A/N: I had no idea it would take me nearly a year to finish this one, so thank you to those readers who never gave up on me! Apologies, apologies for the long break, but here is the ending at last! Hope you enjoy! Please take a moment to review and let me know what you think.

Admittedly, turning around to look when a gun has been fired and you know the bullet could be heading your way is not a smart thing to do. It involves a Basic Life Skill for most people, even if they haven't had a slew of bodyguards during the last few years of their life. Nonetheless, Arthur did just that when a shot rang out overhead.

In his defense, he had been skating stridently toward the judges table, mind occupied with his own outrage. It was too much-the threats, the attack on Merlin and now his final skate sabotaged by debris appearing magically on the ice! Arthur didn't know who to blame, but he would be damned if someone wasn't going to pay for this.

Then the shot rang out and his fury evaporated like mist in the glare of the sun. His eyes locked on the jumbo screen above the ice. There was some kind of platform suspended above it, one Arthur hadn't noticed until there was a body falling from it. Screams rang out and there was a disturbing thud as the body, wrapped in strange white, hooded garb, hit the ice, followed by the clattering of what looked like a white rifle.

"Arthur!" Off the ice, voices called his name over the continuing screams of the crowd, but he was already speeding for the edge, making way as a security officer carefully crept out onto the ice, drawing his gun.

"This way, Arthur, quickly," Elyan snapped as he approached, his eyes fixed on something high over the ice. More Sochi security guards stepped past them, guns trained on where the body had fallen. Shouldn't they be worried about who had shot the body instead of the body itself?

"Arthur, get off!" He looked up to see Leon waving at him from the bottom row of the stands, unable to get past a security guard. Gwaine, beside him, was arguing vehemently with the guard and looked about two seconds from saying to hell with it and taking the guard out.

Arthur gestured for them to stay put and bent down to put on his skate guards.

Then a second shot rang out. Elyan grabbed Arthur around the middle and took him down behind the arena wall, rolling so that Arthur was beneath him. For a few tense moments the stadium rocked with screams and panic. When it quieted, Arthur managed to move Elyan enough so that he could look up, first, at the screen, which was still idiotically showing crowd shots of the quickly emptying stands, and then above that, to the platform.

"I've got him but our way is not clear. I repeat, our way is not clear." Elyan spoke loudly into the air, listening to someone only he could hear. "Have the shooters been neutralized?"

Arthur's gaze was fixed on the second white form draped over the railing high in the air, arms over the side, head down, drooping slowly like a sleepy child.

Two other figures in white approached the figure from behind, taking hold and disentangling the figure from the railing. They looked efficient and military, prompting Arthur to conjecture that it must have been them who had neutralized the shooters. As they lifted the body off the railing, the hood slid back.

For one long, seemingly eternal second, Arthur glimpsed a head full of black, curly hair and a pale, still, distinctively-bruised face.

He felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. It couldn't be-not the shooter-but it looked exactly like-

"Merlin?"

Arthur tried to stand, watching as the form in white was unceremoniously dumped on the floor out of sight. "What do they think they're doing?"

"Trying to keep you from getting killed, Arthur. Get down."

"But that's Merlin!" Arthur finally made it to his feet.

"What? The shooter?" Exasperation and confusion colored Elyan's voice.

"No! The shooter must be the body on the ice. Merlin must have been up there trying to stop it somehow and they've just shot him."

"Hold," Elyan said succinctly, holding a finger to his ear, turning away to hear someone on his earpiece. He ignored Arthur. "Good. I'll get him back downstairs to the secure room-"

"No, you won't." Arthur rabbit punched him in the gut before reaching for his earpiece and jerking it from behind his ear. Elyan locked a steel grip on Arthur's arm, grimacing in acute discomfort.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered him before fitting the earpiece in his ear and speaking to the person on the other end. "This is Arthur Pendragon. You have the wrong man." He gestured out to the ice. "I recognize him and he would no more hurt me than-"

Strong arms grabbed him from behind, painfully forcing his arms behind his back as Elyan snatched back the earpiece.

