Twenty days ago...

"How did you do it?"

"Well, between Gwaine and Merlin, the nurses have their attentions occupied for a bit."

"And I suppose Lance knows nothing of this?"

"Guinevere has taken Lance to the cafe. She promised she will try to make him eat. As far as he is concerned, we are still in your room, watching Midsomer Murders."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Ten. Then I am taking you back inside."

"I'm fine."

"I know you are. But, for my sake, would you put this jacket on?"

"On top of three you have bundled me with? Fine."

Arthur put the jacket over Morgana's shoulder, seeing that it would not fit through the sleeves. She was already cocooned in three sheepskin jacket and could barely fit into her wheelchair. Nevertheless, she allowed the extra layer. After all, Arthur had broken a handful of hospital rules for her and the least she could is comply with his simple request. Arthur was marginally happier; if he was uncomfortable, he did not show it. He was worried, that much was obvious; for Morgana's wellbeing and also for being caught doing something that clearly would not endear him much to the hospital's medical staff and his own father.

But it was risk Arthur was willing to take. Morgana never asks much from him and in the rare occasions when she does, Arthur has never denied her. Two days ago, she had asked Arthur for chance to see the night sky. He had brought a brand new telescope the next day. Morgana had told him, when they were alone in the ward that it was not what she meant.

Arthur was startled when he realized what Morgana really wanted. When they were children, they would climb up to the roof, through Morgana's window, and lie there to watch the stars. Morgana, obsessed with the stars and an amateur astronomer back in the day, knew every constellation and would point out each to her stepbrother. Arthur would feign sleep pretending to be bored, although he had been impressed with Morgana's ability to make something out of what seemed like interstellar clutter to him. It was a cherished summer ritual that continued until Morgana banned Arthur from entering her room, an inevitable drawback of growing up. Morgana had never mentioned astronomy to Arthur until that day. It was enough for Arthur to feel obliged to let his little sister see the stars.

Arthur agreed, knowing that the plan could only be carried out illegally. He enlisted the help of Merlin and Gwaine and made a concession with Morgana; no roof. Morgana agreed, albeit reluctantly. A secluded spot in the hospital's west courtyard was chosen, it was far from any busy corridors and had no trees obstructing the view. Morgana was in the private ward and was allowed visitors until eleven in the evening, so all they needed to do was give provide Arthur with cover so that he could wheel her out to the courtyard. On any other time, Arthur would have felt a thrill, though he would be hard pressed to admit, of breaking rules. But as he wheeled Morgana out to the courtyard, all he felt was the foreboding thought at the back of his mind. The one that told him this might just be one of the last things Morgana asks of him.

"I'm ready," Morgana said, looking up at Arthur, looking very determined. Arthur nodded and lifted Morgana from the wheelchair, trying to ignore the dissolving lump in his throat. He then knelt down and gently placed Morgana on the air mattress Gwaine and Merlin had placed at the chosen spot a little earlier. Morgana sank into the mattress, sighing, as Arthur helped her to lie on her back. Arthur's pants were ruined by the grass, but he did not notice. All he saw was Morgana's eyes lighting up with delight as she looked up at the sky. Tears stung his eyes and Arthur blinked it away. He just needed hang on to his emotions for a bit; Morgana was happy, he was not going to spoil it by crying in front of her.

"Come on, Arthur," Morgana said, patting the bit of space next to her. Arthur smiled, not needing a second prompting. He got onto the mattress and lay next to Morgana; both Pendragons with their hands clasped over their stomachs, shoulders touching. They lay for a moment without speaking; Morgana savouring the moment, Arthur hoping that the next ten minutes would stretch for as long as it infinitely could.

"It's always the same, isn't it?" Morgana said, her eyes savouring each star, tracing the imaginary patterns. It was a question that needed no answer from Arthur. Silence fell between them again; the only sound was of Morgana's slightly laboured breathing.

"And that is how it is supposed to be," Morgana said after a few moments. "We are so vain, thinking that everything changes when we do, but everything always remains the same."

"Someone must have slipped a philosophy pill into your medication today," Arthur said, willing his lips to curve into a smile when it was trembling, a precursor to something else entirely.

Morgana replied to this by dropping her arms over Arthur's torso. Arthur actually winced; Morgana's arm, bundled into the jacket sleeves, was quite heavy.

"Nothing changes, Arthur," Morgana continued, as Arthur took her hand into his, partly because he did not want her to hit him again, mostly because he wanted to. "All the important things always stay the same. Even after..."

Arthur squeezed her hand in an attempt to stop her from finishing the statement. Of course she would want to talk about this, but Arthur was not ready...he would never be.

