Chapter Text
The smell…God, when would he learn? The taste of bile in his mouth nearly turned his stomach. Dragging himself up off the cold, mustard-colored, tile floor using the barely attached towel bar for leverage, Merlin’s knees ached almost as bad as his head. His feet were bare, his shirt missing, his jeans unfastened. Letting out a yelp, he sat down hard on the toilet, lifting his foot to see blood oozing from a cut, a piece of glass was deeply embedded in the skin. Most likely from the broken vodka bottle that he had managed to drop at some point before throwing up and passing out between the crumbling green plaster wall and the toilet.
“Fuck!” Merlin groaned then grabbed a stiff washcloth, pressing it to the cut. His chest rose and fell with stuttered breaths as he struggled to focus. He was completely useless. Running a hand through his sweat and puke-caked dark hair, he let out a harsh laugh. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he muttered under his breath, looking up at the water-stained bathroom ceiling of the seedy motel room he barely remembered renting. He couldn’t even remember what city he was in…somewhere in London…or was he in Cardiff?
He stared unseeingly at his hands for a moment, they were cold and sticky with only God knew what and they felt almost detached from the rest of him. Glancing at the mess on the floor…vomit, a puddle of something, and the broken bottle…he shook his head, tears threatened to escape as he closed his eyelids tightly. His insides felt raw, his mind a swirling vortex of memories that poked and prodded at him mercilessly. Taunting him with every mistake he ever made, every bad decision, all the people he had hurt and let down. Flashes so painful…longing and desperation that at times became too much to bear so he would drink himself into oblivion…anything for a reprieve from the ghosts that haunted him.
Immortality…a curse…punishment for failure. To live forever watching the ebb and flow of humanity from the outside looking in, never able to participate in the living, only the watching. Never able to settle and just be. Destined to suffer alone until the day that the sole reason for his existence would again walk the earth. Destiny…fate…magic…he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, lowering his head.
Magic…it had once come so easy to Merlin, he had always taken it for granted. Now it took immense effort just to bring it to the surface. It actually hurt to use it. His blue eyes barely flickered with gold as the shards of broken glass were gathered and dumped into the trash bin and the rest of the mess vanished, immediately resulting in a sharp pain in the center of his forehead that dragged an anguished whimper from deep within his chest.
“Useless,” Merlin said then with one last wave of his hand the cut on his foot healed. He had nothing left as he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled into the narrow shower stall. Shoving his jeans down he tossed them on the floor and turned on the water. It was lukewarm at best, but by the time he was finished, he felt almost human again. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and then grabbed his jeans, leaving the bathroom to search for the rest of his clothing.
His gaze drifted to the unmade bed, thankful to find it unoccupied. At least he hadn’t fucked anyone. He hated having to deal with the random one-night stand and the shame and regret that went along with it. Endless attempts to jam something…anything into that fathomless void that he’d spent more than a millennia trying and failing to fill, only to end up feeling even more empty and cold afterward. Everyone he ever cared about had turned to dust while he lived on, struggling to face each day alone, asking the gods why, and never receiving an answer. Just wait…wait and the day will come when Arthur will return, and he will have purpose again.
Sitting down on the end of the bed, the remote for the TV fell to the floor and the screen came to life. Merlin grumbled, bending over to pick it up. His finger hovered over the power button to turn it off, but something stopped him. The voice of a reporter penetrated the post-vodka fog in his brain.
Good morning, we are here following a story of a very naked and seemingly intoxicated male wandering the streets of Cardiff early this morning. Witnesses say the man is completely disoriented and muttering utter nonsense. Police have taken him into custody and are awaiting a special team that will transport him to a mental health facility for evaluation. Paramedics have determined that he is not physically injured, nor does he seem to be suffering from any illness.
“Poor bastard,” Merlin muttered then shut the TV off and fell back on the bed. He closed his eyes, draping his arm across them, wishing he could just pass out again. A moment later, he bolted upright, turned the TV back on, and stared at the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. The reporter had moved closer to the police line.
We have just been informed that the man has been sedated. He was struggling with the police to free himself shouting words in an unrecognizable language. They are afraid he will injure himself or someone else. We are requesting a photo of the man to share in hopes of identifying him, but police have requested that we stay back and let them work. They have promised us there will be a news conference once they have more information.
Merlin moved closer to the TV screen, straining his bloodshot eyes to catch a glimpse of the man. He couldn’t see anything but the emergency vehicles and officers milling about. “Come on…” he said softly, willing people to move aside.
A white ambulance pulled up to the police line and they were allowed through. The back doors opened, and a gurney, equipped with wrist and ankle restraints, was wheeled out. Merlin’s heart clenched as he remembered a time when he had been strapped down to one of those and it was hard not to turn away from the screen. He needed to watch this…something was compelling him to not look away for even a moment.
We have now received a description of the man. He is approximately thirty years old, six feet tall, and around a hundred and eighty pounds, his hair is blonde, and his eyes are blue. He has various scars on his body that may be used to identify him. We will try to get more information a bit later, but if you have a loved one who is missing and fits this description, please contact the police.
