too close?”
“It wasn’t-” Merlin cut himself off, and turned his head away. “I didn’t think about it.”
“So was that a yes? Because I sure as hell think my life’s been screwed over enough.”
“What do you want me to say, Arthur? That I knew Mordred would catch up sooner or later? That I was just, I don’t know, at least giving myself a little more time?”
“And you don’t think you should have told me?”
“Would you believe me?”
“Yes!” Arthur snarled, disproportionately angry. “After all this? After dealing with knowing my memories were being tampered with? What’s one more thing? What’s, oh, my perception of time on top of that!”
Merlin looked back at him, at his anger, with tired eyes. “And what would you have done about it? Would you have condemned me for using it?”
“I would have wanted to know you can stretch nine days into five months!”
“It wasn’t nine days.”
That shut Arthur up as he tried to quell the wave of betrayal. What was with all these revelations today? How many lies had he been subjected to?
He took a deep breath. “Should I ask?”
Merlin’s stare was unnerving and very, very blue. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Merlin finally turned away, and Arthur noticed something very important.
They should have arrived at the third stop by now.
Whatever it was that Merlin could do, he was doing it now.
“...The past day. Just the past day.”
“The past day.”
He couldn’t comprehend it. It was already pushing the bounds of his belief to know that the past five months of memories in his head had been nine days, but to know that most of it actually only been one day was beyond that. Mind boggling. (Perhaps literally, Arthur thought a little hysterically.)
Merlin looked miserable, huddled into himself in the seat as if the posture was the only thing that would protect him from Arthur’s imminent wrath (a wrath Arthur couldn’t bring himself to feel through the haze of shock). He was rubbing his hands down his jeans as if to stave off his nervousness.
“You said-” Merlin gulped, and tried again. “You said that you wanted to a knight. That day. Do you remember?”
He could barely remember fragments of that day, it felt so long ago. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I dream about it. You, as a knight. Maybe that’s what I was trying to- I don’t know. To create a world where you could be one? But it didn’t work. You’d think that if I could change or add memories and then give people exceptionally long lives, I’d be able to do something like that, but I couldn’t.”
He turned his eyes downcast. “It just... started hurting after a while. I would dream about it, and sometimes I’d wake up thinking that it was real, but you never understood what I was talking about. Trying to show you- I dreamed so many lives.
“I don’t know what they are, but they feel real somehow.”
Arthur’s frustrated showed in his voice. “Of course they felt real to you, idiot, you’re the one who comes up with it and thinks it’s real.”
“No, I mean that-”
The train made the familiar noise of slowing down as it pulled into its next stop, and Merlin looked so surprised that Arthur really should have expected what happened next.
But he didn’t, and the slowing momentum didn’t help as the train crashed into a sudden halt to throw the two of them forward, the lights flickering out suddenly into pitch black. He heard Merlin’s yelp of pain right before he hit the ground painfully, the impact lighter than it should have been due to him already sitting on the ground.
Arthur’s response was instinctive.
“Merlin!” He snapped and reached into the darkness to search for the other. He didn’t mean to be, but yes, his heart heart had started to race and his palms sweated in a manner that was unlike earlier when they had been running because this darkness was sudden and he knew beyond a doubt that he had missed something, missed something vital, again.
Thin fingers grasped onto his arm, the grip tight. The shock of pain brought awareness to the throbbing at the back of his head, and he blinked several times against the sensation despite still not being able to see a thing.
A low flicker of light.
The train car was bathed in a pale blue glow for just a moment before it went dark again, but Arthur could see that the door was open and pulled Merlin closer, trying to hide them in the corner, trying to see through the darkness before charging out blindly, perhaps into danger.
“What-” Merlin tried to say but was shushed as Arthur’s grip on him tightened, trying to crush him against his body.
It was too dark.
Merlin stilled, although he did so because Arthur moved his grip to circle Merlin’s head, covering his mouth just in case the idiot tried to say something again.
Morgana told them that the third stop would be their best chance of making it out.
Morgana had just been thwarted by Mordred.
A slow clapping sound echoed in the darkness, and Arthur’s unseeing eyes darted straight for the source of noise. It took only a few more seconds before the lights went back on completely, no flickering and no dullness, but now exceptionally bright, as if someone had turned on all the wattage in the city and directed it right at him.
He flinched back, eyes closing tightly against the sudden flood of light.
“I would say well done,” Mordred’s not-voice rang through his head, “but that wouldn’t be true.”
The flare of pain from the lights dulled, and Arthur turned his head around to see the outlines of at least a dozen men, all of them armed and aimed at him and Merlin.
Mordred was standing in front of those men.
“You knew.” Arthur rasped as he figured that last part out. “You know what Morgana would tell us, what she would see.”
Mordred’s silhouette tilted his head curiously. “With her active, no one would be able to catch her. No one would be able to catch Emrys. Do you think we’re that stupid? I needed a program that would bypass her Sight.”
His curious gaze turned toward Merlin, and Arthur felt a flare of possessiveness, shoving Merlin behind himself even as they both sat on the ground.
“Emrys.”
There it was, that something in Mordred’s tone that didn’t seem to exist when he spoke to anyone else.
“Let me take us home.” Mordred all but pleaded, even if his tone sounded as flat as ever. “Don’t try to do that again.”
Arthur had to glance back to stare at Merlin, to ask him what Mordred was talking about, but Merlin’s eyes were wide.
“You stopped my code.” Merlin accused.
“Bypassing Lady Morgana’s Sight is one thing, but I wouldn’t try to bypass you.” Mordred inclined his head. “I can break codes. Even yours.” His eyes were piercing, the unnaturally bright hue that Arthur was starting to associate with Category-10s.
