AN:

Dear readers,

Today is a fantastic day for a number of reasons. First, because with this chapter, I have surpassed the 60,000 word mark! Don't ask me why, but I always counted 60,000 as a special mile-marker!

Secondly, although this chapter was long in coming, the reason for the delay was worth it! I sent in my long report on my thesis research today... and my advisor told me I write with 'sophistication and insight'. He says I'm ready to start formulating my argument. I'M SO EXCITED.

Finally, you can all thank Starglen for this chapter. I promised her I'd post it by her birthday. Otherwise you might've waited even longer! In case you were not aware, she's not just a great reader & reviewer but also an awesome writer! All her stories are great, but her S5 finale rewrite is one of my all time favorite stories on this site, so if you haven't seen it, you're missing out! So happy birthday to Starglen!

And to all of you, enjoy the chapter! :)

Sandyy

Merlin could feel several different signatures of magic in the air about him. It did little good, though. There were too many different threats to distinguish from one another, even how close or how imminent they were, so may live, threatening beings were near and about him, interwoven in with the innate sense of peril that came with the presence of the flames and firearms which riddled the area surrounding the house.

Arthur's command rang in his ears still, and even as he stumbled, he struggled forward, clutching Uther's arm about his neck. They weren't going to make it very far with Merlin already flagging under the strain of the other man's almost dead-weight. He cast about frantically for some temporary safe-spot to stop and see to the gravity of Uther's injury, but he couldn't stop while they were in plain view of the combatants. For lack of a better refuge, Merlin made it a few yards to the narrow gap between two houses and lowered Uther to the ground as gently as possible. His arms trembled from the effort, but he knelt beside Uther and bundled up his jacket as a makeshift pillow for the man's head. It might have felt strange at any other time, but his mind was too taxed to process the nuances of the situation.

"'Rthur… wh…where?" Uther rasped, reaching for Merlin's wrist. Merlin brushed his hands aside.

"He's fine," he answered automatically, reaching for Uther's bloodied shirt. "I need to take a look," he said quietly. The tilt of Uther's head could have been a nod. Merlin wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure Uther was lucid at this point, but he took the miniscule gesture as permission and pulled Uther's jacket and shirt back. His throat convulsed. Okay… stop the bleeding… Merlin fumbled with his scarf, hands shaking worse than before now, and tried to put pressure where he could see most of the blood and reached for his pocket before realizing he'd left his mobile in his jacket pocket, currently tucked underneath Uther's head. He sucked in a breath and tried to shuffle forward to reach for the edge of the jacket with one hand, keeping pressure with the other.

The crunch of boots on pavement sent a jolt of fear through Merlin's chest. He crouched low beside the Prime Minister, eyesight now adjusted to the darkness, and scanned the shadows past the walls of the houses where he waited.

"Stay here," he whispered, not that Uther, eyes half closed and incapacitated from shock and blood loss, was likely to move. On impulse, Merlin ducked his head and kept the scarf pressed down with a touch of magic before he got up and crept towards the street. He never reached it. A glaring light came around the stone corner and shone directly in Merlin's face, blinding his dark-adjusted eyes. He froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Knew you couldn't have run far, runt." A voice sneered. Merlin squinted into the light, his heart thundering in his chest. There were three, and he was able to make out more when the shaft of brilliant glare shifted off of his face. One was holding a mage-light, pale yellowish-red, unlike that cast by Merlin's gentle, blue orb. It lit its surroundings with an eerie fire-like glow. He at least was a sorcerer, but Merlin was sure he would have the advantage of him. No one ever expected magic from him. The last of them was armed with what looked like a semi-automatic rifle, though Merlin knew little enough about guns, and a bright, glaring light was mounted on the barrel, nearly blinding Merlin with its brightness. The third, in whom Merlin could sense a touch of magic as well, had a torch which light up the ground behind Merlin where Uther lay. Merlin braced his feet apart.