"Trying to get me fired, too?" the bodyguard snapped. "In case you've forgotten, I'm trying to keep you alive!"

"Oi! Hands off!" Gwaine yelled from somewhere nearby.

"Take it easy," Elyan warned someone as Arthur was forced to his knees by a huge, hulking figure behind him. "He's not a criminal, for God's sake. He's the target! Let him go!" Elyan's words apparently took a few moments to sink in and then Arthur was released.

"He is attacking you," the large man in a guard uniform said sheepishly with a heavy Russian accent. "So I worry he is with shooter." He has a buzz cut and arms the size of Percival's.

"I had it under control," Elyan snapped, helping Arthur get to his feet.

The man turned his worried eyes on Arthur. "Please to go this way to safety before another shooting is made."

Arthur's gaze went back up the platform, where he could see several men lifting a limp body up to the railing.

"No!" Arthur called out, already moving toward the ice, but hands all over him prevented him.

"What is it, Arthur?" Gwaine was suddenly there, grasping the guard and apparently ready to take all of them on for Arthur's sake.

"I'm telling you-that's Merlin," Arthur pointed, too horrified to say more.

The men in white jumpsuits were swinging Merlin's body over the railing. To Arthur's relief, the limp form didn't drop-of course there was a better plan-but swung free, suspended by two ropes that Arthur hadn't noticed, one around Merlin's torso, snug under his arms, and the other tied around his knees. His long body, in a white coverall cocoon, dipped between the ropes, head and arms dangling.

Something in Arthur's chest clenched tight when he saw how the guards on the ice trained guns on Merlin as he was lowered down.

"He's not with the shooter!" Arthur jerked forward fruitlessly, again held back by Elyan and the Russian, unable to keep from shouting out. "I know him. Please! Just take him to the infirmary-again. Oh god," he said under his breath, squashing an hysterical laugh trying to bubble out of him. Merlin had just been in the infirmary. How in the hell had he even gotten out? Had the staff even realized it?

Gwaine began a campaign to free Arthur that finally succeeded. "Hey-we're on the same-side-you enormous slab of beef!" Leon appeared at his side, breathless, to join in the struggle. Gwaine swished his hair to the side and glared at Elyan. "Aren't you supposed to be protecting him?"

Elyan glared at Gwaine and positioned himself between Arthur and the ice. "I am. There's no way I'm letting him back out there where all the shooting has happened! Now, Arthur, think clearly-how could that be Merlin? He's too injured to be up and around at all, much less trying to save your life and getting shot in the process."

"Yes. Well. Obviously you don't know Merlin," Arthur said dryly as he watched Merlin's limp form touch down on the ice, relieved that his voice sounded nearly normal. "Please recall how he was injured in the first place." Elyan's eyebrows rose. "I don't pretend to know why on earth he would want to do it, but for some reason, he truly seems to want to save my life."

"Arthur's right," Leon noted calmly.

The Russian guard butted in again, "You will please to get off the ice before more danger is happening."

"Just a minute," Elyan snapped and turned to Arthur. "You're convinced that it's him?"

"Yes and we have to do something!" Arthur ripped off his skate guards and pushed past Elyan, who immediately turned to the Russian guard and stopped him from stopping Arthur. A clumsy argument began while Arthur rushed to get to where Merlin was dangling. One guard stationed there barked something in Russian at Arthur while the other gestured to the men above to lower Merlin down further.

"I'm here to help," Arthur said slowly, his hands raised. He was dressed in his skating costume, surely he looked harmless. "Help? Yes? You understand English?" He was beginning to feel desperate. If they thought Merlin was a shooter, if he got buried deeply in the Russian prison system...they might never get him out.

