I stumble forward, catching myself on my chair as I do, moving in the irritatingly slow way you do when you are dreaming. Then the spell breaks, and I am running, running like I've never run before. I skid to a stop less than a metre away from him, close enough to touch.

"No way." I whisper. "No freaking way."

The figure, who is lying prone across the sand, rolls over as if he is in pain. He is stripped naked to the waist, and his body is covered in shallow cuts, his torso a mosaic of bruises. But there is no mistaking that face. That chiseled, annoyingly superior face. He looks up; meets my gaze and smiles a tired smile through blood and bruises.

"Hello, old friend." He says.

The next thing I know, I have thrown my arms around his neck, and I am sobbing the litany of his name. He does not mock, but places his hand on the back of my head, comforting me, hugging me tight. I pull back slightly, devouring the sight of him, the tousled hair, the high cheekbones, and the eyes which seemed to never stop laughing. Right now though, they are crumpled shut, and a solitary tear winds its way down his cheek.

He looks up at me at the same way I am looking at him- as if he's the only thing left on this earth. "You're here." He says, in a voice that somehow doesn't shake. "You're here."

"I never left, Arthur. I couldn't." I inhale sharply, as more tears threaten. I blink them back furiously, and scrub a hand across my cheek. I cannot unfasten my eyes from his face.

"I thought this day would never come." I say, "I thought you'd left me."

He smiles, ruffling my hair, in the same way he always did. "Course not." I look to the sky, to where I know the white goddess is watching.

"Thank you." I whisper. "Thank you." I hug Arthur again, barely daring to believe.

Swallowing, Arthur pulls away, an embarrassed grimace darting across his lips as he hastily wipes his eyes. I lean back, a disbelieving, choked laugh escaping my mouth as I stare at him.

"Its really you." I say, mostly to myself. Arthur opens his mouth, a retort clearly already on his tongue, but he closes it wordlessly. He nods. I send an exhilarated laugh spinning into the sky, then grab him in another hug. He shrugs away from me, one eyebrow raised.

"Calm down, Merlin!"

I laugh again, closing my eyes and simply revelling in the sensation of being near him again. He slaps me across the shoulder, then heaves himself to his feet. Scrambling after him, I cannot help but stare at his back, barely able to comprehend what this means. No more loneliness. No more clutching a ruby red cloak in an empty room. No more wondering if I was cursed to this half-life. I speed up and match my pace to his, unable to keep the grin from my face, nor the tears from my cheeks.

"So," I say in an attempt at normalcy. "How was hell?" He throws me a look.

"I didn't go to hell, Merlin." He says with obvious contempt.

"Oh, really?" I grin. "What was it then? Chubby angels serving you wine, with rainbows and pretty flowers?"

"Yes and the angel Gabriel painted my nails while Michael did my hair."

"Thought it was looking good."

He smiles reluctantly, and shakes his head at me.

"Have you changed at all, Merlin?"

"You didn't want me to." I say, not bothering to hide the ache in my voice.

He is silent for a few long, long moments.

"No. I didn't."

The hesitant silence is broken as I indicate my hut, and swerve towards it. Arthur struggles to keep a straight face as he sees the rotted planks, and aliminium roof.

"This is... nice." He mumbles. I cannot help but grin.

"You hate it." There is no judgment in my tone, and I smile as he wrinkles his nose in agreement. I throw myself on my bed, overcome with giddiness. "Its not much, but it is home."

Arthur doesn't reply, and I see him swallow.

"Gwen... Leon, Gwaine, Percival... They're all dead, aren't they?" The abruptness of the question forces the air from my lungs, and it takes me a few seconds to exhale shallowly, and nod. He gives a wistful half- smile and joins me on the bed, his back pressed against the wall. "I knew it. I could feel them with me in the dark. They're happy, I think. They were sorry to see me go, but they know... they know I'll be back."

"Not too soon though." I say as lightly as possible. Arthur gives me an odd look. "Why not?"

"Because...because I have not waited this long, only to have you back for a week or so."

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen. It can't have been that long."

I raise my eyebrows, leaning forward slightly. "Arthur." I say. He leans back uncomfortably from the savage intensity in my voice. "I have sat in this hut, on that rock, waiting, for the last thousand years." He is shaking his head before I've even finished.

"No. No. No. I would know."

I let my injured smile show, and make red sparks fall from my fingers in the shape of dragons.

"Yeah." I say. "You'd think so." He laughs a half laugh, which is devoid of humour.

