With a sigh, he took the reigns and nudged the horse onwards.

To Camelot.

.

.

.

Chapter 7

In a blur, sorrow and guilt fighting for their rightful place, Arthur passed through the gates of Camelot. The prince's thoughts were dark and he mused that Merlin was returning home for the last time.

Back.

They'd made it back.

The night was deceivingly bright, a beautiful full moon sang to the empty, blue, courtyard. Almost empty.

At the corner where Gwaine's horse turned left, towards the home Gaius and Merlin had shared, Leon waited. In the cold light, he could have been a statue of a mounted knight. Without saying a word, Leon fell in directly behind Arthur. One set of hooves became two.

.

.

.

As one, Arthur and Leon slid from their mounts. Arthur nearly managed with Merlin across his chest, trying mightily before going down on one knee. Leon was at his side in the blink of an eye—still as silent as he knew Arthur needed him to be. Knowing better than to try and ease the prince's burden, the knight braced Arthur by an elbow, helping him to his feet again. He then backed away with a nod.

.

.

.

The boys entered the damp little candle-lit space. Arthur wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. Gaius appeared to be working, back to the door. Only the physician's slowness and shake in his hands hinted he knew the truth. For a moment Arthur had feared that Leon had not told the court physician that Merlin was gone. He needn't have worried.

.

.

.

"Arthur." Gaius' quiet voice startled the prince back into the moment.

He said nothing, what was there to say?

Finally Gaius looked up from his work.

.

.

.

Oh, he knew. Sorrow was etched into every line in his face, it was written in the shape of his mouth, the angle of his shoulders, the clench of his hands, and Gaius' eyes—they radiated shocking loss.

"Arthur." Gaius' voice did not match the rest of his being; he sounded quiet and surprisingly calm. "Please sire. Please Arthur, lay him…" Gaius took a second to re-steady his voice "lay Merlin on the bed. At the fire."

Arthur did as he was told, arms screaming in agony as Merlin's weight left them. With his head bowed Arthur backed away as Gaius stepped up to the cot. Arthur's vision swam with unshed tears. With a start, Arthur backed into a stool against the far wall. After quietly closing the door he'd come by, Arthur sat silently on the hard and unforgiving seat. Gaius would have some questions of him he'd no doubt.

.

.

.

Dear Camelot—Arthur realized with a sinking stomach—the old physician thought he was alone after hearing the door shut. Gaius was speaking to Merlin. His voice low, nearly moaning, back quivering. Mourning. Arthur wanted to dissolve into the floor boards. Instead he settled for sitting perfectly still and staring at his hands—mouth twisting with the effort to hold himself together. Staring at Merlin's dry blood on his hands. Gaius' anguished cry yanked Arthur's head up as if on a string.

Never, in all his days would the prince forget the image he saw.

.

.

.

Gaius was sitting on the edge of the bed, back to Arthur. He'd eased Merlin to a sitting position, and was desperately grasping at the boy, holding Merlin to his shaking shoulder. Merlin's arms dangled limply—dead eyes still open, his head lolled grotesquely at Gaius' neck. As Gaius held his adoptive son tightly, his wail could have broken stone.

It was so horrible Arthur sobbed out loud before he had time to cover his mouth. Dear gods—this was his fault. Arthur's fault.

.

.

.

Unseeing, unhearing, Gaius groped for and caught one of Merlin's limp arms. Gaius gently pulled Merlin's arm around his own shoulder—wanting, needing, an embrace. One more embrace from his good, fine, boy.

.

.

.

Merlin thought…no, Merlin knew this to be the worst moment he'd ever experienced. For all he'd hoped that maybe Gaius had some secret fix to this wee problem of being deceased—dead was permanent. Gaius knew this better than most. Merlin'd known Gaius would be sad…but this was so much more terrible than he could have imagined. Gaius was suffering.

And Arthur.

From his view over Gaius' shoulder, Merlin saw Arthur. Saw him try to catch his sob and fail.

Anguish.

