A/N: I'm back! I'm so sorry for the late update. I ended up writing eighty pages of papers over about three weeks, so I had to put writing on hold for a bit. I'm done now though! And I spent yesterday plotting the next ten or so chapters of this fic, so I should be much better about updates in the near future.
I hope you enjoy!
Refusing to turn back and look at Merlin, Morgana walks to the front of the room and approaches Dr. Nimueh. A group of people are waiting to speak to her, and Morgana goes to stand with them.
She always used to be at ease with approaching academics after their talks, blissfully unaffected by her lower rank or supposed intellectual inferiority, but nerves she hasn't felt since her first year at Oxford rush back to her, and she's almost afraid to speak by the time she gets to Dr. Nimueh.
She gets over it, though, when the others around her disappear and Dr. Nimueh impatiently looks at her.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, sorry. Hello." Morgana blinks and smiles, flushing at her uncharacteristic awkwardness. "That was a fascinating lecture."
Dr. Nimueh nods. "Thank you. If that'll be all, I have a meeting to get to."
"I was just wondering whether it might be possible to meet with you later this week. I have a few questions I'd like to ask."
"Are you a student here?" Dr. Nimueh asks, narrowing her eyes at Morgana.
Morgana swallows. "I'm a doctoral candidate," she lies and stands straighter.
Dr. Nimueh nods. "I suppose I can make time for you then. When would you like to meet?"
"Whenever works for you."
"Friday? Ten o'clock?"
"Perfect."
Motivated by their talk, Morgana decides to get started on the research she'd promised Elaine she'd do on her own. She winds her way down the staircase from the lecture hall and makes her way past the bronze statue of Geoffrey of Monmouth in the entryway, and out the back door of the building.
The library sits across the quad, an imposing stone building, covered in ivy that claims to be almost nine hundred years old in parts. She'd spent her fair share of time in its walls. She'd loved going late at night, long after everyone else had gone home, and early in the morning, long before others would appear. She'd sneak in cups of coffee and freshly baked scones Gaius would hand her, insisting that she eat before she study.
She'd felt at home in the library, nestled between books and comfortable armchairs and hundreds of years of history, and she feels calm wash over her as she approaches it after all of this time.
Sighing, she wonders if she'll find it much changed, if the walls will suddenly be a different colour, or if for some reason, the university had decided to redecorate in the way she'd used to wish they would.
Bookshelves dance before her as she walks across the quad, but then they suddenly snap away as Merlin makes his way down its stairs, phone pressed to his ear.
He's smiling, and before she has time to decode his expression, his has his back turned to her and her breathing becomes more laboured as she approaches.
He's speaking animatedly, free hand waving in the air.
She knows she should do the grownup thing and approach him, and she hesitates, taking one step closer to him and another towards the library steps. She wavers, unsure what to do, and then she catches a snippet of his conversation and a series of "love" and affectionate sounding words make up her mind for her, and she hurries away to spend the rest of the day buried in the anthropology stacks.
The library is surprisingly quiet for the time of year, and as Morgana makes her way through the rows, she surveys the different memories that play through her mind.
The first time she'd seen Merlin outside of the coffee shop had been in the library. It had been two a.m. a couple of weeks into their friendship, and Merlin had appeared at her table after they'd exchanged a long stream of messages. Two cups of takeaway coffee and his own research in hand, he'd settled in across from her, and they'd spent the night exchanging silent and questioning gazes over their laptops and books.
Turning a corner into the section on the Druids, she shakes the memory away. The day has been painful enough without sinking even deeper into reminiscence.
She goes through the shelves, picking out titles. It isn't the most efficient way to do research, but she needs the comfort she draws from physically perusing the shelves. She runs her hands along the spines and wonders how she'd ever left this world behind.
Her arms full of half a dozen volumes, she makes her way to where the shelves meet an empty section of the wall and slides down, settling onto the floor. She doesn't want to sit in plain sight, out near the study tables, doesn't want to risk running into anyone else.
She begins to read and take notes in her notebook, and before she knows it, it's late afternoon, and Gwen is messaging her to ask if she wants to come over for dinner.
She smiles at her friend's good intentions and types, Not tonight. :( I need takeaway and sleep.
You're going to mope, aren't you?
:O I do not mope.
Fine. Later this week then? Arthur can cook!
Morgana smirks. Somehow, to everyone's confusion, Arthur had become the chef of the family. That, however, didn't mean that they'd stopped teasing him about all the fires he'd started before he'd married Gwen and learned to cook. So you're inviting me over to watch your house burn down?
Of course. There's nothing cosier.
Of course not. I'll see you later this week, then.
Good! And Morgana?
Yes?
I'm just a phone call away if you need anything.
Running late, Merlin makes his way into the supermarket and heads straight for the refrigerated dairy section. He's out of milk and bread and just about everything and he has ten minutes to get all of his shopping done before he needs to race home and then across town to meet Viviane.
He shakes his head. He doesn't have time for this, but he can't justify eating out when he can cook for himself.
He grabs a bottle of almond milk, a loaf of whole grain bread and then walks into the vegetable section, intent on picking up some more kale for his dinner.
He stops short.
Standing next to the kale, picking out courgettes is Morgana.
