Merlin AU fic: "Shadow Images"
Title: Shadow Images
Author: Clare_Lupin
Pairing: Merlin/Mordred
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4150 words
Summary: Fiction answering Anon’s Prompt on Mini Merdred Kink Meme: ‘Modern!AU, reincarnation. Mordred and Merlin meet each other in the future. They start dating but, when their memories come back, they start worrying about how their story ended in the past and how they don't want that to happen again. Bonus points for fluffy happy ending and NC-17’. I didn’t manage the NC-17 rating but I hope you still enjoy it, Anon!
Spoilers: For 5th season
Warnings: none
Thanks: A big thank you to 11greenoranges for betaing this for me. The story is a lot better for her great suggestions!
Sam opened the door to the two uniformed police officers and felt a tingling sense of déjà vu or recognition or something. Not again, he thought. Not now. “Please come in,” he said, trying to ignore whatever was happening to him.
The two men introduced themselves as Sergeant Richard Morris and Constable Paul Weatherly. He told them what had been stolen from the flat and the younger man, PC Weatherly, made a note of it all. They didn’t seem to hold out much hope of recovering the items, the Sergeant saying, “You really ought to get locks for your windows.”
Sam gave a slightly bitter laugh. “What would be the point? There’s nothing else left that’s worth stealing.”
As they left the PC said, “We’ll be in touch,” then fixed Sam with a puzzled look. For a moment Sam wondered if it was real this time and they actually had met somewhere, but then the man smiled and turned away.
Sam closed the door behind them and caught a glance of his reflection in the hall mirror. For an insane second his own face looked wrong: he had expected it to be more triangular; the hair brown instead of blond; his eyes blue not green; his ears to stick out a bit. He stared into the mirror and asked himself, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
* * *
Six days later the younger officer was back to tell him that a couple of the stolen items had been recovered, although they hadn’t yet caught the thief. Sam, wondering what impression he was making on the smartly dressed man, wished he’d known ahead of time about the visit so he could have tidied his cluttered home. He made them mugs of tea and tried not to stare at the officer, partly wondering why on earth he seemed so familiar and partly drawn by the man’s handsome face with its striking eyes and quick smile.
When there was nothing more about the case to be said, Sam asked, “Before you go can I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“When I first saw you I felt as if I recognised you and for a moment it seemed as if you thought the same thing.”
“Yes,” PC Weatherly said with a smile and Sam’s heart began to pound at the thought of someone finally being able to explain what was happening to him. “I think I must have seen you about somewhere. Where do you work?”
Sam tried to keep his disappointment off his face at the response. What else could he have expected, after all? “I’m a retail assistant at the men’s department of Marks in town and I volunteer at the PDSA shop on Saturdays.”
“The animal charity? I love animals. I really want to get a dog or cat but it wouldn’t be fair with the hours I work right now.”
Sam grinned, confessing, “I shamelessly tempt my neighbour’s cat in with food and she’ll often stay with me for a few hours.”
The officer laughed then he went quiet, watching Sam with those intense eyes. He finally asked, “I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a drink with me on Friday night?”
“Um, yeah,” Sam agreed, knowing he was blushing but not even caring. The man was gorgeous and seemed really nice. Perhaps his luck was finally changing.
* * *
PC Paul Weatherly couldn’t stop smiling after Sam agreed to go on a date with him. His colleagues, whom he had told he was gay when he joined the Station, kept asking who the man was, but he kept that to himself for the moment.
His love-life had been disastrous up until now: the first man he had slept with had turned out to only want a one-night stand; another had cheated on him; the other two had been put off when he wanted the relationships to become more serious.
He desperately hoped that Sam would be different. He had never felt such an instant strong attraction. Sam reminded him a bit of a make-believe character from some of his dreams, which he assumed meant that Sam matched qualities his unconscious mind found particularly attractive. It was a bizarre coincidence, though.
* * *
“So tell me about yourself,” Paul prompted, leaning forward, his pint untouched in front of him. “I want to know everything.”
