A/N: Thank you GuestM, leyapearl, Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, and Guest for reviewing!

Chapter 12

Merlin supposed last night was a sort of breakthrough, yet the following morning Lancelot was still quiet and withdrawn and didn't want to talk about it any further. Merlin didn't want to betray his confidence but the others needed to know what he'd learned. Helping Lancelot heal was a group effort, after all.

At the moment, Percival and Gwaine were the only two free to meet him in Gaius's chambers where Merlin filled them in on last night.

"I don't know how to help him," he finished morosely.

"Patience is all we can give right now," Gaius replied.

Gwaine shook his head. "No, he needs something to focus on, something besides Gaius's rehabilitation regimen. Something to get him out of his head, which is clearly not a very nice place right now."

"I suppose I could bring him some books," Merlin said thoughtfully.

"Something to keep his hands busy would be good too," Percival put in.

"Alright," Gaius said. "What hobbies does Lancelot have?"

Merlin exchanged looks with the knights and then shrugged.

"He was always meticulous about his weapons and armor," Gwaine mused. "I suppose we could bring him some to clean and polish, help him feel useful?"

Merlin grimaced. "I don't think anything weapons related is a good idea right now."

They shared a few hums of agreement and tried to think of something else.

"Perhaps we should just ask him," Gaius finally put out there.

"True," Merlin conceded.

"I have an idea for something too," Gwaine added. "It'll get his mind engaged on something else. I just need to find a chess set."

Gaius pursed his mouth and nodded approvingly.

"What is that?" Percival asked.

"A game of strategy. Lancelot may not be familiar with it, but taking the time to learn will also occupy him."

"I didn't think you had the patience for a game like that," Merlin joked.

Gwaine shot him a dirty look. "Growing up, I didn't. But since there's a noble purpose here, I can make an exception."

Merlin grinned. "You're all heart."

Gwaine scoffed and snatched up his gloves to leave.

With new strategies in hand, Merlin hoped they'd be able to make more strides with their friend.

.o.0.o.

Percival carefully and methodically kneaded at the knots in Lancelot's legs. It was no longer excruciating for him but still caused discomfort, evidenced by the pinched look on his face as he breathed through it.

After two weeks, their attempts to get Lancelot engaged in other activities had only been partially successful. There was a stack of books on the stand by the bed, but Percival could see by the bookmark protruding from one of the volumes that he hadn't gotten very far into them. They had also failed to extract any hobbies from him, and he had little interest in doing things.

At least Gwaine's idea with the chess game had worked, though Percival thought that was only because Lancelot rarely said no when being told what to do. Still, it was something and Percival would take it. Lancelot was still too quiet most of the time, like he was lost somewhere else…like maybe back in that fortress.

"I wish it had been me," Percival blurted, breaking the silence.

Lancelot shifted his gaze to him with a frown. "What?"

"I wish I had been taken that day."

Lancelot sat up and shook his head. "Do not wish for that, Percival. I wouldn't want anyone else to ever experience that place."

"I still would have rather been with you in there," he pressed. "So you weren't alone."

Lancelot gave him a sad look and reached over to pat his arm. "I'm not alone now," he said softly, and it was the first glimmer of hope that Percival had seen in his friend, which drew a genuine smile from him in return.

The door opened and Gwaine sauntered in. "Ready for a stroll?" he greeted.

Lancelot's expression darkened. "I don't like being a spectacle."

"No one sees you that way," Gwaine replied.

"Besides, Gwaine's the spectacle," Percival said, throwing the man a cheeky grin.

Gwaine made a face back at him.

Lancelot huffed and slid off the bed. Daily strolls were part of Gaius's regimen and he would not be getting out of it. With Percival and Gwaine flanking him, the three set off to make a circuit around the castle wing. Lancelot could walk well enough for a short distance before one of his legs would start to give him trouble. They made it halfway through the wing before Lancelot gasped and reached for his thigh, gripping it hard as he came to an abrupt stop. Percival and Gwaine each took an arm and helped him off to the side to lean against the wall while he rode out the spasm.

Percival wished there was something Merlin could do about those, but he knew Lancelot currently had a strong aversion to magic, so he didn't mention it.

Lancelot inhaled sharply through his nose and straightened. "Let's go."

"You sure?" Gwaine asked cautiously. "You can rest as long as you need."

"I'm sure." He took a hobbling step forward, visibly clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

Percival shared a silent look with Gwaine and followed. Pushing Lancelot to take his time was tricky. Elyan had tried once and Lancelot had snapped that if they wanted to keep pushing him to go for walks, then that was what he was going to do and they should make up their minds about what they wanted. He seemed to swing wildly between despondency over his current limitations and dogged determination not to let anyone see them.

