Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 22: Lancelot du Lac

"They can't be far," Lillian declared, putting her mug on the table with a bit more force than necessary. Gwen arched an eyebrow. "I mean, if you're the reincarnated form of a great knight from the greatest kingdom and tales of all time, you wouldn't be on the other side of the bloody globe. You'd be near it, any phenomena is always near its origin."

"By what law do you figure that?" Gwen snorted humorously. She hadn't given up, not nearly, but she didn't see how Lillian was right.

"Every law of any scientific event, or natural disaster, or story," Lillian said pointedly. Gwen sighed.

They'd fixed up Merlin and jumped onto the first train south, explaining the modern world to him throughout the trip. The three were still in England, and now debating staying and circling again, or going into France. Merlin wasn't quite sure where he came from, having gotten lost in the twisting maze of roads and buses and trains, so Gwen and Lillian had pooled more credible tales' locations. But it all felt wrong so far, and Merlin had insisted that nothing was familiar.

Now, the three sat in a cafe trying to decide what to do next. The girls had called their parents and said they were going traveling for the holidays, but it would soon become a matter of money. Public transportation got expensive after a bit, as did hotels and food. They'd been running around England for a month, and now were running out of anywhere to go except back up north.

"I have to return soon," Merlin murmured, looking down at his clasped hands in his lap. While Lillian demanded why -- and why he had to go--Gwen leaned forward. No, not at his hands, but at the tiny object in them. The vial of Arthur's blood. It was still mixed, not entirely glowing but not entirely dark. That was why.

When she leaned back and tuned into the conversation, Lillian was quiet. Gwen spoke up, finally asking a question that seemed a bit silly, but had been bothering her nonetheless.

"Merlin," she started, thinking it over for a moment. "Do we...when we...are we the same?" She still was a bit shaky with the grammar when talking about your own reincarnation. But he smiled, his eyes glowing with warmth.

"Yes," he said softly. Merlin could be energetic and clumsy, as he was once he'd gotten comfortable and happily joked with the girls. And he could easily become soft and control emotion powerful enough to stun Gwen.

"Who exactly were we?" Lillian followed Gwen's thought.

Merlin was soft and emotional now, but still smiling. "We all called you Lilly, my friend in my home village before I left to work. When I came back after...after everything, you were still there. Just as sweet, and just as blunt," he smirked playfully at her. Lillian grinned happily.

Then Merlin looked at Gwen, and on instinct she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. Not in threat, but because she knew that there was far more to her and Merlin's story and she tried to ready herself as best she could. Merlin noticed, and his eyes softened further in recognition.

"When I came to Camelot, you were my first friend," he smiled. "We were great friends, you and I, always at each other's sides and...and at Arthur's. I witnessed you grow and become great over the years. You went from a sweet, shy serving girl to perhaps the greatest woman I have ever known in all this time," his voice drifted as he remembered, and Gwen's breath caught as her mind seemed to just barely skim the same memories, not quite accessing them but knowing they were there.

"Guinevere," Gwen's heart caught too. That was on her birth certificate, but only because her aunt loved the tales as much as she and had insisted. And it wasn't what she introduced herself as. Guinevere was blonde and grey-eyed, and a noble lady, not the serving girl Merlin described and especially not with brown--