A/N: Thank you once more to all my wonderful reviewers!


Two long days passed while Arthur and the other knights held watch over Lancelot. A true test of faith for Arthur or Dagonet's belief in Lancelot's strength and stubbornness. Arthur never left, sleeping and eating in the same tent, always there when Lancelot became restless without ever waking up. The arrow wound had stopped bleeding, but Lancelot's fever was still raging. The Roman was being swung between relief that the Sarmatian was still hanging on and a gripping fear that he wasn't showing any signs of waking up.

Gawain and Arthur were sitting together, talking softly. The camp around them was quiet as well. The warm summer night breeze around the tent the only other sound audible.

Lancelot's pained moan sounded loud in the night.

Arthur immediately moved to sit on the bed. "Lancelot?" The Roman watched breathlessly as the eyelids in the ghostly pale face began to flutter. "Gawain!" he alerted the blond knight urgently.

Slowly Lancelot opened his eyes. Even in the faint light of the oil lamp, the dark eyes made the paleness of Lancelot's face more pronounced.

"Lancelot?" Arthur watched as the Sarmatian struggled to keep his eyes open. The Roman saw how they were glazed with fever, lacking their normal fire and passion.

"Can you hear me?" Arthur placed his hand on the side of the pale face, brushing his thumb across Lancelot's cheek to stimulate the younger knight to focus his thoughts.

"Arthur…" Lancelot gasped softly, his voice raw with disuse. For a moment their gazes met. Lancelot reached out a trembling hand to touch the Roman's face. Arthur grabbed his hand before it fell back heavily on the bed. "You're real…" His eyes closed before the last vowel had left his mouth, sleep overtaking him once more.

Arthur let out a shuddering breath, having stopped breathing the moment Lancelot opened his eyes. He turned his head to Gawain, and both men smiled briefly, relief washing over them.

"Maybe there's hope after all," Gawain whispered. He rose to his feet quietly as not to disturb Lancelot. "I'll let the others know."

Arthur closed his eyes and bowed his head as Gawain left the tent, praying to his God once more. He couldn't keep a smile from his face when he heard the cheers of relief as Gawain told their fellow knights of Lancelot's brief moment of wakefulness.

–– 8 ––

Instead of easier, the waiting had only become harder. With every sound Lancelot made, everyone's hope flared up that he would wake up again.

Tristan entered the tent quietly, nodding to Galahad that he would take over the watch. Arthur had told them that it wasn't necessary to stay with Lancelot, that he had no intention to leave his closest friend, but the Sarmatian knights had no intention of giving up on their support to both their fellow knight as well as their commander.

Tristan took one look at the Roman's face and realized how the waiting was tearing Arthur up. "I didn't expect him to live for as long as he already has. For four days since we found him he has held on despite the raging fever. When he woke up, he recognized you. It has to count for something, Arthur. But you can't expect him to get better within a day all of a sudden." The scout didn't want to offer false hope to his commander, but he hoped to offer some reassurance.

Arthur sighed deeply. "I know. In my head, I know. My heart just wants to know now that he's going to pull through!"

Tristan nodded understandingly. "Just don't lose sight of what he has gained already."

"Thank you," Arthur almost whispered, grateful for Tristan's support.

–– 8 ––

Morning had arrived and Arthur could feel the first rays of light warming his back through the tent. He opened his eyes feeling refreshed from the longest sleep he had had in days. He stretched himself carefully, enjoying the relaxing feeling spreading through his body.

"Good morning," Tristan chuckled softly.

"Good morning to you too," Arthur grinned sheepishly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His gaze turned to the bed. "No change?"

Before Tristan could answer, a movement on the bed caught his attention, bringing him to his feet instantly. Arthur was right behind him, sitting down on the bed while keeping a close eye on Lancelot.

Lancelot's eyes opened slowly. He didn't seem aware of the people next to his bed as he stared straight ahead.

"Lancelot?" Arthur gently touched his shoulder, not wanting to startle the Sarmatian.

Slowly Lancelot turned his head towards the sound, his eyes darkened with pain and fatigue. "Arthur…" he said softly.

"I'm here." Arthur answered, matching Lancelot's quiet voice.

"You…" Lancelot had to swallow, his throat dry and painful.

"Don't talk. You need to save your strength. Just nod or something…" Arthur said urgently. "Do you want some water?"

Lancelot's nod was hardly discernible. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy again.

Gently Arthur placed his hand underneath Lancelot's head and lifted it up only slightly. With his other hand he held a cup with water to his lips. Slowly he poured a tiny amount of water in Lancelot's mouth.

Lancelot swallowed gratefully, but only one sip left him completely exhausted. He didn't fight it when his eyes closed again, falling asleep almost immediately.

–– 8 ––

"His fever is going down," Arthur said in surprise. It was late in the afternoon when Dagonet and Arthur had been discussing whether or not to send two of the knights back to the fortress to let everyone know where they were. When Lancelot started tossing and turning in the bed once more, the Roman had knelt down next to the bed to check on Lancelot.

"Are you certain?" Dagonet asked hopeful.

"I think so…"

"I'll fetch Tristan!" Dagonet saw Arthur nodding in agreement just before he left the tent.

The big knight returned with the scout only minutes later. Dagonet had obviously explained already what Arthur had concluded as Tristan walked right up to the bed, placing his hand on Lancelot's forehead to gauge his fever.

