Hi there! Okay, yes, yes, it's been a while. I made up for it though; this chapter is waaay longer than the rest.

Thanks for everyone who's been reading and leaving me litle reviews. I really enjoy reading what you think!

I'm fairly positive the next chapter will be the last.

Arthur swallowed down the salty air that the breeze swept off the water. He could almost taste the brine of the rolling waves on his tongue. The wind ruffled their hair and played with the folds of their jackets and dusted them both with an imperceptible layer of salt. Arthur wondered at how Merlin's hair remained as raven as ever.

There were usually more people about; more children chasing each other, weaving through legs and around skirts. It was a place where happiness came to dine. In the travelling huts set up along the path beside the water a person could get lost in the colours, smells, textures. There was a hut that propped up every year at the end of May, just as the sun started to unfurl from its slumber. The breeze would swirl through the hut; it entered with salt and left marinated and bathed. It was a ghost of that same breeze that brought Arthur in so many years ago.

The first time he'd stepped foot inside the darkened hut he had to momentarily close his eyes because his sense of smell demanded to be heard. The scents danced with each other along the current of air and the cloud surrounded Arthur. When he opened his eyes he found that there were dozens, scores and grosses of glass jars resting on tall wooden racks along the walls of the hut. He peered through the shadows of the hut but his eyes were still blinded by the sudden darkness. Save for the kerosene lanterns that hung from the ceiling on hooks and the light that managed to squeeze beside the flap of fabric at the entrance, the hut was cloaked.

He wandered over to one side of the hut and studied the glass jars. The labels were in Latin, written with a flourished hand. Underneath the Latin, almost as an afterthought, the same hand had written the English name in brackets. Some of the spices were known to Arthur but most were not. He wondered what Sumac and Pasilla de Oacaca Chile were used for.

He reached his hand toward a glass jar containing finely crushed grey-green leaves. He'd twisted the top of the jar in his palm when he felt a shift in the air.

"What you want with Marjoram?"

Arthur nearly dropped the jar when the voice came up behind him. He turned around and came face to face with a woman. The woman threw her head back and her deep laughter thrummed through the hut like a strummed cello. The shine of her long, wavy hair caught the eyes of the lantern and it shone a dark copper, almost black in colour. It matched her laugh perfectly. As did the blood red shawl she had wrapped around herself.

Her laugh winded down and she brought her gaze over to Arthur. She clucked her tongue at Arthur. "You scare too easy. You no need Marjoram, you need Symphytum officinale."

Arthur looked at her blankly.

The woman's mouth teased her laugh lines. "Knitbone. So you fix your backbone." She chuckled at her own joke.

Arthur laughed too. He'd never imagined he would one day be teased by someone using Latin.

"Ahh good, you smile. Your humors are in balance." The woman looked Arthur over with a critical eye.

"I'd be pretty disappointed if they weren't; I calibrated them this morning," Arthur joked.

The woman snorted but the side of her mouth pulled upwards. "Maybe too much blood, not enough black bile."

Well, there wasn't too much Arthur could really say to that. From the way the woman's eyes shone he knew she'd tucked another joke in there somewhere but he wasn't fluent in Hippocrates humoral theory. He made a mental note to ask Merlin next time he saw him.

"What you look for?" asked the woman as Arthur struggled to fit the top back onto the jar. She swatted his hand away and took the jar from his grasp. With a practised hand she twisted the top onto the jar and held the marjoram between her two hands. Her eyes waited for an answer.

"Honestly," Arthur started somewhat sheepishly, "I was passing by outside when I smelled your spices and decided to come in."

The woman nodded. "Is clever man who follows senses. Is good to shut ears to brain sometimes."

Arthur thought of Merlin. He wished he could shut his brain off sometimes. Maybe then, without the whirlwind of voices in his mind, he would finally grasp Merlin's shirt and pull him close enough to tell him. Or at least with his brain taking a break he'd forget that he was dumb enough to fall for someone who was so clearly not interested. Maybe the woman had a spice for hopeless idiot?

The woman was studying him with an unnervingly keen eye when Arthur surfaced from his wanderings. She stuck a hand to her chest. "I, Selvena. You?"

"Arthur."

"Arthur," she repeated, her accent added a touch of mystique to his name. "Name of kings. Great power in names."

Arthur laughed. "Nope, not a king, just a broke university student. Plus I don't know about power; a friend of mine once told me that responsibility tends to tag along for the ride too."

Selvena smiled. "Peter Parker and you friends?"

Arthur balked.

"I have granddaughter."

Arthur laughed because of course the mystical woman knew who Spiderman was. Her laugh harmonized with his.

