Riding the Sky with Spencer

The quickest of one shots. Also some of my earliest work. So much so I don't even remember writing it! 

I’ve seen some funny things in my time, but this takes the cake.

Is it a puzzle for us to solve, or simply an ancient riddle from some bygone era?

I’m definitely hoping the latter, but I don’t know.

“True, I myself would prefer it if there were no direct connection to us, but my experiences to date seem to indicate otherwise. Since joining Starfleet I have seen..”

You’re a member of Starfleet?”

“I am. Why does that surprise you?”

Your uniform is not exactly Starfleet issue.”

“Strange. I Was just thinking yours was somewhat dated. That it is remarkably similar to the late 22nd century standard uniform.”

That’s where I’m from genius!

“I did not intend offense sir. I was simply attempting an objective assessment.”

(more slowly) Why do you talk like that?

Are you referring to my formal intonations sir? (Trip nods)“My programming does not allow for elisions…I am an android.”

what do they call you?

My name is Data. But it is self-chosen.

Gentleman, don’t you see what this means?

‘I am afraid not sir.”

We are all Starfleet from different times. Although I don’t think Data and I are from such different eras. The people that brought us here must be very deliberate in their actions, which would indicate that this post here is intended for us specifically. (to Data) How long have you been here anyway?

“prior to the commander’s arrival, 23 minutes 11 seconds.”

and we’ve been chatting for..?

“Approximately 7 and ½ minutes.”

There must be a reason for this. I mean I have never doubted that there was some reason for anything that ever happened. I guess I mean motivation. What was my motivation in moving here. This is a small apartment, I need no other. Yet I cannot help but feel I am missing something. I chose to be alone, on the fringes as Jake would say. I still laugh at such slang. Now, as I said, . I don’t usually have a reason for keeping track of the time, but I should probably try to keep track of the days.

There is very little left to us, but we learn to make do.

I remember traveling. It was fun, exhilarating and for the most part, quite a ride. It was also a distraction, a respite and a misguided adventure. I no longer need the distraction, writing is a respite, and life is as great an adventure as I can handle right now. There is a lot going on in the here and now, and I’d better get used to living in the here and now. That’s not to say I don’t travel. I still drift off into the olden times. But it’s very brief and I no longer invest quite so much energy into them. They are brief and versatile, as they were at the start.

Came the reply from the thin and very pale young man who came out of the male washroom. The almost worried look on this agent's face quickly turned into a huge grin as he recognized the visitor. “Jonas!”

“Yeah.” Came the soft reply. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything?”

“How'd you know to find me here?” Spencer Reid asked as he motioned to a chair at the front work station. Jonas sat down as indicated then sat up equally quickly. The chair was too low to the floor for his long legs. Noticing this Spencer motioned his friend to a room up another flight of stairs. Jonas walked up the steps, with Spencer at his heels.

“What brings you here?” Spencer asked as he closed the door to the conference room.

“You do.” Jonas replied as he seated himself in the chair closest to the screen, furthest from the door. “I thought I'd check and see how you were getting along and really didn't want to check in over the phone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Spencer asked in a slow, dead serious voice.

“Nope.” Jonas replied quickly and a moment later he frowned. “Why should I kid about something like that? And why does it surprise you?”

“It's just the phone number you left me went straight to voice-mail each time I called.” Spencer stated in a tone of voice of which Jonas could make nothing. “I honestly thought you'd returned to Kelowna.”

“I did, Spencer. Council's out of session now so I took some days off. And as always I would prefer not getting into that any more than I have to.”

Spencer did not reply to that right away. And when he did it was in a slow, deliberate voice. “Jonas, I don't want to say this, but that doesn't make sense.”

“Does Kelowna not have lay councilmen?” Jonas replied stiffly.

“I don't see how working with the USAF and working as a councilman in Canada can go together.”

“Well, they don't. I was considered a deserter when I first came to be at Cheyenne Mountain. When that exile was rescinded I came home to bring...an understanding to a very gridlocked council. They don't really go hand in hand.” Jonas looked up to see a troubled expression on his friend's face.

“Alright maybe I'm imagining it but you seem to have something specific that brought you here.”

“You did Spencer. I'm not kidding about it. I had some notion of clearing up a particular past confusion ...or inaccuracy if you like that better.”

“You refer to the simple question of which 'Kelowna' you're actually from, I take it?” Reid stated with a small, forced smile.

“Well yes. But verifying any of it would require Hammond's approval. So I don't know if we even should get into this at all.”

“I uh, think I'll repeat my original question and ask how you knew to find me here?”

“General Hammond looked you up. You did say you worked with the BAU. And that organization stems from this building...It wasn't very hard after that.” Jonas Quinn's face had turned pink. Whether from embarrassment or amusement, Reid couldn't really tell. He quickly decided it wouldn't matter.

“No, I guess it wouldn't be.” Spencer admitted slowly. “Jonas, I'm not going to let you off the hook. When we first met, you were a murder suspect and a stranger, to this country if not to me. Last time we were surrounded by the rest of my team and I could understand not spilling your mind right then. And I will ask later if that was more for my sake or yours. But please, I can't go blind like this.”

“More than reasonable Spencer. And I suppose I can tell you all this without Hammond's approval...As long as I can later claim it was a fictional story or just one possible explanation. But we both should be sitting down for this.” Jonas stated, motioning Reid to a nearby chair.

Reid sat down right next to Jonas and stared at him, expectantly.

“Long story short and we go from there okay?” Jonas asked of his friend, who simply nodded. “I'm not from Canada. I'm from another planet, and a country called Kelowna. I'm as human as you are but I wasn't raised around here at all. 'Cheyenne Mountain' is known as 'Stargate Command' by my team.”

“I hate to say it but my first thought really is 'can you verify any of this?” Reid responded in a breath.

“Not without showing you the star-gate itself, which again I can't do without General Hammond's approval. And don't look at me like that. As I indicated, right now I could just be spinning a tale to gain your trust or making up a good story to explain away my idiosyncrasies. Once you're presented with proof of them it becomes, as Doctor Jackson would say 'a whole different ball game'.”

“That isn't why you're here is it...I mean you didn't come all the way from home just to explain where home is...Did you?!”

