Our Memory Will Never Fade (merthur)

Chapter One

JANUARY 6TH, 1969 - CAMLANN, WALES

It was a misty and cold morn when Merlin emerged from his small home. He had tried his best to tidy it up as much as he could when he heard that he was to be serving as the host for some American tourist or something. Merlin had considered disguising himself as an old man again, but the more often he used his magic, he felt a pang of sadness within him when he was reminded of who he couldn't save with it. The warlock ran a pale hand through his dark hair, combing it back with his fingers. The memory was still clear in his mind and he never tried to forget. With a sigh, Merlin wandered up to the main road which lay above the town he lived in. Once there, he hailed a cab and got a ride to the harbor where he would be picking up his guest. (Of course he wasn't going to travel all the way to Heathrow for this bloke.)

The ferry had just docked when Merlin arrived and he patiently stood outside of the cab, hands stuffed inside his wool coat, face buried in his red scarf. For a moment Merlin thought that he should've brought a sign when he saw a man, as tall as he was, with a rather handsome face and expensive looking clothes. (Well, more expensive than Merlin could afford.) The warlock had a feeling that he was his guest and beckoned him over.

"Are you Mr. Michael Jones?" he inquired, voice muffled by his scarf.

The man nodded and held out a gloved hand. "Yes, I am. You must be Mr. Pendle, it's nice to meet you."

Merlin shook his hand. "The pleasure's all mine. Come on then, Jones. The weather isn't the best to stand in," he said and opened the cab door for him.

The man slid in and Merlin soon followed after, closing the door behind him. The car ride back wasn't very exciting. The two chatted for a bit, exchanging information about Jones's stay and talking about the countries they resided in. Merlin learned that Michael had a sister and a niece that he loves dearly. And Merlin? Well, he had no one.

"Isn't Camlann the place King Arthur had his final battle?" Jones asked suddenly.

Merlin paused at that, memories of a fight he had missed much of, The Sword piercing his king, his friend dying in his arms. "Yes," he replied quietly. "I suppose it is."

Michael gave him an odd look before continuing. "You see, when I was still in school, I had found this book in the library about King Arthur and his knights. It was all very intriguing. And I cannot believe that I'll be staying in Camlann-isn't that just... fascinating?" he enthused.

Merlin pursed his lips, unanswering as he stared out the window solemnly. Jones continued to go on about what he had learned about Camlann and Wales from the books he'd read for the rest of their journey and the warlock beside him said nothing to discourage him. Soon, though, they arrived ad Merlin paid the cabbie before leading them down to the village. Jones looked around with wonder and Merlin couldn't help a small grin in amusement. He stopped at his home and unlocked the door, letting them inside.

It was a cozy design, the kitchen and dining room were mashed together as one and the sitting area was right beside it. It also contained a single narrow staircase that lead up to Merlin's and the guest bedroom. He gave Jones a short tour before bringing them back to the sitting room.

"Tea?" he inquired politely.

"Oh, yes, please," Jones replied, seating himself on the sofa.

Merlin nodded in acknowledgement and scurried off to the kitchen to place the kettle on the stove. "I apologize for the mess. I haven't much room for all my things," he said, gesturing to the stacks of books and papers scattered around the floor.

"Nah, it's fine. My apartment in Los Angeles isn't that neat, either," Jones dismissed with a broad smile.

Merlin couldn't help but return the smile and moved to grab two cups from the cupboard. The kettle whistled and the warlock removed it from the stove, pouring the hot water into the cups. He placed the tea bags into the dishes and stirred.

"Do you take sugar with your tea, Mr. Jones?" he asked.

"Yes please. Just one," was the reply.

Merlin added one cube to the American's tea before placing two in his own. He brought the beverages over to the sitting room and settled down into his armchair. Jones leaned forward to acquire his cup and huffed out a small laugh.

"This is all a bit domestic, isn't it?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "It's just that, I've only known women to prepare tea. It's a bit different when a man does it."

"I suppose that it where our views are different, Mr. Jones," Merlin interjected, sipping at his tea. "A woman can do whatever a man can, and a man can do what a woman does. There's really no contest."

Jones regarded him with an impressed raise of his brow. "You speak wise words for someone as young as you."

"And yet you utter such foolish statements for a man who assumes he's older than I," Merlin replied bluntly. "You know what happens if you do so incorrectly."

"Do what?"

