"We should stop here for the night, get some rest, and start out early," Lance suggested. His voice was calm, but his eyes conveyed the worries he had for his friend. In fact, he had been eyeing Marty as he spoke.

"Great! I'll get wood and a fire going. It'll be a nice camp out," Gavin said, heading off into the woods.

"I'll go with him," Eli said. Before there was a complaint, the dark man had left.

"I'll be back. We need water," Lance said, unaware that Brad and Marty had brought some. Soon, he was gone and had left Brad alone with Eli and Leo.

Bradley watched Gavin, Eli and then Lance walk out of the cave; all going for different things. It had been a very long day that was for sure, but fate somehow seemed to know better than everyone and it had brought them all together, just like old times only it wasn't.

Bradley may have been Arthur, but in the twenty-first century he wasn't a Prince so he had no real right to act like one. Sure, he wanted to go back home to his father, to his Camelot, to his royal birthright, who wouldn't in his position? However, he did have other people to think about not just himself; history be damned. If some of them didn't want to go back home then he certainly wouldn't force them to.

Kneeling down, Bradley removed all of the small twigs, sticks and pebbles he could find, tossing them in to a corner so when the fire was made everyone would be able to sit down on the ground without having to worry about being uncomfortable.

Gavin and Eli were the first to return from getting firewood. They set up a fire and got it going just as Lance returned. "Where's Marty?" he asked, looking around.

"I'm here. I have fish," Martin said, holding up a stick with fish. As Marty sat down and cleaned them, Lance smiled a little, despite himself and the situation.

Bradley watched Marty work, but he said nothing, giving the other man his space. They had talked for a very long time, going over the same things again and again. Marty was as pigheaded as ever and Bradley...he knew that he was just being stubborn in trying to convince his friend that he had done what he had had to do.

Not having a large enough pot, Marty put the stick-speared fish over the fire. As they cooked, he prepared the noodles. Marty didn't talk or say anything as he worked, although he was aware of wary eyes on him. With the food done, he served them all. Helping himself to food, he went over into a far corner and ate without saying a word.

Bradley and the others actually thanked Marty when he brought them their food; Percival even invited the warlock to sit with them, but obviously the younger man hadn't been up to it because he just went to a far corner of the cave. After he had eaten, Marty lay down on his side. Facing away from the group, he pulled his knees up and fell asleep. His brow was furrowed and lips pursed – even in rest, his mind wasn't at peace.

Gavin noticed and for a moment, he showed a bit of apprehension, but the guy didn't comment on it. Stretching, he yawned. "I think I'll do the same. Nothing like going to bed after a good meal," Gavin said instead as he lay down on the ground. The others nodded and rose up as well; following suit. They stayed away from Merlin, deciding to curl up side-by-side on the other side of the cave. Once everything was silent again the only two awake were Brad and Lance.

"Hey," Lance whispered, looking over at Marty. "He is so broken inside. He barely can keep it together and keep going. Everything he's gone through, it weighs so heavily on him."

Brad threw some more wood on to the fire, stirring it and making the flames burn higher for a moment. He then looked over at the sleeping warlock and even he could tell that the young man looked to be in distress; even in sleep. "I know. I honestly do not know how he is holding on right now," Bradley replied softly so as not to wake up the others.

Lance sighed as he picked up at stick. Fiddling with it, the man drew circles in the dirt. "He's holding on because he has to, not because he wants to," he whispered. "Marty's living because his body is strong. Guess he has good lugs and heart. Mentally I don't think he is holding on though. I think he's doing everything by rote. He does because he has to."

"What are we going to do? How can we help him?" Lance asked. "Do you think that going back is the right thing? They won't understand what's wrong or why he's acting like he is. They might think he's enchanted or something. I've seen it before, sadly."

Lance sat down beside Bradley. "It's more than what he did to Morgana though. He has a destiny. It's to protect you at any and all cost. His duty is to keep you alive so you can become King, unite Albion, and create a golden age. Destiny will do anything to make that happen, even if it means he lives from fatal wounds," he explained.

"Back in our world, he lost so much and had to hide so much. He lost his childhood friend, his lover, and his father. It was hard on him. He tried not to let on how much it troubled him. I wish I had known. Now, he feels like he failed us all. It's why he bolted. He's ashamed," Lance whispered. "Maybe reliving those losses here is what hurt him the worst. Why didn't Hunith take care of him when it was apparent he needed help? She seemed so loving."

