A/N: Thank you GuestM, Buckhunter, Hodophile-Sandhiller, pallysAramisRios, SnidgetHex, weepingelm, and Guest for reviewing! Hodophile-Sandhiller: This fic is already written. I don't start posting a story until it's done. I do write pretty fast, though. (My next chapter fic after this one is already written and ready to go too.) And to weepingelm, I answered your question via PM, but in case you didn't see it, we will see Lancelot through his recovery. There's still 4 more chapters after this one.

Chapter 10

Lancelot had neither the energy nor will to take part in his own recovery now that it was thrust upon him, nor did he bother to fight as Merlin and Gaius plied him with yet more broth and tonics in an effort to help him regain his strength. He didn't really see much point in it. It felt like a piece of him had died back in that fortress, and while he was no longer there, no longer a prisoner of the fight ring, he had merely traded one cage for another—cell bars for the infirmity of a broken body housing a shattered spirit. He still couldn't bear the light of day. Merlin and Gaius were keeping the windows in the main chamber curtained but cracking the door to Merlin's room open so a little light could filter through, help Lancelot readjust, they said. He didn't argue, even though that little bit of bright light made his head hurt.

That wasn't even the least of his pain. Gaius kept poking and probing at the scars, manipulating his limbs to gauge Lancelot's range of movement. It was only then Lancelot realized how much the drug had been masking back in the cage. There was a thick batch of deep scarring on his left shoulder from a multitude of injuries that made it impossible to raise his arm above his head. And then there were the muscle spasms, particularly in his thighs, that would strike out of nowhere and frequently, stealing his breath and sending shockwaves of pain through his already abused muscles. Whether they were from deep scarring or a result of the potion withdrawal, Gaius couldn't say for certain, nor did it matter. There wasn't much to be done about it.

As if having the strength to stand and maintain his balance wasn't difficult enough on its own.

"There are gentle stretching and strengthening techniques we can employ that should help you regain muscle function," Gaius told him.

Lancelot didn't say anything to that. Sure, he needed to regain the ability to walk on his own again, soon preferably, if only to alleviate the burden he was putting on his friends. Aside from that, the weakness in his limbs and tremble in his hands were evidence enough that he would likely never hold a sword again—nor was he sure he could even stomach it. And what point was there to his life if he wasn't a knight anymore? That was his purpose, what he was born to do. Without it, he was…nothing.

It would be better for him to be dead than trapped in this pitiful, pained existence.

Merlin approached him with a bowl and a tentative look, which immediately set Lancelot on edge.

"Will you let me try the brand again?" Merlin asked.

Lancelot's throat went dry. As much as he loathed the mark on his chest, he loathed the touch of magic—any magic. But it was the only way to erase the hideous brand, so he gritted his teeth and gave a clipped nod.

Merlin came and took a seat on the stool by the cot. He dipped two fingers into the medicinal unguent, and Lancelot pulled the folds of his shirt back, fisting his fingers in the fabric in an effort to keep them from trembling so badly. He flinched when Merlin first touched the salve to his skin, and Merlin immediately stopped.

"Does that hurt?" he asked worriedly.

"Just cold," Lancelot lied.

Merlin's brow furrowed but he resumed applying the cream to the brand. Then he stretched his hand out over it, and Lancelot held himself rigidly still. Yet when he felt the magic activate across the sigil and flood through his flesh into his sternum, he couldn't stop from flinching again and biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out. He held his breath and focused on the taste of copper in his mouth as he waited for the sensation of magic to finally fizzle out. When he finally forced himself to look down, his heart sank. The brand had faded to the faintest of lines but was still there.

Merlin was also frowning at it. "I think one more session should do it," he said, then added quickly, "Later, of course."

Lancelot nodded and sagged back against the pillows.

Merlin stayed in his seat, shifting in discomfort. "Did it hurt?" he asked quietly.

Lancelot didn't know what to say to that so he blurted, "Yes."

"Oh, okay. Sorry. Maybe the last one won't hurt as much, since it's almost gone."

