Disclaimer: Lyrics by Sarah McLachlan

Pairings: Gawain/Galahad, and Tristan/Arthur (I find this as a reasonable pairing. Arthur's expression as Tristan died got me thinking.)

AN: This isn't as light-hearted as the first chapter, but it's got some substance to it. Thank you trinchardin, Shauna, zeeharan, and ColdInLifesThrows. Your reviews were greatly appreciated.

XxXxXxXx

Perspicacious

The night is my companion

and solitude my guide

Would I spend forever here,

and not be satisfied?

There was always a small celebration after each battle, minding that no one was seriously wounded. They'd grin at each other and sheath their weapons, glad to see that they survived. Lancelot and Tristan would bet on who between them had the most kills, and usually, an aggravated Lancelot would be handing over the money. But after they were through trading insults and had settled into camp, the knights would subtly disperse.

Arthur headed toward a nearby stream. He kneeled and dipped his hands in the cool waters, washing small cuts on his knuckles. Everyone attended their wounds separately, it was an intimate affair between them and the enemy that had left its mark. When the crimson left his hands, Arthur stood to return to camp. His eyes caught a sliver of movement; hidden amidst the trees' shadows, Tristan had finished cleansing his wounds.

Arthur was slightly surprised that he hadn't noticed the other man sooner, or that Tristan chose to wash so close to him. He held Arthur's gaze briefly before returning to camp. Nothing had been said between them, but words weren't necessarily needed. Arthur walked back to camp and took a seat a little further from the fire than the others.

He always kept just enough distance. He might smile at their jokes, but he would never join in. He couldn't; he had to lead them into battle. He had to gamble with their lives whenever they followed him. He would never join in the pranks or stories they told. He was a leader, and that was to be alone. The men respected the distance he kept and never breeched it, except for Lancelot.

Lancelot could see the side of him that he kept so fiercely guarded. He could see the doubt that plagued him. It was his fault that Lancelot had gotten so close. He was the only knight that Arthur would share his mind with. When he talked with him, he didn't have to distance himself, he wasn't alone. But Lancelot was also a knight, and the knights would always have their thoughts and dreams that they didn't share with their commander.

Arthur thought back to Tristan, who looked at him so openly. His eyes didn't hold any shadows. Arthur realized that there were no secrets between him and Tristan. Whatever questions he asked, Tristan had answered honestly. No one wanted to admit weakness, so they bandaged their injuries in solitude. But Tristan had let him see the blood being washed from his hands. He hid nothing, there was no distance between them.

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Gawain followed Galahad as he left camp, taking care not to be noticed by the others. Galahad stopped at a stream and was busy removing his armor. Gawain didn't have any injuries so he helped Galahad. He dipped a rag in the stream and softly wiped the dried blood from the brunette's shoulder blade. The cut wasn't too deep and a scab was already beginning to crust over. But, he didn't like cleaning blood off Galahad. He hated it every time a Woad marred the younger knight's flesh.

"How's it feel?"

"Stings a little, but it's fine now.", Galahad smiled.

"Good.", Gawain pulled him close and kissed him.

XxXxXxXx

Bors was laughing and Dagonet grinned at the joke Lancelot told. Arthur was on the other side of the fire, but Lancelot swore he saw a smile on his face. Even Tristan seemed amused. On nights like these the knights would tell stories and sharpen their blades, enjoying a small bit of peace after a hard day's work. Glancing around the group, he took in all their faces, but two were missing.

"Where's Gawain and Galahad?", he asked.

"They've disappeared a lot lately. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were lovers." Bors laughed. Then his words sunk in.

An awkward silence descended upon the camp.