Lance nodded to himself as he thought back on his and Merlin's friendship. "I think he hid more than he let on. There were times I knew there was more to the story, but he would never say anything. I don't think he liked lying and covering things. I think it all ate at him," he mused. "And when he got here, it still ate at him, but he didn't know why because he didn't remember."

Bradley sighed heavily. He knew about destiny, it had been drilled in to him every day. Destiny was probably the one good thing Uther had ever taught him; it had made him strong-willed and kind of heart, but now as he sat there staring in to the flames he wished that it wasn't his destiny to rule; to become King and unite Albion. Merlin had risked so much for him time and again and for what? So he could lose his childhood friend William? What about Freya and Balinor? None of them deserved to die. Bradley knew that he would give everything up in a millisecond if it meant Merlin could get them back.

"Hunith...I...can't speak ill of her. She is his mother after all. Back before everything happened she was great, but when we were all brought here...she became someone more; someone with power and I think that got to her. It gets to everyone eventually." Bradley said.

Lance raised his eyebrows. "But, you want to, don't you," asked the man. "I sense there is something more happening here."

"Of course I want to Lance! Hunith...what she did to Merlin in this time line...it really is inexcusable no matter what the circumstances. While she didn't do it directly, she certainly helped to contribute to his current state of mind." Bradley replied. He shook his head and then ran his hand down the back of his neck in a frustrated manner.

Hunith; he had only met her that one time but she had always seemed so nice; so loving towards her son, but Bradley knew if he could see her now, he would do more than bite her head off, he would certainly tell her to stay away from her son; he has had enough hurt and pain from her to last a life time!

Lance raised an eyebrow. "What did she do? He wasn't abused was he," the man asked in a worried voice. "I haven't really had any contact with him for the last couple years. I didn't know…"

He brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. "Come on, Brad. You're my partner on the force, well were, you can tell me. You can tell me anything. I want to help Marty, but I can't if I don't know."

"If Hunith couldn't care for Marty, what about Gaius or Gael," Lance mused. "He loved Merlin like his own son! Why didn't he help Marty? Didn't the kid have anyone here?"

Bradley shrugged. "Maybe Gaius tried to help and Marty didn't want it. Marty was pretty unstable back then. Of course I don't know; it's just speculation. Perhaps we will never know what went on between them, and it's not really our place to know."

"And he's stable now? I'm not so sure about that," he remarked. "But, he probably didn't want it. Merlin sure didn't want help back in Camelot."

"So he was homeless?" Lance half-asked and half-stated and then he thought about the arrests Marty had been through. "You know, he never gave any addresses. Sometimes, when he was brought in, I got the feeling he wanted arrested. There would be this smirk on his face when you'd book him."

"Lancelot, I am worried about him; about Marty. He's gone through so much already, including the suicide attempt. I know he'll never be the same person again, but...I just have this aching fear that even if by some miracle we are able to get back home, that self-hatred he has built up will keep nagging away at him and will eventually drive him to attempt suicide again. I want to help him. I don't want to see him suffering, but I don't know how."

"Yeah, me too, mate. I don't know how he's made it this long. He has gone through a lot. There's no denying it," Lancelot agreed. He shook his head.

"No, he won't be. Do you think we'll ever see him smile or laugh again? Will that light be back in his eyes," he asked in a quiet voice.

He sighed. "That's a strong possibility. He could try it again and he could keep trying to he succeeds. There's no telling," Lancelot whispered. "I want to help him too, but I couldn't tell you how. We just got to take it an hour or a day at a time."

His world was full of mist. Screams of pain, screams of fear, screams of anger filled his ears. Sweat and blood perfumed the hazy air. It was all encompassing and so thick, Merlin felt like he was choking on it. He could scarcely catch his breath.

The young warlock looked around. They were outnumbered – there were three of them to probably twenty-five of the others, all marked with the crest of Gorlois (Morgause's father) – and were quickly tiring. Merlin's gaze fell on his father. Blood poured from an arm wound, which was not as bad as it looked, but oh the blood was so bright and violent against the cold, white mists.

Merlin wished he hadn't begged his father to come back. How selfish of him! Now, they would all be dead and it would be his fault (his and only his).

He glanced at Arthur, whose face was contorted in determination and slicked with sweat while freckled with blood. The Prince's arm was sagging with the weight of the sword. He was huffing. Arthur was draining of energy and fast. Had his wounds even fully healed? Arthur shouldn't be fighting!