The guards exchanged a look. One of them gestured to Elyan, who had appeared by Arthur's side and now stuttered out a few Russian words. He was standing at Arthur's back, eyes skimming the crowd, gun raised. His walkie-talkie kept a constant chatter of guttural Russian syllables, but he didn't seem alarmed.

"Dah. Dah," the guard finally said, gesturing for Arthur to help him. Arthur went to his knees on the ice, horrified to see that he was correct; it somehow was Merlin there...Merlin with a new, bloody hole torn into his left shoulder. One guard was attempting to untie the ropes around him.

"Barbaric," Arthur snapped, gritting his teeth. But he slid his arms under Merlin and grimly helped ease him off the ice, making it easier for the guard to get him out of the ropes.

"You were right, Arthur. How in the bloody hell did he get here?" Leon was shaking his head, though his eyes were taking in more of the arena than just the body on the ice as he approached, Gwaine right on his heels.

"Magic?" Arthur said with vehement frustration, feeling slightly unhinged as he cradled Merlin's head on his arm. Blood smeared on Arthur's sleeve, evidence of another injury to concern him.

"Doesn't look like a kill shot, though. Is he breathing?" Elyan said, after giving the prone man a quick study. Arthur hesitated, unsure whether he'd be able to assess better by listening for a heartbeat in all the chaos or by feeling Merlin's chest move.

Gwaine bent down quickly and placed a steady hand on Merlin's chest. "Yes. He's breathing."

Relief sluiced through Arthur's body. Now all they had to do was get Merlin back to the infirmary...

One Russian guard was tugging Arthur's sleeve, gesturing for him to back off. It was as Arthur gently laid Merlin's head on the ice, ready to insist on immediate care for his friend who was not a criminal, that several things happened at once.

Merlin's eyes snapped open. The usual serene blue, still bloodied in one eye, was now burnished with a strange golden glow.

"What the actual..." Gwaine trailed off. Arthur had time for a few seconds of confused wonder before a strident voice rang out from the stands, cutting short his thoughts.

By this time, most of the audience had emptied out, leaving only a few stragglers to be escorted out by security. It appeared that the guards were in control of the situation, but then again, the guards seemed to be deferring to one man. This man, dressed in a suit and tie, called down to the rink in deep, booming Russian, his venomous gaze fixed on Arthur.

The Sochi guards by Arthur's side suddenly snapped to attention and turned their gaze up the man, listening to his tirade.

"Someone's off his meds," Gwaine said tensely, rising. "Definitely need to get out of here."

Elyan pushed his way in front of Arthur, blocking him from the stands and raising a hand before calling up in halting Russian. After a moment, he turned his head to them, "Damn it. That's Gordon Topolski. Lost to your father in the old days; must still hate him."

"You think? Why are you just now figuring this out?" Leon asks tensely.

"Uther didn't want to believe it was him! Topolski's been helping...donating supplies, showering praise on the English competitors...it didn't seem to make sense!"

"Doesn't matter. Help me with Merlin," Arthur snapped to Gwaine. Elyan called back up to the man, the Russian sounding soothing in his voice.

"Don't suppose you know why Merlin's eyes are glowing gold?" Gwaine asked Arthur as soon as he got into position.

"No time for questions," Arthur snapped, his arms sliding under Merlin's neck and lower back. "Just pick him up."

Gwaine slid his arms under Merlin's knees. "Where's Percival when we need him, eh?"

"Hurry, you two," Leon said. "I have the most uncomfortable feeling that we are about to be shot."

"Lift on three," Arthur began, but just then the man's voice rose to a shriek and the guards turned to surround Arthur and his friends, their rifles covering all of them. Arthur didn't bother trying to raise his hands. There was no way they were threatening him because they thought he was dangerous. They were aiming to kill. This was it.

Arthur's mind scrambled to pull out a proper response to imminent death, and he suddenly thought of his friends.

"Move away, Gwaine," Arthur snapped, desperately hoping to spare them.