“It’s not very interesting,” Sam said. However, with further encouragement, he found himself talking about Dad who’d raised him alone after Mum died; his best friend who’d guessed Sam was gay before he was even sure; his art hobby; that time he’d got drunk and sung a karaoke of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” to a bloke who turned out to be completely straight (despite being in a gay bar) …
They were both laughing at this point so Sam concluded, “And if that monologue doesn’t make you lose all interest in me then you’re clearly as crazy as me and I might never let you go.”
“Then I guess this is permanent,” Paul said without hesitation.
An hour later they were back at Sam’s flat undressing each other. There was an intensity in Paul’s general behaviour that happily extended to his lovemaking. He soon had Sam gasping and writhing under him, lost in passion.
When Sam opened his eyes the next morning Paul was propped on one elbow watching him. He smiled and Paul kissed him and said, “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Me? You don’t get out much, do you?”
“Learn to take a compliment,” Paul told him affectionately.
“All right. Thank you. You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself.” He began to show Paul which parts of his body were Sam’s favourites but that turned out to be pretty much all of them. Paul then returned the favour and suddenly it was two hours later.
After a joint shower, which delayed their getting up even more, they got dressed and Paul asked, “Did you say last night that you were an artist?”
“Only a complete amateur.”
“Can I see some of what you’ve done?”
“Sure, but don’t feel as if you have to fake liking for any of it.”
Sam led Paul into the tiny second bedroom and searched through a small collection of framed paintings that he’d exhibited as part of a local art group. He pulled out one of his neighbour’s cat and Paul grinned and said it was wonderful and that he wanted to meet its model some time. Reassured, Sam reached for another painting and held it out.
Paul’s smile faded and he stared at it in disbelief. “I know that castle.”
“Do you know where it is?” Sam asked eagerly. It had featured for years in his dreams - he had lived within its golden walls and walked along the crenellated battlements - but he had no knowledge of ever actually visiting it, if it even existed.
Paul shook his head, frowning. “I dreamt of it.”
“So did I.”
They stared at each other. This didn’t make any sense but at least Sam had someone to share the weirdness with for the first time. Paul looked shaken so he changed the subject, putting on a cheerful voice to suggest: “Breakfast?”
* * *
How could two people possibly dream of the same place? Particularly when neither of them knew where it was, Paul thought, confused. He’d always had intense dreams, often about a different period in time, but he’d never questioned them until now. However, Sam’s painting could have been based on Paul’s dreams; it was exactly as Paul had imagined it, right down to the flag with the dragon on it.
Part of him wanted to walk away from Sam and the confusion he brought to Paul’s life, but it was already too late for that. Paul knew he sometimes came on too strong with people, scaring them off, and with Sam his feelings were deeper than ever.
He couldn’t understand why this was all happening so quickly but it was as if a bond had existed between them from the moment they had met. He was falling in love with Sam.
* * *
The following Saturday they visited an art exhibition together and went on to a café where they talked the afternoon away. Sam insisted it was Paul’s turn for the life story and found out that Paul’s father was having trouble accepting a gay son “but he’s trying”; that the Sergeant Sam had briefly met with Paul was a good friend and mentor to him; that Paul enjoyed the camaraderie in the Force and the sense of doing something worthwhile.
Sam liked everything he found out about Paul. The man was fun and enthusiastic and generally easy to feel comfortable around.
For the next few months they spent nearly all their spare time together. There were cinema trips where they happily argued about the merits of action films (Paul’s choice) versus thrillers (Sam’s favourites) before agreeing on comedies. They began to regularly go horse-riding, something Paul had learnt in his adolescence and Sam had always wanted to do. Then there were the quiet evenings spent talking and making love.
When Paul asked him to move in with him, Sam immediately said yes.
The weird dreams featuring his lover started a week later.
* * *
It wasn’t difficult to adjust to living with Sam, Paul found, as the man made everything better. He knew he had a tendency towards manic-depressive behaviour, happy for a while then hitting a low patch. Sam’s cheerful bubbly nature seemed to affect Paul, keeping him on a more even level where he constantly felt good.
