helicon_grove | There's just too much that time cannot erase

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verse: no time like the present

There's just too much that time cannot erase

Two weeks flew by in what seemed like the blink of an eye. It was odd, in a way, considering how slowly everything had seemed to move forward before. That was one good thing about traveling with the Doctor. One tended to forget everything else when they were moving backwards or forwards through time and space, as if time could no longer touch them. As if time didn't matter any longer.

But the truth was that it did still matter. As much as Merlin liked traveling in the TARDIS, letting himself get swept away in all the wonders of the universe that he'd never have thought were real before, a part of him knew it was only temporary. The Doctor had said it himself without actually saying it. The companions he'd taken with him before--where were they now? Merlin didn't know how long his stay in the TARDIS would last, but he knew there was a favour he had to ask of the Doctor before the chance slipped by him.

Merlin slouched against the rail, fingers clenched tightly around the ends of his scarf. They were drifting in space for a while--something needed a bit of a tune up, apparently--and they hadn't made plans for their next trip just yet. It was now or never.

"Hey," Merlin began, voice gravelly. He stopped to cough. "Doctor? Where do you think we'll go next?"

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The Doctor was under the console and its glass floor - he was thinking of switching it all up a bit, changing the console, have a good change - fiddling with wires and the like when Merlin spoke. He paused because there was something about Merlin's voice, carefully let the wires down and backed off until he could see Merlin better.

"I have a few ideas." Or he would just let the TARDIS decide. "Why? Do you want to wish something?"

Because that was always perfectly fine, unless they had some specific time current or crack to hit before it disappeared. Which they didn't. So.

Merlin kept his head down, watching his fingers tangle in the scarf's tassels.

"I..." he said, not daring to look up in case he loses his courage to speak. "I'd like to go to Camelot. To see Arthur. Please."

His voice softened on the plea, but at least he got it all out.

It was so many centuries ago now, but when Merlin said that, the Doctor immediately remembered when Rose had asked to go see her father. Not even only see him, but watch him die and then go to be by his side just so he wouldn't have to die alone. And she couldn't resist the temptation of saving him.

Because of that, his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. He almost did, too; opened his mouth to do so and everything. But something stopped him. Maybe it was because it had been centuries upon centuries since Merlin saw Arthur, because they had similar experiences as far as the length of a life went. And he didn't say to travel back to Arthur's death, but just... to see him. Which was still incredibly problematic, so the Doctor frowned, pursed his lips in thought as he scratched his chin, and moved to walk up the stairs so he wasn't on completely different wavelengths from Merlin.

"To see Arthur," he repeated. "Which means, exactly...?"

"Just...to see him," Merlin said, still avoiding the Doctor's gaze. How was he supposed to explain something that he'd kept denying over and over to a stranger? Though he had traveled with the Doctor for a couple weeks already, they were friendly acquaintances at best still. The Doctor knew hardly a thing about Merlin and Merlin was the same with the Doctor.

Though Merlin kept Arthur's image close to his heart, he had no picture to remind him of the brightness of Arthur's hair in the sunlight, of the richness of his laugh when it was genuine and not forced, of the strength he exuded whenever he took up his sword. Those things were lost with time, no matter how desperately Merlin had clung to them. All that was left was the ache of loss that had dulled over the years, but not disappeared, and the vaguest of memories. Were those even real? Merlin was longer certain he could tell the difference between their story and the twisted versions that had cropped up since Arthur's reign. How could he put that mess of feelings into words?

"I..." Merlin closed his eyes, jaw clenching. "I don't think I remember what he looked like anymore. It's been so long."

Hopefully the Doctor would understand what he meant.

Of course he did. He had an excellent memory and didn't really forget what people looked like, but if he constantly thought about everyone and everything he would go absolutely mad. More than he actually was already. But he knew the feeling of it having been so long and things fading, even if for him it only meant temporarily sleeping. They sleep in my mind, he could vaguely remember telling... Victoria. It was Victoria.

The chances of meeting someone who understood that nowadays was so... incredibly rare. When he didn't have his people anymore.

He wasn't saying yes yet, but there wasn't any no.

"It would be dangerous," he said, his tone softer than before, as he leaned against the railing. "You understand that, don't you?"

