plzkthx101: Thank you so much for reviewing, and for your kind words.Here is the next chapter and I hope you are not disappointed. You DID say plausible, right? You may change your mind at the end of this one. Hopefully it works though. :)

Cardeia: I kind of liked doing the Galahad/Lancelot stuff. I don't know why, but I sort of see Galahad as the guy everyone sort of picks on. He's so volatile and young, it just seems easy to poke at him and get a reaction. And I see Lancelot as a guy who likes to get a reaction. I realized that Tristan's injuries in the movie were very bad, even before the final death stroke. I thought it would be kind of a cheat to make them less than they were but then maybe it ends up being sort of a cheat anyway. I don't know, you all will have to decide that. I hope it works. Oh, and while I was at it, you know I had to "save" Lancelot. I hated his death perhaps more than Tristan's. I thought that there were so many things on the battlefield that were just pure happenstance that it would not be unbelievable if he were to be saved that way. Throughout the movie you see scenes where an enemy comes up behind a knight with an axe poised to cleave his skull or something, but another knight sees it and takes him out. What if that knight didn't see it? Happenstance.

ElvenStar5: Here is the next chapter, though as dellis says, you have to know if he's made it this far, he'll make it the rest of the way.I just hope you likehow it happens. I hope it's not too unbelievable. Thanks so much for the interest and for your kind review. I keep thinking I'm going to post a chapter and everyone's going to go, "no, now you've ruined it!" :)

Disclaimer: not making money from this, don't have money anyway, don't sue.

Rating: M

Damara could not accept what she was hearing. Tristan was NOT dying – he couldn't. She stood at his bedside, looking down at her beloved. Was there nothing at all that could be done for him? Merlin started to leave the room and Damara ran after him.

"Merlin! Please, a moment!"

He turned to speak to her and she went down on her knees. Beseechingly, she looked up at him. "I would speak with you, my lord. Please, just a minute of your time."

"Of course I will speak with you, child. But get up off your knees – I am no Roman to demand servitude." Merlin protested, but he was pleased with her show of respect. Turning his people over to Arthur's leadership had been a risky move. Merlin held power, but knew that it could dissolve in the future. The respect of the people would be important to his continued relevancy.

"You say that Tristan will die, but is there nothing that can be done for him? I am willing to do whatever I must. My knowledge is basic, but yours is vast. Surely there are some remedies that can be tried," entreated Damara.

Sadly, Merlin shook his head. "Child, there are none. You must accept that there are some injuries that cannot be overcome."

"I will not accept that. As long as he breathes I will fight for him." Damara was quiet for a moment and then went on. "Merlin…My mother spoke of you to me. She said that you have…influence…far beyond that of most men."

Merlin watched the girl silently, waiting for her to go on.

Damara swallowed. "I beg for Tristan's life. I am prepared to pay any cost that is required of me if he can be spared." She went on. "I was told that he was returning here to fight, that he would die, told so that I could save his life. Why would such knowledge have come to me, if it were for nothing?"

Interest flickered in the depths of Merlin's eyes. "You were told – by whom?"

Damara told him of the feelings she'd had; the intuition that led her and the actions she had taken. Merlin questioned her closely and Damara answered him fully. He fell silent for a time and then spoke.

"What you ask of me is not easily done." Hope sprang to life in her breast, but she fought to contain herself. Merlin went on. "I can only ask, and there is no guarantee of the answer, do you understand?"

Damara nodded.

Merlin continued. "You have said you will pay any price and you will be bound to that. I want you to think on that carefully before you agree. I cannot say what will be asked of you, for I do not know."

Eagerly, Damara agreed to Merlin's terms. The sage held up his hand.

"Consider that the price may be higher than you wish to pay."

The possibilities of what Merlin could want were endless – Damara had no time to consider them all. She would deal with his demands when they arose. And she could not think of a price she would not pay. "I agree. And thank you, my lord." She took his hands in hers and kissed them.

Merlin's eyes twinkled. "Go to your knight, treat him as you have been. I will come to you later with your answer."

Damara sat by Tristan's bedside. The knights came and went, seeking to spend their last moments with their dying comrade. Damara withdrew when they visited to give them privacy. They'd been with him for many years and she'd only known him a few days. It hardly seemed possible that it had been such a short time.

Throughout the night she maintained her vigil. She was bone tired, but forced herself to stay awake. She changed his dressings, spooned small amounts of water between his lips. He did not yet burn with fever, but she prepared an infusion of Goat's Rue for use at the first sign of one. She spoke to him, hoping that her voice would help to keep him with her.

Just before dawn she heard a footstep at the door. She looked up to see Merlin standing there. He looked tired and worn, but he nodded to her.

