A/N: Thank you Hodophile-Sandhiller, Buckhunter, GuestM, pallysAramisRios, Guest, SnidgetHex, and Vanvdreamer for reviewing!
Chapter 13
Lancelot submitted to Gaius's adjusted rehabilitation regimen without protest, though he was once again merely going through the motions. The painstakingly slow, tedious motions.
Once the injuries from his fall had healed, he hobbled his way through the corridors to Arthur's chambers. Fortunately, they were on the same level as the rest of the knights', and since Lancelot had promised not to take any more stairs by himself, he was not breaking that promise by slipping away on his own now. Besides, this needed to be a private conversation.
Lancelot drew in a breath and knocked on the door. It was early enough that he hoped Arthur wouldn't have gone out yet.
"Come."
Lancelot turned the knob and pushed his way inside. Arthur was sitting at the table eating breakfast.
"Sire," he greeted. "Am I disturbing you?"
Arthur looked surprised to see him. "Of course not. Come in." He quickly stood and crossed the room to usher Lancelot into a seat.
Lancelot ducked his head in embarrassment over the fuss, even though it was a relief to be sitting down. He flicked a quick glance around the large room. "Is Gwen here?"
"No. Did you wish to speak with her?"
Lancelot quickly shook his head. "No, there's something I wished to discuss with you."
"Oh?" Arthur arched an intrigued look at him, but before Lancelot could begin, there was another knock at the door and the person didn't wait for an acknowledgement before opening it.
"Your Highness, forgive the intrusion," Sir Baern said. "There's an urgent matter that needs your attention."
Arthur sighed. "Very well." He shot Lancelot a regretful look. "I'll be back soon. Will you wait?"
Lancelot inclined his head. "Of course." He was relieved at the invitation to stay, as he did not yet have the stamina to make it back to his chambers.
Arthur left, and Lancelot was alone. Idle. Between the therapy routines and activities his friends prodded him into, that was all his life was now: idleness. And even with the things he did do to take up his time, there was an emptiness to them. Just like with his recovery, he was only going through the motions.
He noticed Arthur's sword lying on the table, probably left for his manservant to give it a polish. Lancelot's heart quickened as he considered picking it up. He hadn't had a chance to try touching a sword yet, to see if he could do it.
Lancelot leaned forward and stretched out his hand, but he immediately started shaking and a sick feeling churned in his stomach. Tolu's face flashed before his eyes.
He stopped and dropped his arm on the table. Then, instead of grasping the hilt, Lancelot slid the blade around so that the tip was pointing directly at his chest. He considered it in that moment, how everything would be easier if he just ended it all. No more pain, no more struggling. What was he truly holding on for at this point?
He thought of his future, and his chest tightened at how hopeless it all seemed.
.o.0.o.
Arthur headed back to his chambers, having handled the issue he was called away for. At least it had been quick; he didn't want to keep Lancelot waiting too long. He entered his room and found Lancelot sitting where he'd left him…almost. Arthur pulled up short at the instant wrongness that struck him about what he was seeing. His sword had been moved, not much, but just enough so that the point was now aimed at Lancelot's chest as he sat poised over it.
"Lancelot? What are you doing?"
Lancelot gave a start, then leaned back in his chair. "Nothing," he said tonelessly.
Arthur strode over, coming around to face him. "It didn't look like nothing. Lancelot, tell me you were not just considering…" Arthur's pulse skipped a beat at the thought he couldn't finish.
"I wouldn't actually do it," Lancelot replied, and he pushed the sword away from him. "But I now know for certain that I will never be able to retake my place as a knight of Camelot. So it's time for everyone to stop putting so much effort into trying to get me to that point. They need to return to their own duties and lives."
Arthur gaped at him in stunned disbelief. "And what do you intend to do instead? End your life?" Because his earlier statement hadn't been a denial and what was he talking about, everyone should just give up on helping him?
Lancelot shook his head in the negative, but there was a bereft sheen in his eyes that suggested he truly didn't know what he would do on his own.
Arthur pulled the other chair over and sat knee to knee in front of him. "Your life is not over if you can't be a knight. There are other things you can do."
Lancelot let out a scoffing sound. "Like what? Being a knight is the only thing I know, the only thing I'm good at. Or used to be," he added bitterly.
"You can share that knowledge," Arthur countered. "You can train new knights."
Lancelot's expression twisted with anguish at that. Arthur held his tongue and waited, silently pleading for his friend to let him in.
"There was a boy in the fight ring," Lancelot finally said, voice hoarse with pained emotion. "He kept losing his fights, so Garerrock threw him to the beasts instead. I asked to be allowed to train him, so he'd have a fighting chance."
His chest hitched, but Arthur still didn't speak, just sat and listened patiently as Lancelot mustered the breath to go on.
