Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello, dearhearts! How's it going? :) Anyway, this chapter, guys... If you don't already hate me, you will now. I don't want to hold you up too much. A quick note, though, I pulled the title from two songs: Simple Plan's "Holding On" and Ross Copperman's "Holding On And Letting Go" I highly recommend both songs. They're amazing. :) So...

Enjoy:

Chapter 12: Holding On

Stepping out of her cab, Gwen leaned in the passenger side window, handed the driver a few bills, and thanked him for the ride. He drove away a second later, and she narrowed her eyes and huddled further into her coat as she looked around. Street lamps marred the side of the road, and spots of light crawled up the regal apartment building. A couple, holding a pulling dog, walked past her, arm in arm.

But as they walked past, Guinevere noticed something glinting on the sidewalk near the building. Her brow furrowed, and curious, she readjusted the purse on her arm as she leaned forward to try and see what it was...

...and something was pressed against the small of her back. Fear instantly raced through her, and her breath hitched.

"Right," a stranger's voice said. "Up. Slowly." Gwen did as she was told, eyes wide with fear as her breath caught in her throat. "Now take a few steps forward."

The alleyway. He wanted her to go in the dark, barren alleyway.

"I-"

"Now."

She jumped at the intensity of his voice, and her heart pounded with fear in her chest. What was she supposed to do? There was no one around. What if she just screamed? Would that help? But what did the man have in his hand: a knife or a gun? Should she take the chance?

"That's right," he said. Gwen could hear the smile in his voice. "Just act natural."

Anger flared in her chest at his tone, and she grit her teeth. "Thanks," she spat vehemently, "but I don't need praise or lessons from you." Guinevere let out a small yelp as her attacker pressed his weapon harder against her back. A knife, definitely a knife.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, darling," he warned.

She released a sharp breath through her nose, anger overpowering her fear as she whipped around, purse clutched between her hands, and hit her attacker hard on the side of the head. He yelled in pain, backing away and grabbing his head, and Gwen regained her bearings, trying to run past him, but he lunged towards her.

She let out a startled scream as the attacker shoved her roughly against the wall. Her head hit the hard brick, and her vision swam. Her breaths came quickly, and her chest heaved with the sharp intakes of air. She blinked...

...And suddenly the attacker was yelling as he was thrown backwards in the air. The purse fell from her hand, contents crashing into the ground in surprise as the man landed roughly on the pavement, head resounding with a sharp crack until his body went limp. Though, by the way his chest still moved, the back of Guinevere's mind knew that he was still alive, just unconscious.

"He's still alive, Gwen, just unconscious."

Her vision whipped to the other end of the alleyway, where Colin... Colin-Merlin-Colin stood, arms extended and honey gold fading back into his sapphire blue eyes. His face was hardened in protective defiance, and his body was tense.

There was almost an aura of power around him. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a foreign power that Gwen somehow knew-knew-had always been there, hidden within the folds of her life. But now... it felt like it was everywhere: it made the air feel warm, it sent a small breeze to ruffle her hair, and, more importantly, it invaded the deepest recesses of her mind, pushing and pulling at distant memories and trying to break them free.

"The sorcerer from the battle. You knew him?"

"Yes."

"Do I...? Please, Gaius, answer me honestly."

"...Yes."

She blinked, trying to clear her head as pressure built inside it, creating a sharp, throbbing headache that pounded against her temples. A hiss of pain escaped her lips, and, closing her eyes, she started to slide towards the ground, but suddenly Merlin-Colin-was there, helping her stand as she leaned towards him. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, feeling as though she might be sick, and Merlin put a stabling hand on her shoulder, using his other hand to raise her chin. He was in a suit. A suit. Col-Merlin. A suit. He looked fine in that suit, if Guinevere was being honest with herself, but this was Col-Merlin. Merlin didn't wear suits. He hated to even wear royal wear. Why was he wearing a suit?

Colin's-Merlin's-voice was distant at best. "Gwen? Gwen? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Guinevere?"

