Disclaimer: IDOM

So, what're the odds that my update date is New Year's Eve? ;) Ironic, I think. Whatever. xD Anyway, my brother and I have been having an Arrow marathon all day. We're on episode 14, and we started with episode 1. o.O Um, they have a character named Tommy Merlyn. Sorry, it might just be me, but that's hugely amusing to me. Every time I hear it, I just start thinking of RM... Also, I ship Oliver and Felicity. Yup. They're very, very cute together. I love them...

Cari, quiet. And stop talking to yourself.

Title's from... Well, there're two versions. The better safe and sound is Me vs. Gravity's, the other is Taylor Swift. I really recommend Me vs. Gravity. ;) Well, anyway, I gotta go. 'Nother episode of Arrow is beginning. :)

Enjoy:

Chapter 23: Safe and Sound

Leon dropped everyone off at the emergency drive-through before he went to go park the car. Guinevere, clutching Arthur's sports bag, immediately jumped out the back seat, and she was quickly followed by Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival from the passenger side seat.

The once-queen didn't waste a second before rushing through the automatic doors and into the blindingly white hospital waiting room. She didn't see Arthur amongst the scattered group, so she jumped towards the reception desk, spreading her fingers on the laminated desk.

The receptionist was just getting off the phone with someone else, and Gwen felt impatience stir in her as she said a lengthy goodbye. After a few seconds, she hung up the phone and looked at their group, asking, "What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for a friend," Guinevere blurted. "Merlin. Er—Colin Jones. He was picked up by an ambulance about half an hour ago."

The blonde woman looked towards her computer, typing agonizingly slowly. "Ah, yes, Colin Jones. They're prepping him for surgery."

Worry rushed through Gwen's heart. "Surgery? Is he going to be okay?"

"I can't say, ma'am."

Guinevere shifted her weight between her feet. "Can we see him?"

"I'm afraid not. You can see him when he's through, though."

"Do you know how long it will take?"

"I'm afraid not," she said again, sympathy lacing her voice.

She ducked her head with remorse and frustration just as Gwaine set a hand on her back. He gave the woman a thin-lipped smile, resting his other arm on the counter. "A friend of ours came in with Colin. Bradley? Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, the blond fellow? He's in a private waiting room on the North Wing."

"Can someone show us the way?"

She nodded, rising out of her chair to beckon over one of the orderlies. He kindly showed them the way to the private room, which was just a miniature of the larger waiting room in Gwen's opinion. The once-queen's eyes immediately settled on Arthur. The young man had his elbows resting on his knees, fingers kneaded into his hair as he stared silently at the floor.

"Arthur!"

The detective's head whipped up, eyeing each of them as he wrapped Guinevere in a fierce hug. "Oh, thank goodness you're here."

Gwen searched him, taking note of the large spot of blood on the jacket he'd left on his chair. "How is he?"

"He was unconscious when they took him away. Pale, sweaty... bleeding. I don't know, Gwen, I really don't."

She let out a small whimper, and he pulled her back into a tight embrace. "We only just got him back."

"I know, Guinevere, I know. But he's strong. He'll pull through."

Wiping her eyes and pulling back, Gwen swallowed thickly as she grabbed the shoulder strap of Arthur's bag off her shoulder. "I-I picked you up some clothes."

He took the bag from her, smiling gratefully even though his eyes were dull with worry. "Thanks."

"Gwen," Arthur began, setting his hands on either shoulder as a new light came into his eyes, "you didn't just get your memories back now, did you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "No."

"What? How long have you known?" Leon questioned.

"Just the day before yesterday. Merlin saved me from that guy using magic, and everything just... locked into place. I woke up the next morning, and I remembered everything."

"Well, did Merlin tell you anything?"

Gwen glanced at her brother, eyes soft. "Not much—he was so busy—but he told me that Morgana was involved in the case. I think she was Hui's partner."

"Well, there's our 'woman.'"

"And he told me..." she hesitated for a moment. "Morgana was looking for Mordred's sword."

Everyone but Elyan and Gwaine paled as the silence thickened.

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" Elyan voice.

"Well, firstly, El, that was the sword Arthur was killed with," Perce blurted. The gentle giant looked towards his friend as he recognized his bluntness. "Sorry, Arthur."

The detective shook his head. "That's alright. It's no ordinary sword, either, guys. It was begotten in the breath of a dragon."

Gwaine narrowed his eyes with confusion. "The white one that we saw in the North?"