"His death is no longer guaranteed, but neither is his survival. You will need to fight to keep him here. Use every piece of knowledge that you possess – you will need it. I will be available to you if you have need of me." With that, he walked away.

Damara was elated. From that time on, she did not leave Tristan's side. She sent for her son and all her time was spent on the care of either Bran or Tristan. She made infusions and poultices that she knew would help and experimented with the variations, adding more of this, less of that. She slept next to the knight, with her hand on his chest. It comforted her to drift off to sleep feeling the ever-steadier beat of his heart. She was sensitive to his every movement and every sound. When the rising heat in his body awakened her she was able to start tending to his fever immediately. The knights still came to visit, becoming less mournful and more hopeful each time. Many days passed and while he did not regain consciousness, he did not seem to get worse.

The knight had another visitor. Damara had placed one of Tristan's gauntlets in the window in the hopes that the hawk would see it and come to investigate. On the second day, she appeared. Slowly, carefully, Damara placed Tristan's other gauntlet on her arm. While speaking softly, she carefully approached the creature. After some hesitation, the hawk stepped onto Damara's arm.

Damara carried her over to Tristan's bed and ran his hand over her feathers. She hoped that the hawk's presence would help strengthen him. She asked the knights to set up a stand so that the bird could perch near Tristan if she wished, and was happy when she began to use it often. Damara would talk to the bird, trying to get her to chatter back so that Tristan could hear. While the hawk tolerated Damara's attentions and would not bite; she also did not enjoy being held and petted by her. Her affections were devoted solely to Tristan.

Damara made sure Tristan was kept clean, bathing him regularly and attending to his personal hygiene as needed. She worked his legs and arms to avoid stiffening of the limbs. Every scar on his body, every rippling muscle, became familiar to her. The knights would assist her in turning him so he did not get bedsores, but the bulk of the physical labor was hers.

As Damara spent all her time caring for Tristan and her son, she spent none on herself. She became thin and wan, and was in danger of losing her milk. She was happy the day Vanora came back and filled Tristan's room with sunshine. While Vanora could not get the healer to leave Tristan's side, she did provide company for her and encouraged her to eat better. Vanora's visits always brightened her day and she looked forward to them.

Damara enjoyed the visits of the knights and she especially took delight in Lancelot's company. He was humorous, sly and charming. He regaled her with tales of the knights' exploits, though she suspected they were drastically edited for her benefit. She knew there were women – with men such as these there were always women – and yearned to ask about Tristan. Did he have many women? Who were they? Had there been anyone special? She was curious about his past, but refrained from indulging that curiosity.

Merlin was an occasional visitor, checking on Tristan's progress, questioning Damara on her treatment and offering suggestions of his own. She eagerly soaked up any knowledge he chose to impart, and came to regard the Woad with great affection.

One day, several weeks after Tristan's injury, Damara sat in her rocking chair, wearily feeding Bran. Lancelot was there in quiet companionship, telling tales of knights who were long gone. Damara's eyes were closed, but flew open when she heard a sudden change in Tristan's breathing. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized his eyes were open.

"Tristan – you're awake!" She hurriedly unlatched the protesting infant and handed him to Lancelot. She closed her blouse as she turned her attention to the scout.

"Tristan…Tristan, look at me." At her command, the knight's eyes focused on her. "Do you know who I am?" Tristan closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again. Weakly, he replied, "D…Damar…a"

The healer was relieved. "Who is this?" Lancelot bent over, hovering in Tristan's line of vision.

"Lan…celot…" the knight sighed.

"Thank the deities," Damara cried. "Lancelot…"

But the knight was already gone, running down the hallways, with the baby still in his arms, shouting the good news. Soon the room was filled with Tristan's brother knights, who were overjoyed at the scout's awakening. Damara withdrew from the room to give them all some privacy. She stood in the hallway, looking out the window – weary and happy, feeling a great sense of relief. Tristan would be fine and she could relax her constant vigilance. She would look forward to a good night's sleep. With regret she realized that she no longer had need to sleep next to Tristan – and that he would probably prefer the comfort of having the bed to himself.

She gave the knights a few more minutes before she went back into the room to chase them all away. Tristan was still very ill and very weak. He required rest and time to build up his strength. Reluctantly the knights left, promising to return early the next morning.

Hoping to spend some time with Tristan, Damara was disappointed to see that the knight had fallen back into a deep sleep. Her disappointment was short-lived, however. She reasoned that since he was not fully recovered, it would be safest to spend one last night at his side, just to be sure. She crawled into bed beside him and went to sleep, comforted by the slow and steady beat of his heart beneath her hand.