“Spencer for the last time I came to check up on you. I didn't have your contact information. This is the only way I knew to make sure you were alright. You been okay lately? You sound kind of raspy.”

“It's just I didn't really expect to see you again. And even less did I anticipate actually doubting your words. You understand the dilemma?”

Jonas took a mental look back over the two encounters he'd had with this genius. “I didn't know you'd actually meant it: I'm one of your closest friends.” He said at length. Reid's features softened a bit at this admission but his eyes remained coldly fixed on the traveler.

“You do realize it's kind of extra-ordinary what you're asking me to believe.” Reid said in a breath.

“You can accept it or not, it doesn't matter to me. I just wanted to make SURE you'd gotten better from the last time we talked. I mean the first time.” Reid gave Jonas a confused look. Jonas Quinn put his left arm straight out in front of himself and touched the inside of his left elbow with his right pointer finger. “I didn't know at the time what it really signified. I saw the marks at the Denver station and I only later learned the- interpretation for lack of another word. You looked so pale at the karaoke bar I was afraid it withered you.”

“I've pretty much kicked the habit.” Reid replied in as calm and controlled a voice as he could manage. “And I appreciate your concern.” He added solemnly.

Jonas Quinn smiled slightly and the pair stood up.

“You won't tell anyone else will you?” Jonas asked as they walked down the stairs to the bullpen.

“Anyone who would bother already knows.” Spencer replied thoughtlessly.

“I mean my own claim as to my origins.” Jonas insisted through a forced smile.

“Only as a fanciful story used to pass the time. Much like Hotchner's account of Smith is held now.”

Jonas shivered. “Do you honestly not have a winter coat?”

“It's not winter where I'm from.” Jonas replied simply. “And it was good to talk with you 'soul to soul' again Spencer. I'll miss it when I go back to the council.”

“Jonas please do me a favor and not mention the council again? It sounds like you're making it up!”

“Oh alright. But why is that the part that's making you so uncomfortable? I would think it would be the SGC...ah nevermind.”

“You have no idea how easy I find it to ignore that statement.” Spencer replied, a little shortly. “But enough of this mess. What say we go up to Alexandria, more specifically Murphy's Grand Irish Pub, get some bangers and mash?”

“Reid I get the impression you're trying a little bit more than what is usual for you, to be colloquial and congenial. I assure you it's not needful.” Jonas said with a strained face. “But if you don't mind driving us out there, I could use some vittles.”

“I can honestly say I never expected word games to come out of your mouth.” Reid said in response, obviously trying not to smile. “But sure, let's get out of here.”

The drive to Alexandria Washington took a little over 30 minutes and wasn't really anything to talk about. In fact Jonas seemed to be having trouble talking about anything at all. They were just entering the heart of the suburb when Reid pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine.

“What's wrong?” Jonas asked in a voice as filled with trepidation as sincere concern.

“Oh I thought my phone was going off.” Jonas didn't reply except to raise an eyebrow. “It would mean we had a case and I was needed back at Quantico.” Reid explained softly. “But as it isn't really ringing, let me take this opportunity to remind you, or is it 'inform you' that you are one of my closest friends, no matter where you really come from. And there's other things to chat about than origins and explanations. It's time to be ourselves. However guarded or relaxed that means.”

“I have absolutely no trouble accepting that. I'm just glad you feel the same.”

Reid engaged the engine and exited the hotel parking lot in one smooth turn. “So what are the other members of the SGC like?” He asked his friend and soon to be messmate.

“O'Neill is a genuine solider type and a little on the sarcastic side of friendly.” Quinn replied without thinking. “Samantha Carter seemed to be a scientist first and a Major in the Army second. Teal'c was even less well educated in what is normal than I am...But he'd been around here longer than I had and still managed to teach me a thing or two about what he referred to as 'probable explanations'.”

“And Doctor Jackson?” Spencer pressed.

“I didn't know him that well.” Jonas admitted a little sadly. “I replaced him on the team when he went on medical leave. I was only able to go home when...right after...he came back.”

“Hence your desire to prove yourself when we first met you. And your general affability now. You've proven yourself to yourself...as it were.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much it.” Jonas replied with ghost of a smile.

Two minutes later they pulled into the restaurant parking lot and Jonas smiled warmly. He was certain no matter what this meal and conversation consisted of, he'd thoroughly enjoy it.

Literally everything about me

 This is not a story. it is a declaration and a open introduction.

"I don't care." It's the single most confusing and difficult statement for me to force out of my mouth. What most people mean when they say that is 'It doesn't bother me.' That's true. I'm not bothered by what I hear. Divergence or dissonance or anti-normal behaviors, none of that bothers me. But I do CARE. I care more than most people would and more than a lot of my friends would believe. Why do we so easily confuse 'It doesn't matter to me one way or another' with 'I acknowledge and I support it, it doesn't trouble me'. I first read this in the 6th grade. "Don't you guys care --Of course we care --No mean doesn't it bother you? -- No, why should it?" Because I was reading a book for fun in middle school, I assume most adults are at least familiar with the concept. My life the past 7 years taught me how wrong I was. People actually still need to be introduced to the difference between the negative and inclusive applications of “I don't care”.

I can take the alcohol just fine. I don't dilute my drinks to dilute the alcohol. Some people, if their stomachs can take it they'd drink straight vodka or straight whiskey. if diluting the drink means more gulps in the glass...so much the better. There's another difference between everyone I know who drinks regularly and myself. Between what everyone thinks of me/how they interpret my behavior. and what my behavior actually is. That is the difference between what they have learned and what I am. My taste buds are sensitive. I would not want the punch that comes from the FLAVOR of straight whiskey or straight alcohol..no matter the ABV or the gin v rum thing. I have sensitive taste buds and when I get 'hit' with anything I drink, it's the taste, not the proof that hits me. I know it's not the ABV because it's true with fruit juices and tea. I'm with my cousin Miriam WD on this one: I love corn, no seasoning, I love mild foods for the same reason. When I drink mild drinks it isn't because I'm a lightweight with alcohol, it's because I'm sensitive to sugar and because my Tongue had more receptors than most people. Everyone thinks and speak and hears in ABV in 'getting drunk' and the alcohol messing with your stomach. My stomach gets messed with plenty...because of my STOMACH, not my LIVER. And all anyone hears is what they were raised with. Or at least taken in the context they hear all the damn time. So they never know what I'm actually trying to say.

