Work Text:
Merlin wanted to laugh at the rain as it fell; Irony if so—and if not—perhaps just his luck. The coat was heavy on his shoulders as he stood on the familiar cobblestone steps. An unfamiliar crack in the second step that he couldn't remember if it was there the last time or not.
Though, all he could remember was the ‘Then Go' from Leon and nothing else.
He shook his head, he'd been waiting outside his door too long. He knocked first, grabbed the key from his pocket and opened the door.
He discarded his jacket once inside and relished in the familiar comfort. It was warm, the hum of the Television played on low volume, while the smell of coffee was inescapable.
“Did you just knock?
Merlin followed the voice through to the kitchen. Leon was serving coffee in two mugs as Merlin leaned his weight against the doorway.
Leon looked at him, furrowed his eyebrows. “Merlin?”
He could lie, but it'd haunt him for the rest of his life. He tried to smile but failed. “I just came from the seventh century.”
Leon stopped, then continued preparing the coffees.
“Leon—”
“Don't.” He gestured to the kitchen island and Merlin took a seat.
Leon took a breath, then started. “It's been twenty-two years. I've met you more than a dozen times since and every version of you hadn't yet gotten to that point.”
Merlin kept his mouth shut.
“I know that you went back and that you thought you could do it all over again, but you couldn't. None of it really mattered, because it all was about saving one person.” He stopped. “Except he dies too."
Merlin pressed his eyes and swallowed.
“Once wasn't enough for you,” Leon continued. Twice seemed to barely feed that insanity. So you did it again, and again, and another time after that. And—to quote your words. No matter what you do, he always dies in your arms.”
“Stop—” His voice cracked.
“You give up and go back to past me. Then for three years you were…” He shook his head. “Empty… broken. Then one day you disappear. Jump a couple centuries and you're at my doorstep again.”
He dumped sugar in one mug, tapping the spoon on the side before laying it down. “How long has it been for you? Fifty? Sixty years?”
Merlin bit his lip as it trembled. “I lost count…” he said weakly, hiding behind a just as weak smile.
Leon rounded the counter and put the cup in front of Merlin. He wrapped an arm around Merlin as his tears began to fall.
Merlin leaned in. “I'm sorry. I'm—”
“I couldn't have stopped you, not really.” He couldn't play Fate any more than Merlin could.
“I can't,” Merlin continued.
“Then stay,” he said. “You’ve never stayed in one place very long,” he continued. “Call it a sabbatical.
He let out a weak laugh. “A sabbatical?”
He smiled, hummed, and gave Merlin's arm a squeeze. “The world can wait.”