Has it been eleven months since I updated? Yes. But do I have a good excuse? No. HOWEVER, I did backpack across Europe for forty days, and I got to see some stuff that dated back to Arthurian times! It was an amazing experience. Anyway, here is chapter 36.

Enjoy!

~Rain

Previously...

The world had tilted, and she glanced at the king she had once, and maybe still, loved. She couldn't forgive him for the things he'd done until Merlin could, but she could stand behind the man he was trying to be.

She would fight for the Arthur of today. She would be there with a sword when Morgana came; she'd stand beside Merlin and Gaius and the Knights and yes, even Arthur, who would without a doubt be fighting all kinds of demons, both literal and metaphorical.

The prophecies had called him the Once and Future King, and Gwen now understood the title: He had once been the king she loved, before all of this, and would again be, eventually, if things went correctly.

But right now things seem far less grand, and destiny seemed like an inelegant, messy thing that Merlin had spent years trying to tame on his own.

Gwen was glad that now, at least, they were all carrying it together. She just wished she could have helped sooner, or could help more.

But for now, all she could do was sit in the hallway and wait for Merlin to let her in.

Nobody knew how long to wait. Iseldir mentioned something about Merlin being able to tell him through mind-speak, which was something that Arthur decided to ask about later. Gaius was worried that Merlin would pass out or fall asleep before he could let them know it was okay to come back in. Gwen knew that if it was up to her, she would walk in right then and there. Arthur didn't feel comfortable weighing in on the conversation.

So they remained in the hallway, listening through the wooden door.

Inside, there were some hiccupy breaths, the creak of wood, some shifting of broken glass and the rustling of papers. There were some low groans.

Ten minutes passed.

Gwaine showed up to visit Merlin and, after being briefed on the events that had just occurred, wound up standing in the hallway with the rest. Percival came a few minutes after.

After twenty minutes, the noises in Gaius's quarters had stopped, and Gwen decided that it had been quite long enough, thank you, and somebody had to check on Merlin, because standing in the hallway for this long was ridiculous.

Iseldir offered to go back in, but was cut off by Gwen saying, "I think Gaius should go in," and because he was the closest thing Merlin had to a father, and he'd known about Merlin's magic the longest, and it was his room, anyway, everybody seemed to agree with that sentiment, even Iseldir. So Gaius hiked up his robes and went in before anybody could change their mind.

Upon entering the room, Gaius had to admit that he was glad the wall to Merlin's room was gone, because it meant he could immediately spot Merlin amongst the wreckage.

The main room looked about the way Gaius had expected it to. There were bits of shattered glass and scattered bits of paper. Some vials had broken and were oozing their contents onto the floor. Some of the herbs dangling from the ceiling had re-bloomed; some had shriveled up. At this rate, he thought, I'm going to have to restock the entire room.

But there was no Merlin.

Gaius could only guess, from the trail of smeared blood on the table and floor, that the poor man had crawled into his own room.

He was in there now, sitting amongst the dust and debris on his bed, with Arthur's papers in his lap. There was a thin line of dried blood running from the reopened and re-scabbed gash near his temple. There was blood on the bandages on his fingers, too.

"Merlin," Gaius said, hobbling towards the warlock. He knew Merlin was aware of his presence—he was always wound tight, always jumpy and ready to fight or flee. Even so, he didn't respond, only continued to flip through the pages slowly. His lips moved as he read to himself.

Gaius stepped over the remains of the wall, entering the room officially and moving to the foot of Merlin's bed. Merlin's eyes were red-rimmed and shiny. He bit his lip. As Gaius got closer, he saw that he had a quill and inkwell balanced on one of his bony knees. Every couple of sentences, his hand would twitch towards it. There were drops of black ink on his trousers and bandages, and even more on the documents.

"What are you doing, my boy?" Gaius asked.