"Stay away from him," he ordered. The torch-bearing sorcerer's eyes widened, and unsurprisingly a smile spread across his face.

"I don't believe you're in a position to be giving orders. Step aside, boy."

"I won't let you touch him," Merlin growled. The man's expression didn't even change. He jerked his head towards the wall.

"Step aside. I don't have to hurt you."

Arthur, where are you? Merlin wondered, darting a look over his shoulder at Arthur's semi-conscious father. Uther's strength was flagging. Even if he'd dared to move Uther with a wound which looked as bad as his, Merlin doubted he would be able to drag Uther any further. However… the one benefit to the situation was that Uther was too far-gone to notice what Merlin was about to do. Or at least Merlin prayed he was. Uther aside, he didn't want to die here in this secluded corner of Cardiff. He certainly didn't want to end up in Morgause's hands.

The first soldier took a threatening step forward. Merlin leveled him with a calculating look and raised his hand. Instantly the rifle was trained on him. His eyes narrowed. Don't make me do this.

"I'm not bluffing. Don't come any nearer." He could feel his magic coiling powerfully behind the words, a threat almost tangible in the air. The three seemed to sense something too. The man with the rifle shot an anxious glance at his companion with the mage-light, but a scornful smile curled at their leader's lips. His eyes gleamed a pale russet-gold in the darkness, and a little line of fire sprang up between Merlin and Uther.

"One against three. Do you really think you've got a chance?" he sneered. Merlin spared the fire not even a glance. It wouldn't reach Uther. Not any time soon at least. He looked the scornful sorcerer in the eye.

"I warned you," he said quietly.

"Shoot him," ordered the sorcerer. The armed man did not even have time to tighten his finger on the trigger. His rifle twisted itself neatly out of his hands and snapped backwards into his face. Merlin didn't wait for a reaction from the other two. Without so much as a word, all three of them went hurtling back, two against the ground, and beside him, the sorcerer who had held the mage-light collided hard with the stone wall of the house with a sound all too familiar to Merlin. The sickening crunch of bone against the wall made him cringe, and a split second after they struck the wall, the mage light winked out like a flame in the wind. For a split second, the image of Freya's terrified face danced before Merlin's eyes, now left in the darkness once more… and of Halig's body lying broken on the ground. Bile rose in Merlin's throat, but he swallowed it back down. He didn't have time to be sick. Uther's eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling with small, weak breaths. He looked far too pale and weak for Merlin to feel relieved. He doused the sorcerer's magic-created flames with a flick of his hand and stepped across the line seared in the pavement. He took Uther's wrist, feeling for the pulse, weak and erratic. He didn't know any spells for this kind of injury. The only thing he knew was a simple incantation Balinor had taught him for repairing burned or damaged tissue. This injury reached too deep, but with no other recourse, he closed his eyes and stretched a hand over the wound, searching for some instinctive sense of what to do, as he had often done before in a tight spot. He'd managed to stave off the worst of the bleeding when Gwaine had been cut by a knife… but the briefest look told him this was not the same. Somewhere deep beneath the skin, the bullet was lodged, and he didn't know or dare enough to try to move it back out, nor to try knitting damaged organs back together. Instinct warned him of what he might do toying with complex magic like that which he'd never tested before.

A new set of footsteps forced him to shift his attention once again. Merlin smothered the resurging sick-feeling. His scarf was soaked through by now, and his fingers stuck together when he straightened up. Still on his knees, he raised both hands palms-outward, eyes lighting with warning golden-fire, then a new light bathed his surroundings with an electrical glow.

"Merlin!" Merlin blinked rapidly. The golden light died from his eyes.

"Gaius," he breathed. He tried to stagger to his feet as Gaius stepped swiftly forward to steady at him, brows drawn together in concern, but Merlin waved him off, shaking his head. "He… Uther—he was shot. He needs help." An expression of confusion passed over Gaius' face briefly, then stepped past to kneel at Uther's side, and Merlin leaned back against the wall, staring in shock at the bodies on the hard ground at his feet. He breathed in a tiny, shallow breath and took a shuffling step back.