Somehow, their enemy knew it. Knew with absolute uncertainty that he shouldn't be fighting and so they pounced.

This was so wrong! Slowly, the warlock backed. He didn't know what to do or what to think. All of a sudden a scream filled the air. It was so gut-wrenching that it almost seemed to make everything stand still.

Merlin turned and looked up on the hill that was behind him. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes when he saw who had been the cause of the scream. "Mother...!" he whispered, not believing what his eyes were seeing. There on the hill was Hunith, but she was dressed all in black. Someone was standing beside her and even as Merlin watched, that somebody thrust a sword through his mother's abdomen.

"NO!" he yelled, raising his arm so he could cast a spell and fling the stranger away from his mother, but before he could cast any sort of spell the stranger turned his head to face the warlock. The black hood was lowered from the man's face and when he was revealed, Merlin fell to his knees, not understanding what he was seeing.

The stranger, all dressed in black and covered with Hunith's blood was himself! The Merlin that stood on the hill had short hair and ivory colored skin but his ocean blue eyes were almost completely black and devoid of caring. "This is what you are Merlin," The one on the hill said. "This is what you are and this is what you always will be."

All of a sudden the evil Merlin pointed out on to the battlefield. "You have failed at so many things and you will fail at so many more. Arthur, he hates you. He acts like he doesn't; acts like he cares, but it is so obvious he would rather that you weren't his manservant. Destiny it seems wants you and he to work together to create a better world for everyone but..."

An ear piercing scream spread its way across the field, causing everyone to stop fighting and look. Slowly, four people stepped away from Arthur Pendragon and the Prince of Camelot slowly sank to his knees, his face growing pale. One of Gorlois's men was standing over the Prince, his sword tip tinged with blood; Arthur's blood.

Time seemed to stop as the swordsman walked in front of Arthur. Merlin saw the Prince's pained expression as he looked up in to the dark face of the person that was going to end his life. Then the sword was thrust through Arthur's chainmail and deep in to his body, destroying many of his internal organs.

"ARTHUR!" Merlin screamed, a few tears running down his face as he saw his beloved Prince and friend slump to the ground and lay there still.

"It looks like Albion well never be now." The evil Merlin said with glee in his voice.

The warlock raised his hand, his eyes glowing gold for a moment and then suddenly the one that had killed Arthur was flung away from him. However, when that person hit the ground and his helmet was ripped away, Merlin saw that the one who killed Arthur was none other than Arthur Pendragon, but this Arthur, just like the one on the hill had dark eyes and an uncaring look on his face.

"I don't understand," Merlin gasped as he watched more of the men charge forward. "Why? What is the meaning of this?"

He heard another scream. It was that of a brave man. This was a man that had seen much loss and destruction. The cry came out as shocked, as if this proud man actually had never screamed before. "Father!" he yelled, pushing past the man who had done this.

Merlin knelt beside the dying man. He touched his face. His fingers trembled as tears fell. "I'll help you," he promised.

"You won't! You can't! You never do! All you do is destroy. Damn you, Merlin. Get away from me, let me die in peace...away from you!" breathed the man before taking his final breath.

It's was Merlin's turn to scream. He let his head fall back. His chest was heaving. This was so wrong!

"He's right, Merlin. It's all you do…destroy," hissed Will.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I want to help!"

"You just keep telling yourself that," Will spat as a being crept behind him.

"Watch out, William!" he shouted. It was too late. As evil Merlin's eyes flashed, Merlin's best friend gasped and grabbed at his throat. In horror, he watched the man's eyes roll back in his head and fall to the ground.

"Stop it!"

"I will…eventually."

Merlin's stomach cramped. He bent forward and began to throw up. "Please, stop," Merlin begged but Evil Merlin didn't stop.

"Surely you must be glad to see all of your problems being dealt with. Your mother and father were just holding you back from your true potential. Hunith with all of her disgusting mothering, and Balinor...he was never there for you! William wanted you dead, he was going to tell the others in Ealdor about you, but you left before he could. And Arthur! The second he found out about you he would have had you burned at the stake without a second thought! It is better this way Merlin, better for everyone." Evil Merlin said.

"NO! Gods, no," he gasped. "They're what kept me going. I needed them!" Merlin shook his head. "My father didn't know! How could he with the Purge? He had to run."