Merlin frowned. He lifted the quill awkwardly, balancing it between his heavily splinted fingers, and dipped it into the inkwell. With a trembling hand, he scratched out a couple of words on the document. He wrote something in the margin before speaking.

"I'm working," he said.

Gaius frowned. "But your fingers—" he began, then stopped. Merlin had already crossed something else out, dripping more ink onto his knees and sheets. His brow was creased with determination and sweat. This was the closest to himself that Merlin had acted since waking up.

"Damn my fingers. If this is going to happen, it's going to happen now," Merlin grunted. He coughed into his arm. "Morgana's coming. I don't have time."

Gaius pressed his lips together. That was the reality of it all. Merlin should have been sleeping. He should have been making plans to travel home when he was ready, to see his mother, to recover somewhere quiet and safe. Instead, he was preparing for war. And the worst part was that he was right.

Instead of demanding he lay down and take a sleeping draught, Gaius sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. "What is it you're writing?"

"I'm editing," he said shortly. "You know… things need to be worded properly."

Gaius could hear the edge in Merlin's voice. This was a momentous occasion. This was all that Merlin had ever fought for. This was not only his own pardon, but the fate of thousands of Camelot's citizens. It would ensure that what had been done to him would never be done to anyone else, ever again.

Gaius just wished it hadn't taken such a harsh sacrifice.

"I do," he said, and then, "You know where Morgana is, don't you?"

Merlin didn't look up. "No," he said. He winced. "Maybe. I don't know." He caught Gaius's eyes. "There's… a lot going on in my head. I don't—" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know what to do with all of it. Since—-" he paused, his expression darkening. His eyes opened. "There's just a lot of information. And my magic can't sort it. I can't sort it. It's never been like this before, Gaius."

His cheeks reddened in embarrassment. His magic had never been perfect, but this was worse than ever before.

"Do you want to know what happened while you were asleep?"

There was no point in waiting to ask. Merlin needed to know, and soon.

"If you think that'll help me sort my magic out, then don't bother. I know it's because of Arthur." Merlin motioned towards his own eyes with his left hand. "It's in his eyes. The magic. My magic. Don't think I didn't notice. And besides that, I can feel it."

"But you already knew that Arthur cast a spell."

"That's what people keep telling me," he bit out, not looking up.

"Do you not want to know how you came to be here, instead of the dungeons?"

Merlin remained silent. He looked a little green. Gaius took that as a cue to continue.

"He felt bad," Gaius said. Merlin scoffed in response.

"He couldn't have felt bad earlier?"

"You should have seen him, Merlin. He came running in with you in his arms and I have never seen him look so frightened."

Merlin just scowled. His jaw twitched in anger. He didn't speak.

"We all thought you were dead. That is why none of us came to get you."

"I know," Merlin muttered. "You've said."

Gaius sighed. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Merlin continued to glare, but put the quill down without a word.

Gaius took a deep breath. It wasn't necessarily his story to tell- it was Arthur's. But Gaius didn't think Arthur would be able to get through the story without breaking down, and he knew Merlin wouldn't stand to listen to Arthur talk for too long without lashing out.

"It began with a walk in the woods, and a visit by Iseldir," Gaius began. He carefully left out the part about why Arthur had taken a walk in the first place. He wasn't trying to defend Arthur, but he was afraid the knowledge would upset Merlin further. Merlin's face had softened a little, and Gaius felt a bit like a father telling a child a story. He wished the story was less dark, though, and Merlin was no child.

Gaius went on to explain the events leading up to Merlin's pardon and arrival to Gaius's chambers. By the time he was finishing up, Merlin's face was expressionless. He'd set the papers down in lieu of staring into space while listening, and Gaius was afraid he'd slipped into one of his catatonic states again.

"Saving you in order to defend Camelot was never the goal," Gaius added at the end.