"Merlin? You alright, mate?" Merlin didn't look up. One of the three men he'd just thrown was lying face up, eyes open, and lying with his body twisted in an unnatural way, glassy stare fixed on the sky, his face cast in shadow from the headlamp of someone standing above them both…. Suddenly the wall that had been supporting Merlin was gone. He backed up a step, sank forward onto his knees, reaching for the ground with both hands, tasted bile in the back of his throat, felt the cold pavement under his palms, and retched. A hand pressed against Merlin's forehead, supporting his head as he retched again. "Me too, Merlin. Me too," Gwaine's voice said quietly. Somewhere far away he heard voices, footsteps, people moving past him. For a while he couldn't respond or even move from where he was on hands and knees, shaking and trying to quell his roiling stomach. He tried to swallow down the bile and sit up, and Gwaine was quick to hook an arm under his and help him into a sitting position. Merlin's vision blurred from the movement, and Gwaine firmly pushed his head down to his knees. "Take it easy. There's no hurry."

"I'm okay," Merlin mumbled. He blinked against the moisture that stung his eyes, but sat still a moment later until his head stopped swimming. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Gwaine responded. He helped Merlin to his feet, eyes still narrowed in concern. "Sure you're alright?" Merlin nodded, and the man wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders, guiding him back towards the house. "Good. Come on. Arthur's already been pitching a fit because you're missing." Arthur? Merlin exhaled shakily. God… he'd almost forgotten about Arthur…

This time, it wasn't Patroni but military who were securing a perimeter around the house as sirens wailed to life in the distance. Gwaine brought him just near enough that the lights—relit around the house, illuminated their figures, and they were intercepted by two of the soldiers and escorted from there. The man ostensibly in charge was dressed in civilian clothing, as were one or two of the people Merlin spotted moving around the scene: those lucky few unmarked soldiers whom Morgause's men had not managed to shoot while unconscious and helpless under the enchantress' spell. The reminder made another wave of nausea surge in Merlin's throat. Gaius could have been one of those. It was pure luck that he had survived this attack.

The apparent authority was a tall, gray haired individual with a grim face and wary light-blue eyes, which fixed his with surprising quickness on Merlin as Gwaine steered him forward.

"You found him. Excellent." He turned on one of the men standing by him. "Keep these two together. I want as little as possible of this to reach the media. See to it that there's a security detail with the Prime Minister and his son—"

"Where is Arthur?" Gwaine interrupted. "He's not supposed to be up!"

"Inside. We're keeping an eye on him." Merlin scowled.

"He's not a child," he snapped, though even to his ear it was sharper than he'd intended. Gwaine looked bewildered at his outburst, but the gray haired man responded in a level tone.

"No, but he's been a bit roughed up. He didn't look well." What? Merlin's eyes widened. Half of him wanted to stop and ask Gwaine what had happened, but the door to the building was open, and he needed no further information. He pushed his way past the gray-haired man and Gwaine, heading straight for the house, and his shoulder collided hard with another person who stepped in his way. A hand clamped around his arm and shoved him back. Merlin ground his teeth. A mixture of stress and frustration was mounting inside him, and he hand to clamp down carefully on his emotions, recognizing how unstable his magic felt at the moment.

"Let him go," the man—officer, authority, whatever he was—instructed. Merlin pulled free the second he was able and rounded the door-frame into the house without looking back to see whether Gwaine or anyone else followed him.

"Arthur?" Merlin turned the corner and skirted around one of the many uniformed soldiers whose gaze followed him down the hall. He came up short barely a foot from the soldier and for some reason it nettled him to realize what the man was doing. Suddenly keeping an eye on Arthur seemed not just irritating but intrusive. Arthur didn't seem to notice his assigned guard, however. Merlin approached him slowly, swallowing down the resurging nausea that burned in his throat. The blond turned his head, just enough to show the raw scrape across his cheek. Merlin knelt beside him. No one had moved the body on the floor in front of them, probably because there was nothing more to be done for the young man. He was as still as the three Merlin had just disposed of outside. Merlin focused his attention on Arthur to keep himself from losing his composure again.