"Assume," the warlock responded. "For when you assume, and incorrectly at that, you make an ass out of you and me."

It took Jones only a moment for those words to sink in before he burst into another contagious grin, chuckling with amusement. "That was very clever, Mr. Pendle," he laughed.

"I try to be," Merlin said with a wider smile, taking another sip of his tea.

"Don't you find it tiresome?" Jones asked after a moment. "You know, addressing each other only by our surnames. You can call me Michael if you want. It seems more appropriate if we're going to be living with each other for quite a long time."

Merlin hummed. "Alright, Michael," he tried, not giving any sign that he was going to share his own name.

But Jones was expectant and he awaited his reply. "Well?"

"'Well' what?"

"What about you? Tell me your first name," he urged like an excited school boy.

Merlin hesitated at that, but he knew he had to reply. "Martin," he said, thinking of the name on the spot. "Er... yep. Mertin Pendle. That's my name."

Jones stared at him blankly for a moment and Merlin was afraid that he hadn't convinced him. "Martin?" the other man repeated.

"Yep."

"Huh," Michael said, seeming disappointed.

"What?" Merlin inquired, squinting.

"I don't know. It's just... not what I expected."

The warlock gave him an offended look. "And what exactly were you expecting?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe something more exciting?"

Merlin scoffed. "And Martin isn't exciting enough for you?"

"Apparently not!" Jones laughed.

"This isn't funny, Michael," Merlin scolded, though he couldn't resist a giggle.

"Actually, it really is."

The two continued to banter and tease one another, the beginning of a new friendship blossoming that night.

~

It had been two weeks since Michael's stay and Merlin started to get suspicious as to where the man disappeared to all the time. So one day, he decided to follow him.

He knew that he shouldn't, but curiosity nagged at him like a worried mother. He used a small bit of magic to create a petty disguise as an old man and inconspicuously trailed Michael. When he took a cab to the neighboring town (the one full of loud people and cars, he didn't like it very much), his curiosity had only increased.

Once in the next town over, Merlin followed Michael into a pub and watched him from the back. Jones sat at the bar and seemed to be listening in on a conversation going on at the table behind him. It was odd, really, because the men were chatting about some iffy sounding 'deal' at the port. Not only that, but they were dressed like those thugs in the James Bond films.

Soon enough, the men stood and paid for their drinks before sauntering out of the pub. Michael got up and began to follow them and Merlin's eyes widened. Was Michael a secret drug lord trying to steal God-knows-what for his own profit from those two men who had just left for the port? No, he's just jumping to conclusions... right? Surely there was a better explanation for this funny business... But Merlin couldn't afford to follow after them anymore without the risk of getting caught. So he returned home with his thoughts swarming with ridiculous scenarios.

The warlock decided to stay up and wait for Michael in his sitting room, sipping at a cup of tea he had prepared for himself. When his house guest had finally returned, it was well past twilight and Merlin's imagination had wandered off into depths better left unknown. When Michael entered the sitting room, his eyes were wide like a deer's when caught by the headlights of a car.

"Martin! I was not expecting you to be up this late!" he said in surprise.

"Neither was I," Merlin replied patiently. "Decide to take a midnight stroll?"

Michael appeared relieved for a brief moment before his expression was masked by a simple smile. "Ah, yes. It was very refreshing," the man lied blatantly.

The warlock knew then that he was hiding something and could not stop himself from this outburst. "Are you a drug lord from the dark parts of the ghetto who traveled here to create an empire of druggies and take over the government to infect humanity with the influence of injections and consumables?"

"What?"

"What?"

Michael held up a hand to stop Merlin from speaking. "Wait, hold on... you think I'm a drug lord?"

"Well... more like emperor-but yeah," he replied.

The other man didn't know whether he should be amused or offended. "I am not a drug lord," he assured.

Merlin blinked. "You're not?" at that, he received a shake of the head. "Oh... then what are you?"

"I'm-" Michael hesitated and sighed resignedly. "I am an undercover detective here on a case involving the murder of three American citizens. I was sworn to secrecy by my superiors, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you knew as well."

"So... those two suspicious looking blokes at the pub are somehow involved in your case?"

"Yes-wait," Michael paused again. "You followed me to the pub?"

"Uh... Nevermind that," the warlock dismissed. "So what happened after you followed them to the port?"

The detective smiled slightly at Merlin's childlike eagerness and engaged in his tale.

xxx