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TC/Merlin - Meet Again for the First Time
So I had this idea, and then I thought no, and then I thought yes, and then I thought "Oh crap, it's time for NaNoWriMo and I'm still thinking about this?" So I got it out of my system. It's a crossover between Thoughtcrimes and Merlin that is hopefully not as convoluted as I made it sound when explaining it to two separate people before writing it.
Title: Meet Again for the First Time
Fandoms: Merlin/Thoughtcrimes
Pairings: Hint of Merlin/Arthur, Hint of Freya/Brendan
Length: ~1,200 words of self-indulgence
Rating: PG (really)
Synopsis: He might have been a hero, but she was convinced there was more to him than he was letting on.
Warnings: None, really. Future/Reincarnation Fic for Merlin.
Author’s Notes:
Merlin fans: Thoughtcrimes was an awesome one-shot starring the feral Slayer and John Sheppard involving an empath and the NSA.
Thoughtcrimes fans: Merlin is an awesome show on the BBC that totally plays with the original myths.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Freya eyed the man warily. Yes, he had just stopped a major international terrorism incident pretty much single handedly, but there was something else, something more, something prickling at the very edges of her senses in a way she was not sure she liked. It probably did not help that she could not get a read on him and she had tried everything she could so far save for physically grabbing him and hoping the skin to skin contact broke through the haze.
She watched him rub at the back of his neck, nearly dislodging what appeared to be an ascot of all things. That was the other thing; he was dressed to the nines in a high quality suit and shoes that would probably cost her a paycheck and a half if not more, but he slouched as if he was a club kid in hoodie over on Second Street. He refused to answer pretty much any question posed to him thus far, and flashed some little sheet of paper at the TSA supervisor that sent him in a tizzy damn near bowing and scraping to him.
He kept darting looks in Freya’s direction though, so Brendan hoped that maybe her feminine charms might do the trick. She flat out refused to unbutton another button on her blouse though, no matter what Dean’s inner thoughts suggested.
With a sigh, she walked over to where the man was leaning against one of the airline desks fiddling with a cell phone. He did not look to actually be dialing anyone, or even texting, so she took her chance and offered out a hand, saying, “Hi, my name is...”
“Morgana?” he asked, blue eyes gone spectacularly wide. The phone hit the ground and he fumbled to pick it up for a moment, stuttering his apologies.
She ignored Brendan’s thoughts mocking the man’s smooth social skills and instead corrected, “Er, no, actually, my name is Freya, Freya McAllister.”
The man seemed to literally shake himself out of his thoughts and offered her a beaming grin that was three shades shy of genuine. “Of course, sorry about that,” he said with a prim British accent that may or may not have made her toes curl. He hung his head shyly for a moment and shrugged, “You just, ah, remind me of someone, that’s all.”
She was about to comment that it was no problem and attempt to maybe finagle in a question or two when he seemed to suddenly remember his manners and took her hand in a proper greeting.
The second his skin touched hers, her mind was flooded with images. There were people, familiar and not, places she had never been and never hoped of seeing, and a timeline that seemed to stretch through the centuries, with the only constant being this one man who never changed, never aged, never found the one thing that he seemed to be desperately searching for.
She dropped his hand like a hot iron, staggering back and giving in to the urge to rub at her temples. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. She heard Brendan running up behind her, but paid him no mind.
“You... saw that?” the man asked, looking torn between elation and fear. He looked to her now looming partner and raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “I did not intend, that is, I did not realize... Of course, though, you’ve always...”
“Always?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and lowering her hands to her sides. “We’ve only just met, haven’t we?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew they were a lie. Somehow, she knew this man, knew who he was and what he was capable of even though she was certain they had never met, at least not in this lifetime.
“Bloody reincarnations,” he muttered under his breath, earning a look from her partner. The man rose his eyes to meet her own and she swore she heard his voice, bright and clear within her own mind say, “Hopefully this life will be better for you.”
There was another flash of images, these bloodstained and horrible, and she saw him standing in the shadows, clothes torn and rent, begging her to come with him, to let him save her. It was her turn to shake her head to clear it and she narrowed her eyes at him in the process. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“A friend,” he promised, then amended, “Usually.”
Before he could say more, a rather important looking woman appeared at his side and announced, “Mr. Emrys? Your car is waiting for you.”
“I have a car?” were the first words out of his mouth.
The woman cleared her throat and pointedly looked to his left. Freya followed his gaze to find a man standing in the doorway, highlighted by the setting sun streaming through the airport windows, the reds and golds glinting off his blond hair and giving him an almost regal look. He was wearing a suit similar to the one the mysterious savior wore, but filled it out far more than the other man’s slender frame and looked far more like a bodyguard than a driver. She was hit with a staggering sense of familiarity again, almost more so than with the first man.
Brendan whistled low to her right and whispered, “Okay, so he brings in the big guns. No wonder we’re letting him go.” She promised herself to grill him on just who the second man was later, hoping it would answer a few questions about the first in the process.