"Arthur?"

"There's eight of them." Merlin blinked, and his stomach twisted.

"Good God, Arthur. Why were you counting?" he breathed.

"They're people. People with families, friends, lives… people Morgana killed." The hair on the back of Merlin's neck prickled. He shook his head slowly. There was no more uncertainty of Morgana's alliance now… but this time the conversation between himself and Arthur was not so one-sided. He'd been desperate to convince Arthur and get him to move, but now…

"She couldn't have known—"

"It doesn't matter what she knew. She gave up my father's location. She made the choice to trust that Fox woman," Arthur said. He didn't sound angry. If anything, he sounded utterly devoid of emotion, as though he was talking about someone he scarcely knew. "She has magic." Arthur turned his gaze abruptly on Merlin, his with an expression as blank as his inflection. "You knew, didn't you? Did she tell you that too?"

"I… no, she never…" Merlin swallowed. No. He would tell more lies. Arthur had been lied to far too much already. "She didn't tell me. I knew… sort of. It was just a suspicion from something I overheard her saying to Gaius. I never saw her doing magic or… anything." He shifted to face Arthur more fully, noticing for the first time that Arthur's jacket was gone, and his sleeve was rolled back from his burned arm and shoulder. How that had happened, he couldn't guess. But any minute now either the gray haired man or one of his officials might show up, and he felt a sense of guilty urgency. Arthur had been through more than enough for a day, but it would be better that he said this than any of the officials. "Arthur…" He paused and bit his lip. "Your father's been shot. Gaius is taking him to the nearest hospital to get emergency care, but …" he trailed off. Arthur had leaned forward so Merlin could no longer see his face, head clutched between his hands, fingers curling into his hair. Merlin scrambled back to his feet and crouched in front of his companion. "Hey. Arthur?" He shook Arthur's shoulder just enough to get his friend's attention and felt the blond shiver under his hand.

"Why… why would she do this?" His breaths were a little too short and sharp to be regular. Merlin's grip unconsciously tightened.

"I don't know." I should have warned you sooner… I'm so sorry… "Hey…" Merlin shook him again gently. "You need to relax. You'll hurt yourself like this." Arthur let out a ragged breath and Merlin sat down cross-legged in front of him, watching anxiously. He felt utterly useless. He was accustomed to see Arthur cope with stress and problems with that stubbornness so innate to the Pendragons—Morgana included. But then, Merlin could hardly blame the man. If this was a nightmare for him, it had to be a living hell for Arthur. "Are you okay? Is your shoulder worse?" he ventured. Arthur shook his head and visibly swallowed.

"I'm fine," he rasped in a tone that plainly belied his assertion. He lifted his head, straightened his shoulders, and looked at Merlin, a myriad of emotions battling in his weary eyes. "Is he… how bad is it?"

"He's…" Merlin stuffed his left hand into his pocket, suddenly aware of the crusted blood on his fingers. "I… I can't really say. Gaius is with him, and he'll do everything he can." Arthur tilted his head in a barely discernable nod. The stoic mask was back in place as he rose to his feet.

"Alright…" He let out a shuddering breath. "I'll see to it that Rodor puts you up somewhere for tonight, then we'll find a way to get you home." What? Merlin stopped, one hand on the floor, poised to get up as well, and tilted his head back to blink at Arthur.

"Trying to get rid of me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Arthur neither recognized nor responded to the gentle teasing lilt in Merlin's tone.

"No… but you…" Arthur's gaze lingered on the body of the young soldier at their feet.

"I'm not going to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble," Merlin said testily.