Problems or bad days at work just faded away the moment he got home and Sam smiled at him.
The sex between them was amazing as well, reaching an intensity he’d never known with anyone else.
He knew he’d found the man he always wanted to be with.
* * *
“Don’t trust the Druid boy!”
Sam awoke with a gasp. Beside him Paul made a sleepy half-awoke noise, put an arm round him then went still and heavy, breath deepening back into dream. Sam touched the warm hand that rested against his stomach.
The dream was already fading but they had been enemies. He and Paul had been enemies but that hadn’t been his lover’s name; it had been Mordred. They had looked different but had clearly been the same person.
Sam had always desperately wanted to understand the strange dreams and general weirdness that had happened his whole life. Now, though, he suddenly didn’t want the explanation. Paul was the best thing that had ever happened to him and it felt as if something in his dreams wanted to rip them apart.
* * *
The dreams grew more frequent, with ‘Mordred’ frequently appearing in them. Sam tried his best to forget about them when he awoke, but sometimes he had a disorienting feeling of looking at Paul and seeing this ‘Mordred’ person. He unintentionally found himself comparing them, thinking Paul’s hair should be darker and curlier, that his eyes should be paler.
He knew that he had grown worse since meeting Paul, but he couldn’t bear to end the relationship when he really loved him. Similarly, he didn’t want to tell his lover what was happening and have Paul think him deranged. That could also destroy their relationship.
A couple of months after he’d moved into Paul’s flat, the situation was taken out of his hands.
He’d had a bad day at work but now it was over and he just wanted to forget about it. However, as they stood in the kitchen preparing dinner, Paul just wouldn’t let the matter go, wanting to know every detail. Sam normally liked the intensity of Paul’s love - that the man always wanted to know everything about Sam’s life - but now it was infuriating him. After saying he didn’t want to talk about it several times, he finally snapped, “Stop pushing me, Mordred!”
Paul stared at him. “What did you call me?”
“Oh, no!” Sam inhaled sharply and the moment stretched, tension between them rising out of nowhere. He couldn’t believe he’d made such a stupid mistake. “I’m sorry..”
“Is this bloke some ex-lover? Someone I remind you of?” Paul sounded angry, jealously so, and Sam didn’t blame him.
“I can’t explain…”
“Try,” Paul ordered.
“This is going to sound so crazy but … do you remember that castle we’d both seen in dreams?” When Paul nodded he continued, “I’ve dreamed of the two of us there. In the dreams your name is Mordred and we don’t get along.”
Paul frowned and Sam waited for him to say he was certifiably insane and leave. What Paul actually did say was the last thing he expected: “I’ve dreamt I was a knight.”
“Yes!” Sam could hardly believe his ears. “Yes, that’s it. I’ve dreamt that too!”
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, but if we’re both dreaming the same thing then it must be real. I mean surely we can’t both be mad!”
“Well, we could be,” Paul said, “but it would have to be a really odd kind of linked insanity.”
Sam just looked at him and they both began to laugh. Sam hugged his lover. He suddenly felt shaky with relief that he’d revealed his big secret and nothing terrible had happened.
“I think we should compare more of our dreams,” Paul said. “See if we can piece together any more information.”
Sam told him about the castle, a woman he thought might be his mother in the dream, a blond haired man, jousting and then about the magic he had possessed.
“I dreamt I could do magic too,” Paul said. “I thought it was all just some real event - seeing a magician or a film or something - that had worked itself into my dreams. That’s why I didn’t mention the name you had in the dreams. I mean, he was you but not: he looked different and wore old-fashioned clothes but it was as if I could see your soul in his eyes. He was a famous mythical person, though.”
“What’s his name?”
“Merlin.”
“The wizard?” Sam stared at him in disbelief then something clicked - like fog lifting from a scene and changing it to somewhere familiar - and he knew Paul was right. “Merlin. King Arthur. Arthur. He’s my friend in the dreams; the blond man.”
