For Good

History

Despite my few hours of sleep the night before, I was in fact tired. But it wasn't the type that I could sleep off. It was just... Arthur. Arthur was back. The feeling was overwhelming relief and such mental drain that for a while all I could do was sit in the kitchen, tea in hand, and feel it. Think. Of what I had just seen, experienced. Every moment replayed before my staring eyes. That dream, the lake, the misery and fear and then my king, crouching before me and breathing, breathing once more.

All that time. So many moments. All for this. And it didn't feel like no time had passed. It didn't suddenly feel quick or fleeting. Still far too long. Far too painful. But at least now, he was here. Asleep in the room across the hall. When only a few hours ago, I had been lying down to sleep, just another night in my forever. Now everything was different. Or the same. Who knew. I suppose it would depend on what happened next.

Next. We could move forward from that horrid day so long ago. Once Arthur adjusted to the new world, we could focus on why he was back, what our larger purpose was. There must be one. "When Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again." The words rang through my head. Again. Again. What need? Was something so bad about to overtake the world that we needed a long-dead king to lead us to victory? I mean, hell, everything was so different now, how would Arthur even know how to help? Me. That must be where I came in. I had lived when he did, knew where his mind was. But I had also lived in between then and now. Learned slowly what he must now learn quickly. We would need to be a team once again. As we always had been. Only now...

Now I would receive recognition for my actions, I supposed. I huffed a quiet laugh into my tea mug.

But could it be that easy? Step back into those old skins? Arthur seemed very much like himself, albeit shaken by the resurrection. But me... While his physical wounds had been healed by our time apart, I had ripped open ever-fresh emotional wounds. Mental wounds. For me, the time had been detrimental. I doubted all of that damage would simply disappear now that he was back. I had become skilled at managing my issues, but I had never been able to overcome them, and I had spent countless lifetimes trying.

For the third time in a row, I tried sipping from my mug and came up empty. I blinked. My eyes focused on the room I was in. The light had changed. Warming instead of blinding. How much time had passed since I had sat down? Enough for my tea to be long gone. I stood to make more and glanced at the clock on the stove. Three hours. It had been three hours since I had left Arthur to sleep in the other room. It wasn't unusual for my thoughts to distract me for long periods of time, but I would have to be more aware of that with Arthur back. Bit rude.

With a whispered command, I quickly warmed the water in the kettle to boiling and refilled my mug, plopping in a new teabag. Abandoning the sunny kitchen, I made my way to the study and my loyal reading chair. No books this time. Too much thought. Instead, I pulled my Macbook from its slim desk drawer and set it on my lap. Administrative bits would keep my mind pleasantly blank. Sipping my tea slowly, I scrolled through my work emails, answering those that only required simple responses. I left the others for a time when my king had not just returned from the dead.

As I was typing my third reply, a sound drew my attention. Soft, slow steps from the hallway moved to the kitchen, then stopped.

"I'm back here. In the study," I said loud enough for him to hear me. More steps made their way toward me, eventually ceasing as I saw Arthur stop in the doorway.

He surveyed the scene, eyes pausing for a few moments on the thin metal computer resting on my legs. "That looks..." Drawing nearer, he examined the Macbook, circling around to face the illuminated screen. "I know better than to assume it's magic, so... what is it?"