"I didn't say that," Arthur said. "It's just… This isn't your war, Merlin." Isn't it? Merlin shuddered involuntarily. It had very nearly been Gaius lying there on the ground. Hell… it could've been himor Gwaine or Arthur—maybe all three of them—if they had made it to Uther much sooner. He shook his head.

"It is. I was born into it. I've lived it every day of my life since. It's as much mine as yours," he responded. "I'm coming with you." Arthur's gaze travelled back to Merlin, and the warlock looked back stubbornly for a moment. Then Arthur let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

"Merlin, you really are an idiot." Merlin clambered to his feet as well to stand at Arthur's side.

"Lucky for you that I am," he retorted. The gleam of warmth in Arthur's eyes was gone almost as soon as it came, but he reached out and gripped Merlin's shoulder as he looked away again, conveying what he couldn't put into words. For a moment neither of them spoke, nor paid any attention to the voices or the footsteps nearby them as several of the soldiers made their way through the house. Merlin closed his eyes briefly and drew in a breath. He felt deeply unsettled and off-balance although the nausea was at last settling. But most importantly, the contact grounded him and calmed his magic which reacted to the turmoil of his mind. He'd come to keep Arthur safe, and whatever happened, that was what he would do. "Come on," Merlin broke the silence at last, and Arthur's hand dropped from his shoulder. "You're to have an escort to the hospital. And we'll get you something for the pain." Some of the tension wound up inside his chest relaxed when Arthur finally turned away from the still body in the hall. The haunted look in Arthur's eyes mirrored his own feelings too closely.

"I'm fine," Arthur muttered gruffly, straightening up when he noticed their silent, uniformed guardian watching them at a respectful distance. Fine was the last word Merlin would have used. Functional, perhaps, at best, but whatever Arthur was, it would do for now. The pale emergency lights shone outside the house, and more uniformed soldiers were waiting the moment Arthur left the confines of the house. Merlin silently fell into step with him.

There had been no sedative in the pain-killers; but shell-shocked and exhausted, Arthur had barely sat down before drifting unconscious. He was leaning slightly to the side, cheek pressed against the wall. He'd said scarcely a word since they arrived. Neither had Merlin. I'm sorry seemed like a useless thing to say at this point.

Merlin was cautious as he stretched a hand out over the blond's shoulder, watching him every second for signs of consciousness. He ducked his head as his eyes flickered from blue to gold, just for a heartbeat. Beneath his fingers, Arthur stirred just a touch. He withdrew his hand slowly and blew out a shaky breath. Gaius would've killed him. But with so many things unpredictable and out of his control, this was one he could help with, even if Arthur would never know it. Arthur would be woken when news of his father came, and he was already worn thin from being sick and from the dragon's fire.

"Figured you'd be here." Merlin's eyes snapped up towards the voice, but he relaxed again when he recognized the telltale accent. Gwaine was behind him. He couldn't have seen Merlin's eyes change color. He shrugged. "Apparently we're not supposed to be here," the American observed.

"Who's going to make me move?" Merlin muttered. Gwaine chuckled.

"You've got more of Arthur in you than I thought."

"He rubs off," Merlin said. He snagged his scarf from the chair beside him so Gwaine could sit down, and he draped it over his knees. He'd soaked the blood stains out of it recently. It gave no warmth, wet as it was now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave it.

"General what's-his-face left?" Gwaine asked.

"Rodor," Merlin supplied. "Gaius got him to leave Arthur alone… for now." That at least was a blessing. Merlin didn't like the pressure Rodor had put on Arthur. He wasn't sure whether to trust the gray-haired man yet. Clearly Rodor wanted something from the younger Pendragon, though Merlin couldn't tell what yet. He sighed. "Have you talked to Gaius? Did he say anything about Uther?" Gwaine's expression sobered.

"Didn't sound good. Said there was damage to internal organs—stuff they couldn't repair." Merlin bit his lip and looked sideways at Arthur again. "Don't wake him yet. Best let Gaius tell him when he's certain," Gwaine said. Merlin tilted his head in a small nod. He wasn't sure he wanted to break another bit of news like that to Arthur anyways.