"It wasn't enough. He didn't have the heart for bloodshed. He was ripped apart over and over and Sagra healed him, just like he healed all of us, just so we could be thrown back into the cage to do it all over again. Then he and I were pitted against each other in the cage, and he begged me to kill him. He couldn't take it anymore and he begged me." Lancelot bowed forward with a broken sob. "So I did."
Arthur nodded solemnly, his heart breaking for his friend.
Lancelot looked up, brows furrowing for a second before his expression went cold. "Merlin told you."
"To help us understand what you're going through," Arthur replied calmly. "And none of us think any less of you, Lancelot."
"I murdered a boy."
"You spared him further suffering. There is no dishonor in that." Arthur rested a hand on Lancelot's knee. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the rest."
Lancelot squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head into his hands. "I don't think I can take anymore," he whispered.
Arthur tightened his grip. "You are the strongest man I know. And your friends want to help you. Please let us."
"I don't know how."
"One day at a time. And whatever your future looks like, whether you're a knight or not, your place will always be here, with the people who love you. You matter more to us than your station."
"Even if this is to be my existence from now on?" he countered.
"Even then," Arthur replied. "We would rather have you in any condition than not at all. Surely you would feel the same if it was Merlin, or one of the other knights?"
Lancelot bowed his head again. "Forgive me, Sire."
"There's nothing to forgive, Lancelot. Just promise me if you ever find yourself thinking of taking that way out again that you will come talk to one of us."
Lancelot nodded. It was a pained looking promise, but Lancelot was a man of honor. Arthur just had to trust that it would be enough for now.
.o.0.o.
Gwaine let himself into Lancelot's room for his next shift with the ailing knight. Elyan, whom he was relieving, gave him a grim look on the way out. They all knew what had happened in Arthur's chambers and had been keeping a closer eye on Lancelot since. Which Gwaine knew Lancelot was keenly aware of and the extra scrutiny wasn't really helping matters, though he hadn't said anything about it. If he was quiet and withdrawn before, he was practically mute now. Gwaine supposed he couldn't really blame him, knowing that anything he said to one of them would be spread to the others. It was only out of their concern and care for him, but it seemed to be making Lancelot more guarded.
"Game of chess?" Gwaine prompted, grabbing the set off the shelf and setting it on the table.
"No thank you," Lancelot murmured, sitting by the window and staring out at the sky.
Gwaine pursed his mouth. "Fine, get up," he said, and his stern tone finally drew Lancelot's gaze toward him. "We're going for a walk."
Lancelot frowned in confusion. "It isn't time for that."
"We could both use a little spontaneity," he rejoined. "Now come on, get up."
Lancelot tossed him a sullen look as he rose from the chair. It was rather easy to bully him into doing something, which the others frowned upon but Gwaine was going to take advantage of right now.
They headed out into the corridor, but instead of their usual route, Gwaine pointed Lancelot in the opposite direction. He went without question. Gwaine led the way through the castle, going further than the allotted distance Gaius had approved. Lancelot's pace began to slow and he reached down to squeeze one of his thighs.
"Keep going," Gwaine said, not reaching out to offer assistance.
"Why are you doing this?" Lancelot bit out, a trace of emotion finally bleeding into his tone.
"We're almost there," he said by way of an answer.
He led Lancelot down the last hallway and to a window that looked out into the courtyard.
"See that?" he said, pointing to the lantern below.
Lancelot slumped against the archway and looked out. "What?"
"The lantern."
"What about it?"
"Merlin lit it with magic, after you had been missing for several weeks. We had searched every inch of the kingdom and found nothing, but Arthur refused to declare you dead. He had the lantern lit as a beacon of hope, maybe even a prayer, believing you were out there somewhere. And it would burn without ceasing until we received proof otherwise."
Lancelot frowned at it. "I've been back for a while now," he pointed out.
Gwaine nodded. "But there was a time after you were returned to us that we still feared we were going to lose you. So we kept it burning, and then after a while it became a sort of vigil, a symbol to the people of Camelot that their beloved knight was still with them, even as he lay sequestered away in infirmity." Gwaine shifted to face Lancelot in earnest. "We keep it burning because we have never given up on you. Don't give up on us."
Lancelot's eyes watered and he closed them against the welling emotions. "It's so hard sometimes," he murmured.
"I know," Gwaine said soberly. "But as long as that flame keeps burning, there's something to hold onto."
Lancelot let out a wet laugh. "When did you become so poetic?"
He shrugged. "Don't tell anyone."
Lancelot fell silent and gazed down at the lantern for a few more moments. Then he turned to Gwaine and asked quietly, "Can you help me back?"
Gwaine slipped an arm around his waist to support him as they headed back together.