He nodded slowly when he turned around to face both other men. "You're right. It's definitely lower. Maybe Merlin's medicine in finally working!"

–– 8 ––

Lancelot thought he could hear other sounds over the buzzing of his ears, but he couldn't be certain, the sounds seemed far away. Then the sounds seem to come nearer, it sounded like someone was moaning in pain. And he could make out other sounds, like words. He could hear his name, someone was calling out to him.

"Lancelot?" Arthur's worried voice finally penetrated the fog in Lancelot's brain. "Lancelot!" Arthur had immediately be alarmed when he heard how a long agonizing groan had escaped from the Sarmatian. He watched as Lancelot's face creased in pain and his eyes fluttered open slowly. "Lancelot?"

Brown eyes met green eyes. Exhaustion met relief.

"It wasn't a dream… You're here," Lancelot's voice was quiet, so quiet that Arthur had to strain his hearing to make out the words.

"Yes, I'm here…" Arthur's voice suddenly broke off, emotions overwhelming him. He had to pause for a moment before he could continue. "So are you… How do you feel?"

"Drained." His voice, his face, his eyes all underlined Lancelot's words.

"Go back to sleep then. Get stronger," Arthur couldn't keep the fear and worry for the man he loved like a brother out of his voice.

Lancelot's eyes roamed the tent they were in. The question was forming in his eyes even before he could ask it. "Where am I?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment. "It's not important. You need to get stronger first."

Lancelot watched him curiously. His back was throbbing steadily with a constant pain. He tried to shift a little to relieve some of the pain. Immediately he went rigid completely as his whole body spasmed with waves of agony as the pain in his back crescendoed. Lancelot's eyes went open wide, dulled with pain. He gasped for air as he struggled not to give in to the growing pain until it felt like he was aware of every tortured nerve ending in his body and he more than welcomed the darkness.

Arthur sat back on his heels, his heart heavy with fear and concern for Lancelot. He looked over to Galahad. The young knight was still focused on Lancelot, shock evident in his eyes at having witnessed how his brother-in-arms was overwhelmed by pain and had succumbed to unconsciousness.

–– 8 ––

Gawain entered the tent early in the morning to find both Arthur and Galahad awake and looking like neither of them had slept. "What happened?" he asked with foreboding.

Arthur sighed. "He woke up an hour or so after midnight." The Roman's face betrayed his sorrow. "It was bad. He was in a lot of pain."

Gawain immediately understood what Arthur was not saying. He placed his hand on Galahad's shoulder briefly. "Get some sleep. I'll stay here for awhile."

When Galahad had left, Gawain asked his commander, "How is his fever?"

"Much better, but still not gone entirely." Arthur straightened and went over to the bed to check once more. He placed his hand on Lancelot's forehead as he sat down on the bed. He watched in surprise as Lancelot's eyes opened at his touch.

"Arthur?"

The Roman watched as Lancelot slowly came awake, his eyes hollow and unfocused at first, but gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. "I'm here." He removed his hand from Lancelot's forehead, placing it gently on his arm. "Are you in pain?"

"It hurts like hell." Lancelot sounded weak, but the irritated undertone did not escape either Arthur or Gawain.

"Try not to move too much. Your injuries were very severe, still are." Arthur said in a soothing voice.

Lancelot looked around as he had done earlier. Briefly he met Gawain's gaze.

"We've been worried about you," Gawain said softly.

"Where am I?" Lancelot asked, his eyes darting from Gawain to Arthur and back.

Gawain waited until Arthur answered.

"You're in the forests. You were close to death when we found you. You wouldn't have made it back to the fortress…" Arthur's voice trailed off as he remembered. "You're in one of the Woad camps. Merlin's. They helped us take care of you, provided us with shelter. You would have died otherwise." Arthur watched Lancelot carefully as he processed the information.

"The Woads…?" Pain flooded Lancelot's face as the memories of his capture and two days of torture returned to him. His breathing became more rapid as he fought the panic building inside of him.

"Easy now… You're safe. You have to believe that!" Arthur soothingly rubbed his hand over Lancelot's arm.

"They did this to me!" The anger was obvious in the knight's fading voice.

"We know. We killed them, all of them. It wasn't Merlin. He helped us find you." The Roman watched his friend concerned, not wanting to distress him any further.

"How? Why?" Lancelot's strength was waning fast but he was determined to hear some answers.

Arthur saw how suddenly a different kind of agony passed over the Sarmatian's face, as he paled even further, the shadows around his eyes turning darker. "Lancelot? What's wrong?"

"They took my sister's charm." Lancelot's voice was no more than a whisper but the pain in it was razor sharp.

"No, no!" Arthur brought both of his hands up to his neck and pulled Lancelot's pendant out from under his shirt. Carefully he took off the necklace over his head. Gently he placed it in Lancelot's hand, closing his fingers around it.

Lancelot brought his hand up to his chest and pressed the charm tightly to his heart. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by emotions, taking in deep breaths. He could hear Arthur worriedly calling out his name once more, but he had nothing more left to answer with. He did not resist when sleep claimed him.

Arthur and Gawain looked on in silence for a moment.

"Sweet Goddess, let him be alright," Gawain spoke softly.