Merlin, the sneaky bastard that he was, had snuck out before Morgana could grab him and confront him about what Sarah had told her. She didn't think Sarah was lying but she couldn't quite believe that Merlin was a secret cutter. She didn't believe the mighty Emrys would try to end his immortal life when there were still innocent lives to be saved, fluffy puppies to rescue and the hope his King would arise. And anti-depressants? She shook her head; she didn't believe it, no matter what Sarah said she saw. She saw wrong or maybe she saw what Merlin had wanted her to see; perhaps it was all a ploy to play the part of the downtrodden. But to what end?

She trudged up the stairs to his flat, determined to get some answers and she vaguely thought if he was plotting something devious, she wanted in. Not that he would be.

She breezed into his flat and headed straight for the kitchen, ignoring him sitting on the couch reading Romeo and Juliet. She started opening and closing the kitchen cabinets loudly, not caring if she was disturbing him. Finding nothing in the kitchen, she went into the bathroom, ripped open the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of pills sitting innocently on the shelf. Never been open. Of course. She spun around and caught sight of the bathtub and suddenly an image of Merlin sitting in there, knees pulled up to his chest, arm resting on the side, blood drip, drip, dripping onto the floor assaulted her senses. All it did was piss her off.

She heard him stand up from the couch and come to stand in the doorway; "What are you doing?"

She glared at him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the bathroom, slamming him against the wall. She used her magic to hold him there, she knew he could get loose if he really wanted to but he stayed put as she ripped his t-shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, baring his skin to her.

She sucked in a breath at what she saw there. His chest was covered by an ugly scar that covered the place where his heart was. She wanted to punch him in his too pretty face. Instead she grabbed his wrists in her hands and raised them for closer inspection, they had several scars where he had sliced through his veins. She dropped his wrists like they were burning her, took a step back and glared at him; "Why would you do this?"

He raised his brows in surprise at the question then his face set in something close to anger. He took a step forward, shaking off her magic and closed the gap between them again, he used his height to look down at her; "What the hell do you care?"

She pressed a palm to his chest and pushed him back into the wall, "Because if anyone's going to be marring your flesh, it's going to be me."

His eyes narrowed and she saw a hint of gold for a moment before he pushed it back and he whispered; "Fuck off, Morgana."

"Tell me why!"

"Because I'm all alone!" He screamed and it made her jump and drop her hand from his chest, he glared at her as tears filled his eyes; "Is that what you want to hear? I'm alone. And it hurts," he smacked a hand to his chest; "It hurts all the time."

She had to look away, she'd never been able to deal with looking at the intensity of his gaze, it was like looking directly at the midday sun.

"Merlin," she said softly, "You can't kill yourself, you're immortal."

"I know!" She could feel his gaze on her, could almost feel his calculating; "But you can."

Her gaze flew back to his; "What?"

He nodded but it was more to himself than to her, as if he had decided on something; "Yes. You can, all we would need to do is get the sword or make another one out of the dragon's breath. You could do it." His voice had taken on a faraway quality, like his body was in the room with her but his mind had fled.

Morgana did the only thing she could think of: she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. She vaguely wondered as she was doing it if those cheekbones of his would cut her. He clutched his face in his hand and looked at her as if that was the biggest betrayal she had ever committed against him.

"I'm not helping you commit suicide, you idiot."

"Morgana," he said her name bitterly, with none of reverence he once had, "I would have thought you would have relished the idea of taking my life."

It was true, once she would have but she was trying to make up for her mistakes, to have the family and friends she had once so craved, to make the most of her second chance and not waste it on revenge and quests for power. She raised her hand to hit him again but he caught her wrist in his hand; "You only get one, Morgana."

She was trapped both in his gaze and in his clutch, his fingers tightening around her wrist. This was how they'd always been, push and pull, both as stubborn as each other. She slapped him with the other hand. And smirked as he released her with a slight push.

"Has the almighty Emrys finally lost his mind?" She sneered, provoking him to anger. Anger, rage, fury she could deal with it meant he was feeling something. And she was good at provoking those feelings from him. She'd perfected it.

Blue eyes flashed to gold and she was flying back landing with a thud against the side of the bathtub, he stared down at her, chest heaving, too many emotions for her to identify in his eyes; "You lost yours first."

"Then we're both fucked, aren't we?" She answered and used her magic to swipe his feet from under him and he came stumbling down to the floor in front of her. She preferred it like this, when they were both on the same level.

Morgana leant her cheek against the cool ceramic of the bath as Merlin kept his head ducked and looked up at her through his lashes; "Why won't you just let me go, Morgana, help me end this life of misery?"

"Because Merlin, you're not done yet, you have to be there when your precious King Arthur rises. Only you can help him adjust to this world. So get your shit together," She waved her hand in the air, "Whatever this depressive funk is about, you need to snap the hell out of it."

He laughed bitterly then as quickly as his laughter started, it stopped, he leaned forward and grasped her chin in his fingers, too tightly to ever be mistaken for tenderness; "Don't you get it? He's not coming back. It's been a thousand years. He is not coming back."

They stared at each other, neither one willing to back down and she wondered when had he become such a defeatist, the Merlin she remembered was full of boyish optimism. It seemed the years had jaded him as much as they had jaded her.

She sighed and pushed him back a lot gentler than she'd previously been treating him, stood and walked out of the bathroom, leaving him sitting on the floor.

"Where are you going?" He called after her.

"I'm starving. I'm going to order a pizza," She replied as she sat on the couch. She heard movement and knew he was skulking in the doorway, watching her; "We can fight with each other later, Merlin, let's just eat."

There was a beat of silence before he sighed heavily and sank down onto the couch beside her, "I don't want to fight with you, Morgana, I never did."

She turned her head to look at him but he was staring straight ahead, she reached out to run a finger down his cheek which was red from where she'd slapped him but then she thought better of it and withdrew her hand and instead said; "So, don't."