"Go to hell, Arthur."

"Leon-"

"Don't even try," Leon whispered back.

Arthur tightened his lips, moving Gwaine and Leon mentally up on his friend's list into the "would-die-for-you" category, a list that was growing surprisingly longer by the day.

"Why don't we all just calm down," Gwaine began as he stood and faced the nearest guard, getting a vicious crack across the face with the butt of a rifle for his trouble. Elyan whipped around, saw the guns in position on Arthur and brought his own Glock up. A shot to the shoulder took him out. He went over and the gun went sliding. Leon made a move for the firearm and another shot pierced his hand as he reached out. Leon howled in agony and curled up over his hand.

Arthur couldn't breathe. Suddenly there were four guards with guns pointed at him and four of his friends bleeding on the ice.

Heart pounding, Arthur raised his hands away from Merlin just in case it made any difference, but the unflinching gaze of the guard above him told him that his seconds were numbered.

Something hardened in Arthur. The man in the stands started barking orders again and Arthur turned to face him, slowly moving to his feet. He refused to die on his knees, and the shifting expressions of the guards showed that they didn't know whether to allow him this show of strength or not.

There was a long pause, long enough for Arthur's hands to grow clammy and long enough to regret leaving life unfinished and to wish that he'd studied Russian as Merlin had, because he literally had no idea why he was about to die. All he knew now, with every fiber of his being was that this man, the raging man with the dark face of doom, was behind it all- the hatred, the threats and the attacks. His name might or might not be Topolski, and how ridiculous was it that Arthur didn't even know for sure who held his life in his hands?

And maybe it was at that moment that Arthur's mind snapped. It must have at some point, because after a whisper of movement and four sharp reports, everything melted into a dream...

And in this dream, instead of the instant pain Arthur expected, there was warmth and safety and a golden glow that permeated him to his core. Each moment stretched-out, luxurious in its impossible existence.

Arthur waited in vain for the shots to impact, but instead they seemed, in slow motion, to bounce off the glow that surrounded Arthur. Two of the bullets returned to hit the very guards who were trying to kill him, and blood splattered the ice in a slow, soundless splash as the men fell.

Despite himself, Arthur turned to watch as the remaining two guards refocused their rifles on him, confusion evident on their faces. Above, the man's voice thundered on, stretched out of sense and meaning. He was telling them to shoot, but they were afraid; they must have been afraid; who wouldn't be afraid in the face of such impossible happenings?

Arthur looked down to see Merlin's eyes continuing to glow golden, the same color as the "shield" around him. There was no other explanation. The only thing keeping him alive was...once again...Merlin?

Shaking his head, Arthur pulled his gaze up to the guards, hoping against hope that they would relent. But it was not to be.

Once again, they fired.

This time, Arthur watched in fascination as the glow again acted like a shield, the bullets ricocheting farther, sent in an unerring, though slow path for the man in the stands. The man's eyes grew wide as he saw death approaching, raising only a single, ineffective hand to stop the bullets. They tore through him, ultimately throwing him back out of Arthur's view.

The golden glow faded.

The guards ran.

Merlin's eyes closed and Arthur fell, exhausted, to his knees.

Merlin wakes when the hum of noise around him grows too loud to ignore. It's a strange sort of hum, loud, but smooth. The bed dips beneath him, making Merlin's stomach swoop uncomfortably. When the bed straightens out again, Merlin's mind finally comes up with an answer for the strange movement and noise: he's on an airplane.

"There you are again," a dry voice says beside him. "Are you really awake this time? Because I refuse to explain it all over again."

Merlin's mind throws out a name: Arthur, Arthur Jamieson, the famous ice skater that Gwen blathers on about, the one who'd been interviewed constantly and been on his way to getting his gold at the Olympics.

Which Merlin had been at, right? But what...what happened? His mind was working so slowly...

