AN: Hi! I hope y'all enjoy this little fic :)

For readers of my multichapter: There WILL be a chapter tomorrow, I was supposed to post it tonight but there's been some issues with it that I need to sort, so it'll be with you as soon as!

If you like, please fave or even leave a comment? :) Thank you!

Merlin lit the flame with an ease that caused fear in men's hearts on the battlefield, but a deep sorrow in his own. Sometimes, he enjoyed having a flame dance in his hand, flickering in wind but completely controlled. It was something he enjoyed showing those who wished to see his power for the first time, one of the things he demonstrated to Arthur when he confessed to the magic. His most common use for it though, even now, was to say farewell to a lover, to a friend, to a guardian. The blaze reflected in his eyes, the heat radiating even from the distance, but his gaze was focused, his eyes dry, and he wondered if it was because this had been expected, or because he had lost so many now there was nothing left.

He lowered his hand late, only because his arm was aching, and he felt the stroke of someone else's skin against it in an instant. His eyes flickered down just to catch the motion, but he had no need to turn to know whose hand grazed against his, never gripping it but hovering, still making its presence known. The King rarely showed such real affection outside the closed doors of his chambers, although everyone was aware that the Court Sorcerer shared those chambers every evening. Merlin never pushed, because he understood, and he knew he was no kept secret. Right now, though, he was grateful for the silent support, watching with an intensity as the flames grew higher, taking another body that once held a friend he knew, a mentor, a father.

Each knight came to him when it was over and people began to retreat, all wearing the similar soft smile, with a pity that he felt overwhelmed with, having never mourned a loss with friends before.

"We can drink away the blues for a bit," Gwaine suggested, without the usual boisterousness holding him up. The offer was kind, and he almost smiled, but a strange laughter escaped his lips. Scratching his head, he was aware of the eyes on him, wondering, waiting for his next reaction. Despite not visiting frequently, the thought of the tavern brought too many strange memories of times gone.

Shaking his head, he let out a breath, "I'm alright," Gwaine continued to stare, "maybe another time." He placated his friend, and a clap on the warlock's shoulder helped him regain his faltering smile.

Merlin inhaled deeply as he finally pressed his dangling foot down, over the threshold to the physician's quarters, his eyes flitting over to the chambers he slept on a slab of a bed. Both he and Gaius became used to a new comfort when he retired and Merlin's position was reconsidered, but stepping over the threshold now felt like coming home, and the shaky sound that escaped him could not be stopped. The room looked different now, the new physician not being able to emulate Gaius' haphazard nature, instead actually having quite a few words to say on the matter of the state of the rooms. Merlin and Arthur had laughed about it later, and the warlock remembered with a grin his guardian's frustration with new 'modern ways'. There was a memory of a smile lifting his expression, and as he began to slowly tiptoe around the room, he was able to ignore the differences, his mind supplying the true images of what his home had once been.

Fingers hovered tentatively over documents, now neatly filed away, once scattered across tables in an order only the old man ever understood, the tips traced over the thin edges, and he closed his eyes gently, picking out something by random; he knew whatever he picked, it would remind him of his mentor in some way. A whisper of a smile flitted on his face, searching through the documents he had picked, with the physician's awful handwriting bouncing from the page. Through now blurry eyes, because he realised his tears could never stop, it was even more difficult to read. A strange laughter escaped chapped lips, and he frowned at his reaction, but some of these notes made him wonder how the new physician ever got on with them; Gaius' instructions were filled with him, and the warlock felt a little closer to him. He sat on a stool in the wrong place, eyes scanning over documents he continued to pick, but all of the contents he knew, because he had been taught so well. A tug on his chest then, wondering ridiculously, would his guardian be disappointed he did not follow in his footsteps? All the training in medicine, and he only used it when Gaius' replacement was busy, or on missions gone wrong – which, with Arthur and his men, was all too frequent. Oh, how Gaius rolled his eyes in exasperation, each time they attracted the trouble. It would be strange now, having nobody to share a tired laugh with each time he rescued the knights from some trouble. Obviously, now he got recognition for his efforts, things changed, but it was always Gaius' approval he wanted.