"Gwen, let me see your wrist."

"It's not that bad. It was only a few days."

"Yes, a few days in the cells with those godforsaken irons chafing your skin. I swear, if Uther wasn't king-"

She heard laughing. "Merlin!"

"Merlin," she gasped, trembling as another bout of nausea ran through her. The warlock froze, eyes wide and shocked as a new light filtered into Guinevere's chocolate brown orbs. "You, you..."

"You have magic."

"Yes, my lady." Here, his usually strong voice was shaking.

And hers: compassionate and frail and speckled with sad remorse. Both for the loss of her husband and for her broken friend. "Merlin, my name is Guinevere. My friends call me 'Gwen', and you are my best friend. Don't ever think otherwise."

"You... Colin-Merlin... magic."

The man flinched and took a step backwards, his eyes flooding with surprise and cautious hope. Gwen, mind twisting and churning with returning memories, thought he had taken it the wrong way.

"No, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't-"

She tried to walk forward towards him, but a sudden rush of nausea crashed down on her, and her vision twisted and blurred. Her eyelids dropped, and she felt herself sway, the pavement rushing to meet her as she got the strange sense of floating on air.

But Merlin caught her first, and his soft ebony hair, deep blue eyes, and familiar, worried frown, were the last things she saw before darkness took her completely.

Moonlight broke against the chipped flagstones of the courtyard, scattering shadows like crumbs amongst the stones. Gwen sat on the final step of the stairs that opened to the empty courtyard, Leon and Percival sitting on either side of her in silent support. It had been a few days since the announcement of Arthur's passing and her becoming Camelot's sole monarch, yet it still pressed on her like a weight against her chest. And the only person who she thought could help still hadn't come yet.

In the days since Gaius' arrival back in Camelot, there had been neither hide nor hair of the brave warlock that Gwen was proud to call her best friend. Gaius had suggested that maybe he too needed time to recover from his king's death, explaining in sparse detail about their connection and how deeply it would affect him, but Guinevere knew that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was her.

It wasn't fair, really. Arthur had only ruled his kingdom for five years-five prosperous years-before his life was taken, leaving Gwen, who had only three years experience ruling beside Arthur, to run the kingdom in his absence.

And so much had changed in those few days.

Gwaine's death weighed her down, as well. He had always been beside her, first flirting with her in that charming way he had about him with his rugged hair and dreamy smile, then protecting her as a friend during Morgana's brief reign, and eventually protecting her as knight and friend, supporting her in her decisions. He was Arthur's best swordsmen and one of her brothers. Another one she'd lost.

But not Merlin. He had to be out there somewhere, alive and well. He had to be. Because she couldn't bear to lose him too.

She fidgeted in her sleep, feeling a warm hand against her temple and a stabling grip on her arm. Her brown hair fell against her cheek, and the careful hand moved to push it out of her face, sliding alongside her cheekbone and making her shiver as she exhaled.

"It's me, Gwen. It's just me."

It took another two days for him to come home, riding some horse he'd found, because it wasn't Arthur's, nor was it his own. His eyes were dark and his heart heavy. That carefree, adoring smile was missing as well, but that was okay. Gwen understood.

She ran to meet him in the courtyard, arriving just as he was dismounting his horse. Percival was there, Leon too, greeting him with relieved smiles on their faces. And she finally saw a grin pull on Merlin's full lips. But she didn't care. She didn't care about the fact that it was the first smile she'd seen in weeks from him, or about the light, though small, that entered his eyes at the sight of his friends, Gwen only cared that he was there. She ran right up to her friend and leapt into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and pulling him close to her. She felt his arms slowly move around her, as if hesitantly, before he was hugging her just as tightly.

"God, Merlin, don't you ever scare me like that again," she commanded, voice breaking with pure relief. "Never again."

His chuckle, light against her ear, was the best sound in the world, and immediately, a wave of peace rolled over her, and they both tightened their arms around the other. "I'll do my best."