They were trapped, defenseless, and now their last would-be advantage was gone.
“No.” Arthur snarled, finally letting go of Merlin to push himself onto his feet. He ignored the sound of charging weapons as the men shuffled back half a step, raising their munitions. He knew they wouldn’t be afraid to use it. He recognized the guns. They would knock anyone and anything out for a full day, damaging the cerebral cortex if used multiple times within a certain time frame; but otherwise, the guns were harmless.
But they would take Merlin away from him forever before he woke again if he got shot with those.
The only chance he had now was the gamble that those men might not dare to shoot Uther Pendragon’s son. Or at least, harm him permanently.
Which was why he ran toward them and punched the first man down, and shoved his weight into the next, knocking the gun out of his hands. The train car was small, and space was limited, so a third assailant stumbled before Arthur even needed to regain his balance.
Fighting felt natural, like he had done it many times over despite having never been in true fight before in his life. Arthur had the occasional grapple in school during football games, but never like this.
Shifting his weight, he managed to dig his elbow deep into another man’s stomach before he heard Merlin shout his name in warning, his vision jerking up to see Mordred’s pleased eyes before he felt a sting in his back and a crippling paralysis.
He collapsed amongst the groaning bodies, eyes still open.
“Arthur!” He could still hear Merlin’s shout, his stumbling crawl over, and feel the thin fingers on his face, turning his head so that he could stare into panicked blue eyes.
Merlin was looking away from him, though, up at someone beyond Arthur’s vision. Mordred.
“What did you do?” Merlin demanded.
There was a brief silence, as if Mordred was shocked Merlin even had to ask, because Arthur had obviously taken down four armed men so of course he had to be sedated.
“He is unhurt.” Mordred said eventually, and Arthur could see Merlin flinch away at the words. “But it is over. It’s time to come home, Emrys. There is nothing left here now.”
Two of the remaining men, cautious, gripped Merlin tight on the shoulders to draw him away, but Merlin snarled and his eyes flashed golden and the both of them dropped their hand away in shock.
It was almost a sense of victory until Merlin stilled over Arthur’s prone body, expression betrayed.
“There is nothing left here now.” Mordred repeated. “You can not leave.”
Merlin’s wide blue eyes found Arthur’s, and Arthur wanted to tell him to just run, run and leave him because he would be alright later, except he couldn’t say anything; he couldn’t move, couldn’t twitch, couldn’t convey a single thing.
No! Arthur wanted to scream out. I was supposed to protect you! I was supposed to protect both you and Morgana!
Because Morgana was his sister, and Merlin...
Merlin...
Merlin was his.
He had never said it, never hinted at it in the slightest, but he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of anyone else close to Merlin. He couldn’t stand the girl who had gotten close to them by accident during their time hiding, couldn’t stand Mordred’s softened tones, and he didn’t want anyone to take Merlin away from him.
Merlin had sought him out. Merlin had been the one to expand a single day into five months for Arthur, to try and give him memories that he could take with him into a happier context.
That had been the reason why he left Morgana when he never would have otherwise. He had to keep Merlin safe, because he needed Merlin by his side. And he would do anything, even leave behind everything he had ever known to live as a fugitive and recluse, to keep him there.
But he couldn’t say it. Not because he didn’t want to, but due to the electrical shock that numbed even his up-link.
There was a flicker of something in Merlin’s eyes. Something familiar; something understanding.
“A moment.” Merlin said. “I just need a moment.”
Mordred’s disapproval was thick through the air. “There is nothing-”
And Merlin leaned down and kissed Arthur.
-
It was like electricity flowing, tingling, down his spine.
A castle. A kingdom. A dragon. A destiny.
(Is this real?)
Merlin standing by his side and smiling, laughing, at terrible puns and jokes and at Arthur falling asleep in his dinner.
Growing up with Morgana and listening to her tantrums about his father (their father).
Courting Guinevere and the betrayal he felt when Lancelot entered her life.
(Maybe this was a history that Merlin created. A program.)
More.
More.
Lifetimes.
So many of them.
A sword in one hand and a shield in another.
Merlin always, always by his side.
We’ll grow old together, you and I.
Diverging into maybes. Breathy laughs and tumbling over grass.
(Or maybe, if he let himself believe, these were memories.)
Years, aeons, all of eternity. Time flowing forward and then collapsing back to show Arthur more possibilities, more things that happened (could have happened) and all the lives that he’s lived, with so many people flittering in and out. Everyone, really. But always Merlin.
How long have you trained to be a prat?
You can’t address me like that!
Oh, I’m sorry. How long have you trained to be a prat, my lord?
They created a legend.
Racing down the stairs of Camelot, running through the fields. The scent of rain in the spring air.
The feel of blood in Camlann.
I’ll see you again. I will. I will.
We’ll always know each other.
All dreams come to an end.
You can’t leave me now.
A tree, weathered and old, staggered under the weight of a little boy and cat.
A rather uneventful meeting between children, and a dog that left with its tail between its legs.
One last thought: It’s okay, Arthur. We’ll find each other again. We always do.
And then Merlin was gone.
-
He remembered everything.
Lifetimes. Again and again.
Arthur woke slowly, groggily, drugged. He could smell the clean antiseptic in the air, feel the cool sheets underneath him.
Hospital, his mind provided.
A hand was on his forehead.
“He’s waking up.” A stranger said, and the hand shifted.
“Do it before he wakes.” And that voice was familiar. His father. Uther. “I won’t have one of those programs destroy my son’s life.”
The hand lifted.
“Wipe the memories.”
The panic barely registered before he felt the pressure on his up-link and Arthur slept again, submitting to darkness.