Merlin shot up off the bed, his eyes wide and shining with tears. “Could it be?” Running his fingers through his hair he paced the floor, clutching the remote in his hand, constantly raising and lowering the volume while staring at the screen. His chest ached with the longing. So many years of waiting and suddenly there was hope…slim hope, but hope. Maybe Arthur had finally returned. Maybe there was finally a light at the end of this perpetually dark tunnel.
We have movement, the man is sedated, and they are lifting him onto the gurney. He seems to be very groggy yet still attempting to resist. Shame, I truly hope there is someone out there who knows who he is and will come find him. They are securing his wrists and ankles, and they have dressed him in medical scrubs. We have not been able to get a good shot of his face. I am hoping we will be allowed to, at the very least, show an image of him at some point.
Merlin stared at the van as they loaded the gurney into the back and closed the doors. He let out a deep and frustrated cry then quickly dressed and shoved his feet into his boots. His jacket was on the floor between the bed and the wall, keys, and wallet still in the pockets along with his cell phone.
We have just received word that they are transporting him to Cardiff Mental Health for evaluation. Police will give a press conference in the main lobby once they have more information. For now, we will go off the air to head over there and prepare. Again please, if anyone out there knows who he might be, please contact the police. This is Jenny Manz signing off.
“God, I have to go,” Merlin said, turning around in a circle, his fingers buried in his thick, dark hair. “Fuck…I need to go now.” He shut off the TV and left the room, the door closed behind him as he looked around, spotting his beat-up gray van parked at an odd angle in the alley behind the motel. The front tire was flat. Without thinking, his eyes flashed gold and it was immediately repaired. “Shit, where did that come from?” he gasped glancing around to make sure no one saw it. Staring at his hands, surprised by the way his magic was suddenly reacting instinctively. Could it mean that the man was Arthur? His magic had always been meant for his king, to protect him.
Merlin shook his head and got into the van. Shoving the key in the ignition he turned it and the van roared to life. He pulled out of the alley, turning onto the street. There was only one way to find out if his king had returned at last.
“I’m Dr. Anna Morrison. Can you tell me your name?”
The man lay in the bed, his head elevated, wide-eyed, and clearly confused and scared. His wrists were still restrained, though his legs were free. Lips pressed into a tight line, he shook his head either refusing to answer or not understanding the question.
“Do you understand the words I am saying? Do you understand English at all? Welsh?” she asked then repeated the questions in Welsh. There was a spark of something in his blue eyes and his lips parted as if he may have understood some words. Dr. Morrison repeated in both English and Welsh then tried a bit of French. The man shook his head and pressed his lips together again. “All right, well, I think we need to keep you here for a while until we can figure out who you are and find your family. We are going to release your photo to the press so we can hopefully find someone who can identify you. Don’t you worry, we are going to take good care of you. You are perfectly healthy physically, so we just need to sort you out mentally.”
“Avalon,” he said softly, and the doctor smiled.
“Avalon?” she asked curiously.
The man let out a breath then let his head fall back on the pillow. “Avalon…” he choked back a sob, and began to panic, pulling against his restraints.
Dr. Morrison approached the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shh, you’re safe. Tell me what does Avalon mean? Your name?” The man calmed slightly though his eyes were still wide and filled with terror. “Avalon…a place?” she asked calmly then pulled out her phone swiping the screen. The man looked at it and would have scaled the walls to get away from it if he hadn’t been restrained. “It’s just my phone, I am looking up places in the area with the name Avalon. Do you not know what a cell phone is?” she asked.
Searching Avalon, she found several places and addresses and businesses with different variations of the name. One particular Avalon jumped off the screen at her. The Isle of Avalon…the lake…part of the legend of King Arthur. She looked intently at her patient and then pulled up a translator to roughly convert her question to the ancient language spoken in King Arthur’s day. She spoke into the phone. It repeated the question and the man stared at it and then looked at her, shaking his head in confusion. Repeating the question, a bit differently the phone translated it and the man smiled, his eyes softening slightly.
“Arthur…” he said hesitantly.
“Your name is Arthur?” Dr. Morrison asked and the phone repeated it. He gave a slight nod and seemed to relax his body, settling back on the pillow again. “Arthur,” she smiled brightly then laughed. He nodded again and smiled. “That is amazing,” Dr. Morrison said, reaching out to brush his shoulder. “Well, Arthur, we are going to figure all this out, I promise. You get some rest. I will be back to check on you in a few hours.” She waited for the phone to translate, Arthur listened, seeming to understand. He watched her leave and heard the door lock behind her.
Arthur closed his eyes tightly. He was overwhelmed and completely lost. This place was like nowhere he had ever known, and he had no idea how he got there and what he was supposed to do. The last thing he remembered was opening his eyes to the star-filled sky while floating on his back in the lake…a lake that vanished the moment he’d stepped onto dry land. The voices told him Merlin would be waiting to guide him, but he wasn’t. Where was he?
“Merlin,” he muttered softly then fell asleep as the drugs they had given him kicked in.