I don't identify myself as autistic. But I know that how I am mirrors autism. And if people know how to interact with a person on the spectrum, they know how to interact with me. the result of my life, my medication and my upbringing in general has created a kind of mute, careful, taking things literal easily put down person that I can totally see why autism was suspected or why people think I'm high functioning autism. the reason I don't correct them is because one: the end result is the same. And two: I still need someone to talk to me 'on my level' and take things into account. If you know how to talk to an autisitic or schziophrenic person than you know how to talk to me. But while I was diagnosed as a schizophrenic for 16 years and believed I was schizophrenic for so long and was raised with that as my reality. It fairly recently tuned out not to be true. Autism was the other suspected cause or condition, the 'on hand' fall back and the only other thing that made sense. It would have been a misdiagnosis if anyone had actually tested me for it. I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. The same (intrapersonal) treatments would work. As far as therapy and medication goes the treatments for autism wouldn't have worked any better than for ADHD or OCD. and I've been on meds for them too!

To clarify. I said 'I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. Meaning I mirror it or am mistaken for it. What people see in me is a false-positive in thier minds for autism. As far as I know I am not on the spectrum. And the reason I don't get tested is because what they are looking at is survival and conditioned responses from years of shit I shouldn't have been expected to deal with and never shared with anyone until it was way too late. I am neruodivergent. I am a-typical. But I'm no more autistic than I am schizophrenic.

'I am a reflection of 'on the spectrum'. Meaning I mirror it or am mistaken for it. What people see in me is a false-positive for autism. As far as I know I am not on the spectrum. The reason I don't get tested is because what they are looking at makes more sense than what was thought. I am neuro-divergent. I am A-typical. I am saying this because I spent 16 years on 2 categories of meds 'A-typical antipsychotics' and SNRI's. I am no more autistic than I am schizophrenic. It's just people actually have a reason to think I'm autistic and I never had the visual and auditory hallucinations people were trying to use those meds to get rid of for SIXTEEN YEARS. As I repeatedly stated I don't see them as I see you or hear them. They are just in my mind's eye. They are imaginary characters that never got turned off. (I said like this back when I still had them) It was based solely on these 'visual and auditory hallucinations' that I didn't have and *told them I didn't have I was diagnosed and treated for schizophrenia in the first place. I have a hell of a lot of anger that not only were they trying to fix the wrong thing about me, but I was never like that in the first place and I was raised believing the wrong thing about myself, with the wrong image of myself *as my reality* just because no one would listen to me.

Ultimately my point is I was diagnosed and medicated for a condition that if anyone had listened it could have been seen I didn't have. For 16 years people tried to remove these 'visual and auditory hallucinations' from me. That was regarded and listed as one of my primary symptoms. Even though I repeatedly said that I didn't see them as I see you, or hear them, they 'are' strictly in my mind's eye. I had real, visual cues or whatever to suggest I might be autistic and no one picked up on it or seriously considered it. One shrink I had early in my college years said it was 'extremely unlikely for me to be on the autistic spectrum because schizophrenic conditions and autistic disorders rarely coincide'. I am verbatem quoting her. Turns out I'm NOT schizophrenic. I only learned that for myself, for certain 5 years ago. If people hadn't been so convinced certain I was schizophrenic, enough to convince ME I was for so many years, they might have considered the other slightly more possible explanation. The medications I was put on to fight this phantom condition would never have messed me up like they have. This fits the definition of ironic, painful, even *tragic* in my book.

Lt Non and Henshaw

 

“Whatever I did to make an enemy of your person, punish me not her!”

“You have done nothing to me Henshaw. This is for those aliens you've despised and tortured all these years.”

“Damn it Nikita IS an alien! She's also the most peaceful person I know. Whatever you want from me, I implore you, don't make her suffer. There's nothing she could have done to deserve this. On that I would stake my life. You want to interrogate or torture me, that's fine. Just please don't make her watch.”

“I admit I did not anticipate this. You showing concern for an alien's life.”

“If she's here, it's because you knew she was under my command. It follows you would know that I feel responsible for her.” Hank said with a slightly tensed jaw.

Non looked like someone had slammed his face with an Nth metal 2x4. “This goes above duty to a friend Henshaw. This is...selfless concern. What makes her different?”

“Her father...the closest thing to a father she has known on this Earth is dead because of me. When he died I swore I would not fail him twice by letting any harm come to her. It's been a little over three years since that day. And she has never failed to keep me safe and to keep me sane. As a courtesy and a favor: Let me keep her safe.”

“Her father served under your command?” The woman's voice echoed.

“Jeremiah freed me from the D.E.O.” Nikita said wearily. “He served under Hank for almost 6 years without once disobeying orders...that I knew of. But he could see I didn't belong there, and couldn't turn away. He was the closest to what a father should be that I have ever known.”

“And I expect that as a fellow solider, you can appreciate my duty, Non.”

“That, I can do.” He waved his hand to a pale, mottle-skinned alien with 3 obsidian eyes. “Take that one to crew quarters. And make sure the walls are sound proof.” The alien scientist half led, half carried Nikita out of the room. “Do not ask further favors. You will receive none.”

“I shall not. Unless by some miracle you get me to plead for mercy.”

“That would be a miraculous sight indeed.” Non replied simply. An icon on Non's control board lit up. “Nikita is safe. Now, to the business at hand.” He pressed a button on his control console and a metal coil wrapped itself around Hank's neck.

“Non__Thank you.” Hank sighed heavily. “Now let's get down to it.”

“I can almost promise I will hear you scream before you sit up again.”

“I can promise that you best not be suffering from what humans call 'mission creep'. That would be disappointing.”

Non adjusted a dial. “Yes it would. Considering what this is going to be like for you.”

“We are here to get Kara back and find out what happened when they landed. NOT to wage war with the humans nor for your personal satisfaction, Non.”

“That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to take satisfaction in making him talk.”

“Why is Nikita protected?” Hank asked of his inquisitors.

“I'm sorry?” Non replied briskly.