Arthur nodded. "She was working with Morgana at the time and helped her forge Mordred's sword. When a blade is fired by a dragon's fire, it becomes indestructible. Time has no hold over it. It pretty much guarantees death."

"So Merlin...?"

"Merlin couldn't do anything to prevent my death, Elyan. That's how it was meant to be."

"Did she find the sword?" Gwaine asked.

Guinevere sighed. "Merlin seemed to think so. He came to me last night, completely beside himself after learning what Morgana was really looking for. He thought that she was going to kill us all again."

"Dear God..." Arthur breathed, running his hands through his hair. "How...? Why...? Just... how long has he... had he been on his own?"

"Fifteen hundred and twenty seven years," she replied heavily.

Arthur collapsed back in his chair, biting his lip and clutching his head. "After everything he did for us in Camelot: protecting us, helping us, making sure that we saw another sunrise... He's cursed with that? It's not fair. He didn't ask for it, and he certainly didn't deserve it!"

Sitting in the chair next to him, Gwen rubbed small circles into his back. "No. No, he didn't," she agreed, "but Merlin told me once, long after Camlann and after he'd come to more fully understand why he couldn't die... He told me that, when we were gone, there would have to be an anchor to this world. While we were in Avalon, someone would have to stay behind to hold the anchor, and he said that he would happily be here as long as we could come back to him. All that mattered to him was us. Again.

"He was willing to wait God knows how long for us, without any guarantee that we—" she gestured to herself and the former knights "—would ever come back. The prophecy only specified that you, The Once and Future King, would return, but he still waited. He told me, however, after I got my memories back, that seeing us had made all that waiting—all that suffering—worth it. I can't imagine what he's been through. He had certainly given up and lost hope countless times, but he still kept going. And now he believes that it was all worth it. All we can do is be there for him when he needs us. Like now."

Arthur sighed, tears burning the back of his eyes. "He told me... That he was happy to be my servant until the day he died. I just never thought..."

A quick click of heels against the tile floor broke Arthur's trance, and he looked past Guinevere to the door. "Mr. James?"

Arthur stood. "Yes, that's me."

Curiously glancing between everyone, she stepped towards him, carrying a clipboard and a small bag. The nurse's dark hair was down, laying delicately on her slim shoulders. "Mr. Jones has just gone into surgery, and I have a bit of paperwork for you to complete. And here's his personal things."

"How is he?" he questioned, accepting the proffered clipboard and bag.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know. I was just told to inform you that he'd gone into surgery."

The detective sighed and nodded, the nurse taking her leave as Arthur sat in the chair once more. Inside the bag, Arthur found Merlin's wallet and keys. He scanned the paperwork, scratching his head as he took in the small typing and little boxes. "How am I even supposed to do this? I barely know anything about "Colin Jones." Family history? Past medical injuries? He must have had thousands of those by now."

"Just... scribble something that makes sense," Gwen suggested.

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, clicking the pen. "That's what I'll have to do."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the rest of them take their seats, fully prepared to wait for their brother and friend to come out of surgery. Arthur himself filled out the paperwork to the best of his ability, taking some needed information from Merlin's wallet. The nurse came back a little while later to take the paperwork, but she still knew nothing of his condition.

Another half hour passed, and Arthur felt exhaustion begin to pull on his eyelids. It had been a long day, both fun-filled and horror-filled, and it was catching up with him. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Gwen's head against his shoulder. Carefully, he rested his head on hers as his own shock and exhaustion dragged him down.

Arthur didn't dream.

No, now that he had his memories back, there was no need for his subconscious to remind him of the life he'd left behind, the friend he'd been forced to leave behind. He remembered everything, and though his unconscious mind was still at work sorting them out and organizing them in the right order, they were all there: the memories, the experiences, the feelings, the regrets, the secrets, the failings.

All of them.

Each and every one of the secrets that Merlin had kept and then divulged to him in his last days; all of Arthur's personal failings towards the man he was honored to call his best friend.

And so maybe he did dream. They weren't typical dreams, though. They were not the type of dreams after which one would wake up and feel as though they've spent the night watching half-completed movie scenes. What happened when he was dragged under as more... spiritual, if Arthur had to describe it.

There weren't images or scenes or fluid figures; there were just feelings, one after the other, as his mind organized the memories in his mind. Guinevere was a popular voice in the jumble, and love filled him at her soft, wise tones. The knights weren't uncommon, either, and excitement filled him as he recalled the feeling of Excalibur's hilt in his hand, the warmth of his down jacket beneath his cold chainmail.