Percival and Gwaine kept quiet as Lancelot cut their walk short and headed back to his chambers, limping the whole way. That was usually how their strolls ended.

Neither of them commented on it, and as soon as they were back in the room, Gwaine retrieved the chessboard from the shelf and began to set it up for his and Lancelot's daily game. Percival lingered until they were seated at the table and making their first moves before he left to attend to other duties.

.o.0.o.

Now that Lancelot was making incremental improvements, he was antsy for some independence. He hadn't been outside in nearly two whole seasons, and while the castle wasn't anywhere near as dark and grungy as the underground fortress, he was craving some wide open space. The problem, however, was getting out there. His keepers were all too happy with the idea—even if they had to carry him down the flights of stairs. An option Lancelot had shut down each time. He drew the line for their well intentions there.

But while he resented the daily walks his friends forced him into, he was getting better. The other knights no longer had to maintain constant shifts with him. And so one morning he decided to try going out on his own. He was perfectly capable of walking by himself, after all, had even managed a set of stairs the other day. He would just take it slow to be safe.

It was halfway down the second staircase when his accursed muscles betrayed him. His left leg seized up and buckled, pitching him forward. There was nothing to grab onto as he tumbled down the steps, his head glancing off the bottom corner before he rolled to a stop. Blackness burst across his vision for a moment, though he heard someone scream and call for help. Lancelot mentally cursed himself; he was a spectacle now. And his leg was still cramping.

Lancelot moaned and tried to roll onto his side to grasp at the offending muscles, but the movement made his ringing head swim so he stopped.

"Lancelot!"

Wonderful. He managed to prize his eyes open to look at Leon as the knight dropped down beside him.

"Lie still," Leon instructed, eyes wide with worry. "Someone get Gaius!" he shouted at the gathered servants.

"Someone went to fetch him," one of them replied.

Lancelot closed his eyes again in mortification. He was going to be heavily bruised, no doubt.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps as Gaius and Merlin arrived.

"What happened?" Gaius asked tersely.

"We don't know," a servant said. "No one saw."

Lancelot forced himself to swallow his pride. "I fell."

"Fell?" Leon repeated dubiously and flicked a look up at the staircase.

"And why were you trying to get down the stairs by yourself?" Gaius asked sternly as he checked Lancelot's arms and legs.

"I thought I was ready," he mumbled.

"You're lucky you didn't break anything," Gaius chided. "Except maybe your head."

Lancelot raised a hand to his temple, his fingers meeting a warm wetness.

"Do you feel dizzy?" Gaius asked.

"Not really." Not while lying down, anyway.

"Alright, easy does it," Gaius said as he and Leon helped Lancelot sit up.

His head throbbed in response and more spots went skittering across his vision, but he didn't feel like he was going to pass out. He kept his head down as he was helped to his feet and back up to his room. Not only was his leg sore, but his knee was smarting as well. Gaius and Leon eased him into a chair and then Gaius conducted another thorough examination for injuries while Merlin set to cleaning the small gash on his head.

"You've bruised this knee," Gaius reported. "You'll have to stay off it for a few days."

That was one way to get out of the daily walks, Lancelot thought sullenly, but he was mostly just angry with himself for setting back his recovery on account of his own stupidity. All that supposed progress he'd made, out the window in one fell go.

His friends helped him to the bed and Merlin left to get some cold towels to wrap his knee with to bring down the swelling. Gaius mixed up a tonic for his headache, and Leon left, no doubt to tell the others what had happened.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Guinevere came to see him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking a seat in the chair by his bed. He really hated that question.

"Foolish." And embarrassed.

Gwen just looked at him with sympathy. "I can't imagine how difficult this has all been, but you've come so far. Don't let one setback discourage you."

Was he that transparent?

It wasn't just the setback, though. It was the fact that healing had been so arduous and slow with so little improvement that Lancelot doubted he would ever get back to his full strength and mobility. Was this to be his life from now on? A constant struggle of progress and setbacks? Depending on other people for the most basic needs? His friends had been so attentive but how long before they eventually found him a burden? How long before he was passed off to the servants to be minded and forgotten like when Uther had gone mad with grief over Morgana's betrayal? To become Camelot's lost knight—her secret shame. Hidden away in a gilded cage but another cage nonetheless.

The encroaching despair threatened to suffocate him.