Cups and Saucerers - Chapter 19 of 22
Previous Chapter
Chapter Summary: Can Merlin and Linda save Arthur and Kara?
'"He flinched, baring his teeth, and swerved into the path of an oncoming truck, hastily swinging back again in the nick of time. The truck’s horn blared out accusingly, note changing from major to minor when it thundered past. Arthur laughed with the sheer recklessness of it all. Jagged lightning flashed, and the water swirled around the wheels of his car. He laughed, and he wept, hardly able to see through his tears and the driving rain, hurtling along the country lane far too fast, rounding a bend. And there, too late, wiping his eyes, he saw, illuminated in the lightning, the bedraggled figure of a runner, purposeful despite the rain.
There was nowhere to go, he was going to hit her."''
Early the following morning
Somewhere near Cherry Hinton, Cambridgeshire. 1st June 2004. 4.27 am.
Arthur fell asleep in his vintage Porsche, Excalibur, somewhere near Cherry Hinton, and woke up when the wan light started to filter through the windows. Hail drummed on the roof. He winced at the pain in his head, groped between his feet on the floor, swigged from the half-full bottle of Jack Daniels.
Then he started the engine and went for a drive.
He tried to make sense, through a fog of alcohol and confused feelings, of the muddled memories that had been reawakened by Merrill’s shocking words. Merrill? He supposed he should call him Merlin now. He remembered his death, the cold steel slicing through his ribs. The pain of Mordred’s betrayal, almost as strong as the pain from the wound in his side. The startling revelation about Merlin’s magic. His own initial hostility and gradual acceptance of it.
Merlin, Merrill. No wonder the connection between him and Arthur was so strong. It spanned centuries. Arthur’s lips tingled where Merrill, Merlin, had touched them with his finger before all the memories came flooding back.
He flinched, baring his teeth, and swerved into the path of an oncoming truck, hastily swinging back again in the nick of time. The truck’s horn blared out accusingly, note changing from major to minor when it thundered past. Arthur laughed with the sheer recklessness of it all. Jagged lightning flashed, and the water swirled around the wheels of his car. He laughed, and he wept, hardly able to see through his tears and the driving rain, hurtling along the country lane far too fast, rounding a bend. And there, too late, wiping his eyes, he saw, illuminated in the lightning, the bedraggled figure of a runner, purposeful despite the rain.
There was nowhere to go, he was going to hit her.
He panicked, hit the brakes and skidded, aquaplaning on the wet carriageway. He was going to hit her. He couldn’t stop.
But then something odd happened. Everything around him sped up, but his car seemed to slow to a crawl. The atmosphere shimmered oddly, and lightning bolts rained down, hundreds of flashes every second, but his surroundings moved at glacial speed. He saw a white shape dive from the sky incredibly fast, almost too fast to detect. He blinked. The white shape was gone, and so was the runner.
The car slowed to an inexorable stop and he sat, hands shaking on the wheel, knuckles white, eyes staring.
The driver’s side door opened. Merlin was there, wet hair plastered to his head. He looked exhausted, his face pale and eyes sunken in the faint dawn light.
“Merlin,” said Arthur. His voice sounded like a croak.
Merlin reached across him, undid his seatbelt, and peeled Arthur’s white hands from the steering wheel. Merlin pulled Arthur up for a hug.
“Hush,” he said. Arthur hadn’t realised he was sobbing.
Arthur wrapped his arms round Merlin, buried his face in Merlin’s wet clothes, felt the warmth of his skin through the sodden fabric of his shirt. He remembered all the things that this man has ever meant to him, but suppressed the hundreds of questions running through his head.
“Merlin? What did you do?” he said instead.
Merlin let out a hollow chuckle. “I sped up time,” he said. “All around you, I sped up time. It must have seemed to you as if you were moving incredibly slowly. And then Linda pulled Kara to safety.”
A horn blared nearby as a car splashed past, making Arthur jump, and he realised that they were standing in the road with the door open. Merlin slammed the car door and pulled Arthur round to the passenger side. They stood outside on the grass verge for a moment, rain cascading in rivulets from their hair. Merlin cupped Arthur’s face in both his hands. “You idiot,” he whispered. “You utter, utter fucking prat. Never do that to me again.” His face was wet, eyes rimmed with red. He pulled Arthur’s face in closer, pressed Arthur’s lips to his own.