"How's Arthur. He alright?" Gwaine asked. Merlin gritted his teeth.

"No. He's going to make himself sick. He took the pain-killers. Nothing else."

"Better than nothing. That shoulder's got to be killing him," Gwaine observed. Merlin shrugged and nodded absently. "Here." Gwaine nudged him and Merlin looked over at him. "Probably fell out of your pocket at some point. I found it on the ground." He held out Merlin's mobile. Merlin took it. The phone was a bit scratched up, but its screen lit up when he pressed the home button. "The witch called you," Gwaine added. Merlin shut the screen off.

"She's not a witch," he muttered.

"Don't know who else qualifies. She's got magic, and she caused this mess," Gwaine said. Merlin didn't respond to the comment, and thankfully Gwaine left it at that. He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder before getting to his feet.

"Tell you what. I'll bring some food up here, and you see if you can coax something into Arthur."

"Are we allowed to have food in here?" Gwaine shrugged and a ghost of his customary grin gleamed in his eyes.

"Probably not," he answered brightly and turned to go. Merlin managed a small smile in response.

"Thanks, Gwaine."

He waited until Gwaine was out of sight before looking at the four messages again; Morgana, just as Gwaine had said. He'd ignored them while he, Arthur, and Gwaine were congregated outside the house trying to concoct their hair-brained scheme to get Uther out. How well that had gone… He deleted them one in a row, setting his jaw as each one came up. Were they alright? Had they arrived yet? Why weren't they answering? But his finger stopped, poised over the fourth and final message, much longer than the others and, he realized, not from Morgana either. His breath caught as he read it through;

I've seen reports of what is happening in Camelot and surrounding areas. Wherever you are, I hope you're okay. Please message me back if you get this and let me know you and Arthur are safe. Please take care, Merlin. -Mom

How long had it been since he'd last called… Merlin looked down at the message with a mounting feeling of guilt. He couldn't even tell her what was happening. Merlin read the message several times over and got up quietly, moving far enough away that his voice wouldn't bother Arthur. He draped his wet scarf around his neck as he paced and punched in Hunith's number.

It rang once, twice, and Merlin stopped to lean his forehead against the cool glass of a window and stare out at the dark, silent street. By the time it was morning and Hunith checked her messages, his phone would be completely out of charge. The thought stung. But it would be reassuring at least if she could hear his voice—hear that he was alive and well. Later perhaps he could send her an email, but even that he wasn't sure of.

"Merlin?" Merlin started.

"Mum?" On the other side of the line there was an intake of breath.

"Oh, thank God." It's 3AM! Merlin feebly tried to recollect his scattered thoughts, entirely unprepared for a live conversation.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late. I—"

"It doesn't matter. Is everything alright?" Hunith asked brusquely. No… Uther's dying, one of my closest friends turned on me, I haven't heard from Gwen, Percival, and Lance. God only knows what's happened to them. And Leon… Merlin swallowed. What had Morgana done… he could only hope she'd slipped out of Iseldir's home without alerting the others, and they were safe with the Druid. But something told him that hadn't happened.

But he couldn't say that. He couldn't say any of it. Rodor would disapprove of him calling at all.

"It's been… hectic," he said instead, settling for a somewhat moderated version of the truth.

"I saw the news reports from Camelot," Hunith said. "And I couldn't get a hold of you or Gaius. When I saw there was damage in Oxford too, I thought you and Arthur…" Hunith trailed off. She sounded distressed and tired as well. Merlin worried at the ends of the damp scarf.

"Arthur's with me. He's… doing okay." A bit of an overstatement… He'll be alright, Merlin told himself, moving hurriedly past that aspect. "Gaius is fine too," he added. "The apartment in Camelot burned down, but he has another place to stay."

"And you?" Hunith asked. "When does your lease end in Oxford?" The worry edged her voice keenly. Merlin bit his lip.

