I apologize, I meant to post this earlier today, but we went to see Cinderella Man (which was really really good). Anyway, only two more parts to go after this. I appreciate all the reviews, thank you very much.

Part 5

The storm was over, but the rain never stopped. Arthur stared up at the ceiling, watching the rain fall down on his face. He closed his eyes again; the vast space of the grey clouds above was making him dizzy. The rain felt good. It was cool and he was freezing, but it felt good.

Music reached his ears again. It sounded sad, like a funeral. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the monastery, but somewhere else - somewhere familiar. Tears began to form in his grey eyes and mixed with the rain water on his face. "Mother...no, come back," he whispered.

Lancelot sighed, "Arthur, it's all right." He dipped the cloth in the bowl of water on the table and wiped some of the sweat off of the commander's brow, trying to cool down his raging fever. When they thought he was getting better, he suddenly got worse. Gawain did too. The monks had tried every method of healing known to them but now they could only pray. Tristan kept trying, but slowly he was starting to lose hope as well.

"No! Mother!" Arthur cried, suddenly sitting up in bed before Lance caught him. He struggled against his friend as much as he could, reaching out with one arm as the tears flowed down his face.

"Arthur stop! Listen to me, listen to my voice," the knight said, still trying to hold him back. He could feel the heat radiating off of the Roman's skin; it made Lance's heart sink. He had made a promise not to give up...but now, it was so hard to find hope. Arthur's strength was being used up quickly every day as his body fought the fever, and the dreams and delusions brought on by it didn't allow him to sleep and regain his strength either.

After a few more moments of struggle, tears and crying out in a language Lance didn't understand, Arthur slowed down and sagged in his friend's arms, exhausted. He rested his head against the knight's shoulder. "Come back.." he whispered to the images of the past in his mind. Then Arthur looked up a little, meeting the concerned brown eyes of his friend. "Lancelot?"

Lance forced a smile to his lips through the glassy tears starting to well up in his eyes, "Yes, I'm here. It's all right now. Rest, Arthur."

The Roman shivered and found his eyes growing heavy, struggling to stay awake a little longer. It felt like he was falling again as Lance gently lowered him back on the bed again. Arthur closed his eyes with a sigh. The rain fell down on his face and dripped down his cheeks. He could taste it on his lips. "Why is it still raining?" he asked softly.

Shaking his head, Lancelot continued to cool down Arthur's face as he replied, "It's not raining, not anymore. Go to sleep."

"I can feel it raining," the other whispered before sleep took him once more.

Lance sighed. "It's your fever, not rain," he whispered even though he knew Arthur wasn't listening. Squeezing his eyes shut, he was glad that none of the others were there to see him cry again. Not even the singing that Arthur had told him were prayers took away his fear. If anything, it made it worse.

Galahad looked up suddenly when he heard yelling across the square. He knew who it was; Arthur's fever and delirium had gone on for over a week. In fact, Galahad wasn't sure how long they had been there anymore. Time didn't seem to exist the way that it should as he sat in the chair next to Gawain's bed, faithfully holding his best friend's hand.

Unlike Arthur, Gawain stayed quiet mostly. Occasionally he stirred or murmured something, but he never woke. It scared the young knight, he had watched others of their company die the same way. And he feared that the same fate may be before him now.

There was nothing to help him, nothing to pull him out of the despair of the possibility of loosing his friend. Even this place which had held a peaceful air had become haunting and ominous. Or perhaps it was just the music.