After another awkward beat, Merlin picked up the bowl and took it away. Lancelot flung his arm over his eyes, the one he could still move that much.

Someone rapped on the door but didn't wait for a response before opening it. "Hey, look who's here," Percival said.

Lancelot slid his arm down and turned his head. Percival had a plate of food and was being trailed by the other knights of the Round Table, all of whom burst into elated grins at seeing him.

"Lancelot," Elyan said with a beaming smile. "It's good to see you."

"I hope it's all right we came by," Leon put in. "We won't stay long; we know you need your rest."

Lancelot swallowed his discomfort and shifted so he could sit upright a little more. "Of course. Forgive me, I don't think I even thanked you when you rescued me."

"Well, it was a bit hectic," Gwaine said, coming around and straddling one of the table benches. "You doing all right? Merlin and Percival not driving you crazy?"

Lancelot shook his head, his heart not in the mood for jesting. He realized he'd never even asked how long he was gone for, and with the windows all shut, he didn't even know what season it was outside. "What- what month is it?" he asked nervously.

"July, almost August," Elyan replied, his smile taking a dip. "You were missing for four months."

Lancelot didn't know how to respond to that. He barely knew how to even process it. Four months?

"The spring rains did us in," Leon said. "Washed out the area. We searched everywhere, but…" He trailed off guiltily.

"It wasn't your fault," Lancelot said automatically. "The fortress was well hidden. I'm surprised you found it at all."

"Well, that was no small miracle," Elyan replied. "Merlin had the dragons searching everywhere too, but then these Villa said they found you."

"Vilia," Percival corrected.

"That's what I said."

Lancelot frowned. "How would the Vilia have found me? They're spirits of streams and rivers."

"Apparently they were searching every body of water in the land." Elyan furrowed his brow in thought. "Although now that I think about it, that's a good question. How did they find that underground fortress?"

"Water does flow underground, you know," Merlin pointed out with a wry grin. "And yes, that's how we eventually got a lead on where you were being held."

Lancelot didn't know what to make of that. The Vilia had bothered to scour every inch of water across the land? No wonder it had taken a long time.

Elyan went on to recount the moments leading up to the attack and invasion of the fortress. Lancelot felt strangely detached as he listened to the tale, with the others inserting their own comments throughout. It made him feel like an outsider. And with that feeling came the realization that he had been gone for four whole months. What had his friends done in that time? They could not have carried on the search for him that long. At some point they would have had to stop and declare him lost.

And he was still lost, adrift in a foggy sea while sitting in the center of all his friends—his family—but no longer quite fitting with them.

Would he ever be able to fit again?

"I think that's enough for today," Merlin's voice broke through the haze.

"Right," Gwaine said, getting to his feet. "Keep getting better," he said to Lancelot with a nod.

Lancelot barely managed to return it as the others gave him well wishes and fond pats on their way out. Merlin and Percival stayed, as always, and Percival brought over that plate of food he'd come in with to prod Lancelot into eating a bit more solid food. It all tasted like ash, but he forced it down anyway.

And then fate's twisted cruelty reared her ugly head, because as his body became more rested, his mind became the victim of those nightmares again. Lancelot dreamed of being chased and ripped apart by the serket, of hanging on the wall while men with contorted faces disemboweled him but he didn't die. He never died.

The worst dreams, though, were of Tolu. Either Lancelot watching him get torn to pieces by the serket or being the one to stab him through the heart. But Tolu wouldn't die. He would just stare up at Lancelot, begging to die as blood burbled up from his mouth.

Lancelot jerked awake with a harsh gasp, his heart racing and his nightshirt clinging to his skin with sweat. The room was dark, quiet. It was the middle of the night. He thought he could hear Gaius's soft snores in the back corner.

There was a whisper to his left and a candle burst into flame a few feet away. Lancelot startled badly as the faint illumination lit up Merlin's worried face.

"Sorry," Merlin said contritely.

Lancelot swallowed hard, willing his voice not to shake. "No, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Maybe. I'm a light sleeper." Merlin paused, then quietly asked, "Were you dreaming about the fortress?"