Fortunately, he was with his guardian as the life left him. He thought he was ready, but had asked, almost pleaded, with Gaius to allow him to give him an extra lease, just for a little longer. The old man grabbed his hand, weakly, with a frailty that echoed throughout his body, and held it to his chest, as he whispered, "even you, Merlin, should not meddle in natural death."

Merlin had held his hand with a contrasting firmness, kneeling beside his guardian, and he whispered without any real conviction, "I could, though, if you wanted."

"I think I am ready, I have lived too long a life. I am only glad that I saw you become the man you are now," he tried a smile, but Merlin had seen him fading, "the son I never had, I am as proud of you as if you were."

Coming back to the room, he blinked away tears, his mind brought back memories of his real father, lost in his arms only moments after meeting, and he hissed, that wound still never truly healing. There was less pain for Gaius, though; there was no less care, more, in fact, but he had grown with the old man. Everything he was now, his guardian was to thank much for it, but he no longer feared how he could try and live up to the expectations of two dead men, hearing the pride in his guardian's voice, every time he saved Arthur, when nobody else could offer him anything.

He was not sure how long he had been sat holding the old, crinkled documents in his trembling hands, but he heard boots against the floorboards, trying to be gentle, but harsh enough to bring him from the memories. Blinking eyes looked towards the door, blue shining eyes meeting blue, and he gave a shaky smile. His shoulders gave way, though, as the eyes bore into him, and his peaceful resolve broke; he accepted Gaius' death, had been expecting it, but the pain was burnt into him fresh. He felt arms around him, and he gave himself easily.

"I would like to stay here tonight," he whispered, now sitting on the floor beside Arthur. A fingertip followed an imaginary line across the floorboards as his eyes stared.

"I know," Arthur replied, "I've already made arrangements with the physician."

Merlin looked up then, a little surprised, unable to hide it.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I understand, Merlin." The King lifted his gaze, staring around the room, "Gaius was right," he let out a chuckle, "this place looked better before." That elicited a returned laugh from the warlock, and he too looked around the room, his mind placing every object in its correct place.

It was not long before there were more visitors, the knights stumbling in with a caution, drinks and some food in their hands, wondering if they were welcome.

"Thought we might find you here," Lancelot smiled.

Gwaine popped up from behind, "mind if we join you?"

Merlin beamed, eyes crinkling as he showed a toothy grin, watering just a little, as he nodded to them, watching as they awkwardly formed a close circle together; each tried to be as close to the warlock as possible, and he found a great strength in their presence. He knew part of it was their way to make up for moments they missed, but most of it was just their nature. They offered their drinks around, Merlin taking only a small amount, not wanting to forget the night.

"He's probably still bitter about what the new one's done to this place," Gwaine spoke into the peaceful silence, bringing a humoured hum from the group.

"Didn't make it easy for him, either," Percival added.

"I think we all remember his pleas to the King to keep the old man from his quarters," Elyan finished the memory, and Merlin felt a flutter in his stomach as he laughed with them.

"He could be quite grumpy," he whispered after a brief silence fell, finding his voice.

There was a pause, and he knew they were surprised he finally spoke, but they soon recovered. "No wonder," Leon eyed them all individually, "with everything you put him through."

"Hey!" Gwaine shouted, pushing him with the side of his body jovially, "we are all aware of things you visited him for!"

Leon blushed a little, eyes falling awkwardly, "I have no idea what you are talking about." But he laughed a moment after, Merlin enjoying the warmth that took over his body as he joined in.

The night was long, filled with memories and not much sleep. Merlin was grateful that he had friends to share this loss with, men who could share their own memories of Gaius, both humorous and serious, when he had nursed them all back to health at one point or another. Arthur told of stories before even Merlin arrived, of a man who raised a young prince as his father tried to get over the death of his wife, of how he had attempted to educate him in medicine, but had ended up with the palace wondering who would burn something in that part of the castle next.

Heavy lids began to close eventually, though, and Merlin wrapped his hand around Arthur's own, lying between them on the cold floor. The blonde removed himself from the laughter quickly, turning to stare at the Court Sorcerer with blue eyes that spoke before lips could move. Merlin smiled tiredly, and Arthur shuffled in closer, allowing his Sorcerer's body to lean against his, head bowing onto his shoulder with an exhaustion much older than the man carrying it, but a lighter heart.