Merlin's head snapped up. The Doctor hadn't said yes, and he shouldn't let himself hope so quickly, but --he hadn't said no either.

A soft, strangled sort of laugh made its way up his throat. "Dangerous..." Merlin rubbed at his brow. "I've done a lot of dangerous things for him before, I guess this wouldn't be any different."

Merlin looked at the Doctor, mouth set. "What would I have to do?"

"I'm pretty sure your 'dangerous' never meant possibly disrupting all of time and space." The Doctor sighed. "It would depend on when we go. If he would know you. I'd suggest we go before he does." He narrowed his eyes a little. "With see him, do you mean look at him, or meet him?"

Because they could mean either things, and he didn't want Merlin to have any ideas that the Doctor wouldn't be aware of. This was dangerous, and as a Time Lord he had a responsibility to make sure it didn't screw anything up.

He wanted to meet him. Part of Merlin knew that seeing Arthur from afar would not be enough (it never was), but he also knew that the Doctor had a point. Messing with time was something Merlin did not want to do, given how badly things had ended when he tried before. His younger self had years to look forward to spending at Arthur's side; that wasn't something Merlin would allow himself to ruin at any cost. Seeing Arthur alive, safe, and unburdened by the betrayals that riddled his time in Camelot would have to be enough.

"I understand," he choked out. "We can aim for at least a year before my mother sends me to Camelot--he doesn't have to see me."

"But you want him to."

It had been one thing with Rose. Her father had only seen her as a baby. She hadn't even been a year old, had she? This was something else entirely, because Arthur couldn't see Merlin before he met him later. Just couldn't.

The Doctor didn't like this. But he couldn't deny Merlin either.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. Okay. Okay, Doctor, think. There had to be something that was... well, not good, it was difficult to make something like this good in any way, but better.

"Just because I want him to doesn't mean I'll let it happen, Doctor."

Merlin's voice grew in surety. The Doctor clearly wasn't convinced yet, but Merlin would sway him eventually. He was determined to, now that the impossible thought had just become much less impossible than he'd first believed.

"More than anything, I need my younger self to be there for Arthur later. He can't do that if Arthur recognises me."

Ah...

The Doctor's expression softened. There was that, of course. Merlin would think that far, with how much it had mattered to him. Still mattered to him. There was... a risk anyway, no matter how much they would try to...

There was a pretty decent risk, really. Maybe too great for comfort even if it was very small.

"Yeah. Of course. I don't suppose he'd pay much attention to you if you don't try to get it."

And with how long Merlin had lived, he was probably very good at not attracting attention.

Merlin's smile was sad, just a bit self-deprecating. "No...he wouldn't pay much attention to me at all."

Though some of the details were growing hazy in Merlin's memory, he did remember how difficult it had been to get Arthur's regard even while he was his manservant. The cold truth was, the prince of Camelot had no reason to look twice at a peasant passing him by in the city.

"You must have done him good." He placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, sighed, and turned back to the TARDIS. "Right, then, old girl. You remember Camelot. Should we try... five years earlier? I think that should do it. What do you think, Merlin?"

They probably both had hazy memories of it, but maybe Merlin had a bit of a better one. Or at least some recollection of the time.

Merlin wracked his brain, pulling up old, old memories. “Yeah,” he said after a bit. “You showed up in Camelot during my second year there. I think. Five years back should be enough.”

There was a mixture of hope and apprehension in his breast, coiling into something he couldn’t just shake off. They were going back to Camelot, but Arthur wouldn’t remember him. Never did Merlin think he could miss the prat’s insults, tempers, and even his stupid “friendly” punch to the arm. Still, it was better than nothing. And he’d know for sure if he’d kept Arthur’s image true in his mind.

The Doctor was impressed; pulling up old, old memories was really difficult sometimes. Or all the time.

"Five years it is," he said, and not at all with the same gusto and energy he usually announced their destinations, and stroked his hand over the panel. "Let's go, old girl."

And the dematerialisation lever pulled itself.

By then, Merlin had learnt to grab onto the nearest item as soon as the TARDIS took off. Much as he loved traveling in her, their journeys were never the smoothest. A part of him suspected that the Doctor enjoyed that quirk of his ship and purposely made the traveling bumpy. It was a shame the Doctor’s past companions weren’t around when Merlin wanted to share his theory.