Lancelot looked down, hoping the shadows hid his face. "Maybe. I don't know," he hedged. "Go back to bed, Merlin."

Merlin didn't move right away. "I could help you sleep," he offered.

Lancelot recoiled sharply. "No!" He immediately cursed himself as Gaius made a disturbed snuffle, but the old man didn't seem to wake.

Merlin, however, looked anguished. "This isn't the brand, is it?" he murmured.

Lancelot looked away.

"You used to find my magic soothing."

"I'm sorry," Lancelot choked. "But I can't. The sorcerer in that place…" He shuddered as the mere mention brought back the sensations as though they were happening right then and there. "Magic feels cold and violent now," he confessed. "And I just can't."

A muscle in Merlin's jaw ticked as he stood there, the scant candlelight highlighting the devastation in his eyes. Without saying anything else, he slowly turned and went back to his room.

Lancelot squeezed his eyes shut. He hated himself for hurting his friend. For the longest time, he was one of the few people who'd known of Merlin's magic and didn't fear or hate it. Now Merlin was out and accepted, and Lancelot was the one who couldn't bear to be near that essential piece that made his friend who he was.

And he was so ashamed.

.o.0.o.

Leon and the knights who were closest with Lancelot stood with Arthur and Gwen in the king's council chambers as Gaius gave them an update on Lancelot's progress.

"Merlin was able to remove the rest of the brand, so there should be no further hindrance to his recovery. But it will be a long and likely painful process."

Leon exchanged sober looks with the others.

"To that end," Gaius went on. "I was hoping to recruit some of the knights' assistance."

"Of course," Leon readily agreed. It had been difficult for them to be stuck on the outside, unable to do anything to help their friend. Leon understood, of course, but after Percival's comment the other day, he was eager for a way to show support to Lancelot. "What can we do?"

"I've put together a rehabilitation protocol for Lancelot to follow, but he'll need help with most of the exercises, at least in the beginning. It would also be good for him to have continuous interactions with his friends. He's been…withdrawn."

Leon turned to Arthur. "Sire, permission to reduce some of our duties so we can work out a rotation for staying with Lancelot."

Arthur nodded. "Of course. Whatever Lancelot needs, you have my full permission to see he gets it."

"It might be good to move him to his chambers now," Gaius added. "As long as someone is with him most of the day."

"I'll make sure his room is aired out and cleaned," Gwen spoke up, then departed.

The knights worked out a schedule among them for staying with Lancelot, except for Arthur who unfortunately had too many kingdom affairs to see to.

Leon would take the first shift, and he accompanied Gaius back to the physician's chambers where Lancelot was lying on the patient cot, propped up and awake but staring languidly at nothing.

"You didn't finish your breakfast," Gaius chided.

"I'll eat it later," Lancelot replied tonelessly.

"You'll eat it now. Then we can get you settled in your chambers, if you're alright with that."

Lancelot lolled a blank look at him. "My chambers?"

"Yes," Gaius replied patiently. "You're recovering well and I think you might like the comfort of a real bed instead of this cot."

Lancelot slowly sat up and reached for the bowl of porridge on the floor. While he ate, Gaius gathered up several vials to put in a satchel. Leon presumed they were all medicines for Lancelot, and he couldn't help feeling a tad overwhelmed on his friend's behalf.

"There's a pair of boots for him in Merlin's room," Gaius said, thrusting his chin toward the door.

Leon took that as his cue to go get them.

Once Lancelot had finished eating and was fully dressed, Leon helped him to his feet and out the door. It was a strenuous journey for him, and Leon began to second guess Gaius's wisdom in making him climb several flights of stairs in his condition.

Halfway there, Lancelot suddenly cried out and bent double, clutching his leg. Leon grabbed his arm and tried to hold him upright as he shot an alarmed look at Gaius.

"Easy, my boy, breathe through it," Gaius coached.

Lancelot groaned, fingers digging into the meat of his thigh.

"Here," Leon said, tugging him a few feet over to an alcove where he could sit on a stone bench. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he hissed at Gaius.

