Disclaimer: IDOM

Hey, guys! So I'm sorry that I didn't answer your reviews this time around. I've been majorly busy between family difficulties and school/work and just distancing myself from everything. But, as usual, they were such a pleasure to read, so I thank you all for your wonderful reviews, as well as your support as I write this. There's definitely going to be more than 23 chapters, too. How do I know this? Because I wrote up till chapter 23 before NaNoWriMo began, and I still have several more things I want to happen. :D That knowledge is your little treat for being so loyal. :)

(Also, my friend Sarah says hi.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. You know, it's very cathartic to write heavy angst when you're going through something in your life. :)

Enjoy:

Chapter 17: Still Alright

It took Merlin several minutes to pull himself together.

And only just barely.

Everything he'd just learned was still at the forefront in his mind; it made his stomach churn and caused bile to rise in his throat once more, and he was terrified. His breath was short and hitching, his hands fluttering nervously, but he couldn't show it. He had to act normal.

Because they couldn't die again. He had... He had to stop it, and just like all those other times he was forced to fight from the shadows, his powers unknown to anyone who mattered to him, and he would have to do it alone. And though it hurt again, he had to fight.

Guinevere knew, true. His sister in all but blood would always be beside him. But she wasn't with him right then and there. She wasn't a detective either. She couldn't be there—here—for him.

Everything was so messed up.

He had messed up.

He had failed.

And now everything was falling apart once more.

Just like before.

The warlock carefully rose from where he sat, fingers spread against the maroon wall as he braced himself. His legs were shaky and unstable, but Merlin took several slow breaths to calm himself down. He walked to the sink and splashed some water on his face, looking at the pink-ish veins in his eyes from crying. He wouldn't be able to hide those, but he could pass it off as exhaustion. He had been up all night worrying over Guinevere, and he had been up all day. Merlin couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept properly. Weeks, at least.

Swallowing thickly and blinking rapidly to clear his hazy vision, Merlin unlocked the door and exited the restrooms, taking a left as he ran his hand over his face. His eyes stung from the dried tears, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment and curl up in a ball and sleep.

But he needed to speak with Gwen. She deserved to know, and he'd promised to explain everything. About the case, about Morgana and her involvement, about him. She deserved to know.

"Colin?"

The warlock turned to see Arthur coming out of the break room, a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand and a manila folder in his left. Arthur's eyes narrowed at the red in Merlin's, and the warlock wished he could just disappear as nausea burned his throat again and a rock settled in his stomach. He didn't want to be scrutinized. He didn't want to have to deal with a former best friend who didn't know who he really was. He didn't want to have to hide anything from him. He didn't want to lie.

"Are you alright?"

Merlin wanted to answer, "No, Arthur. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry I failed. I'm so sorry you're in danger. It's my fault, and I swear to God I will do everything in my power to make it right. Please, just remember who I am..."

He knew he couldn't, though. Arthur would probably just think he's mad and send him home or to a doctor or something equally demeaning.

His voice broke when he, instead, answered, "Yeah. Just... t-tired, is all."

"Well, Gwaine and Perce are heading out. Why don't you catch a ride with them?"

"You sure you don't need me?" Merlin questioned. Hope lightened his heart, however. Maybe he could get away.

Arthur lifted the manila folder, shaking his head. "Nah, just some paperwork. Go ahead. Get some rest. Hey, Gwaine!"

Merlin turned around, suddenly grateful to see the former knight strutting towards them.

"Don't tell me you have work for me, Arthur. AlI want to do is go home, eat, and sleep."

"Fine, but take Colin with you."

Gwaine grinned, throwing his arm around Merlin's shoulders. "Sure! Why not?" His eyes narrowed suddenly as his head tilted. "Merlin, are you alright? You look a little sick."

"Yeah, um, just a bit if a headache is all. I'll be fine."

"Well, we'd best get you home then. Perce and I were going to hit a drive through, but we can drop you off on the way."

"Thanks," Merlin replied gratefully. He turned back to Arthur, remember his promise to Hui. "What's going to happen to Hui?"

"I'm going to have armed guards posted outside his cell. Whoever he's talking about sounds serious; I don't want to take any chances."

Satisfied, he nodded to Arthur in farewell, receiving a nod in return before he was escorted to the lift by Gwaine. They met up with Perce outside, and Merlin was oddly surprised that it was already dark.

A low mist hung over the streets of London as they drove past the various stories neon signs. Merlin kept his forehead on the back seat window the whole time, spirits crushed as he was, finally, openly sad. Everyone was depressed sometimes, and if Percival or Gwaine asked about it, he could just pass it off as his headache. His eyelids fluttered as the cold from the window crept through his body, but soon enough they were at the hotel. Merlin gazed up at the structure from the back window, as if looking at it for the first time.

"Want me to walk you up?" Gwaine offered. "You look pretty beat."