“I look after her because I owe her a debt. You treat her as if she's politically immune to interrogation. I was just wondering why.”

“She is.” Non answered begrudgingly. “There are few powers in the galaxies that could use her discomfort to force the truth out of another persons lips. If I had something against her as an individual I could do my liking to obtain satisfaction.”

“Xavallen.” Hank realized softly. “That's what she meant. She wasn't just telling me she was different from Enkarens.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I once had an Enkaren woman in my charge. Half-Enkaren; her name was Elana. She was native to Earth and not an intentional threat, so we released her from out custody. Nikita was...a lot less forth-coming. There was no torture but I could not understand the..significance of a lot of things she said. I didn't know what Xavallens were. She didn't seem to know either, which I thought was really odd if she remembered her home planet at all.”

“Xavallens don't have a home-world.” General Astra shot. “Not one that is their own. They are the majority population on exactly zero planets in the 16 galaxies.”

“So Nikita's home-world...” Hank began.

“Planet of origin.” Non interrupted. Hank looked at him, his face displaying his confusion. “Is Earth her home or is this other place?”

“She speaks of Earth as her home.” Hank replied, uncertainly.

“Then say 'planet of origin'. It matters to her people as well as Enkarens.”

“She ran away from home__her planet of origin, when she was almost an adult. She's lived on Earth for 40 years. And Xavallens are...protected...in the galaxies?”

“For 16 of the 23 major powers in the galaxies Xavallens are considered innocents that do not keep secrets and should not be mistreated. If I had something against her, personally. If I felt she had wronged me, we could settle it as individuals. But to cause her pain because of another individuals transgressions__is frowned upon to say the least.”

“And that's why she let me interrogate her. Why she never fought back, or even resisted. Because it involved her as an individual. And she could sense that I simply wanted answers.”

“You're getting quite an education HANK.” Lieutenant Non said shortly.

“It's been an interesting 4 years.”

“You have our attention.” Astra said, leaning in.

“Jeremiah. The man who died under my command. There's more to it than that. He died saving my life. Nikita says he 'gave his life to save mine'. I never knew the kind of man he was... until died protecting me, from a Martian solider. At that point I made it my mission not to misjudge anybody quite as badly as I did Jeremiah Danvers. And to listen to Nikita when she told me who to be on-guard around and who to deal respectfully with, which alien races were like her own, happy and normal by human standards. The weak innocents.”

“A fellow solider died saving your life. That would shift one's perspective.”

Castiel is Tom Canty

After being arrested for trying to steal a loaf of bread (not sure if that's more Aladdin or Les Miserables) Castiel was brought before King Dean for his punishment. This is what happened next. A million thanks and praises to the original author. To give the reader a bit of grounding, I'm adding the last page of the original story. Otherwise one would be so completely lost!

The room Cas entered, was as big as the hut he and his sisters and brothers lived in. The furniture inside was the same expensive looking strong wood than the door was made of. There was a dresser on one side, overlooking a window to the courtyard. The bed was in the centre of the room with curtains on a rail around it, currently tied back. The bed itself could probably have fit four grown men on it, comfortably, It was draped with crimson coloured sheets and pillows which made a small sigh escape Castiel’s mouth. When was the last time he had laid a head on a soft surface? In the space between the dresser on the far right side and the centre, where the bed was, there was a recliner with a rug – also the same crimson colour. Beyond the bed, Castiel’s eyes bugged upon seeing a stage where sure enough King Dean was making his way to sit on the grandiose throne. Castiel swallowed. Scared was an understatement. His mouth was dry and he wished he would just melt into the floor. What had he deserved to be punished by the King himself?
“So thief, what were you trying to steal?”
Castiel’s heart galloped. The King was speaking to him. He was speaking to him. Panic was setting in, closing in and he thought he would die - but then a sharp command sliced through the fog in his head.
“Come here, kneel.”
He could do that. Castiel moved and found himself kneeling in front of the stage, facing the King but looking at his feet. “I’ll ask you again, and this time I require an answer.”
“Bread,” Cas whispered.
“Speak up, thief!” The King’s voice came out harsh, as if he was loosing patience. That was not good, the longer the King kept talking to him the further away his punishment would be. Castiel mustered as much courage as he could and spoke a decibel louder.
“Bread,” he uttered and watched as the King’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry,” he said, the apology tumbling out of his mouth without his consent.
“Just bread?”
…
Dean frowned, confused. Bread? Sure, stealing bread was a crime but people stole bread all the time. They were whipped by someone in the royal guard and that was the end of it. Why was he summoned to manage this particular thief?
“Just bread?” he inquired, leaning forward and watching the perplexity surround the boy.
“I-I-I, N-No, I m-mean, y-yes,” the boy stammered.
Dean raised an eyebrow at the boy and watched as once again the boy looked away. But now Dean was getting annoyed. Sam only came to visit a few times in the year and now this thief – whose only crime was to steal bread, probably judging by his figure, because he was hungry – had interrupted him and couldn’t even fess up without stammering. Dean decided a different tack, one he hoped would elicit some response from the boy.
“I’m going to punish you now, boy. Stealing won’t be tolerated in this Kingdom.” As predicted, the boy’s head shot up but instead of anger in his azure eyes, there were tears. But it was the first time the boy had looked directly at him and in his entire life, Dean had not felt so moved. A strangled sob shocked Dean out of his gaze and he remembered who the little boy really was. A thief – albeit just bread.
“No point in crying now. Take your punishment and we can forget this incident.” The boy’s whole body seemed to sag. That wasn’t acceptable. Punishment was a form of toughening up and strangely he almost wished that the boy had been tough enough to overthrow his captors and actually manage to steal the damn bread. Time to start the toughening act now. “Address me properly when I speak to you.” He barked out, and begin rising from his throne. Hoping that the boy wouldn’t disobey, but blessedly he heard a gasped ‘Yes, your majesty,’ in the space between him and the kneeling boy.
“Good,” he said smoothly and went to stand behind the boy. “I am glad that you are not a disobedient thief. One crime is bad enough.”
“Yes, your majesty,” a slight break in the voice.
“What is your name, thief”
“It is Castiel, your majesty”
Castiel. Strange name for a strange thief. Dean shook his head and resisted the sudden unsettling urge he had to envelope the boy in a soothing embrace.
“Stand up, Castiel. It is time for your punishment. A whipping should suffice.”
Dean moved back as Castiel began standing, the shaking of his limbs obvious and quite alarming.
In a manner very unlike that of a King, Dean reached out an arm and steadied the shaking boy. “Breathe. Easy now, its just a whipping. You’ve had worse, I’m sure.”
At that Castiel’s eyes met his and for a moment neither spoke. Then Castiel looked away, his shaking worsened as he replied, “No, your majesty, I have not.”
Once again, wrong footed and slightly unsettled, Dean replied in his normal authoritative voice.
“Well, there’s always a first time for everything.