The warlock balled his hands up and gritted his teeth. "Lies. Those are lies and you know it. He was my friend. He understood. You're just making excuses," he whisered. "You're just making excuses."

The warlock was still bent forward on the ground, tears running down his face and on to the green grass below. Suddenly a voice came to him from off in the distance.

"Don't cry, Merlin. It'll be all right," Freya said, rushing over to him. But, before she could reach him, the dark Merlin raised a hand. Eyes flashing, she was thrown against a tree. With a sickening crack Freya fell…dead.

Then, the scene changed. They were in the throne room. Merlin was there with Morgana. Dark Merlin lurked in the shadows. A twisted smile was on his face. "No," he whispered.

"Come now Merlin. We both know that this was your finest hour. You actually managed to take someone's life. Did you enjoy that feeling of absolute power?" Dark Merlin's voice drifted through the darkness.

Merlin heard the words but apparently Morgana didn't because she took no notice of them. He looked over at the dark Merlin and shook his head. "It killed me," he whispered, wiping his eyes and yawning.

Turning back to Morgana, he balled his fists. "Morgana," he gasped. "Morgana, what's the worst thing you ever did? What…what would you do to save your friends and Camelot?"

"Merlin, brother, whatever are you talking about? Why does Camelot need saving? We are not under attack. Come I will show you." she said, leading the way towards a window that opened of its own accord.

Brother? What was she talking about? They weren't related. Merlin found that he was confused and deeply troubled by her words, but the warlock didn't correct her. He shook his head as if to rid himself of bafflement.

"Most of Camelot is asleep. If we don't act. If I don't act, Camelot will fall," Merlin replied, yawning again.

Morgana looked back to him, her face clearly showing that she was confused. "Asleep? Have you been at the gin again Merlin? No one is asleep, apart from Queen Ygraine. She's sick today."

He shook his head. "No! Of course not," Merlin breathed. "Morgause has cursed us." The warlock's brow furrowed. He didn't understand what was going on.

"Ygraine's dead, Morgana. She died in childbirth," he replied. "And even if she wasn't alive, why isn't she with Uther? I don't understand."

He let Morgana lead him to the window. What was the worst that could happen? "Please, answer my questions. What would you do? If you must, think in hypothetical terms," Merlin said.

"See? Our father, King Balinor brought peace to the land. You fought with him on the battlefield. Do you not remember Merlin? You went to battle against Uther Pendragon and his family, they were trying to usurp the King's power. You yourself delivered the fatal blow to Uther's son Arthur. It was that bold move that ended the conflict and brought peace to Camelot."

"Our father," Merlin said in a daft tone. He blinked once or twice. Why had he made Morgana his sister in his dream? Looking out at the city, he saw fires burning and people sleeping. Alarmed, the warlock looked over at Morgana. She seemed unaware of what was happening.

Numbly, he shook his head. "No, no, I don't," he said. "I would never fight Arthur. I wouldn't kill him." Merlin backed away from Morgana. His eyes were wide and filled with mania.

"Balinor is not your father. He's mine. He...he's a Dragonlord. He was a Dragonlord, but he was killed, slain by mercenaries. I held him as he died," he gasped, tears falling down his face. "I couldn't save him. I couldn't."

Morgana had turned from the window, eyes never leaving Merlin as he gasped and started to cry. "Merlin, honey, what's wrong?" Morgana asked, only it wasn't her voice that came out of Morgana's mouth, no it was Hunith's. All of a sudden Lady Morgana's body morphed in to that of Hunith, who quickly embraced her son, holding him tight.

Merlin backed up slowly as Morgana sounded like his mother. Hearing that voice, the voice that had caused him so much pain in the last two years, he stiffened. "Why do you care," Merlin snapped, although his voice was barely above a whisper. "You didn't care…"

When she grabbed him, he found himself terrified and cringing under her touch. Merlin's knees buckled as he stated to shake. "You're not real. You can't be. You're just my imagination," Merlin muttered.

"Merlin, you know you did wrong, you know you caused your father's death not just in one time line, but in the other. You are an evil, wicked son, but it is not too late to redeem yourself. Balinor would have wanted you to."

Defeated and fully believing the dream woman, Merlin nodded. His chest burned and his heart ached. "I am trying to. I want to," he whispered.

"Merlin!"

The warlock had been so confused and he was still crying hard when his mother had embraced him. However, when someone else called his name, Hunith released him so that he could turn tear filled eyes to the middle of the room where Morgana knelt on the cold floor. In her hands was a flask of water with the top off. Standing before her was Evil Merlin.