Merlin opened his door and slid out. "No. Thanks. I'll be alright."

Gwaine and Perce gave him a small nod before he closed the door, and sighing, Merlin turned round towards the building. He entered the lift, feeling tears burn his eyes as he felt everything he was holding in overflow.

Morgana had already taken so much from him in their previous lives; he couldn't let it happen again. She had taken Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur from him.

And she had ultimately prevented Lancelot's return. Her... shade of him in Camelot had still held traces of their kind, chivalrous knight. Merlin'd seen it when he'd brought Lancelot back, briefly, just before he had sent him to Avalon. Those traces had been too much for him to be resurrected again, though, and Merlin had no doubt in his mind now that Lancelot wouldn't be coming back. His home was Avalon now.

She had killed Elyan, not directly, but through an enchanted sword. He had died protecting his sister, whom had been taken control of. Gwen had cried over her brother's death. Of course she had. It was Gwen. Morgana had not only taken Guinevere's willpower, but also her brother, her last blood relative, from her.

She had tortured Gwaine. Heartbroken, betrayed, aimless Gwaine, whose love for cider and ale and women and apples made him the most beloved and endearing knight in the kingdom. The man's spirit was as high as the clouds, but Morgana had taken that spirit and that love for life and crushed it beneath her boot. She had tortured him to death.

And Arthur. She had grown up with him, loved him with every breath in her body. He knew she did. He'd heard stories in Camelot about how they would tease each other to no end, but when it was really important, they would never let each other down. And then Morgana had. She had taken sided with her sister, and though Merlin blamed himself for that, she had walked the path herself. She had become so filled with rage and revenge and greed, and she had... She had killed Arthur. She had burnished the sword for Mordred, he was sure of it. Arthur had died a slow and painful death because... Because of her.

She couldn't be allowed to do that again. Not with any of them.

The warlock's feet carried him off the lift and straight to Gwen's door. He didn't even realize that he had been knocking furiously on the wood until Guinevere was standing there, looking startled in her blue and yellow ducky pajamas and a plain tee. Her hair was frizzier than normal, and her eyes were wide with surprise and concern.

"Merlin!"

"Gwen, I'm sorry. I just—I don't—"

She jumped forward, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around her, too, shaking. "God, Merlin, what happened? Are you alright?"

"No," he blurted thickly. "I don't know what to do anymore. Everything is so messed up and I... I just..."

Guinevere rubbed the back if his neck before carefully leading him inside, shutting the door behind them, and setting him on the couch. "Merlin," she whispered. "Merlin, look at me."

The warlock raised his red eyes to meet her caring brown ones, and a chasm opened in her heart at the hurt in her brother's eyes. She wrapped him in another hug, holding him tightly as he sobbed into her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his tears bleeding through her shirt, and she closed her eyes as anger boiled in her. What had been done to her warlock to make him so broken?

They stayed like that for several more minutes before Merlin's open sobs transformed into small, sniffling hiccups. She pulled back, keeping a stabling grasp on his slim shoulder as her other hand cupped the side of his face.

"Merlin, what is it? What's happened?"

"I—It's—" He hiccupped again and another tear fell. "It's M—Morgana. S—She's..."

"She's what?"

Merlin's chest jerked as his breath hitched again, and he closed his eyes. "She's... trying to find M-Mordred's sword."

"His sword?" But then apprehension flared in Gwen's eyes. "You mean—Camlann. That sword. She's trying to find that sword?"

The warlock nodded. "She found it too, I—I think. Gwen, with that she would be unstoppable. She could kill everyone again, and she—"

"Merlin, no one is going to get killed, alright?" Guinevere said firmly. Because she knew. Merlin was afraid of Morgana killing again, but it was more than that. He was afraid of her killing them, of him being alone again. "We're going to figure this out, like we always do. Right?"

It took a few seconds, but the warlock slowly nodded, too tired to argue.

"Now, the first thing you need is some sleep—"

"But, Gwen—"

"No, listen. You won't accomplish anything in the state you're in now. You need sleep, Merlin."

"I... Okay," he complied. "Okay, I'll get some sleep."

Slowly, they stood. "Let's get you to your own bed, yeah? I don't think my couch is as comfortable."

Huffing a small laugh, Merlin let her lead him to his apartment as his eyelids fluttered and he stumbled with exhaustion. The release of emotions had taken more from him than expected, and now he felt like he could sleep for a fortnight. Guinevere carefully lowered him onto his bed, feeling satisfied when Merlin pushed his sneakers off with his feet, head already burying itself into the fluffy pillow. Ever the mother, Gwen grabbed hold of the blankets, pulling them up to cover him as his breathing evened out.

"I'll just be next door if you need me, Merlin."

"Gwen?"

At her name, Guinevere leaned closer. She was grateful, too, that she did, because what Merlin said next was spoken so softly that it would have been missed otherwise. "Yes?"