Merlin's face slipped into a bitter smile, his eyes still staring into space. "Really?" He laughed a little, his eyes adjusting and focusing on Gaius. "Because that seems to be the only reason for any of this," he motioned towards the papers. "This whole thing started because Arthur thought that I was working with Morgana," his voice wobbled a little, and Gaius saw his eyes grow glassy in memory. He blinked a couple of times. "And it seems like he released me because he thought I could save everyone." His voice picked up speed. "And it feels like the only thing people are interested in now is how well I'll be by the time Morgana gets here, or if I'll be well, or if I know where she is- and honestly, even my magic seems focused on her!"

"Arthur freed you because he felt guilty and realized he was wrong," Gaius cut in. He lowered his voice. "But I would be lying if I said you weren't Camelot's last hope."

Merlin clenched his jaw.

"I don't want to be."

"Trust me, I wouldn't wish the burden on you, either. But it is yours to carry, and that will not be changed."

Merlin's eyes were cold. Determined. "I know," he said slowly, and then he went back to the paperwork.

It seemed that the conversation was over.

Gaius watched him with sadness in his eyes. He didn't know if there had truly been a point to the conversation-he wanted Merlin to trust him, to trust Gwen and the knights, but he wasn't sure if the story had changed anything. And beside the point, Gaius also knew there was a part of him that desperately wanted Merlin back to normal as quickly as possible, and that wasn't the physician in him speaking- it was the desperate thoughts of a very-human father who just wanted his son back.

And right now, Gaius wasn't entirely sure how to move forward, or if there was even anything he could do to move forward. Usually, this part of recovery was a waiting game. The fits of silence and paranoia and fever and fear were all part of the process, all things to tackle and work through slowly and with time. Trust had to be re-built slowly.

But their schedule was too short now. Morgana's plans had stolen Merlin's ability to recover. Instead of being rescued and cared for, he was being dragged into health in order to save the very kingdom that had betrayed him. Instead of being able to ride out the waves of recovery and relapse, everybody was waiting in anticipation of Morgana's attack. There was no pushing forward- only breath-holding.

"I need a place to practice," Merlin said suddenly. It was quiet. Unsure.

Gaius snapped out of his thoughts to look at the warlock. "Practice for what?"

Merlin was chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "My magic," he said.

"Your magic hasn't recovered."

"It's not going to get any better if I don't start trying to use it again, though."

"You need to rest."

"I don't have time to rest. I don't have time to wait, either. What if Morgana comes tonight? Or tomorrow? My body can't heal in that time, but it's possible that my magic can."

Gaius hesitated. Merlin pushed on.

"And don't go about saying that Arthur'll deny my request for it. He's either all-in or all-out. He'll chop off my head whether I ask for a little or a lot if just asking is too much. Either way, Morgana attacks."

Merlin was getting worked up again. He sounded more like he was reassuring himself of the decision than he was Gaius. Gaius once again worried about the state of Merlin's mind— was his magic returning really the safest approach? What about his fits of delirium? His moments of catatonia? What would those be like with the support of magic? Would they improve? Would they get worse? Gaius pictured how dangerous a feverish Merlin would be.

Then he pictured how dangerous a helpless Merlin would be.

And then he pictured Morgana, priestess of the high religion, standing before Merlin, and decided that medical advice needed to be thrown out the window.

It pained him to admit it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Do you want me to ask him for you?" Gaius asked, and Merlin looked surprised at his willingness. He must have understood the gravity of the decision.

Merlin took a moment to think about the answer. "I think—" he began, then stopped and reconsidered. "I think... that I will ask."

He took a deep breath, gazed at the papers in his lap for a long moment, and then gave Gaius a sort of half-smile.

"Yeah," he said quietly, tentatively. His eyes were shining, this time with something other than fever. "I will ask. This is it, Gaius," he was speaking about the documents in his lap. His voice had gotten louder. "This is what we've been waiting for."

He wrote something else in the margin, flipped the page over, and set the quill down. Then Merlin looked at Gaius and said something he never thought he would hear Merlin say again:

"Can you send Arthur in?"