"You must drink it," Evil Merlin said, "For everyone's sakes."

"Please, Merlin!" Morgana said, turning tear filled and frightened eyes to Merlin even as the hand that held the flask of water rose to her mouth seemingly of its own accord.

"Please don't make me drink this! Please don't kill me! You have to save me Merlin! Please! You must save me!" She begged.

"Yes, Merlin, do save her," Evil Merlin said in a sarcastic tone of voice. "Oh but I forget! He can't save you, Morgana dear. Would you like to know why? He is so convinced that seeing Prince Pendragon become King and Albion come to pass is his destiny that he doesn't care what he has to do to achieve that. You see...he already has killed you. Can you not feel it Morgana? The poison slowly eating away at you, closing off your airway?"

Evil Merlin gave the warlock a genuinely sadistic grin. "There is but one way to save her Merlin. That is what you want to do; save her? To do it, when you awake you must kill everyone; all of the Knights, your dear little Prince as well and then you must destroy the time machine device. If you do not then Morgana will be dead to you and she will hate you forever. Can you not see that she loves you Merlin? All you need do is look in to her eyes and you will see that she does," Evil Merlin said.

Merlin couldn't move forward. His eyes were wide and lips pressed tightly together. The warlock wanted to pull the flask away in hopes that she hadn't had much and he could save her. When the Evil him spoke, the warlock looked over at him.

"How would that help anyone," he asked. "How would destroying the only way back help? It doesn't make sense. We don't belong in the 21st Century. Arthur doesn't want to be. And I'm not going to kill them! I can't. Please, you can't make me."

How would it help? By killing Arthur and the Knights and destroying the machine you would unleash an ancient magic that sorcerers and witches placed on the land ever since time began. Do you not see Merlin? It is they that stop the power as they have always stopped it. Magic means nothing to them, they would rather see it destroyed than harnessed for it's true purpose.

Merlin pressed his lips together and shook his head. "It's wrong. It's all wrong," he hissed. "We don't belong where we are right now and it's our only hope. We need the past. We need to be there."

"I'm not going to do anything," Marty said. "I know what you say is wrong. I've seen ancient magic. It doesn't belong. It only destroys. I don't belong. I destroy. I don't want to, but I do. It's gone on too long."

"You, Merlin, think that your destiny is one thing because many people told you it was, but what if it was all a lie, hmm? The most powerful warlock to ever exist and he is reduced to groveling on the floor, serving as a mere servant boy to a soon to be King that wants nothing to do with magic. Oh, he says he does but what do you think will happen once he gets you back to Camelot? Merlin, think! The Pendragons will have you killed! Your life means nothing to them! Your destiny is not to serve them; not to protect them in the hopes of creating a land that will never exist. Your destiny is to destroy those who oppose magic! Your destiny is to free all magical beings from the tyranny of oppression. Once you have killed the men in the cave and have destroyed the machine you will be taken back in time to this particular moment in time. You will be given the chance to save your Morgana."

Merlin jerked his head. "You're the liar. I know in my heart it's the truth," he said. "I don't grovel. I'm where I am supposed to be. Arthur knows now and he doesn't care. He can change things. He will. Uther might never change. I don't expect him to…"

His throat burned. He could hard speak. "My life might be nothing to them, but it's the only life I have. You are wrong about all of that. Wrong! I can't do it without Arthur. I won't," he muttered. He gaze at his evil self.

His eyes darted over to Morgana. "But, I don't love her! I don't want to love her," Merlin whispered. "She was my friend, but she was killing everyone. But she didn't know. I could've helped her. I should've!"

Marty then found he could move. He strode forward and took the flask. Tilting it up, he downed the poisoned water. "And if my destiny is to kill and destroy, I won't live. I choose death," he whispered.

Lance heard the screaming and rustling. Instantly, the man was up and over to Marty. All of the other men were up and looking worriedly at the man. "Merlin," Lance said, placing a hand on Marty's shoulder and shaking him. "Marty, wake up. Arthur, over here! Please."

Arthur rose up from his seated position on the ground and rushed over to Lance's side, kneeling down by the Knight as he once again tried to wake up the warlock.

Merlin was not waking from his sleep. He was thrashing and fighting both Lance and thin air. Tears and sweat streamed down his reddening face. Marty had drawn his hands to his head, as if in pain.