"I know it hurts," the court physician replied, addressing both Leon and Lancelot. "But working the muscles is the only way to build them back up. You'll be doing more walking regularly starting today. I've worked out a daily regimen for you."

Lancelot thumped his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut.

Leon and Gaius waited until the spasm eased and then helped him up again. He limped the rest of the way to his chambers, but at least they made it more or less in one piece. And the servants had finished cleaning and opening the windows by the time they arrived.

Lancelot took a hobbling step into the room, only to pull up short. "These are my old chambers," he said, sounding taken aback.

Leon quirked a confused look at him. "What did you expect?"

Lancelot dropped his gaze to the floor. "I expected them to be emptied and given away when I was declared lost," he said quietly.

"We never even considered it," Leon said staunchly. Yes, they had had to give up the search, but they had never given up on the chance that Lancelot was still alive somewhere.

Leon helped Lancelot over to the bed and eased him down onto the mattress, which would definitely be softer and more roomy compared to that narrow cot. Gaius started unpacking all the supplies he brought and waved Leon over to give him a rundown on what was what and instructions on how and when to use them.

"Perhaps you should write it down," Leon suggested.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," the old man conceded. "Then I won't have to repeat myself."

"Exactly," Leon said with a suppressed grin.

Gaius left, and Leon stayed.

Lancelot lolled his head toward him from the bed. "Did you draw the short straw to be my keeper?"

"We all volunteered and we'll be taking turns," he replied.

Lancelot closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry to be such a burden."

"You are our friend and can never be a burden. We're all just so glad to have you back."

Lancelot hummed despondently. "For how long?"

Leon frowned and moved closer. "What do you mean?"

Lancelot didn't respond right away, and he didn't look up when he finally spoke again. "I appreciate all the efforts everyone's gone to for me."

There was an odd note of defeat in his tone, though, and Leon remembered what Gaius had said about Lancelot being withdrawn. It was perfectly understandable that he'd be struggling after everything he'd been through.

"I know you have a long road ahead," Leon said sympathetically. "But you'll make it. We're all here to help you."

"Road to where?" he responded. "What if I will never be a knight again? I'll have no place in Camelot."

Leon frowned. "That's not true."

Lancelot sighed and turned his head the other way, seemingly putting an end to the conversation. Leon found himself deeply worried over it, though. He had seen knights sustain wounds that prevented them from continuing in the knighthood, had seen the loss devastate them. He would not wish that on anyone.

Lancelot groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. "Can you please close the drapes?" he asked hoarsely.

Leon quickly went to the window and untied the knot cords, letting the curtains fall across the opening and shut out most of the light. "Is that all right?"

Lancelot slowly removed the hand from his eyes and squinted into the partially lit room. "Yes."

"I thought the light was getting easier," Leon said worriedly.

"It is, but I already had a headache."

Leon went over to the many vials of medicine and hesitated before remembering which one was for pain. He mixed a few drops into some water and brought it over.

Lancelot looked at the cup bitterly before taking it and knocking it all back. Leon took the cup back and Lancelot rolled onto his side.

"You don't have to stay," he muttered.

"I want to," he replied. He went to take a seat at the table. He'd have to bring some books or something next time, but for now, his thoughts were occupied enough as the hours ticked by.

When Elyan came to relieve him, Leon went straight to Arthur, who was in his chambers bogged down with paperwork.

"Sire, may I have a moment?"

"Anything to distract me from this drudgery," Arthur replied, waving him in. "What is it?"

Leon hesitated, concerned he was treading the line of confidence here, but he couldn't just let it go. "It's about Lancelot. He's worried about his future, if he doesn't fully recover."

Arthur frowned. "It's too early to be thinking about that."

"It's a valid concern," Leon pointed out. "One any knight in Lancelot's position would be thinking about."

Arthur sighed and nodded. "You're right. I'll talk to him, assure him he doesn't have to worry about his future, no matter what happens."

Leon bowed gratefully. He just hoped Lancelot would believe it coming from the king.