Morgana must have understood. Maybe it was difficult to talk about it as well. "And that is how it should be. I am no more significant than a huge ball of gas burning billion of miles away from here."

"Except that you are," Arthur replied quietly.

Morgana smiled, turning her head to face Arthur. "You have always spoiled me."

"You call it spoiling," Arthur said, turning to his stepsister, smiling. "It was more like arm-twisting at its highest form. Dear God, the tantrums you would throw if you did not get things your way."

Morgana chuckled, punching Arthur's shoulder. But she did not deny his claims; Morgana grew up a princess in the Pendragon household. Morgause, twelve years older, had been studying in a boarding school and although Uther adopted her as well, she never really wielded as much influence as Morgana, who was three when Uther married her mother. Arthur was six when he was introduced to Morgana and gave his approval when she gave him a marble and a half-dead cricket. They became inseparable and when Morgana's mother passed away three years later, it was Arthur who told Morgana to stop crying, showing her a picture of his mother and telling the little girl that both their mothers were together, looking down at them from the stars. Morgana was the closest Arthur would call family; his own father was a distant man who did not believe in prolonged emotional connection with his children. And Arthur was the only family Morgana knew, until the rest of them came into their lives.

"Even so, I never really got everything I wanted," Morgana remarked, turning back to the stars.

"Morgana..." Arthur began, but Morgana squeezed his hand in hers, indicating that she was not talking of the darker things blighting their lives.

"There is always one thing I wish would change."

Arthur was almost afraid to ask Morgana what it was. He did not have any of the answers when it came to Morgana and her illness. He did not want to give her wrong answers, or, God forbid, false ones. Before he could ask her what it was, she spoke, her voice quiet.

"I wish Guinevere had a change of address," she said, almost to herself. "A London address."

Arthur smiled. He took Morgana's hand and kissed it. "So do I."

"It's not just for you," Morgana told him. "But for the rest of us as well. Guinevere needs something solid to hold her here. Unfortunately, you are her choice."

"Could you be any more annoying?" Arthur asked, indignant. "I am a fantastic choice."

"Actually, Guinevere and I had this little talk regarding you guys..."

"I don't want to know."

"And Lance, I am proud to admit, is ranked number one in terms of looks..."

"Not listening."

"You are actually fourth, behind Gwaine and Merlin..."

"Not listening...WHAT? That is absurd! I refuse to accept to accept that!"

The sound of Morgana's laughter filled the empty courtyard. Arthur was pouting, pretending to sulk, while Morgana assured him the list was inconclusive, since Merlin could sprout into gorgeousness at any time; something that Arthur was compelled to point out that he never want to hear again. The siblings argued about the list, forgetting hospitals and wards and illnesses momentarily. It was a slice of old times. Arthur cherished every heartbeat of that moment. And made a silent promise that he will make sure everything remains the same, with the bit of change Morgana wanted.

=X=X=X=

They christened the tortoise Travis and decided that it should be released into the wild. This was due to Arthur purchasing just one tortoise instead of a pair, so Travis risked loneliness. There was a consensus that Travis has a better chance surviving in the wild rather than in the same environment as Merlin. A stroke of inspiration and Travis would be swimming in cobalt blue, something that none of them wanted. An animal does not need that sort of stress. Gwaine volunteered to release it into the pond at the park near his house; Guinevere and Merlin offered to go with him. Arthur toasted their wine to Travis, who had been instrumental in bringing Guinevere home. After dinner, they took a group photo with Travis. The excitement must have been a little too much for the tortoise because Travis retreated into its shell and was never seen again for the rest of the evening, even after Merlin enticed it with a particularly succulent slice of strawberry.

An hour after dinner, Guinevere excused herself to her room, citing luggage that needed her attention and friends in Rome who needed explanation on her sudden return to London. Gwaine claimed he had a trial to prepare for and was soon deep into studying a thick law book; showing off both his enterprise and ambidexterity as he scribbled notes on a legal pad using both his hands. He wore a pair of black-rimmed spectacles, one that has never been seen outside of his house, or discussed anywhere in public because Gwaine had a reputation to maintain, one that included perfect vision. Merlin was on the sofa with him, sketchbook in one hand and a piece of charcoal on the other. He was supposed to be sketching, but since he had been awake for more than forty hours, he had dozed off with his head on Gwaine's shoulder and the charcoal in his hand making a mess on the brocade sofa covers.

Arthur and Lance took the bottle of wine Lance had brought along to the patio outside the living room; both of them relishing the chance to be outdoors even if it was dark. It finally stopped raining and with the clouds cleared, it was a rather bright evening, even if it was just a little chilly. The patio was illuminated by the lights from the living room and half a moon straining against the inky night sky.