"What's wrong with him," Gavin asked, going over to the struggling man. He pressed a finger to his check. "Geeze, what's he dreaming up? His pulse is high!"

"I don't know, but whatever it is we need to snap him out of it." Bradley replied. He grabbed his water bottle, popped the top off and squeezed some of the water out, dribbling it directly on to Marty's face. "Come on Marty, snap out of it!" he called.

Marty jerked upwards as he gasped as the water hit him. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around his waist. Rocking, he drew his knees. "Get them away from me," he begged, glancing at Gavin, Percy, Eli, and Leo. "Please."

"I'll get him a blanket," Lance said. Digging into a pack, he came out with a silver thing, which he draped over Marty. Standing back up he turned to the others, holding out his arms in a non-confrontational way. "Come on guys, let's give him space." he said, ushering everyone to move away. The men nodded and left Marty alone with Bradley.

Marty pressed his hands to his head. "It hurts," he moaned, his heart was still pounding and tears falling down his face. "I think I'm going to be sick." The young man shakily stood. Going behind a boulder, he threw up. Bradley watched him, a look of worry on his face but he said nothing until Merlin had finished puking and returned.

"I'm a monster," Merlin said as he continued to hold his head. "Oh, God, it hurts."

It was obvious Bradley didn't know what to do. He was worried that Marty's head injury was acting up. Perhaps the boy needed to be taken in to the hospital but that meant abandoning the quest and if they did that and Morgana destroyed the machine...

He paused. What was more important? Marty's health or them getting back to Camelot? Biting his lip it was clear that Bradley had come to a decision. If it meant giving everything up he would do it as long as it meant Marty would survive.

Gently he gathered the younger man in to his arms, picking him up bridal style. "Come on Marty," he said in the softest voice he could muster, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No," Marty said. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. A look of sheer determination shined in his eyes. "We can't go back. It's hours from here. We're not giving up. I choose death over failing. I won't give up on this. I won't let it be destroyed."

"Marty..." Bradley muttered, shaking his head. "I don't want the machine destroyed either, but I'm willing to let it happen if it means getting you help."

"It's our only way to get home. We don't belong here," Marty pointed out. He knew leaving and turning back was the wrong thing to do. If they did, they would fail. He didn't want them to fail. He also didn't want to see another hospital as long as he lived. Marty had seen too many since coming here.

His head felt heavy and so he leaned it against Bradley's shoulder. "I just need to calm down. It'll be OK," he said. In Brad's arms he shivered. Images of the dream flashed in his mind, making his pulse race.

"Do you really care or are you just pretending," he asked. Marty's eyes were wide and filled with fright. "You can be honest with me. I'll understand."

Bradley had a look of total confusion on his face. "I don't know what you are talking about. Care or pretend about what?" he asked.

He looked up at Bradley and shook his head. However, that sent more pain through his skull and so he stopped. "About me," he muttered. It was quiet and under his breath, so Marty doubted the other man could hear him.

Marty rubbed his temples. His head was pounding and the pain was so great he felt breathless. "I had a nightmare. I wanted myself to destroy the machine and murder you and the knights," Marty said as tears filled his eyes. "And at one point I watched as another form of me killed my mother, my father, Will, Freya, Morgana... It was horrible."

Marty glanced at Bradley. He then proceeded to tell him the dream point by point. By the time he was done he was sweating and crying as his heart raced and body shook. "Go ahead, call me a girl. I know you want to," Marty sad through the sobs. "Panicking over a nightmare? By the gods, that's stupid." Inside, it didn't feel stupid, although it did make him feel a bit silly. It felt very real and very horrible

It was only after he finished speaking that Bradley understood the earlier question. When Marty had begun to relay the tale, he had placed Marty down on the ground close to the fire so he could get warm, and then the blonde had sat down next to the younger man. Now that Marty was finished, Bradley didn't know what to say.

On the ground, Marty drew his knees up so that he was practically folded into himself. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on his knees. After telling every detail of the dream, he felt drained. Tiredly, he sighed.

"Marty, I do care about you. You are my friend, and in most respects, you are the brother I never had. I thought that about you back in Camelot and my feelings haven't changed just because we are in a different century. I would never have you killed for knowing magic and I would make sure my father wouldn't know either."

As Brad spoke, the young man raised his head a little. He stared at the other man with a critical eye, as if trying to judge whether or not he was lying. Marty made no move to respond to the first part of the blond-haired man's words.

