(A/N: I need to say a massive thank you to O, my beta who helped me get through this fic. It took ages to write, but she kept me on track and pointed out my plot holes. Any remaining mistakes are totally mine!

I don't have experience with this sort of mental illness, and I did do research, but if you feel I've misrepresented anything, or that anything I've written is offensive, please don't hesitate to let me know. I'd rather you told me than went away disgruntled!)

(Present day)

"Arthur Pendragon to see Merlin Emrys."

The receptionist types a couple things into the computer, eyes flicking over the screen in front of her. She grabs a visitor's pass from a pile and pushes it across the desk with a signing in sheet.

"Here you are, sir. Sign in and it's just through those doors there. One of the wardens will take you to him."

"Thank you." Arthur knows the protocol and where he's going. He's done it before, too many times before. He scrawls his signature along with the time and clips the pass onto the lapel of his suit jacket. He didn't have time to change out of his work clothes.

A warden he recognises, Emily, he thinks, meets him and they stride along the white corridor in silence. The whole place is eerily silent. It's visiting hours, so most of the patients are in their rooms, instead of the day room. They come to a halt outside one of the many doors lining the hall they're in, and Emily holds it open for him. Arthur steps inside, thanking her with a nod and a small smile. She smiles kindly in reply and props the door open as she walks away. 'Damn protocol,' Arthur thinks bitterly. Crossing the room in three strides he sits down on the bed.

Merlin looks up at him from where he's huddled in the corner by the headboard, like he's only just realised Arthur has walked in. His eyes brighten a little in recognition and he reaches out his hand from where it was curled around his knees, close to his chest, searching for Arthur's.

Their fingers meet and clasp each other tightly, revelling in the warmth of each other's grip.

"Hey," Arthur whispers into the silence with affection in his voice, as light and playful as he always tries to be. Merlin smiles at him a little, quiet as usual. For the thousandth time Arthur wonders if he did the right thing, bringing Merlin here. It's a niggling worry at the back of his mind, renewed every time he visits. He squashes it, like he does every time, telling himself that this was the only option he'd had. Besides, Merlin had always been quiet. This was no different than normal.

"The doctor said you're making good progress. You should be able to come home soon. That's good, isn't it?" Arthur tries to encourage a conversation, forcing himself to sound positive. It is good news after all, so why shouldn't he share it with Merlin?

"Yeah." Merlin breathes the word so quietly that Arthur nearly misses it.

"I'm so proud of you Merlin. You're doing so well. Just keep going, we'll get there."

"Yeah."

So it was one of those days. Well, at least they were preferable to the days when all he did was cry, or shout, or try to convince Arthur to break up with him. Arthur could deal with these moods. He reached out to cup the pale man's face in his strong hands, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Hey, Merlin, I mean it. We'll get through this together. Because I love you."

He says it very matter-of-factly, and then steals a quick kiss on the lips, although it's nothing like the ones they used to share. Merlin doesn't respond, but he lets himself be pulled close to Arthur, and he curls up against his side, arms sliding under the suit jacket to cling around his torso. Arthur shivers slightly. Merlin's bare arms are cold and bony, but he doesn't complain. He rubs his hand up and down Merlin's back, comforting and soothing.

He's so absorbed in this repetitive motion that he almost doesn't catch what Merlin says, his words slurred by encroaching sleep.

"I miss you," he whispers before his head droops onto Arthur's chest, his eyes closed.

Arthur kisses the top of his head, murmuring the same words back to his boyfriend, even though he can't hear them. His hand is still rubbing Merlin's back, and he doesn't let it stop, in case its ceasing will wake him up.

He does miss Merlin. He misses the way he used to laugh, his eyes crinkling up and his mouth open wide in a grin. He misses his bed hair, how it would stick up at comical angles until Merlin saw himself in the mirror and hurried to brush it. He misses the meals they would cook for one another. He misses their ritual movie nights. He misses cuddling on the sofa. He misses goodnight kisses and sleepy morning sex. But most of all, he just misses Merlin. His Merlin, the one who loved him just as much as he loved him back.

He loses track of time as his mind wanders, lost in memories of a happier time, and sighs heavily when he hears the night warden's squeaky footsteps approaching the room. But he still doesn't let go of Merlin, not until the very last second, when the warden actually enters the room, holding Merlin's meds.

Merlin glares at the pills resentfully, but he doesn't make a fuss when he is told to swallow them down. The shadows under his eyes haven't been helped by his nap in Arthur's safe embrace. He hugs goodbye as he stands up. It's time to leave. The night warden signifies the end of visiting hours.

Arthur whispers into Merlin's ear before pulling away.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love."

One final squeeze and he leaves the room, joining the other visitors who are making their way down the corridor to sign out and return home.

Pulling away in his car, Arthur glares at the words he can see in his wing mirror. It was a necessary evil perhaps, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He stares at the sign for as long as he can read it.

Camelot Psychiatric Hospital.