“Take care of yourself,” the man in question was saying, pressing something into her hand. There were no images this time as his skin brushed hers, only a feeling of protection and caring.
“What the hell was that about?” Brendan demanded, stepping forward as the man finally slouched his way over to his ride.
The man glanced back over his shoulder with a quirky grin and offered, “Back off, Lancelot, she’s all yours.”
Freya ignored Brendan’s less than polite thoughts in response and looked down to see what she had been gifted with. It was a business card with a dragon emblazoned on the front in pretty much the exact shade of red as the man’s ridiculous ascot, his personal contact information printed neatly in gold across the top.
She looked over to him, saw the way his so-called bodyguard wrapped an arm around him possessively and started to lead him out the door, swore she heard the bodyguard mutter, “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?” followed by a gentle chuckle. Both men paused before they crossed the threshold, the dark-haired one granting her one last grin and the blond giving her a look of confusion before they disappeared completely.
She pocketed the card despite her partner’s protests and teasing. As she tried to weasel him into fronting both dinner and a full disclosure that night, she made herself two promises: the first was to Google anything and everything related to the company known as “Pendragon Enterprises”, and the second was to see if the mysterious Mr. Emrys would be available for coffee in the near future. Somehow she had the feeling they had a lot to talk about.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Meet Again for the First Time
Fandoms: Merlin/Thoughtcrimes
Pairings: Hint of Merlin/Arthur, Hint of Freya/Brendan
Length: ~1,200 words of self-indulgence
Rating: PG (really)
Synopsis: He might have been a hero, but she was convinced there was more to him than he was letting on.
Warnings: None, really. Future/Reincarnation Fic for Merlin.
Author’s Notes:
Merlin fans: Thoughtcrimes was an awesome one-shot starring the feral Slayer and John Sheppard involving an empath and the NSA.
Thoughtcrimes fans: Merlin is an awesome show on the BBC that totally plays with the original myths.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and am making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Freya eyed the man warily. Yes, he had just stopped a major international terrorism incident pretty much single handedly, but there was something else, something more, something prickling at the very edges of her senses in a way she was not sure she liked. It probably did not help that she could not get a read on him and she had tried everything she could so far save for physically grabbing him and hoping the skin to skin contact broke through the haze.
She watched him rub at the back of his neck, nearly dislodging what appeared to be an ascot of all things. That was the other thing; he was dressed to the nines in a high quality suit and shoes that would probably cost her a paycheck and a half if not more, but he slouched as if he was a club kid in hoodie over on Second Street. He refused to answer pretty much any question posed to him thus far, and flashed some little sheet of paper at the TSA supervisor that sent him in a tizzy damn near bowing and scraping to him.
He kept darting looks in Freya’s direction though, so Brendan hoped that maybe her feminine charms might do the trick. She flat out refused to unbutton another button on her blouse though, no matter what Dean’s inner thoughts suggested.
With a sigh, she walked over to where the man was leaning against one of the airline desks fiddling with a cell phone. He did not look to actually be dialing anyone, or even texting, so she took her chance and offered out a hand, saying, “Hi, my name is...”
“Morgana?” he asked, blue eyes gone spectacularly wide. The phone hit the ground and he fumbled to pick it up for a moment, stuttering his apologies.
She ignored Brendan’s thoughts mocking the man’s smooth social skills and instead corrected, “Er, no, actually, my name is Freya, Freya McAllister.”
The man seemed to literally shake himself out of his thoughts and offered her a beaming grin that was three shades shy of genuine. “Of course, sorry about that,” he said with a prim British accent that may or may not have made her toes curl. He hung his head shyly for a moment and shrugged, “You just, ah, remind me of someone, that’s all.”
She was about to comment that it was no problem and attempt to maybe finagle in a question or two when he seemed to suddenly remember his manners and took her hand in a proper greeting.
The second his skin touched hers, her mind was flooded with images. There were people, familiar and not, places she had never been and never hoped of seeing, and a timeline that seemed to stretch through the centuries, with the only constant being this one man who never changed, never aged, never found the one thing that he seemed to be desperately searching for.
She dropped his hand like a hot iron, staggering back and giving in to the urge to rub at her temples. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. She heard Brendan running up behind her, but paid him no mind.
“You... saw that?” the man asked, looking torn between elation and fear. He looked to her now looming partner and raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “I did not intend, that is, I did not realize... Of course, though, you’ve always...”
“Always?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and lowering her hands to her sides. “We’ve only just met, haven’t we?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew they were a lie. Somehow, she knew this man, knew who he was and what he was capable of even though she was certain they had never met, at least not in this lifetime.
“Bloody reincarnations,” he muttered under his breath, earning a look from her partner. The man rose his eyes to meet her own and she swore she heard his voice, bright and clear within her own mind say, “Hopefully this life will be better for you.”