"I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you," Hunith replied. "You know that."

"I know." Merlin smiled, hoping she would hear reassurance he was trying to infuse in his voice. "There's been some unrest here, but I'm safe." Merlin tried to ignore the warning low battery chime in his ear, instead listening intently for sound on the other end of the line, wishing he could see his mother's face right now. She didn't seem to be reassured.

"The news reports said there was a dragon," she said. "Some of the reports claimed it was sighted in Oxford." Merlin's heart skipped. About that… He drew in a breath.

"I'm fine, mum. I promise." He twisted the wet scarf around his free hand. "Actually, I… met an old friend of yours."

"An old friend?" Hunith repeated.

"He said that you made him quit smoking." Silence. Merlin waited a moment, trying to hear her breath or some sign of movement from her. He glanced at the battery bar. Three percent left… "Are you still there?"

"I'm still there." Hunith's voice was small. Another pause followed, then, "He… knew me from Armagh?"

"Yeah." Merlin's voice came out a bit rougher than he'd meant. He cleared his throat nervously.

"I thought… Oh Merlin." Her voice broke. He couldn't read her tone—tell whether she was pleased or anxious or anything. And neither of them could speak plainly: not until they were speaking face-to-face. Heaven only knew when they would have that chance again.

"Mum—"

"I'm sorry… Merlin, I wanted to tell you. I should have—"

"It's fine," Merlin cut her short. "I understand. He and Gaius explained." He chewed his lip again as another pause followed.

"I'm glad you met him." The relief in her voice was almost palpable. Merlin relaxed.

"Me too," he breathed. You'll see him again. I'll make sure, he vowed silently. This conflict wouldn't last long. He'd see Arthur safely through, and he'd find a way to bring his mother out to visit. Balinor would have one last chance to see her. He could do at least that for his father… if nothing else. The soft warning chime sounded in Merlin's ear. Two percent. "Mum, I'm sorry… I really want to talk, but my mobile's about to die." He paused for a beat then pressed on in a hurried, anxious tone. "Listen… you might hear some reports soon—about Oxford and Camelot, and about people that I know." And I can't tell you any of what's really going on right now… Merlin closed his eyes. "Some things are changing. There's a lot happening right now, and I don't know how often I'll be able to call," if at all… "But whatever you hear—whatever you read, please believe that I'll be alright."

"Merlin…" Hunith's anxiety was clearer than before. She understood that there was so much more he didn't—couldn't—say. "If you need anything—money, a ticket home… anything at all—you just give me a call. I'll find a way to help."

"I know."

"Don't do anything that would put you… in danger," she added softly. Keep the magic secret. Merlin didn't need to hear to understand that.

"I'm always careful," he promised, forcing a smile which he was afraid couldn't manifest itself over the line. He heard another warning chime from his phone and swallowed. "Gaius is here with me too," he added.
"Of course. Take care—all of you." Merlin couldn't be sure if she'd meant to say anything else. Three quiet beeps chimed, and the line shut off. The phone screen went blank. Merlin let his hand drop to his side with the dead phone and let his head press against the window a moment longer.

"You be careful too," he said to the empty hall. He closed his eyes. I love you. Merlin could hear her voice in his head. She never ended a call without saying it. He stayed there for several minutes, staring at the dark street, lit only by the barest glimmer of light from a crescent moon. Hunith had navigated a lively riot-prone Ireland several times before, even when she'd had Merlin himself in tow, a toddler scarcely old enough to walk. She would be fine… she had to be fine.

He put the dead mobile in his pocket and with slow, quiet steps returned to the chair in the hospital waiting room, resuming his silent vigil at Arthur's side.

AN:

I felt like Merlin should've had a chance to tell Hunith a lot of things. This was one of them.

The Arthur & Merlin scene was particularly hard to write. I hope you all feel that it came out well!

Any guesses on what's coming next? I'm curious to know how you all feel about the direction my plot is taking.

I would love to hear from you all!

Sandyy