Arthur and Lance talked of the appalling weather, clearing customs in Rome and the Indian sweet Gwaine's housekeeper had served for pudding; normal everyday conversation topics. If both felt as if they were skating around the important things that they should really be talking about, they did not show it. Arthur was just glad Lance came for dinner. He did have his apprehensions; thinking that Lance would call up and tell them he would not be able to make it for dinner. When Lance announced himself at five minutes to seven, Arthur was glad to be wrong.

It had been ten days since the funeral and this was the first time Arthur was seeing Lance outside his flat. Lance had lost considerable weight and there was a haunted look on his face that pained Arthur to see. He did not look at any of the photographs in the house, apprehensive perhaps of seeing one with Morgana in it. Arthur knew all of them tried not let Lance feel as if he was alone in a room full of people; he also knew that there were certain things that none of them individually or collectively, could ever compensate for. Arthur could not even begin to fathom the loneliness that Lance must be feeling and decided that Lance was undoubtedly the strongest of them all. He showed considerable strength when he removed them one by one from Morgana's graveside after the funeral. He showed dignity in mourning and it was because of his strength that each of them had survived leaving Morgana behind in the churchyard.

They sat on iron wrought chairs outside the patio door, the bottle of wine between them on an upturned flowerpot. There was a lull in their conversation, as both contemplated the unkempt garden ahead of them. Arthur poured out more wine for the both of them, trying not to think too much of the bottle of wine Lance had brought along. It was one of the dozen from the case Arthur remembers his father giving to Lance and Morgana on their second anniversary.

"So, how do you feel?"

Arthur was snapped out of his reverie by Lance's query. He turned to his friend, disbelief on his face. He could not help thinking the question was a bit misplaced, that he, Arthur, should be asking the question to Lance, not the other way around. Lance looked at Arthur, waiting for an answer, as he took his wine glass. He clinked his glass to Arthur's before taking a drink.

"Isn't that question supposed to be mine?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice light.

"I asked you first," Lance replied, causing Arthur to smile. Arthur has never won any arguments with Lance before and things look as if it is not going to change anytime soon.

Arthur took a drink of his wine before giving his answer. "Right now, I just want to run upstairs and make sure that Guinevere is really here," he said, looking at the clump of grasses invading the edge of the stone patio. "It feels almost unbelievable."

Lance smiled when he heard Arthur's answer. "Took you long enough," he remarked. "Now that you are happily settled with Guinevere, what have you to say to us for putting up with years of your frustrations?"

"I was never frustrated," Arthur said, frowning, looking at Lance again.

"You were about as charming as a bear with colic," Lance told him. "Walking around sulking and snapping at everything and everyone. You were unbearable, mate. And then you would bring another unbearable girl…"

"Water under the bridge," Arthur remarked, with a wave of his hand, wanting to quickly close the topic. He knew what Lance said was true and he did not particularly want to talk off the Dark Ages…the three years of his life when Guinevere was in Rome.

"Maybe for you," Lance said, the humour in his voice indicating his joy in teasing his friend. "The only reason we didn't kill you was out of sympathy for Guinevere."

"You guys are mad."

"Appreciation duly noted," Lance replied.

Arthur laughed, amazed at not only the comeback, but the fact his grieving friend could still find a way to make him laugh.

"How about you, mate?" Arthur asked, once his laughter died down. "How are you?"

Lance put the glass of wine on the ground next to his chair. "I guess I could say that today is a good day. I don't know how it will be tomorrow. I am just taking this one day at a time. I too just want to run inside and see if I could find Morgana inside. It is like a waking dream."

Arthur put his glass down and leaned over towards Lance. "We are here, mate."

"Yeah," Lance voice was hoarse, as if he was holding back his emotions. "I know."

"And Morgana's with you as well," Arthur said, his voice quiet and gentle. It may not be the best thing to say to Lance, but it was the truth. Arthur believed it so. "She's always with us, mate."

Lance acknowledged Arthur's statement with a smile, a rather sad one, but a smile nonetheless. He looked up at the sky above him. Arthur followed his gaze. With the rainclouds gone, the night sky was splashed with clusters of stars; each just a ball of gas, spinning millions and millions of miles away, but to Arthur, its presence seemed reassuring. He blinked as his vision blurred. An image of him, Morgana and Guinevere laughing together flashed through his mind. They looked happy.

"I know," Lance replied. "But she's not going to be amused if she knows we are comparing her to a ball of gas."

Arthur laughed, turning to Lance. And saw, like him, Lance too had tears in his eyes. It was a long way before any of them could be fully healed, but the important thing was that they had each other.

And in that sense, nothing has really changed in their lives. Just as Morgana said it wouldn't.

=X=X=X=