He's never seen her in this shop, never even seen her in this part of town, but there's no denying that it's her. The glistening hair, the set of her shoulders, and the emerald green trench coat he'd seen her wearing earlier in the day.
Swallowing thickly, he decides he doesn't need any kale after all. He does need some sort of vegetable though, and he looks around. The cauliflower is sitting behind the courgettes, allowing him to get closer. Close yet far enough that he can pretend not to see her or to seem to be surprised if she does.
He suddenly decides that he likes cauliflower.
Very much.
He remembers the way she'd hesitated outside the library – because he had seen her, of course he had, and, watching as she bags the courgettes, wonders if he should stop being ridiculous and approach her.
He doesn't hate her. He'd say, not anymore, but he's never hated her. Not when she'd left. Not even when she'd betrayed Gaius and torn his family apart. He'd wanted to, tried to as he'd sat at Gaius's bedside and dried his mother's tears, but he couldn't. He couldn't understand what she'd done, couldn't understand how she could have just picked up and left when they'd supposedly been so happy, but despite his anger and his gnawing hurt, he'd known deep down that she'd had her reasons, and for all the pain in the world, he still knows that whatever it was, it must have been a good one.
He's sick of the pain and the feelings that whirl through him every time he thinks of her, voluntarily, involuntarily, in his sleep, and whenever he sees anyone with her colouring. Every time he hears of witchcraft or medieval literature. Every moment he spent working on the story of Aithusa while writing his doctorate.
She's everywhere to him, despite himself, despite the years, and for all the hurt she'd caused him and all the efforts he's made to move on with his life and forget her, he can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, her unannounced return to Monmouth is the beginning not of a second chance, but of the possibility of one, and he thinks that maybe running into her here, now is a cue for him to act. He isn't ready to forgive her. Not completely. But he is ready to ask her why.
Taking a deep breath, he turns around.
She's gone. The courgettes stare back at him, tauntingly green under the bright, florescent lights, and the kale calls out to him.
And he's left alone, nails digging into the stalk of cauliflower in his hand and cursing to himself.
Morgana doesn't need Gwen. Or claims she doesn't.
She's perfectly fine.
She stops to do her shopping on the way home, trying a new shop near the university, and then picks up Thai from the restaurant down the street from her flat.
She changes into soft, cashmere leggings and her favourite jumper before settling onto her sofa with food and a boxset. Only halfway through an old episode of Friends does Aithusa come running in to sit with her and only after he curls up in her lap does she realize that the jumper she's wearing is Merlin's.
She's had it for so long now and worn it so, so many times that she's stopped thinking of him every time she pulls it on over her head. She'd worn it that night and kept wearing it as part of a masochistic ritual of comfort in the months that followed, but the pain associated with it had long since disappeared, leaving behind only soft cashmere and comfort.
Setting her empty plate down on the coffee table before her, she fidgets with the hem of the jumper, wondering what to do about her day and the days to come.
She could call Elaine in the morning and tell her she refuses to go back, that it's just too painful and she needs to find someone to take over the mission, but she knows her mentor, knows that she would have none of it or at least force her to talk through her feelings. But she doesn't want to. Not yet.
She wants to pretend it doesn't hurt, that she didn't feel like the wind was being knocked out of her every time she looked at Merlin, that joy didn't run through her in the library, and that she didn't feel like life was returning to her as she'd read and taken notes.
Elaine had done her a favour in sending her and she decides to make the best of it. She reaches for her laptop to compose an email to Caelia before she loses her nerve. She'll try to see her tomorrow and see where things go. If she feels the need to go back, she'll suggest it. If not, well then, not.
Either way, she knows this week will change things, whether she goes back to the life she used to love or leaves it behind her for good.
"It's about time you showed up," Viviane greets Merlin as he pulls up beside the curb on his bicycle. She's calmly waiting for him, pristinely dressed in a beige pencil skirt, a crisp, white button down, and sharp, black flats that match her soft, black bag.
She's always perfectly dressed, and looking down at his rumpled blazer, he's glad he decided to at least change into a crisp pair of jeans that morning. He always manages to feel like a messy child around Viviane, no matter that they're the same age and have known each other for years.
Chaining his bicycle to a lamppost, Merlin smirks at her. "I'm sorry! I got held up." He leans in to air kiss her on the cheek in greeting.
Viviane narrows her eyes at him as he pulls away. "Explain."
Merlin feels the heat rising to his cheeks. "I, um…"
"Yes?"
"I ran into Morgana in the vegetable aisle."
Viviane's eyes light up. "Did you speak to her?"
"No. I wanted to buy kale, but she was buying courgettes, and the courgettes are right next to the kale. So I decided to buy some cauliflower instead. I like cauliflower. It's a very practical vegetable." Merlin widens his eyes as he explains, forgetting that Viviane isn't one to fall for his stories.
He remembers when she slaps him upside the head and starts muttering about what an idiot she's befriended.
A/N: If you want to read about the first time Merlin and Morgana met in the library, you can do that in the first chapter of "Between the Lines," here: s/11250103/1/Between-the-Lines
and if you want to read more about Viviane and what she's up to with Merlin, you can do so in "The Quest of the Lake," the crossover my best friend is writing over on AO3. (There's a link to my AO3 account on my profile page, so if you follow that and go into the "For All the Nights" series, you should find it there.)