"I'd almost forgotten about that." He points a finger at the fading dragon, trying not to let it tremble.

"Really?" Disbelief colours my voice. With barely a murmer, I cause a snake, made from smoke to swirl around his leg.

"Alright, alright, no need to show off." The familiar irked tone is back, and I smile, letting the snake dissipate.

"You're looking... remarkably young, considering how old you are." He wrinkles his eyebrows, screwing his eyes shut and tilting his head, as if seeing me at a different angle will make me look older. I pause in confusion.

"I do not-" As I speak, my hand automatically reaches up to touch the white beard reaching the middle of my chest. Instead, my hand encounters only soft flesh. My eyes dart down, but all I can see is my leather jacket.

"No!"

"What?"

"My beard. My beard is gone..." I ignore Arthur's amused smile, and scramble to my feet. I rifle quickly through my drawers, then yank out a plain wooden mirror. I can only gawk at the stranger staring back at me. He looks almost as horrified as I feel. The wrinkles that have decorated my face for so many years are gone, leaving only baby-soft skin. My beard has vanished, and the white silver of my hair has returned to a dark ebony. I'm not Emrys anymore. I'm... Merlin. I barely think those words through, my main attention still on my chin, which looks incredibly naked without its fluffy adornment.

"When you came back... the goddess made me look like I did back then..."

"And?" The boredom in his voice is palpable, and a wave of fury washes over me.

"You stole my beard." He raises an eyebrow. "You stole my beard."

"I don't really see what this-" With a flick of my wrist, hairs sprout from Arthur's chin, growing until they reach his waist.

"Not cool Merlin, not cool-"

"I loved that beard. Encante!" A sheen of grey steals across Arthurs head, spreading until a perfect grandad Arthur sits next to me, panic in his eyes as he runs his hand across his brand new beard.

"Oh, I see." He says, sarcasm dripping from his words. "I know you have magic now, so you think you can bully me."

"Er, yep sounds about right."

"Merlin."

"Yis?"

"Give me my hair back."

"Nope."

"Merlin."

"Not until you apologize." I say stubbornly.

"For what? I'm not going to apologize for stealing your facial hair!"

"Yes you are. Then you're going to apologize for every time you threw water at me or called me an idiot."

"Blackmailing your king is treason."

I ignore him, continuing to list my demands. "Then you're going to apologize for calling me stupid and making fun of me, and then you're going to apologize for being dead. For like, thousands of years. I mean, do you have any idea how much that sucked? Hundreds of years, sat on that freaking rock, watching worlds pass by? Missing you more than anything, and being able to do nothing about it? I have watched everyone I love turn to dust, and everything I ever cared about turn to ashes. I have waited and waited, with only this-"

Standing I grab the cloak from the corner and thrust it into his lap. "To remind myself of the brother I lost! Just because you, you stupid pigheaded arrogant supercilious dollophead, had to go and get yourself killed! And now you're back,and you take the only other thing to survive these years. My beard!" Sometime during my rant, the blood had drained from Arthur's face, and now he got shakily to his feet, the cloak held tightly in his fist. He opens his mouth, and I know I am about to get shouted at. I went too far, I know that. I swallow, and Arthur looks up, his pale face strangely vulnerable.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Merlin." My anger leaves me, and I collapse on the stool like a deflated balloon. I shake my head, exhaling slowly and blinking back furious tears.

"No, no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Even if you didn't, it would still be true."

"Its not." I say quickly. "I can't exactly blame you for being dead. I do however, blame you for going and getting stabbed. Try not to do that one again.Really not too good for the health."

"Thanks for the advice." Arthur smiles, raising Excalibur slightly. In one fast movement, it is at my throat. I don't raise a hand to defend myself, mainly because I am too shocked.

"Now give me my hair back." He threatens, kissing the sword to my jugular.

I laugh and place my hand on the blade. "Hasen mackia fy doosmai." Arthur recoils as the sword- his beloved excalibur- turns into rubber. "What did you do?" He yelps, dropping it like its red hot.

I hold my hands up in surrender. "It wasn't me, sire!"

"Very funny, Merlin. Give me my sword back."

"Ah, you're no fun." I release the spell with a mumbled word, and the sword flashes with deadly power. Arthur jumps to his feet, then holds out a hand to help me up. I take it, and am hauled to my feet.

We both stand for a minute, until Arthur voices what we are both thinking.

"What the hell do we do now?"