Over the following days, Tristan's strength continued to return; however his demeanor was decidedly subdued. He seemed distracted by something, depressed. Damara tried to brighten his spirits but nothing seemed to work. He would eat, but did not seem to have much of an appetite. The presence of his hawk was the only thing that seemed to interest him. Damara wondered if she had imagined their conversation before he'd left the wall, the one in which he'd said he cared about her. It was as if the Tristan she knew was gone; replaced by this distant and troubled one.

She would ask him if there was anything wrong, but his answer was always the same. He was simply tired, he'd say. Not up to his full strength. Damara did not push him, but she knew there was more to it than he was letting on. She moved out of his room – with his health returning he did not need her full time anymore. She wept bitterly when he did not object to her doing so.

His strength slowly returned to him, but he spent much of his time out of doors, with his horse and his hawk. Damara rarely saw him anymore. The other knights had noticed Tristan's change in demeanor, and it concerned them as well.

For Lancelot's part, he was concerned just as much for Damara, as he watched her grow more and more dispirited. He liked her tremendously and was angry at Tristan's dismissive treatment of her. One day, he impulsively walked into her room to speak to her about Tristan's odd behavior. He had become accustomed to doing so when she stayed with Tristan and had never before come upon her in any way but fully dressed.

As he strode into her room, his first realization was that she was completely nude, having just stepped out of her tub. The second was that she was crying bitterly. His first thought was to flee, the second to stay and comfort her. He never got a chance to decide which was the better course of action because Damara had looked up and seen him as he came dashing in.

She wiped at her eyes with one hand, and motioned to the door with the other. She was simply too tired and dispirited to care what state Lancelot found her in. She supposed she should be mortified, but she couldn't manage to work up to it.

Lancelot was horrified. "Haven't you been eating? You're skin and bones!" He had noticed her weight loss before, but did not realize to what extent. He could easily see her ribs and her hip bones as she stood before him.

He picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her. He pulled her close to him and she wept against his chest.

"It's Tristan, isn't it?" Lancelot was furious at his friend.

"I don't know what's wrong with him – what I've done. He's just not the same man anymore," she cried.

"Well, I've had enough of the way he's been acting. The man comes back from the dead and instead of being grateful for it, he mopes around as if he'd rather have died. I'll get to the bottom of this, I promise you."

"Lancelot…please don't…" Damara started, but the knight was already leaving.

When Tristan came riding back to the stables, an angry Lancelot awaited him. "We need to talk."

Tristan's eyes flickered disinterestedly over Lancelot. "Do we? What about?"

"Your behavior, for one. Damara, for another."

Tristan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what do either have to do with you?"

"I happen to care for her a great deal. And you are making her miserable," Lancelot said tightly. "Have you looked at her lately? Really looked at her? She doesn't eat anymore. She is so gaunt you can see her rib bones under her skin."

Tristan looked at Lancelot. "Through her clothing?" He walked slowly towards the other knight, who just realized he'd revealed far more than he'd planned to. "Just how close did you two get during my recovery?"

"I walked in on her at her bath! That's all! She was crying and I saw how thin she was…"

"What did you do?" Tristan snarled, shoving Lancelot against the stable wall.

"I gave her a blanket and we talked! What is it you are implying?" Lancelot was outraged at the scout's lack of faith in him.

Tristan gave Lancelot a look of contempt. "You're hardly a man that I would trust with any woman of mine."

"Is she your woman? The way you're treating her, you'd never know. You did not see what she went through for you. She did not leave your side once while you were ill. And now you treat her as if she doesn't exist. Whatever your problem is – I couldn't care less. You've always been a moody bastard anyway. But you'll make things right with Damara or you'll answer to me." Lancelot turned on his heel and strode out of the stables.

Tristan was furious. Lancelot, always shoving his nose where it didn't belong. He would answer to Lancelot for nothing. The other knight was right about one thing, though he hated like hell to admit it. Tristan needed to speak to Damara. Maybe unburdening himself to her would help. But whether she could help him or not, she deserved to know.

Damara looked up, feeling a presence in her room. "Hello, Tristan." She hadn't heard him come in - the man could lurk like no other.

"Damara," Tristan said by way of greeting. He looked at her – she was thin, and looked careworn. She needed rest. The baby was at her breast, feeding contentedly. He remembered when he had woken up from his illness to see Damara feeding Bran and Lancelot sitting and talking to her. What a cozy little scene it had been.

"I spoke to Lancelot just now," said Tristan.

Damara felt a knot in her stomach. "I did not send him, Tristan. When and if you want to speak to me about what is troubling you; you will. Until then I am content to wait."

"But you're not content – look at you! Lancelot is right; you are far too thin. Do you not eat?"