There was the noise of something clicking and rustling and clacking before Arthur spoke again. "Although you are very amusing when you're muddle-headed."

Was Arthur speaking to him? Why on earth would he...oh...right. Merlin vaguely remembered befriending Arthur and well, insulting him, too. And then...gunfire?

"Come on, let's have you, lazy daisy. There's no need to keep pretending you're asleep. You've slept through the worst of it."

And even though Merlin hasn't known Arthur that long, he can still hear the warm amusement in the man's voice. It settles the flurries in Merlin's stomach, reassures him that whatever has happened wasn't all that terrible. Right? He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, opening his eyes and trying to remember. Second by second, his vision is sharpening, and he finally finds the smug countenance of bloody Arthur Jamieson.

"You've got something of a knack for it, you know, a talent for escaping difficult situations," the man says with a wide smile. "You've slept through the entire media firestorm, the awkward explanations, the medal ceremonies... everything."

Merlin blinked. Medal ceremonies? But...even the curling, which he suddenly remembered that he should have been at?

"Bugger," he managed to croak out, then winced at the dryness in his throat.

"More water?" Arthur said with an exaggerated air of annoyance. "Some people are so needy."

But the hands that helped Merlin sit up were gentle, and the cup placed to his lips stayed with a patience that surprised him. But the pain surprised him as well, and as the fog cleared from his mind, the agony in his head and shoulder and hand blossomed. The next sound he made as he was laid back down was a disappointingly hearty moan instead of the intelligent, coherent question on the tip of his tongue. Really.

"So how long have you known you were magic?"

Merlin's eyes sprung back open wide and his thoughts flew apart. "What? But...I...what- you... am I?"

"So it would seem. Which makes me slightly relieved that GB still won the silver in curling without you on the team. Otherwise, we'd always wonder, wouldn't we?"

"I would never cheat," Merlin replied hotly, or at least as angrily as he could manage before groaning again.

"Take it easy. I've already pressed the button to alert them that we need help back here. We're about halfway home from Russia. Figured that we had better get you out of there before they decided to detain you for magical testing of some sort."

Arthur's gaze grew serious as he laced his fingers together, then looked up at Merlin. "It's a good thing you were already shot and on the ground unconscious at the time. The impossible shield that saved my life was passed off as cutting edge British technology instead of bloody brilliant magic. My father's name came in handy then, as an excuse for why I would be given such protection." Arthur smiled wanly. "But you really don't need to hear about all of this right now. Merlin, you saved my life...again, somehow. I don't understand it and I can't decide whether I want to reward you for your loyalty or kick you in the arse for being so pig-headed about your own safety. It's a toss-up at this point."

"Might I recommend the reward option," Merlin whispered, "might play better for the press."

Arthur grinned and patted Merlin's knee. "Always so concerned with one's image, Merlin. I never would have guessed. But yes, I believe that my father has quite the reward in mind for you, something about a ceremonial knighting ceremony with one of those ridiculous titles attached, something that might change your life forever. But that can wait. First, we have to get you healed and settled. Father has gotten the best surgeon money can buy, awaiting you at the Wellington where you have a luxurious private suite. Then, once you're up to it, I believe the press will want to interview the man who saved my life."

"Oh!" Merlin gasped, suddenly remembering that he had escaped the infirmary, put on a white coverall and stopped Arthur from skating during the most important program of his life. He reached out with his good hand and Arthur took it easily. "Did you get to skate? Did you win?"

Arthur smiled and reached back inside of the collar of his shirt. Using both hands, he pulled out a shiny medal on a long ribbon that had been hidden beneath his clothing. "I know I shouldn't be wearing it still. But then again, it feels wrong to take it off, something so important, as if it's already past due and inconsequential."

The medal seems to catch all the light streaming in from the windows, making it glow with an almost blinding brilliance.

"It's gold," Merlin whispers.

"Yes. Thanks to you, Merlin, it is."