Finally they came to a stop and Merlin cautiously let go of the rail he had wrapped his arms around in his haste.

“We’re here?” he asked, voice softer than he intended. Normally he’d be rushing to the door, flinging it open in excitement, but all he could do now was stare helplessly.

Camelot. They were in Camelot. And Arthur was waiting outside there somewhere.

Of course he enjoyed that quirk. But, well, it wasn't all that easy to fly it smoothly because it was built for six people, so that played a part too. He'd actually had six pilots with him once, that was something.

Something to not think to too much about.

"We're here," he said, and looked them both over as he parked the TARDIS properly. "But I think we should change. Don't want to risk standing out."

It wasn't often a problem, but it could be. Best to be on the safe side.

"Oh," Merlin said, looking down as his simple tshirt and jeans. "Right. These probably wouldn't pass as very medieval, I guess."

The question was, did Merlin even remember what the clothing should look like? Without waiting for the Doctor's direction, Merlin slipped out of the control room and had a peek around the large closet. Much of it was eccentric and mismatched, but he managed to find a few things that would work. If his memory served him.

Merlin grinned and held out a set of shirt and trousers. "You've got to look the part, too. I think these should fit you."

And since he hardly had much else to do, the Doctor followed. Well, also because he was thinking that exact same thing, but Merlin was quicker than him.

"I was going to," he said with a bit of a pout, as rarely as he dressed up properly, and grabbed the set. "Well, then."

And since he was completely shameless, he started changing right then and there. Merlin could wander away and do so elsewhere, of course.

Though it had been some time since he'd really changed in front of anyone like this, Merlin shrugged and did the same. It wasn't like he had anything to hide.

"Do you often to back to places you've already visited like this?" he asked, voice muffled as he pulled the simple shirt over his head. Merlin frowned down at the laces and tied them up deftly, fingers smoothing over the material once he was done.

"Been a long time since I've worn one of these," he murmured.

"It happens! But there's so many new things to see, you know? Takes too much time to do that, not enough to keep returning everywhere." He silenced for a moment, aside from a few sounds of annoyance because he managed to twist himself in the shirt when pulling it over his head. "And if it happens, it's mostly the TARDIS's doing."

Because he needed to go there again. But going to the same place? It was generally boring, aside from a few exceptions. Places tended to always change, of course, but... Still. He could also see how it would change, a lot of the time. It just wasn't as exciting.

Merlin cocked his head to the side and studied the Doctor curiously. It was odd, the way they were similar and yet so different. That first time they'd talked near the observatory, Merlin had mostly seen the similarities. Or maybe he had simply been desperate for someone to relate to for once, and the Doctor had been the perfect target to latch onto. He was young in appearance, old in mind, and there was a flash of loneliness that Merlin had recognised.

But-- "Don't you have somewhere to go back to?" Merlin asked before he could change his mind. "I mean, traveling in the TARDIS, that's brilliant, but don't you have a home? Somewhere to rest when you're done exploring for a while?" He knew he would return to such a place, if he had one.

Ah. There it was.

His expression fell, and he paused with his trousers in his hands. Which probably made for an amusing image, but he had very little mind to spare for that.

"Not anymore," he said, quietly but straightforward. "It burned. I burned it. It was the only choice I was willing to take."

But, right, he was changing his trousers. So. Doing that.

His eyes widened. He'd wondered if maybe the Doctor was like him, a traveler who had lost his home somehow, but he wasn't expecting this. Camelot had burned and crumbled, leaving next to nothing to tell where the kingdom's stronghold had once been. Sparking the flames himself would have destroyed him in a way that nothing else could. Camelot had not only been his home, but it had been Arthur's heart, his pride.

"What happened?" Merlin finally asked.

He distracted himself with folding up his clothes and putting them away somewhere, neatly, for the time being. As if it was important.

"There was a war between the two strongest races in that universe that stretched across all of time and space. No one was winning, and our Lord President decided that if we couldn't win, we'd wipe out everything else and leave ourselves some sort of higher beings." He turned back to Merlin with a grimace. "My people or the universe. What would you have chosen, Merlin?"

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There's just too much that time cannot erase

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