“Then it is real. But isn’t that just a legend? And how do I come into it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not heard of the name Mordred in terms of the King Arthur myth but I’ve never actually read any of it.”
“Perhaps we should.”
They spent an hour on the internet and had their answers, their dreamed memories verifying what was told in the myths.
“Are we saying this is real?” Paul asked him, his complexion even paler than usual. “That we lived around a thousand years ago and I murdered a king you were friends with?”
“I don’t know.” Sam felt sick. Why hadn’t he just left the subject alone? “I need some fresh air - I’m going for a walk.”
He left Paul and hurried from the flat. He walked randomly across streets and a park, finally sitting down on a bench in the cool twilight. He could almost remember that other life now. It wasn’t exactly like his own memory but more like a film he had watched a lot. If he closed his eyes he could see Arthur, see Camelot, see Mordred betraying them all.
And what did all that mean for the present? If he had met Paul/Mordred would other people from the past appear in his life? Perhaps they already had: he’d had that sense of déjà vu half a dozen times when he met new people but hadn’t known then what it meant.
In the past he hadn’t trusted Mordred. They’d ended up being enemies. Did that mean that he and Paul were destined to hurt each other?
When he got home Paul had packed a bag and Sam’s heart lurched. Paul’s tone was unreadable as he said, “I’m going to stay with a friend for a few days. We clearly both have a lot of things to think over.”
Sam wanted to disagree but he was confused himself. “I should go - it’s your flat.”
“No, yours is rented out now and I want you to be comfortable.”
Hearing Paul’s concern for him after everything else that had happened made Sam want to weep. Instead, after his lover left, he tried to work out to handle what they had found out about their past lives.
He failed.
* * *
Paul put his bag in the spare bedroom at Richard’s house then joined the older officer in the lounge. Richard had made coffee for them both and Paul cradled the warm mug in his hands as he wondered how it was that everything good in his life had been ripped away from him.
“Are you okay?” Richard asked. “What did you argue with Sam about?”
“It wasn’t exactly an argument.” Paul considered telling Richard everything but he didn’t think he could put it into words. Besides, it sounded so ludicrous: he and Sam believed they’d been enemies in a past life. He settled for the vague answer: “We both found out some things about each other and we need to decide if we can work through them.”
“I thought things were going really well with him?”
Paul sighed, stung to the heart at being away from Sam. “They were.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
Paul wasn’t at all certain of that.
Later, in bed, he closed his eyes and could almost believe he was in Camelot again, able to recall the people and the world clearly now. Laughing with the knights and basking in Arthur’s friendship, his life marred only by Merlin’s constant incomprehensible distrust. Then meeting Kara again. Arthur’s betrayal. Kara’s death. Killing Arthur. Dying alone on the battlefield.
He could have cared for Merlin - perhaps loved him - in that world, but he had never had the chance. Merlin had always hated Mordred and Paul didn’t know why. Could he still love Sam now that he remembered Merlin’s behaviour?
* * *
They arranged to meet to talk about the past life versions of themselves.
“I was told after I first met you as a child and over again later that you would kill Arthur,” Sam said unhappily as they sat in the park near Paul’s flat. “I believed the prophecy so I never let myself get to know you or trust you.”
“If you’d told me about the prophecy we could have found a way to stop it coming true. I adored King Arthur,” Paul insisted, sounding both angry and hurt. “You and I could have been friends; perhaps more.”
“I know, but how could I have understood that at the time?”
They parted with nothing resolved, Sam wishing he’d found a way to say how much Paul meant to him. He missed him so much.
* * *
It didn’t make sense but when Paul woke up hurt or upset or angry after dreaming of Camelot, he ached to have Sam there to comfort him. Sam should have been the main problem but Paul realised that he didn’t entirely see Sam as Merlin, just as he himself was no longer Mordred. And it did help to know why Merlin had treated Mordred the way he had.