Without prompting Castiel grabbed the edge of his tunic and pulled it over his head. Now bare-chested, he waited for directions from the king.
“Over the arms of the recliner, I suppose.”
Castiel nodded his head deeply, grateful he hadn't had to ask aloud.
King Dean delivered ten straight smooth strokes against the thief's back. No teasing, no questions, no words. Then he stepped back.
Sensing his punishment was over Castiel righted himself. He turned his head away, refusing to look the king in the face. “Forgive me, I have failed you.”
“How did you fail me? I'd say you bore that well.” The king replied immediately. Castiel did not respond. Indeed he gave no sign he had even heard the prince. He kept his sad eyes to the floor.
“Wait.” King Dean began, realization blooming. “Who are you talking about?” The thief shook his head in quick, jerking movements. Dean's sharp voice returned, although a little softer. “Castiel I insist upon being answered. Who are you apologizing to?”
“My sister, Adorabelle.” He raised his head, looking near the top Dean's chest. “She's sick. She is home. Alone. Sick.” Castiel applied force to every word. It was such a stark contrast to the soft, weak tones he'd used up tot hat point that for a moment the king stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “She needs me. Everything I do is for her. I can't help thinking it would have been kinder if you had thrown me in shackles. At least then I wouldn't have to face her.”
“The bread you were trying to steal, it was for her.”
Castiel did not answer, not verbally. Instead he looked his king directly in the eyes.
“Please you majesty, let me bring back *something* for her. I don't care what the cost, you can *whip* me again if you wish. How could I look her in the face knowing I had failed her?”
“Put your shirt back on, and sit by the stage.” The king ordered. He all but slammed a summoning bell with its hammer. When the servant rushed in, eyes forward, head titled down, she barely had time to curtsy before Dean barked his order. “A large, fine meal in 20 minutes. And a launderer's basket. Or better, a of hunters bag.” The servant girl bowed and withdrew.
Castiel sat beside the stage as instructed by his king, who it seemed was making a concentrated effort to ignore him. He was far too confused to speak.
The meal was delivered on a serving cart and for the first time in what seemed like hours, the King turned to look at his miscreant guest.
“Come here. Come.” He commanded sharply. Castiel hurriedly obeyed. Choose what you want.” Castiel pulled his hand over his mouth. Figuring he couldn't fault the man for his reaction, Dean began selecting fruits, various cuts of meat and at least 2 small loaves of bread from the table. Placing them in the hunters sacks he pulled from the underside of the cart.
“Here.” he held the sack full of food out to Castiel. “Take this to your sister. Share it with her. And don't let me catch you in the palace again unless it is as a guest.”
Castiel threw himself to his knees. He pulled took the king's hand and kissed it, three times. “Thank you your Majesty.” He cried, tears of joy rather than sorrow flowing down his cheeks. “By God thank you.”

Castiel knew the way home. He did his best not to run every step. He knew running would make him look like a thief. And who exactly could believe he hadn't stolen the food he now carried slung over his shoulder? He imagined his sisters face when he showed her what the prince had given them. And wondered if he could bring himself to tell her it was from the prince.

Merlin and Arthur Loose the Secret

 I mean loose. Morganna finally learns the truth and Merlin laughs in her face.

“That gives me some comfort then. It's nice to have a fellow stranger as a friend.”

...This statement from his friend made NO sense to King Arthur. That Merlin's gifts might make him feel like an outsider was a reality he would be hard-pressed to refute. But what made him think Sasha was a 'fellow stranger' and what exactly did that phrase even mean? When Merlin had asked about 'Sophia or Sasha' he didn't seem to notice that they were two separate people. How much of Merlin's conclusion was based on his returned memory, and what was the wizard only making guesses at?

'I've got to stop thinking like that.' The young king chastened himself. If the past hour had taught him nothing else, it was how right he had been to call the other man 'old friend' in the first place.

“Arthur you know that feeling I get for no apparent reason?”

“And 9 of 10 times you're proven right? Yes, why?”

“One word: Duck.”

Arthur instead threw himself backward to the ground. This gave him a clear view of a roughly hewn weapon frozen in mid air above his head. Rightly assuming it was Merlin's magic that stopped the weapon, and fervently hoping Merlin had caught a glimpse of the assailant, Arthur raised his head.

“Nothing Human.” Merlin replied in response to the inquisitive look his liege had given him. “Had two legs and weird looking skin though, sickly green.”

“Merlin, go after it and, however you can do, silence it.” Arthur order sparked no outward surprise or joy or fear. Rather Merlin's face was pale and blank as he tossed the King a stone as blue as a robin's egg and about three times as big, and rushed off through the woods after...the assailant.

“Knocked it out.” Merlin whispered as he sank down next to Arthur a few minutes later.

“Merlin. You told me you wouldn't ask me to make magic acceptable by law...” Merlin looked up at him. “Shouldn't we shut up and move on?” A flicker of understanding passed over Merlin's face. “Unless you have a way to deal with this, beyond avoiding the issue?” Arthur continued.

“Actually, I think I do.” He put his hands out in front of him at equal height. “With permission?” Arthur nodded curtly. Merlin pulled his right hand higher, palm up and pushed his left hand lower, palm down. “It's a cloak of silence to make an appearance of sleep. But it won't last very long.”

“Alright I guess. What's this jewel do?” Arthur's first question actually seemed to surprise Merlin.

“It was to let me know if whatever the creature was had circled back...If you were in any danger.”

“I think I'll swallow whatever I was going to say and insist you speak the question in your throat.”

“...Who was, or is, Sir Leon?”