"Of course I eat – feeding a child takes a lot out of a woman," she protested.

"I've seen Vanora feed eleven children and never did she get as thin as you are now," Tristan said.

Damara sighed. "Bran's healthy and I'm healthy. There is nothing to worry about. What did you want to talk about?" she said wearily.

Tristan sat down on the bed. "You know…that I haven't been myself," Tristan began. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "I've never been afraid of death. You can't be on the battlefield, or you hesitate, make mistakes. I was always ready to greet death, sometimes ran after him, but I never caught him."

Tristan stopped for a moment. He put his head in his hands and then ran his fingers through his hair as he looked up at Damara. She put her hand on his, waiting patiently.

"That day on the battlefield…with the Saxon…death found me. I'd come close to him before, but I'd never looked him in the face until that moment." He got up and started pacing the room. "I'm good, you see…I'm very good at what I do. Never before have I met my match. That day, I did. More than that, he was better than I was. I always thought I would greet death on my feet, with a smile on my face."

Damara saw tears streaming down the face of the man she loved so much, and started to go to him. He put up his hand to stop her. "Don't. Just…don't, please."

Hurt, not understanding; Damara sat back down to hear Tristan out. "After all the battles, all these years, when death came for me, what did I do?" Tristan began to choke, breaking down in sobs. "I crawled! On my belly, I crawled away from death." His voice began to rise, and in doing so, broke. "I thought I knew who I was, what kind of a man I was. At that moment, I didn't anymore. All I wanted was to live. I didn't care what I had to do…I just wanted to live."

In anguish, Damara again went to Tristan. She put her arms around him, only to be roughly pushed away. "Don't touch me!" Seeing the tears that sprang to her eyes, he said in a softer tone, "Please, just leave me be. This is hard enough."

"All I know is battle, but how can I ever face the enemy again? I never doubted myself before, now that's all I do. Everything I knew about myself has been proven false," Tristan said in anguish.

Wishing to comfort Tristan, knowing he would not allow it right now, Damara spoke to him, hoping to reach him with her words. "Tristan, my love… Lean on me and I'll help you with this. You may not know who you are right now, but I do. You're the man I love, will always love. Just please…let me help you."

Tristan turned to her, torment in his eyes, and shook his head. "I don't know where I go from here…where we go from here. I can't be with you right now – maybe not ever. I need time…and if you can't wait I'll understand."

Damara was stunned at his rejection of her - she felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach, unable to breathe. She needed to talk to him, make him see that he could get through this.

"Tristan, I know what you are feeling." He gave her a look, and she held up her hand. "Hear me out, please," she said. "I fought the soldiers that I was given to. Every time they came for me, I fought them, for all the good it did me." She looked down at her fingers and studied them. Before going on, she swallowed hard. "After a while, they eventually wore me down. I stopped fighting. It didn't matter enough anymore – I didn't matter enough. No matter what I did, it wasn't going to stop them. So I just let them do whatever they wanted. I would just lay there, hating every minute of it while some smelly soldier heaved and groaned on top of me."

She stole a look at his face, which was blank and impassive, hard to read. Then she went on. "I hated myself for that. I felt that by not fighting them I was giving them permission, that I had lost all claim to any honor that I once had. It took a very long time for me to forgive myself for what I had allowed. But eventually I did." She turned her eyes to Tristan. "I know you also feel you have lost your honor. But self-preservation is the most basic instinct there is – every living creature is born with that. When there is no thought left, there is only the will to live. And that's what you did, you wanted to live. And there is nothing wrong with that."

His face had not changed, she was not getting through to him. "It hurts now, but it will go away. What you did, what I did…in the end it's nothing. It's just what you do to survive. What matters is what you do after." She lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Please…let me help you."

Tristan could feel nothing. He wasn't ready to, and he shook his head. "I have to do this on my own, and if you stay with me you may end up getting hurt. I don't want that on my conscience as well." Tristan said. "Please, just leave me be about this. If I want you I know where you are."

Damara nodded to him, and then picked up Bran and went to the door. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. She would be damned if she would let him see how devastated she was.

"I'll be here…somewhere…if you decide…" Her voice trailed away. It was over now. After everything she'd been through, and he didn't even want her anymore.

She turned to leave and then back to look at him. "You wanted so very badly to live. So, live. Don't let it all have been for nothing."

Then she went through the door and was gone.

TBC

When I saw Tristan crawling in the movie, my heart broke. I hated it that they made him crawl and I thought it would have a devastating effect on him if he were to survive it. When I started this story I wanted Tristan to live, but then I knew he would have to deal with his defeat. So, this is my attempt to do so.