Arthur tasted salt, the rain mingling with Merlin’s tears. His arms snaked round Merlin’s waist and he pressed their bodies together, pushing Merlin up against the car. He moaned into Merlin’s mouth, pushed his knee between Merlin’s legs. He wanted to touch every inch of Merlin. It wasn’t enough; he needed to be closer, needed to feel Merlin everywhere. “Merlin,” he breathed, sharing Merlin’s air. “Fuck, Merlin, I’m so sorry,”
There was a cough by Arthur’s side and he looked up, surprised. It was Kara, with a white-haired girl he didn’t recognise by her side. Kara was shivering; her pupils were blown wide with shock.
Merlin pulled away again. Arthur was reluctant to let him go, but Merlin’s cold, wet hand lingered in his like a promise. He opened the passenger door and gestured towards the car, smiling at the two shivering women. Kara and the white-haired girl crammed themselves uncomfortably into the back, and Arthur sat in the passenger seat, a puddle forming at his feet.
Merlin trudged round to the driver’s side, got in and turned the key. The engine purred and the windscreen-wipers hissed.
“Lucky you have a vintage car, Arthur,” said Merlin. “These modern vehicles with all their electronics don’t work for me.” He flashed Arthur a blinding grin. The sun chose that moment to emerge from behind the doom-laden clouds, picking out the scattered raindrops on the car windows, which refracted the light into myriad colours like jewels. Arthur’s heart lifted. He like he’d escaped some terrible curse, through no efforts of his own.
He placed his hand on Merlin’s, which were poised to put the car into gear.
“Merlin,” he said, just to hear what it sounded like in his voice. When Merlin glanced at him, enquiringly, he rolled the name around his mouth again. “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin,” he said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” Splinters of his fractured past were returning to him, and he was beginning to arrange them, piece them together like the shards of a shattered window pane.
Arthur glanced in the mirror where he could see Kara being comforted by the mystery girl, Linda. Linda was whispering into Kara’s ear. She looked up as if aware of Arthur’s eyes on her.
“Is she OK?” Arthur said.
Linda shook her head. “Shocked,” she said. “Her memory returns.”
Steam drifted up from her leather outfit, as if she was heating it from within. Arthur stared, fascinated.
Merlin shifted gears and they headed back to Cambridge.
Next Chapter
Chapter Summary: Can Merlin and Linda save Arthur and Kara?
'"He flinched, baring his teeth, and swerved into the path of an oncoming truck, hastily swinging back again in the nick of time. The truck’s horn blared out accusingly, note changing from major to minor when it thundered past. Arthur laughed with the sheer recklessness of it all. Jagged lightning flashed, and the water swirled around the wheels of his car. He laughed, and he wept, hardly able to see through his tears and the driving rain, hurtling along the country lane far too fast, rounding a bend. And there, too late, wiping his eyes, he saw, illuminated in the lightning, the bedraggled figure of a runner, purposeful despite the rain.
There was nowhere to go, he was going to hit her."''
Early the following morning
Somewhere near Cherry Hinton, Cambridgeshire. 1st June 2004. 4.27 am.
Arthur fell asleep in his vintage Porsche, Excalibur, somewhere near Cherry Hinton, and woke up when the wan light started to filter through the windows. Hail drummed on the roof. He winced at the pain in his head, groped between his feet on the floor, swigged from the half-full bottle of Jack Daniels.
Then he started the engine and went for a drive.
He tried to make sense, through a fog of alcohol and confused feelings, of the muddled memories that had been reawakened by Merrill’s shocking words. Merrill? He supposed he should call him Merlin now. He remembered his death, the cold steel slicing through his ribs. The pain of Mordred’s betrayal, almost as strong as the pain from the wound in his side. The startling revelation about Merlin’s magic. His own initial hostility and gradual acceptance of it.
Merlin, Merrill. No wonder the connection between him and Arthur was so strong. It spanned centuries. Arthur’s lips tingled where Merrill, Merlin, had touched them with his finger before all the memories came flooding back.
He flinched, baring his teeth, and swerved into the path of an oncoming truck, hastily swinging back again in the nick of time. The truck’s horn blared out accusingly, note changing from major to minor when it thundered past. Arthur laughed with the sheer recklessness of it all. Jagged lightning flashed, and the water swirled around the wheels of his car. He laughed, and he wept, hardly able to see through his tears and the driving rain, hurtling along the country lane far too fast, rounding a bend. And there, too late, wiping his eyes, he saw, illuminated in the lightning, the bedraggled figure of a runner, purposeful despite the rain.