Anguish was the word that came to Merlin's mind. Arthur, the strong and resilient prince of Camelot was truly crying now, one hand pressed hard over his mouth and the other fisted in his bloody lap.

.

.

.

.

Forcing himself to watch, Arthur bore witness. Gaius' embrace was short lived as Merlin's arm slid from his shoulder. The young servant's head dropped back, and Gaius tenderly placed his shaking hand into that shock of dark hair, gently bringing Merlin's face into his shoulder.

"Shhh…" he whispered, voice choked with emotion. "Shhh now my boy. Oh, my dear boy." As Gaius quieted, Arthur's sounds found their way across the small room. With a start, Gaius turned towards the prince. He'd no idea the boy was still there, slumped on the work stool. He could not find it in himself to care.

.

.

.

After a time, more than a moment, Gaius became conscious that the prince was suffering as well. He knew Merlin would want Arthur cared for in…in his absence.

"Sire."

Arthur looked up, eyes speaking quite clearly.

"Sire. You shouldn't…you don't have to be here. You've brought Merlin home, and I thank you for that."

A look of confusion knit Arthur's brows, "Where would you have me go?"

To that there was no answer.

Carefully, Gaius lowered Merlin back to the bed. They sat in silence for what seemed forever.

.

.

.

The moon had passed its zenith and was working its way across the sky. The night would not last forever. One way or another, there would be a tomorrow.

.

.

.

Finally Gaius pulled his eyes from his ward and looked to Arthur, who had settled in—elbows on knees, staring into the fire.

"Arthur. It is time for you to go now." As Arthur moved to disagree, Gaius raised his hand. "Truly sire. You must rest and I would like some time."

With a pained nod, the prince jerkily rose. Then he was gone.

.

.

.

Gaius had also settled somewhat—horror and torment dulling down to a mere misery.

He had to know for sure, he had to check.

"My dear, dear boy." Gaius was not surprised to hear tears lingering in his voice "If you are still in there. If you have not found your way yet, don't be afraid Merlin. Everything will be all right."

Feeling a thousand years old, Gaius slowly stood. He doused the fire and drew the curtain before working his way to each candle, snuffing one after the other. Training darkness. He sat again with Merlin's cool body and blew out the last.

In the utter darkness Gaius leaned over his ward, feeling his way and looked into Merlin's eyes.

Gold.

There it was, the tiniest speck of gold.

"Oh Merlin…I'm so sorry this has happened to you. I should have explained, should have told you." Gaius fumbled for his words. "But I never knew, I never imagined…that you would…would pass."

Gaius sounded as old as he felt, speaking to those flecks of gold in the dark. "How could you Merlin? You've gone on without me. Much, much too soon."

After several ticks of silence, he pressed on. "I need you to know how much I care for you my boy. Before you go, you must understand. I love you Merlin. We all do. Your mother. The others. Gwen. Gwaine. Arthur." Gaius was crying again. It seemed misery was without end.

"As I close your eyes Merlin…"

Gaius' chest tightened painfully at the thought. He had to begin again.

"As I close your eyes, your soul will be free to move on from this body. Picture Balinor. And that wee girl you cared for and didn't think I knew." A tiny smile ghosted over Gaius' face at that.

"Also your friend Will. Picture each of them in your mind's eye Merlin and you will be there. With them. In Avalon."

With a shuddering breath, Gaius placed his thumbs over the cool dry lids and slowly closed Merlin's eyes. Gold winking out, a dying ember.

"Don't forget my boy…" his voice seemed farther and farther off to Merlin "think of Avalon. Know how much you have been loved. Goodbye Merlin…..love you."

.

.

.

Merlin's windows to this world began to close, the blinds drawn. As Merlin thought of those he loved, one image would not leave him. One who needed Merlin.

.

.

.

Free.

Merlin's spirit was finally free. Separating from his ruined, pale, blood soaked form. The darkness of Gaius' home was replaced by slowly building light. Torch light.

.

.

.

to be continued…

ps…review please please please!