But Merlin was the most prominent figure. Of course he was. Arthur couldn't recall too many times when Merlin wasn't beside him, as his servant and friend and brother. It was his deep, comforting voice that made brotherly love fill Arthur with a warmth that spread throughout his whole being. Merlin had always been there. He knew all of Arthur's failings, all of his regrets, and all of his secrets.

And though he had only had a few precious days with Merlin while the warlock told him all of his failings and regrets and secrets, and although he'd been wounded, dying, then, Arthur knew in his heart that no matter what Merlin told him, or when he told him, he would have done the same thing as he had before: he would have thanked him.

Because, as the memories emphasized, Merlin had always been there for him. He'd saved him, Camelot, and those he loved countless times, all from the shadows. He'd done it alone, and he hadn't looked for recompense or attention or thanks. He hadn't done it for a reward; he'd done it out of the love of his own heart, and though his means went against everything Arthur had grown up believing—that magic was evil and its users no better than the dirt they walked on—the former king couldn't find a sliver of regret in his body.

Not one.

When a hand suddenly settled on his shoulder and shook it, Arthur's eyes snapped open, and what was happening then and there was pushed to the forefront of his mind. He inhaled sharply, lifting his head from Guinevere's shoulder—hadn't he put his head on hers?—and rubbed his face. Leon stood before him, his hand still on Arthur's shoulder, and the knights were behind him.

"How long have I been out?" he asked groggily.

Leon gave him a small smile. "A few hours."

"Merlin?"

Guinevere bumped his arm, a deep compassion in her eyes. "He's fine..."

Utter relief filled him, and just after he sighed contently, he noticed the stranger in the room—the nurse who'd brought him Merlin's things. She gave him a soft smile, and he looked at her blankly. The others, though, already seemed to know what she was going to say and glanced between her and him with small smiles.

"Colin's out of surgery, Mr. James," she said kindly. "He'll be fine as long as he gets some much needed rest. Though, I can allow two of you to see him now, if you wish. Sorry you can't all go—it's just you're such a big group."

By then, Arthur's eyes were wide with anticipation and excitement, and he responded, "No, no, that's okay. Thank you." He stood abruptly on shaky legs and grabbed Guinevere's hand to bring her along.

Just afterwards, though, guilt filled him as he looked towards the others. Some of them, like Leon and Percival, had actually known Merlin longer than he did by the sound of things, and Arthur had always thought that Gwaine had been closer to Merlin than he was because they could openly be friends whereas the king had to distance himself. What right did he have to see Merlin over them?

But each of them, even Gwaine, smirked at him and nodded, silently granting their permission. Arthur felt gratitude replace his guilt as he turned back towards the waiting nurse and nodded.

"Great," she smiled politely. "This way, please."

She turned away, her colorful scrubs changing shades with the lighting; Arthur bit his lip with anxiety. They told him that Merlin was alright, and though he'd been elated at the news, he wondered what condition his friend was in now emotionally. After all that waiting, Merlin almost faced death himself, for the first real time in fifteen hundred years, and Arthur couldn't help but be worried.

Guinevere intertwined her fingers with his as the nurse led them down different corridors and even up to the next floor. Arthur saw a sign as they entered a set of double doors labeled "ICU," and he squeezed Gwen's hand.

The nurse stopped suddenly, next to an open door, and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat and his mind grow hazy, like in a dream, as his feet carried him forward. The lights were dimmed, but the white sheets on the patient's bed seemed to glow beneath the unnatural fluorescents. Arthur's eyes cautiously traveled up the sheets, swallowing harshly when his gaze landed on the figure clearly framed by the layers of cloth. He paused at the lax hand resting near the edge of the bed and continued when Gwen glanced up at him. An IV needle was stuck into the crook of Merlin's pale arm, making Arthur bit his lip in concern as he paused once more. The bed curved slightly upwards, and Arthur's eyes traveled up the loose sleeve of Merlin's bed gown. Then, Arthur saw him.

His soft features were highlighted by the light fixture tucked into where the walls met at the ceiling, and Arthur was taken aback at the familiarity, worry, and pure brotherly affection that coursed through him. His feet stopped at the edge of the bed, and his hand curled around Merlin's, relief filing him at the warmth of his flesh and the steady beat of his pulse. He'd felt the warlock's cold skin after he'd been shot and the way his pulse had been slow and unsteady; he never wanted to feel that again.

"How is he?" Guinevere asked, never taking her eyes off him.