There was nowhere to go, he was going to hit her.
He panicked, hit the brakes and skidded, aquaplaning on the wet carriageway. He was going to hit her. He couldn’t stop.
But then something odd happened. Everything around him sped up, but his car seemed to slow to a crawl. The atmosphere shimmered oddly, and lightning bolts rained down, hundreds of flashes every second, but his surroundings moved at glacial speed. He saw a white shape dive from the sky incredibly fast, almost too fast to detect. He blinked. The white shape was gone, and so was the runner.
The car slowed to an inexorable stop and he sat, hands shaking on the wheel, knuckles white, eyes staring.
The driver’s side door opened. Merlin was there, wet hair plastered to his head. He looked exhausted, his face pale and eyes sunken in the faint dawn light.
“Merlin,” said Arthur. His voice sounded like a croak.
Merlin reached across him, undid his seatbelt, and peeled Arthur’s white hands from the steering wheel. Merlin pulled Arthur up for a hug.
“Hush,” he said. Arthur hadn’t realised he was sobbing.
Arthur wrapped his arms round Merlin, buried his face in Merlin’s wet clothes, felt the warmth of his skin through the sodden fabric of his shirt. He remembered all the things that this man has ever meant to him, but suppressed the hundreds of questions running through his head.
“Merlin? What did you do?” he said instead.
Merlin let out a hollow chuckle. “I sped up time,” he said. “All around you, I sped up time. It must have seemed to you as if you were moving incredibly slowly. And then Linda pulled Kara to safety.”
A horn blared nearby as a car splashed past, making Arthur jump, and he realised that they were standing in the road with the door open. Merlin slammed the car door and pulled Arthur round to the passenger side. They stood outside on the grass verge for a moment, rain cascading in rivulets from their hair. Merlin cupped Arthur’s face in both his hands. “You idiot,” he whispered. “You utter, utter fucking prat. Never do that to me again.” His face was wet, eyes rimmed with red. He pulled Arthur’s face in closer, pressed Arthur’s lips to his own.
Arthur tasted salt, the rain mingling with Merlin’s tears. His arms snaked round Merlin’s waist and he pressed their bodies together, pushing Merlin up against the car. He moaned into Merlin’s mouth, pushed his knee between Merlin’s legs. He wanted to touch every inch of Merlin. It wasn’t enough; he needed to be closer, needed to feel Merlin everywhere. “Merlin,” he breathed, sharing Merlin’s air. “Fuck, Merlin, I’m so sorry,”
There was a cough by Arthur’s side and he looked up, surprised. It was Kara, with a white-haired girl he didn’t recognise by her side. Kara was shivering; her pupils were blown wide with shock.
Merlin pulled away again. Arthur was reluctant to let him go, but Merlin’s cold, wet hand lingered in his like a promise. He opened the passenger door and gestured towards the car, smiling at the two shivering women. Kara and the white-haired girl crammed themselves uncomfortably into the back, and Arthur sat in the passenger seat, a puddle forming at his feet.
Merlin trudged round to the driver’s side, got in and turned the key. The engine purred and the windscreen-wipers hissed.
“Lucky you have a vintage car, Arthur,” said Merlin. “These modern vehicles with all their electronics don’t work for me.” He flashed Arthur a blinding grin. The sun chose that moment to emerge from behind the doom-laden clouds, picking out the scattered raindrops on the car windows, which refracted the light into myriad colours like jewels. Arthur’s heart lifted. He like he’d escaped some terrible curse, through no efforts of his own.
He placed his hand on Merlin’s, which were poised to put the car into gear.
“Merlin,” he said, just to hear what it sounded like in his voice. When Merlin glanced at him, enquiringly, he rolled the name around his mouth again. “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin,” he said. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” Splinters of his fractured past were returning to him, and he was beginning to arrange them, piece them together like the shards of a shattered window pane.
Arthur glanced in the mirror where he could see Kara being comforted by the mystery girl, Linda. Linda was whispering into Kara’s ear. She looked up as if aware of Arthur’s eyes on her.
“Is she OK?” Arthur said.
Linda shook her head. “Shocked,” she said. “Her memory returns.”
Steam drifted up from her leather outfit, as if she was heating it from within. Arthur stared, fascinated.
Merlin shifted gears and they headed back to Cambridge.
Next Chapter