Chapter Text
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.” -- Bing Crosby’s White Christmas
Merlin saw it all through Harry’s eyes and could only stare in shock. He heard Harry’s ragged pants and subconsciously matched the shattered breathing. He felt his own heart thudding hard in his chest. His hands were sweating and his own adrenaline sang in his veins. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
He saw that weasel Valentine and Gizelle waiting. He saw the men with guns behind them. He saw Valentine’s damn smirk and wished that he was there to knock it off. He finally found his voice and it was harsh and guttural to his ears. “Harry,” he tried. “Harry.”
Harry ignored the voice in his ear. “What did you do to me?” he asked tightly. “I had no control.” He paused and there was a slight tremor in his voice. “I killed all those people. I wanted to.*”
Valentine continued to smile and nod. “Clever isn’t it? In simple terms, it’s a neurological wave that triggers the centers of aggression and switches off inhibitors.*”
Merlin’s stomach twisted at the way they were staring at Harry. “Harry,” he tried again. “This isn’t right.”
Harry continued to ignore him. “Transmitted through your nasty free sim cards, I assume.*”
Valentine slowly walked towards Harry. “You know what this is like?” He stopped a few feet away. “This is like those old movies we both love.” He smiled, almost amiably. “Now, I’m gonna tell you my whole plan and then I’m gonna come up with some absurd, convoluted way to kill you and you’ll find an equally convoluted way to escape.*”
“Galahad, stop the damn chatting,” Merlin barked. “You have to move. Now.”
“Sounds good to me*,” Harry replied dryly.
Valentine’s expression hardened. His eyes were suddenly cold and ruthless and his mouth pressed into a hard line. He pointed a gun at Harry. “Well, this ain’t that type of movie.*”
Merlin jerked awake to the sound of a loud gunshot. He shot up to a sitting position in bed. His chest heaved and he was covered in sweat. He pressed his hands to his eyes and he was shaking all over.
There was something heavy in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He jerked as a strong pair of arms wrapped around him. He was pulled back to rest against a broad chest. They were skin to skin.
“Merlin,” a familiar voice whispered softly into his ear.
Merlin let out a shuddering breath. “Jean?”
Jean kept his arms firmly around Jean. “It’s me. Armand’s here too. Just breathe.”
Merlin gasped for breath. “I…I…”
Jean kissed the side of Merlin’s head. “We’re here. You’re not alone.”
Hands gently pulled Merlin’s from his face and wiped the tears away. Merlin felt a presence kneel before him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.
“It’s okay,” Armand said, low and soft. He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s. He didn’t let go of Merlin’s hands. “Breathe with me.”
Merlin concentrated on the sound of Armand’s breathing. He didn’t know how long it took before his breathing evened out and his heart slowed to its normal rhythm. “Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jean just growled something under his breath and held onto Merlin even tighter.
Armand didn’t pull back. He squeezed Merlin’s hands. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Merlin squeezed back. “This is my first Christmas without him.” He let out another shuddering breath. His accent was thick with emotion. “…And I donnae…I cannae…” his voice trailed off helplessly.
Jean rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s okay to grieve.”
Merlin swallowed heavily. “I found myself shopping for one of those horrid fruitcakes he loved so much. And then I realized that he’s gone. Again.”
Armand kissed Merlin’s forehead. “We bought his yearly bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.”
“We’ll share a toast to him,” Jean added solemnly.
Merlin finally opened his eyes. “I’d like that.” He glanced out the window at the moonlit snow. He shivered. “He always loved snow.”
“That he did,” Jean murmured and eased them to lay back down, away from the view, while Armand pulled the blankets back over them. He was spooned against Merlin’s back and Armand was pressed against Merlin’s front. They interlaced their fingers, resting on Merlin’s hip.
Warmth enveloped him and Merlin sighed. He rested his head in the crook of Armand’s neck. He shut his eyes. He didn’t dream again that night.