The nurse walked over, stopping at the edge of the bed and unhooking a clipboard that had been hanging there. She flipped through the pages, glancing at the heart monitor beeping on Merlin's other side. "He's doing very well," she answered. "He's on intravenous fluids to keep him hydrated and morphine for the pain—"

"Pain?" Arthur interrupted.

"Yes, sir," she said. "His internal injuries were extensive, and I'm afraid that if we took him off the morphine, he'd go into shock from the pain. He'll be on it for a few days, but we'll wean him off as he heals. He'll be sleeping a lot because of it, though."

Guinevere glanced at her. "Is he dreaming?" Arthur glanced down at her, eyes curious before she mouthed "Nightmares," something which she'd have to explain to her boyfriend later.

She responded by shaking her head. "No. The morphine would induce too deep a sleep for him to dream." The nurse let the papers fall evenly back onto the clipboard before she clutched it to her breast, eyes softening as she gazed at Merlin with something akin to affection in her eyes. "He's very strong. He'll make a full recovery soon enough. Faster than most, anyway. It's very... good... that he has friends like you." She shook her head as she came back to herself and smiled at Guinevere and Arthur. "Anyway, I'll leave you alone. I was able to get permission for one of you to stay with him overnight, if you wish, but I'm afraid our visiting hours are over for the rest."

"I'll stay," Arthur offered hastily. He glanced down at Gwen, continuing, "If you don't mind."

She nodded her acceptance, smirking at his willingness to sit at his best friend's bedside.

"Alright," the nurse said. "I'll get you a proper visitors pass."

"Thank you," he replied.

Her heels clicked away from them, but just as she reached the doorframe, Arthur turned round to face her. "Excuse me, I'm sorry, but I never caught your name."

She stopped, turning round. "That's because I never gave it," she quipped, smiling gently. She bowed her head slightly in recognition and respect, glancing between Merlin, Guinevere, and Arthur with soft, chocolate brown eyes. "It's Laura. Laura du Lac."(1)

As her eyes passed over his shoulder and rested on Merlin, Arthur glanced behind him to see if there was something about his sleeping form that had grasped her attention, but when he turned back towards the door, Laura was gone.

After a moment of curious silence, the former king pulled up a chair next to the warlock's bed while Guinevere fixed Merlin's pillows and pulled up his blankets, both fighting the urge to lower them and look at his wound. Instead, Gwen pushed Merlin's dark hair back from his face and squeezed his limp hand before saying goodbye to Arthur. She left, on her way to inform the former knights of their brother's condition, and shortly after, another nurse came to give Arthur his pass.

Curiously, he asked where Laura was, and his brow furrowed when the nurse informed him that she didn't know a Laura du Lac nor anyone who worked at the hospital that fit her description. Confused, he let the subject go as he settled himself next to the bed.

He crossed his forearms on the white bed sheets just where the bed angled upwards, keeping one hand over Merlin's. He laid his head sideways over his arms at an angle where he could still see the warlock's relaxed face. Brotherly love coursed through him once more at the sight of his warlock and his best friend. The man who would do anything for him and the man who had proved just that fifteen hundred times over.

Arthur's eyes closed before he even realized it, and his breathing became slowed and steadied as he was pulled into a dreamless, visionless, sleep.

(1) Freya's cameo! For those of you who don't know, her name is indeed Laura. Laura Donnelly. And, yes, I changed her name. "Du Lac" is Latin, I believe, for "of the Lake." The surname was given to Lancelot in a few of the legends where he was actually adopted by the Lady of the Lake. So, Laura of the Lake. ;) I thought it was fitting anyway. I think I should warn you, though, that she doesn't make another appearance in RM, and her appearance in the sequel is, as of right now, unplanned. *bites lip* Sorry.

Right, so I told you guys that I finished RM, didn't I? I can't remember and I'm too lazy to look back. Twenty-six chapters. I'm tying in the epilogue with chapter twenty-six, so it's really, really over. ;) I already have one of the short stories finished. I told you guys about those...right? Um, there'll be approximately three or four shorter stories, like, one-shots, in between RM and the sequel. :)

Anywho, only three more updates before, sadly, it's over. I cried a little writing the last chapter... I get really emotionally attached to all my stories, so though I'm relieved that I accomplished a whole fanfiction, I cry a little bit. Sorry. xD Like I said, emotionally attached.

We have seven minutes to midnight, people, seven minutes. I'm going to try to update right on the mark, but my clock m-SHERLOCK. NEW SHERLOCK TOMORROW. ghrbjsk;ghrkjbhnglhnlf Sorry, again. Um... bit fangirly there...

Five minutes.

See you all next year! :D