He was just barely conscious; speaking what was at the forefront of his mind. "Promise... Promise me you'll be here when I wake up?"

And then he was gone, dragged under by his own exhaustion.

As soon as her mind registered his words, her throat suddenly burned and hot tears pressed against her eyelids. Her nose crinkled as she hugged herself, rubbing her arms as a silent tear traced her cheek. What had he been through?

She looked at him, taking in his tousled hair and the dark bags beneath his eyes, the all too pale skin and his relaxed face... It looked so young. So innocent. But what had he had to face, alone, during that fifteen hundred year gap?

Guinevere leaned closer, pressing her warm lips against his cool temple. "I promise."

Arthur watched Merlin and Gwaine retreat into the lift, the steaming styrofoam cup warming his chilled hands. As soon as the doors slid shut, the detective readjusted the folder in his hand and walked to his desk, practically falling into his chair after he set his coffee down. He began scribbling down information on the sheets of paper before him, namely, what Hui had been willing to tell Percival, as he thought.

Colin... he was a mystery, an unsolved puzzle that didn't make sense, and Arthur didn't like it when things didn't make sense. It bothered him.

He threw the folder on the desk, bringing his hand up to rub the side of his face in frustration. Colin never spoke of his past; his files were classified. Who was he? Really? Katie had told him not to trust him. Maybe she had been right. It had been months, and the only part of Colin's past that he'd spoken of were his parents' deaths.

And even those didn't add up.

Colin has said that he didn't meet his father until just before his death, but he had been told by his own father that Colin and his father had apparently known John for quite some time, which made him assume that Colin had actually been raised by his father.

It didn't make sense.

His father had read the file, and why would the Chief have lied? If his father was telling the truth, then, that meant that Colin was lying. Was he? Or was this just a misunderstanding? Maybe Colin had met his father just before his death and had met John at that time. Maybe they'd bonded through the death of the man, but that all seemed too simple, like in the movies. Too poetic.

Indecision and guilt at just doubting his friend roiled within him, and he swallowed thickly. It didn't make sense. He clenched his jaw, eyes hazy as he thought.

And what about his dreams?

How did Merlin—Colin factor into those? Yes, the others were in his dreams about the fantastical Camelot, too, but Merlin was most prominently shown character. Why? Arthur had only known him for a few months, and yet he felt like he'd known the man his whole life. Why?

"Arthur?"

The detective looked up to see Leon peering down at him questioningly. He instantly straightened up, schooling his features to hide the frustration building in him. "Yes?"

"I've finished the paperwork for our other case. Do you want me to leave it with you or run it in to your father?"

A sudden thought took shape in Arthur's mind. Thinking fast, he nodded and said, "I think he's left already to have dinner with Morgana. You can leave it with me; I'll run it in."

"Alrighty. Elyan and I were going to head out. Need a ride?"

Arthur quickly shuffled up, gathering the files in his arms and grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. "Yeah, thanks. Just give me a sec to run these in?"

"Sure. We'll meet you downstairs."

The detective nodded and turned, heading quickly towards his father's barren office. Usually it would be locked up after the Chief left, but because 'Uther,' as they'd coined him, left early, he'd entrusted Arthur with one of the one two keys to the room, asking him to lock up when he left. Digging the key from his pocket, Arthur shuffled the files under his arm, inserting the key in the lock.

Arthur pushed the door open, careful to keep the lights off as he dumped the files on his father's desk to look over in the morning. The detective stopped, instead, at the tall file cabinet. He pulled out the first drawer, fingers sliding through the files. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he slid that drawer shut and looked in the next one.

There!

Feeling both relief and the utmost guilt for betraying not only Colin's trust, but also his father's, Arthur's deft fingers hooked onto the file marked "Colin Jones—Classified" and carefully slid it out of its place.

He turned so that the soft moonlight coming in from the window lit the page, and his eyes carefully scanned the information there. To his great frustration, Arthur saw that it only has his basic information there: his date of birth, height, weight, his picture. The file contained everything he already knew, everything they'd done together since they'd become partners, but nothing of his past.

The detective frowned as guilt burned his throat. This had all been for nothing. He hadn't learned one thing that could help him sort this mess.

He quickly replaced the file, quietly sliding the drawer shut and hearing a soft click as the hook caught. Sighing, he clutched his jacket against his side, making sure to lock his father's door behind him before sliding the key back in his pocket and leaving.

So I can't apologize for this chapter not going the way some of you might have hoped it would... because this chapter wrote itself and I love it. I can never get enough Merlin/Gwen bonding, personally, and since Gwen's the only person Merlin can talk to at the moment, he has to vent his angst about his knew knowledge, doesn't he? Answer: Yes indeed. :D I honestly can't remember what the next chapters about, (maybe because it's 1am now), so it'll have to be a surprise.

Until then. :)