“I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that Merlin. He's a knight who keeps to himself most of the time but has been a knight of Camelot longer than any of his fellows around the table of the ancient kings.”

“The Knights of the Round table. Glad to know I wasn't making that up! But do I really know him. Rather, does he really know me?”

“As far as I know Merlin, NO ONE else knows of your abilities...except Gwaine now.”

“But...would he understand it? He told me he and I really needed to talk. Has he learned it himself? I guess I better answer these on my own huh?”

“I'd say so my friend. But remember your promise to me.” Merlin's head jerked up. Arthur pointed to his left and raised his brow. Merlin nodded slowly. “What else is going on in that head of yours?” The King continued as though there were absolutely nothing strange going on.

“Do I know anyone names Sasha or Sophia?”

Arthur actually started. “Quite well, I think.”

“Duck, duck goose!” Merlin yelped, thoroughly yanking Arthur's mind back to the present moment.

Arthur sprinted to his forward left while Merlin bounded to his immediate right. Whatever the creature was chased after the young king. Almost before he knew it Arthur was engaged, sword to claws with a scaly two legged and otherwise indefinable creature. 3 minutes later the creature was lying on his stomach with a sword in its back. It was only after crouching over the dying...thing, for several moments that Arthur realized what had happened at all. Merlin had pulled himself to the right in order to circle back, unnoticed, and had used his own sword as a dagger. Engaged as they had been fighting each other, neither combatant had noticed his presence. Which of course is what the young man had intended all along.

“There's not much more I can say.” Merlin told Arthur as they remounted their horses. Arthur turned his head sharply to the left and right. “You get the feeling we're not alone?”

“There's something watching us yes. Not a warrior though.”

“How can you know that?”
“It would have attacked by now if it were. And it wouldn't be hiding itself so well.”

“I can't argue with you there...I don't suppose...” Arthur's suggestion went unfinished.

“I would seriously rather not.”

“Well something tells me it'll be needful before the end.” Arthur stated offhand.

Merlin's heart and head both seemed to drop as he replied. “Yeah, probably.”

“These visitors puzzle me Milady.” The wispy creature told it's mistress.

“Oh? How so?” Morganna replied curiously.

“At once they need something from each-other and need nothing at all.”

“Did you observe my creatures attempt?” Morganna replied dismissing the assessment. “How would you assess our strangers?”

“The warrior is a capable. The younger man is...shrouded. I cannot say anything more for certain.”

“You have done your part. You may return to your rest.”

“...With thanks Milady.”

A few minutes later Merlin and Arthur had stood up from their own respite and decided to continue a longer journey. It was a shared belief that their expedition would be far more intense and worthwhile than either of them could have predicted. They had no idea how right and wrong they were.

“Welcome Brother to MY domains.” Morganna said behind them, holding the reins of a black horse.

“I wish I could say 'glad to see you' but obviously it isn't so I'll not waste my breath.” Arthur replied.

“What do you want from us?” Merlin stated steadily.

“Oh I think you're wise enough to figure that out old friend...old sage that you are and everything.”

“Merlin...Is she honestly trying to tell us...?”

“If so, she is both right and wrong.” Merlin replied stoically.

“I saw you Merlin. I saw the real you, and you have yet to show your lord?”

“Morganna, this is bordering on true hilarity. Or would if I let myself get caught up in my memories. But you're wrong. This is the real me...THIS,” He continued yanking Morganna closer to them, dropping her on the ground. “Is just what I can do. None of you have ever seen that straight.”

“You always were a fool Merlin.”

“Strange. You didn't say that at Ealdor...or with the druid boy...you even acknowledged that I was responsible for dethroning you! Does that sound like the work of a fool?”

Morganna turned her head toward Arthur, expectation evident in her eyes. “You saw him for yourself, you saw his true self with your own eyes. My job here is done.”

Arthur smiled. “Morganna, I already knew. And I agree with him, you've both succeeded and failed.”

“You knew? You've had a wizard for a servant and you were fine with it?! I suppose the extra help..”

“E-nough.” Merlin stated in a stronger and more confident voice than either of them had heard from him. “Morganna. I owe you a debt of gratitude but that only goes so far. You yourself were responsible for Arthur's discovery. When you took my memory from me, I used my abilities for my normal work...I didn't remember that I wasn't allowed to. Magic is punishable by death even now and Arthur didn't even throw me in prison. That's what I meant when I told you I'd seen Arthur's...deserving...more clearly than before. And for the past three weeks I've never failed to see the irony of owing my new found freedom to the one person who would snatch all freedom from me...I thank you for it, either way.”

“You can't exactly bind me up and take me back under lock and key can you?” Morganna asked her brother, who shook his head wearily.

“I'm not stupid enough to try it or coldhearted enough to want to.” Arthur answered.

“Arthur, I suggest you let me do ONE spell and the three of us line up to go back to Camelot.” The young wizard said reluctantly.

“Arakei-notsath--” Morganna began

“Don't disapparate!” Merlin warned her sternly. Morganna looked at him with a clear challenge in her eyes. One HE took as a question. “The spell I did when I saw you here either binds you on the left hand path, which now it comes to it is exquisitely appropriate...or simply nullifies your powers. I don't think you want to risk either one of those. And you know I'm not one to make up these threats.”

“You can't keep me bound up forever.” Morganna said tersely.

“Nor would I presume to try.” Merlin replied at once. “But for now, let's get back home.”

“Tell me one thing Arthur.” Morganna said bitingly as the walked their respective horses back toward Camelot. “What is it about your servant that trumps your sister?”

Arthur didn't bother looking behind himself as he answered. “The difference Morganna is that he doesn't lord his powers over people, or use them to take what he pleases. He sincerely tries to help, to protect Camelot ...and me.” He finished gently. “And Merlin what are you up to?”

“Are you really as thick as all that brother?” Morganna taunted the King.

“I know he dampened your powers Morganna. I want to know for what purpose?”

“...Until you decide what to do.” Merlin responded slowly. Arthur didn't know what to think or to say. A situation that made Morganna's face brim with pleasure and anticipation. But Merlin's face and head both fell. “Arthur, what is the one thing I've always tried to tell you to do?”

“...To trust in myself.” Arthur replied slowly.