There was another flash of images, these bloodstained and horrible, and she saw him standing in the shadows, clothes torn and rent, begging her to come with him, to let him save her. It was her turn to shake her head to clear it and she narrowed her eyes at him in the process. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“A friend,” he promised, then amended, “Usually.”
Before he could say more, a rather important looking woman appeared at his side and announced, “Mr. Emrys? Your car is waiting for you.”
“I have a car?” were the first words out of his mouth.
The woman cleared her throat and pointedly looked to his left. Freya followed his gaze to find a man standing in the doorway, highlighted by the setting sun streaming through the airport windows, the reds and golds glinting off his blond hair and giving him an almost regal look. He was wearing a suit similar to the one the mysterious savior wore, but filled it out far more than the other man’s slender frame and looked far more like a bodyguard than a driver. She was hit with a staggering sense of familiarity again, almost more so than with the first man.
Brendan whistled low to her right and whispered, “Okay, so he brings in the big guns. No wonder we’re letting him go.” She promised herself to grill him on just who the second man was later, hoping it would answer a few questions about the first in the process.
“Take care of yourself,” the man in question was saying, pressing something into her hand. There were no images this time as his skin brushed hers, only a feeling of protection and caring.
“What the hell was that about?” Brendan demanded, stepping forward as the man finally slouched his way over to his ride.
The man glanced back over his shoulder with a quirky grin and offered, “Back off, Lancelot, she’s all yours.”
Freya ignored Brendan’s less than polite thoughts in response and looked down to see what she had been gifted with. It was a business card with a dragon emblazoned on the front in pretty much the exact shade of red as the man’s ridiculous ascot, his personal contact information printed neatly in gold across the top.
She looked over to him, saw the way his so-called bodyguard wrapped an arm around him possessively and started to lead him out the door, swore she heard the bodyguard mutter, “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?” followed by a gentle chuckle. Both men paused before they crossed the threshold, the dark-haired one granting her one last grin and the blond giving her a look of confusion before they disappeared completely.
She pocketed the card despite her partner’s protests and teasing. As she tried to weasel him into fronting both dinner and a full disclosure that night, she made herself two promises: the first was to Google anything and everything related to the company known as “Pendragon Enterprises”, and the second was to see if the mysterious Mr. Emrys would be available for coffee in the near future. Somehow she had the feeling they had a lot to talk about.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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PRATBODYGUARD AAAIIIEEEEEE<333
LOL @ the ascot. Merlin, darling, your fashion sense! I bet you're the only one who can pull it off. Argh, if only someone would draw this... I'm going to have this image stuck in my mind for a long time...
Morgana and Lancelot, really? :))) The Merlin fandom should have more crossover-reincarnation fics *nods*
Um, but who's the feral Slayer you're referring to?
(there's actually a character named Freya coming up in Merlin, and I've been thinking of Thoughtcrimes ever since, hee)
Please to be writing more self-indulgent fics ;)
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“Of course, sorry about that,” he said with a prim British accent that may or may not have made her toes curl.
Hehe, I'm with Freya in this one. <3 (also, thanks for not calling Merlin a boy :D)
The man rose his eyes to meet her own and she swore she heard his voice, bright and clear within her own mind say,
I think you meant 'raised' his eyes here ;)
Still loving it. :D
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I am always torn between "raised" and "rose" and grammar-check varies a lot in what it thinks is right which makes me doubt either (even with a beta) and close my eyes and point and go "I choose you!" [Oh gods, now I have a picture of Merlin dressed up as Ash from Pokemon in my head...]
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Well, the image of 'rose' that I'm getting from this context is of Merlin's eyeballs levitating higher than his head and... eyeballing Freya. Hahaha, I'm so funny today, I need to go lie down. Sleep deprivation is no longer fun in my advanced age. ;)
What I'm trying to say is, I totally understand the uncertainty the English language inflicts on people. Heh.
Speaking of Pokemon... have you seen this? http://analyst-1.livejournal.com/15758.html lol this fandom needs more crack. They (we?) have a long way to go to catch up with SGA. *g*
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Rule 34 at work. *g*
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Not sure if Brendan is actually Lancelot or if Merlin was just teasing... yet. Was debating having him be Arthur originally, but had to agree with
Feral Slayer was on Angel where there was a girl in a mental institution who happened to be a potential and activated with the whole big spell thingy. She was not quite sane in any sense of the word and, amongst other things, chopped up Spike. She was also played by Navi Rawatt (sp?) who plays Freya in TC.
Found out the spoilers about Freya in Merlin this afternoon and started to giggle... at my desk... at work... to some odd looks... *g*
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Thoughtcrimes was a pilot for a series that was never picked up made into a oneshot movie-like thing. Rather awesome premise of a girl who gets telepathic abilities at pretty much her prom, gets locked in a nuthouse, then eventually found and trained by the NSA. Had a sequel started, but I think it's somewhere at work as it's nowhere on this computer. *eep*