"-lin," she whispered in her sleep. There was no answer this time, but she felt the blankets being pulled up to her chin by someone who smelled of books and... What was that? So familiar. But…

The ticking of a clock phased in and out of her hearing, confusing her as her fingers curled unconsciously around the lavender bedspread. Her legs shifted, and she turned onto her stomach, arm curling around her pillow and pulling it closer as she took in a ragged breath.

Her arm wrapped underneath his as they walked the corridor together. The hallway was bright with the light colored stones, reflecting the orange sunlight that forced itself through the windows and sending sudden but soft shadows in the nooks and corners. Purple dappled the east, blue fringing the clouds. It would be nightfall soon.

Merlin's midnight blue cloak nearly brushed the floor, and Guinevere prided herself for its length. It was just right. Camelot's golden insignia brushed against her shoulder, and she smiled. "You were brilliant in there, you know that?"

"All I did was kneel on the floor, Gwen," he replied, grinning as he glanced down at her.

She laughed. "Well, you had an easy job then, didn't you, Court Sorcerer?"

The warlock ducked his head, blushing at the title. After a moment of peaceful silence, he set his spare hand atop Gwen's arm. "Seriously though, Gwen," he started, voice low and full of sincerity, "thank you. For everything you've done."

She stopped, smiling at the floor before Merlin turned to fully face her. She looked up, pride and affection dancing in her eyes. Gwen clasped her best friend's hands in hers and looked deep into his eyes. "It was destiny. Merlin, I don't know if you've realized it, but your destiny, one part of it at least, has been fulfilled." Confusion lit his misty orbs, and Guinevere pressed on. "Magic has been returned to Camelot... By your and Arthur's hands."

"What? How?"

"If it had not been for Arthur making me his queen, or your convincing me that magic isn't evil, we would not be here today freeing magic or putting you in the position of Court Sorcerer. Even though our king isn't here to share this moment with us, it was still ultimately done by his hand, Merlin. And yours."

By now, enough liquid had built atop Merlin's lid that a solitary tear made its way down his cheek. He swallowed thickly. "Thank you, Gwen."

"How is she?"

Guinevere shifted again, gripping the blankets as something cool was pressed against her forehead. The voices, familiar but indistinct and hushed, continued.

"She's okay. Just a bit of a fright, I think. I would like to watch over her today, though, just to be sure."

"Of course. Just take care of her."

"I will. I promise. Now go back to bed, you prat."

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?"

There was a small laugh. "Arthur, trust me, I'm a physician, aren't I? She'll be alright. She just needs a few hours rest."

The age-old door of the west tower creaked open as Guinevere poked her head through. Immediately, smells wafted around her, tickling her nose, and she took a deep breath in.

"Gwen! Hello!"

She giggled and walked further into the room, her face quickly melting into awe at the dozens of books rearranging themselves on the bookcase. "Erm, Merlin?"

The warlock looked slightly confused before following her line of sight and letting out a laugh. "They're fine."

"Uh, alright? And how about that pot that's boiling over?"

"What?" he asked, looking around. His face lit with a sudden fear as he spotted the pot she was talking about, and his eyes flashed before the pot rose in midair and away from the flame.

Smirking, she sat down on the bench beside him. "That is most definitely cheating, warlock."

His grin widened at the nickname she'd given him, and his eyes danced with mirth. "Well, do you want dinner burnt?"

"No!" she laughed, bumping his shoulder as he closed a book before him.

He chuckled lightly and pushed the book away, folding his arms on the table in front of him and resting his chin on them. "Good. Perce and Leon should be here in a few moments, and I," he yawned loudly, "am utterly exhausted."

Guinevere gave him a tender smile. "I should think so considering how much work you've loaded yourself down with."

"It helps me keep my mind off of... you know."

And she did know. Merlin, she had learned, had always been like that. After something tragic happened, he would load himself down with work to help him push the memories away. She touched his forearm lightly with her handand said softly, "Why don't you get some rest, Merlin."