“I trust your judgment. I always have and I still do.”

“You really are a boot-licking coward Merlin.” Morganna's taunt rang in Merlin's mind. But for once he didn't care that no one else could hear it. He responded aloud anyway, without stopping his horse.

“For once I won't deny that most of you have been mostly right about me.” Merlin began slowly. “But as usual all of you have missed the point. If I am half of what you, your sister and Si-gen have called me, it's because I choose to be so. It IS better to serve Arthur than rule with you...or worse become like you.” He stopped and turned to his Liege. “Arthur what do you think should be done?”

The King stopped his horse and turned to face his friend. “Get her away from me and come back to Camelot. You and I have more to discuss than we thought.”

“I believe I can help you there.” A gentle voice whispered. The blue misty creature that had spied on them was back. One look at the face it had made of itself told them not to draw weapons or anger against it.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked it politely.

“I can carry the essence of who she is far from here. As yet it's inside her body, so that comes too. She's my mistress; no harm or discomfort can come to her by my will. Doesn't mean I can't take care of her.”

Morganna looked as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing.“You called me your mistress. What does that mean to you?”

“Honestly mistress, I was about to ask you that.” The wispy entity said in a mock concerned voice.

“You are meant to obey me!” Morganna shrieked. “That is what I asked of you and you agreed.”

“Not so. You made me promise to help and to follow you. Which is what I have been doing. I have more recently seen however that helping you and obeying you...no longer go hand in hand.”

“I'm glad someone finally realized.” Merlin whispered after the souls vanished from his sight. He looked at his friend and lord. “That following her and following her orders aren't always the same thing.”

“How long have you known that truth of the matter?” King Arthur asked his friend in a dazed voice.

“Morganna wanted to rule alone.” Came the calm and withdrawn answer, in a voice so monotone it would sound artificial to some ears. “She wanted to right the wrongs done her and her kind by your father and in that name she carried out her plans. Following her orders and her plans is one thing, actually working toward that goal is something else entirely...Trust me I should know.”

It took several moments for the stunned look on King Arthur's face to see past his servant and into the eyes of the young woman who had spoken and was standing on the other side of his friend. Her light blue top and dark blue trousers left little doubt as to who she was, even if her voice and face hadn't already told him.“I don't doubt that Merlin knows most of that stuff.” The woman continued calmly. “Or would if he remembered them. I thought it was time I laid out that particular difference for all to see.”

“It's good to see you again Sasha.” Merlin stated with a quiet joy in his voice.

“You also Merlin.” The woman replied. “I'm also glad everything-almost everything has come around the bend to itself.” She paused and looked at Arthur, as though unsure he would welcome her input.

“If you have anything more to say Sasha, now's the time to say it.” Arthur responded blithely.

“I once gave Morganna a meal to eat. It was for her own good and in a time of development and formation. That probably won't mean anything to either of you. And to shorten the tale, by the time she came to the throne she was so far consumed with personal vengeance I had not the power to recreate the meal...not by any means short of going into the kitchen, finding the foods and cooking it. My powers didn't work her will anymore, only for her good. And she didn't want anything of that. Of course any other order she gave me I was physically capable of doing. Claiming hereditary ruler-ship she was owed my obedience, as much as Uther was or you would have been. But she had not from me respect, nor loyalty and certainly not friendship. I'm as glad as you are Merlin that this distinction is recognized. And I think you know where I'm going with this.” She told the wizard gently. He nodded sadly. “Then I should stay by your side until you come to Camelot, and the rest of it I place equally in your equally capable hands... and judgments.”

As soon as they had come to the castle, Merlin bounded away from his friends, for once not asking if it was alright or telling them what he was doing. Sasha stood looking after him with a kind smile on her face.

“You really care for him, don't you?” Arthur pondered aloud as he observed her gaze.

“Sire, let's go someplace out of the way, then we can have this talk. I understand how overdue it is.”

Arthur let go of the reins of his horse and silently followed his enigmatic friend up the stairs of the castle. He had assumed they were heading for his own chambers, but learned otherwise when she took a left rather than a right at the top floor. He quickly found himself in a small room with nothing but a bed and small table with two wooden chairs. She quickly sat down in one chair and naturally he took the other.

“Merlin is my first friend.” She stated in a withdrawn voice. “He is the one for whom and because of whom I have returned as often as I have. When I'm not sure how to...what I should or should not do or say, I try to see things from his perspective. And yes, I've always known what you have most recently discovered. But I felt it should be up to him to tell you, an admission, not a confrontation. And to explain my previous comment, about things almost coming full circle...You are King. Morganna is no threat to anyone in the five kingdoms. The prophecy which entered your sisters dreams, first caused the aging spell and nearly brought revelation. Gweneviere is Queen, in truth if not in name. I realize Uther did die at the hand of Emrys. But surely you see that it was not his fault? He did everything he could but the charm worked well.” She smiled faintly at the look of surprise on Arthur's face. “Aggrivane hated your father. He placed a charm around his neck that was bound on the left hand path. Thus, the healing spell our mutual friend tried to perform, had the opposite effect. You, and Merlin each have a final promise to fulfill. I have told you yours as near as anyone could. If you can fulfill your solemn word. I hope you know...”

“Yeah...I remember.”

“...Then Merlin should be able to fulfill his pledge.” Sasha finished as though uninterrupted.

Ten minutes later Merlin walked up to Sir Leon and invited him on an evening trot through the woods.

“What about simply retreating to some quiet corner of the castle?” Sir Leon counter-suggested. They walked silently to the northern most room on the third level of the castle. Sir Leon quickly shut the door. “I realize I am the one who predicted this discussion. But I have no idea where to begin it.”

“Do you know why Arthur is apparently so mad at me?” Merlin responded quickly.

“I didn't know he was. But if it has anything to do with what's been going through MY mind recently, then yes, I know why...Which I assume is what you were actually asking me about?”

That this was a request, not an assumption or simple statement was not immediately evident to Merlin.

“What's happened between us? Is that secret what came between us that we are distant?”

“Merlin, what are you talking about?! You and I have never been close, not distant either, just not close.”

“Then how do you know?” Merlin replied with something between shock and incredulity in his voice.