He still wanted to be with Sam but didn’t know if it was possible now. He didn’t know if the past would always come between them or, worse, if they were destined to repeat the feud. Paul couldn’t imagine himself killing anyone now, but if Arthur turned up reincarnated how could he be sure? When he first became a knight he never would have believed it possible that he would take the King’s life one day. If things had happened differently in Camelot could he have avoided killing Arthur? Or had there actually never been any way to change his fate?
The more he thought about it, the more mixed up everything in the past and present became. He was getting nowhere trying to reason it out. Richard could see his confusion and asked if he wanted to talk it over one evening.
“I’d like to tell you more but it concerns Sam too,” he said. “I think I need his agreement before talking about it.” He shook his head. “And you might rather not know. It sounds pretty crazy even inside my own head.”
“Paul, you’re my friend. If there’s any way that I can help you, I will. Remember that.”
He smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
* * *
Sam put the phone down and didn’t know whether to feel optimistic or unhappy. Paul had asked to drop by to talk again. It could mean he wanted to resolve things so they could be together again or he might have simply had enough and want to end their relationship.
He fidgeted nervously as he waited, jumping up the moment the doorbell rang.
“You could have used your key,” he said as he let Paul into the flat.
Paul shrugged. “It didn’t seem fair on you.”
“So now what happens?”
“I’m not sure. All I’m certain about is that I still love you.”
Sam hugged him. “Me too.”
“Would you be willing to jointly explain what’s happened to us to my friend Richard?”
“The sergeant I met? Why?”
“He’s smart and open-minded. I know he’s had tarot card readings and once took advice about a case from a psychic. If anyone can help us understand this, it’s him. I just feel as if we need an outside opinion and I trust him.”
“Okay.”
Sam wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t tell Paul that he’d felt a sense of familiarity when he’d first seen the Sergeant. He hadn’t given it much thought when it was just a vague recognition. However, the moment the man walked through the door of their flat, it was more than just déjà vu: Sam knew the person he had been in their previous lives.
They sat down and, before he could say anything, Paul said to Richard, “I want to take you up on your offer to talk. Me and Sam need your advice about something that is going to sound really strange. We think we knew each other in a previous life and we’re afraid of repeating our past mistakes.”
“I’ve never ruled out the idea of reincarnation,” Richard said and asked them why they thought this. They explained about the dreams and research into the Merlin myth and Richard accepted the possibility with unexpected calm. “If it is true that doesn’t mean that you’ll re-live what happened before. Everyone makes their own decisions.”
“What if some things are destined?” Sam asked worriedly.
“I believe that the gods or fate or destiny can put people on a certain path but that they still have free will. In this case, if things ended badly between you before…” (Sam and Paul exchanged grimaces) “… then you know what you need to do differently. Besides, you’ve lived different lives than these theoretical past selves, so you’re different people than they were.”
They discussed the matter for a while longer, Richard’s rational comments soothing Sam’s confusions and reminding him of what was important to him here: his relationship with Paul.
Now,” Richard glanced at his watch. “I have a date with my beautiful girlfriend so unless the two of you have any other existential crises you need help with, I should be going.”
“No,” Sam said with a smile. “That should do us for now. Thank you. You’ve really helped.”
As Paul showed him out, Sam thought over what Richard had said. It didn’t answer all his concerns but it was enough for the moment. He and Paul could deal with things together beyond that. If Paul agreed.
He came back in and Sam said, “Can we try to get over what‘s happened in the past? I know that I want to be with you.”
Paul nodded. “I missed you so badly.”
The next moment they were holding each other and kissing. They made love, first with a desperate need then later like a promise.
As night fell, it was Sam’s turn to watch Paul sleeping. He thought about Richard’s help and the man’s past life self. Of course, there was no reason why someone had to stay the same sex when they were reincarnated, but that aspect had certainly startled him. Richard’s kindness felt like an act of redemption, freeing them all from the past.
Sam gently kissed his lover’s lips and whispered, “Thank you, Morgana.”