"But-"

"No," she grinned with amusement. "You need a few hours of rest. Go, I'll deal with the knights this time. Alright?"

His glazed eyes turned to her, and he gave her a small smile. "Alright. Thanks, Gwen."

"Of course." She stood with him and wrapped him in a hug, giving his cheek a light kiss before pulling back and plucking something off the table. "This is the one, right?" Guinevere could see the pain beneath his eyes. Yes, it was. The tonic for his nightmares. She winced. "Sorry."

Offering her a placating smile, he took it from her hand and kissed her forehead. "It's alright, Gwen. I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Bright and early."

She smirked as he walked away, and when he was out of earshot, she whispered lovingly, "Goodnight, my warlock."

Gwen turned over again, feeling an ache in her chest as she brought her knees up further and frowned.

Warlock.

Her warlock.

Her Merlin…

Ragged breathing. Harsh. Laboured. "Gwen. Gwen, listen to me. I hav-Eh!" A scream. Blood spotted on her hands.

"Merlin! What's happening? Please!"

Sweat glistened on his pores, and he gripped her arm tightly, eyes wild and pained and underlined with a dull gold. "I haven't been... completely honest about my powers. I'm dying-"

"No." She shook her head wildly, desperately. "You can't be!"

Her father, Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, Arthur, Gaius, Percival, Leon. They were all gone. She couldn't lose Merlin too. She couldn't.

"Guinevere, please, my body-" he ground his teeth "-it's going to heal itself. I'll be fine, but, but-"

"But what?"

"It-it's going-ah!-to hurt." Suddenly, his eyes grew frightened and more scared than Gwen had ever seen them. "Gwen, please don't leave me."

And he screamed again.

There was some shuffling in the room, and Gwen felt the blankets being adjusted again as a hand moved delicately on her forehead.

"Gwen? Guinevere, can you hear me? It's... Colin." The voice, unsure and quiet, was holding back deeper emotion. "Well, actually, it's Merlin. But..." He paused. "I don't even know if you can hear me," he sighed. Another pause. "But it's Merlin, Gwen. It's me. I'm here. I'm really here. Please, remember me... Please, Gwen..."

Her Merlin...

"Merlin?"

It was coming. It was time.

Watery eyes looked down on her. A face as fresh as the day she'd first seen it frowned down at her, and a tear fell on the bedspread. "Yes?"

"Promise me..." Her voice was ragged, breathing labored and thoughts fuzzy from the poison, but she felt no pain. Merlin, she was sure, had seen to that. She felt a rush of affection towards him as she swallowed thickly. "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe. Not even you can bear this alone, Merlin."

"I'll be alright," he offered weakly. His hand gripped her own, and she could see the unspoken agony in his eyes. He was trying so hard to be strong. So very hard.

But she knew he wouldn't. They didn't know how long he'd have to wait for them. It could be years, it could be decades, it could be a century. And he would be on his own.

She could only pray that Destiny would be merciful.

Because after everything he had been forced to live through, he didn't deserve this curse in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Merlin."

"No," he said suddenly, putting his hand on the side of her face and leaning forward, passion in his voice. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Gwen."

She could feel herself fading. Merlin's voice, with every word, was becoming more muffled, and a torrent of tears pressed against both their eyes, a sad, accepting chocolate, and a tumultuous, frightened azure. The young queen squeezed her friend's hand with waning strength. "I'll see you soon, warlock. Thank you..."

"Gwen? Gwen?" She felt her hand slip from his as her vision went dark and felt his hot breath against her skin, even as his voice sounded miles off. "Gwen! Guinevere!" The last thing she heard was a loud, heart-wrenching sob.

So... do I need to go hide? :D

Another quick note: Last Tuesday, Fanfiction was kind of spazzing, so I'm not too sure about how many people actually got the update. I received a lot less reviews than I normally do, and I usually get an email saying I updated. I didn't. So I hope all who're following get this. :) More next week, I promise. It's just getting good, and I love the following chapters.

Goodnight. Dream of Jack Frost tonight. ;)