"I think I figured out you wouldn't have my head on the chopping block years ago, but I never knew how to tell you the truth," Marty admitted. "But, your father…I knew if he found out I wouldn't last a day. The castle has ears and eyes…someone would've seen or heard and told him. Then, no matter what, there would've been nothing you could do to stop your father. I tried not to use magic…much in the castle."

"Your destiny is not something anyone can decide for you. You have the power to choose your own destiny, your own fate, be it protecting me or just stepping back. It is your choice Marty; yours and yours alone. I am sorry you had to relive your father's death and see the death of your friends and loved ones, even if it was only a dream. Perhaps your mind is trying to tell you something, but what that something is only you can figure out." Bradley said.

Marty shook his head, shifting the blanket away from his face. "I'm not so sure about that. I have tried to choose my own path. I've tried not protecting you. I've even tried running away…with Freya…we were going to run away that night she was killed. It doesn't seem to work. I always get pushed towards what the prophets dreamed for you and for me," Merlin said. "Why else would I have lived from stabbings, poisonings, or falling 100 some feet from a bridge? Some may call it luck or divine intervention, me? I-I don't know what to call it."

Marty felt sick and tired of being sick and tired. He wanted things to change, but wasn't even sure how to make it happen anymore. That fine line had become a blur ever since he had poisoned Morgana.

Bradley and Marty fell silent, each giving the other time to think and time to process what had already been said.

"I've always felt like a monster because of what I was born with. I know I blame myself for a lot of things. The other me, he told me to kill you and the others, but I know I'd rather die than hurt you or the knights, which is how it all ended…the dream."

Marty's voice echoed around the cave. Slowly, Bradley first looked up and then turned his head to look at the younger man. "It sounds like your dream was very terrifying. I cannot imagine the pain and heartache you must have felt having to see, hear and feel all of that. I know if I was born with magic I would feel the same way; like a monster. Some sort of beast that everyone should be afraid of. I was always taught that magic was something to be hated and feared but Marty, I neither hate nor fear you. You are not a monster to me or the people of Camelot. If anything you are what they call the unsung hero."

Marty didn't return the gaze. He just stared in front of him with sour expressions of weariness, self-contempt, and sadness on his face. "It was," he muttered. His voice was lacking emotion. "It was horrible and there was nothing I could do to stop it, even though I wanted to."

He sighed as he pulled the blanket higher onto his thin shoulders. "I'm the only one of my kind. No one else has ever been born with magic. It scares people I used to be scared of it because at times I had no control over what I did. I didn't understand what I was doing or how to stop it," Marty whispered. "I don't want to be. I don't want to be a monster. All I've done, is try to help."

"Hero? Me? I've just done what needs to be done," he replied with a shrug.

"You have risked your life time and again not only protect me but to protect the people as well. We all owe you our lives, Marty. If we do get back and when I become King, I promise you that the ban on magic will be lifted. When that day comes you and all magic folk will have nothing to fear from Camelot any longer," Bradley said.

Marty nodded. He didn't feel like replying or talking anymore. "Thank you," he did say. "It's what I've wanted since I got to Camelot."

The young man yawned and laid down. "Night," he whispered. Pulling his knees up, Marty fell asleep again.

Lance went over to Brad and sat down. For a few minutes, he just stared at the sleeping man. "Is he okay," he asked in a worried tone.

Bradley sighed and shook his head. "Physically he's exhausted, mentally…he's not okay and I don't know if he ever will be. I keep telling myself that he'll recover once we get him back home but I don't see that happening anymore. If I thought it would help him I would just suggest we all stay here but it would be a constant struggle for him with all of the drugs."

Lance nodded. He didn't think Merlin would be all right either. Something broke within him and the man could not see how it could be fixed. A lot of it was from the drug use and the family issues, but some of it was from the injuries Lance figured. His brain had been damaged from the falls, the stroke, and the surgeries. "He wouldn't let us…or you desert our destiny, even though it's killing him," he whispered.

Shaking a little, Bradley stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave, looking up through the trees at the night sky. Deep down he had a feeling that Merlin was just too far gone to recover. Perhaps he should have just let the younger man die; least then he wouldn't be in pain anymore.

Lance watched as Brad went to the cave. Sighing, he looked over at Marty. Then he laid down and fell asleep.

"I don't know what to do Lance. I really don't know what to do anymore." He softly mumbled in to the night.