“I figured it out. You didn't tell me. But the burden was too much for me to bear, so you took it from my mind. The memory was nothing but a dream to me, until this incident. Whatever happened to you is probably like what happened to me...though with a different cause.”

“I took your memory from you?”

“It was at my own pleading. I couldn't keep it from Arthur – I didn't trust myself to hide what I knew.”

It wasn't all of the truth nor was it entirely true of itself. But though nearly a stranger, Leon was a good judge of character and timing. He saw that naming another friend Merlin should know, and likely would not recognize, was not the wisest course of action to take. So he gave Merlin the joy of believing that he himself had granted the knight's request. The rest of it WAS true.

“...What happens now?” Merlin requested placidly. It was the only thing he could think to say.

“Arthur has accepted this I take it?” Leon replied quickly.

“What I am, yes. But I don't think he'd accept that any one else would have enough of a reason to keep it from him. I'm going to give you the same advice I received: be yourself, whatever that means.”

“I'm not going to breathe a word of this to anyone, except maybe Gaius. He'll be able to fill in the gaps.”

A strange look came into Merlin's eyes as Sir Leon finished this statement. “...that wasn't a reference to...”

“I realize that. And my memory is returning quite quickly. I just don't like the feeling that we'll become any sort of closer friends, because of something that never should have happened.”

“Merlin. I'm honestly not sure what to say to that. But I am glad for you and Arthur. I'd wager things will be more relaxed between you now.”

“I agree with you there. And actually I think we're both wrong about that.” Sir Leon looked thoroughly confused. “You should speak everything you know or guess to Arthur.”

“Merlin,” The knight began. “I've never known you to refrain from honest open speech. But this seems even more...Open booked, that what's normal for you...I'm just wondering what could cause this change in you.” Leon explained casually.

“That one is simple, I'm more free now than I've been since...since Sir Lancelot first came and left.”

“Well I have to give you the point there.” The knight replied, and with a polite bow, he withdrew to leave Merlin alone with his thoughts.

Arthur summoned Merlin to the great hall at Breakfast the next morning. When he walked through the double doors the first thing he saw was that Sir Leon, Gwaine and Elyan were there, the three of them sitting in chairs to his forward-left in some sort of triangle. Gaius, Arthur and Guinevere were there as well, sitting in the same formation, but to his forward-right. Merlin did the only thing that made sense to him and sat down between Sir Leon and Guinevere, joining the two branches of people into a curved, line.

“Alright, I'm going to assume this isn't a farewell party.” Merlin quipped. “But what's going on?”

Arthur smiled kindly. “I just thought you'd like to examine the latest bit of legislation to be drafted.” He passed Merlin a rolled up piece of parchment. “It was not an easy challenge, without my scribe.”

Merlin unrolled the decree, took one glance at its contents and flushed purple. “I'm fully expecting to wake up now.” He stated firmly, but quietly.

“Not this time old friend.” Gwaine stated with a small smile.

“Why Arthur?” Was all that escaped Merlin's mouth.

“...Because I promised you that I would do so.” Arthur replied, seeming surprised at the question. “I told Emrys that I would declare toleration if not acceptance of Magic, and I've seen for myself that you did all you could. It's time I held up my end. Don't worry. I told them everything that you and Sir Leon told me. We agree that some of these laws might be a little out-dated.”

Merlin looked like he didn't know what to feel or think. It was several seconds before he verbally responded to any of it. “Alator.” He whispered.

Five confused faces stared at him. One was stunned. “What has he to do with any of this?” Gaius asked.

“This is the day that many have longed for. And I owe it to Alator to tell him personally. Arthur please, let me go find him.” Arthur simply nodded. Merlin bowed and withdrew...not looking at anyone.

“Gaius...who was he talking about?” King Arthur asked of the physician in as firm and calm a voice as one would wish to hear.

“Something that really wouldn't have made sense to me a few days ago.” Gaius replied at once. “And someone I haven't thought of since...Since I was kidnapped.” This got the attention of everyone in the group. “I'm glad we're all still sitting, you'll feel the need for it by the time this story is over.”

“Who's Ala-tor?” Gwaine puzzled aloud.

“Morganna hired him to get information out of me.” Gaius began slowly. “What I told you when I got back was true Arthur, but far from the total truth. Morganna knew the wizard Emrys was a threat to her. But had only seen him AS a wrinkled old man. She saw the wizard at her hideout, as he destroyed the creature that had burned it's way into Merlin's mind...she concluded that I had sent...this wizard there to destroy it and save Merlin's life. And therefore I knew who he was.”

“...Which is why you were kidnapped at all. Aggrivane knew that you'd hide your knowledge of Emrys and that I'd misjudge what you were hiding.” Arthur said as the reality settled into his heart.

“Alator has very effective methods of getting to the truth buried in one's heart.” Gaius agreed.

“Wait, is Merlin safe going to Alator then? I mean does he know the truth of it?” Elyan asked at once.

Gaius simply nodded in response.

“I don't understand.” Arthur stated, confused. “You said that Morganna got nothing from you?”

“SHE didn't.” Gaius replied curtly. “Alator learned everything I knew about Emrys, including his other name. But that's not what meant the most to him. What mattered to him, in his heart was the future that Emrys is said to bring. His destiny is both vague and certain. He is to unite the five kingdoms into one people, and join the old ways with the new. And together you both have taken steps to accomplish this.”

“It's far from finished if that's true.” Sir Leon stated in a tone of which they could make nothing.

“Merlin's not thinking of Albion.” Gaius said. “Not expressly anyway. He wants Alator to know that he'll no longer be shunned and hunted for what he is. For what he's done, maybe. But not for his powers.”

“Gaius. Do you honestly hold this man no grudge?” Gwaine asked of the old physician. “I mean when I found you in that cave, you were barely breathing.”

“I believe people should be permitted to show who they truly are and make up for their past errors.” Gaius replied calmly. “That whatever Merlin told him, whatever they told each-other, they meant every word. If Merlin promised Alator to tell him when this freedom comes, he should be allowed to do so.”

“...Alator and Emrys, are safe by my word.” Arthur stated firmly. “Someone who knows her, please tell Sasha she can have the room at the highest, northern edge of the castle...if she still chooses to stay.”