She brushed by Arthur to place the jar back onto the shelf. When she turned around her fingers accidentally grazed the back of Arthur's hand. He turned to face her and was about to ask about the hut when he noticed her look. Selvena was looking at him with an intensity that made him want to squirm.

"You missing something." It wasn't a question.

Arthur reflexively patted his jeans for his wallet. He felt the familiar outline in his back pocket.

The woman tutted and shook her head. "Not here," she said and she waved her hands in the air, "in here." She thumped her hand over her chest.

Was she trying to tell him that he was missing an organ? Because he was pretty sure that his twenty four years of doctor checkups would have revealed that at some point.

"You found missing piece but you no do nothing."

Oh.

So she wasn't talking about a piece of tissue.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He wondered how Merlin hadn't been able to figure it out if this woman could in a handful of minutes.

"You no need to talk, just think, yes?"

Arthur smiled at the woman. If only she knew; thinking was all he did.

Selvena walked over to the other side of the hut. She ran her hands over some of the jars before she pulled one down. While Arthur stood there reeling over what she had said, Selvena scooped some of the contents into a small plastic bag. She tucked the jar back onto the shelf and walked back to Arthur. She tied the ends of the bag with a red ribbon and she gave it to Arthur.

"Chamomile," she explained. "Help you sleep."

Arthur looked at her quizzically. He wondered how she knew that he was having trouble sleeping the past few weeks. His father was pushing him to join his company but Arthur wanted to continue on for graduate studies. It landed him sleepless nights and a fairly lethal attitude in the mornings.

He was a little skeptical about the herb's efficacy but he wasn't about to point that out. He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and went to open it when Selvena's hand covered his.

"No money," she said. Her mouth pulled into a small smile. "You no king."

Arthur shook his head. The place wasn't exactly bustling with people. Selvena gave Arthur's hand a small squeeze before he could open his mouth to protest.

"You come back next year."

The sharp ringing of a bicycle bell brought him sharply back to the present. He reflexively stepped to the side.

Right into Merlin.

Merlin stumbled a little and Arthur's hand flashed out but Merlin righted himself before Arthur had to intervene. Merlin looked at Arthur sidelong with just the barest of smiles.

"It's too cold to go swimming today," he said.

Arthur smiled back and they carried on in silence. After a friendship that spanned as many years as theirs did, they did not feel the necessity to fill every silence with words. They exchanged thoughts and laughs and pencils but silence too. It was a silence of familiarity, of companionship; it was a silence of knowing that even though they were both lost in their own thoughts, at any given time one of them could turn and insert vowels and consonants into the space between them.

This was markedly not one of those silences.

No, this was a silence conceived by doubt and awkwardness. It walked between them, pushed them farther apart and shot furtive glances at each of them. It was a silence so corporeal that it almost felt palpable.

In that moment Arthur wished he could travel back in time to the moment where he thought that it was a good idea to let his hand linger on Merlin's arm. The moment, inspired by the darkness of the theatre and the shared hilarity of the asinine movie, revealed what Arthur had always known to be true. If Merlin felt even an iota of what he felt then he would have done something when Arthur had so blatantly left his hand on Merlin's arm. He could still feel the throbbing of his heart in his mouth, the way it had mixed with the ashy taste of truth.

"Arthur!"

He looked over at the call of his name and he couldn't help the grin. Selvena was standing by the flap of her hut, her hair twisted into different shapes as the breeze caught it. He walked over to her hut with a confused Merlin in tow. When he was standing in front of her, smiling at her, she pulled him into a hug. He never knew what she would smell like. Each year he visited it was something different. This time he recognized the sweet scent of basil.

"You came early this year," Arthur said when they pulled back from each other.

She shrugged. "Weather was good." She eyed Merlin curiously. "You no manners, Arthur?"

"Oh, right," he turned to Merlin who was smiling politely but was obviously puzzled. "This is my friend Merlin," he said to Selvena, "and Merlin, this is Selvena."

"It's nice to meet you," Merlin said.

"Happy meeting you," Selvena replied with a smile. She shot Arthur an amused look.

"He no Peter Parker."

Arthur paused and then remembered. He laughed and Selvena's smile grew. Merlin looked at the two of them in utter confusion.

"No, I guess he's not," Arthur said, still smiling to himself.

"Well? Come in, come in." Selvena thrust the flap of fabric aside with a snap and disappeared into the hut. Arthur went to follow and Merlin stepped in close beside him.

"You told her I was Spiderman?" asked Merlin in an incredulous whisper.

Arthur snickered. He was happy that they could forget about the movie incident for a little while. "It's a long story," he said as he pushed the fabric aside and let Merlin go in first. He heard Merlin's slow exhale as he stepped into the room. Merlin's eyes crawled over the shelves and shelves of herbs and spices.

"I know," Arthur said in reply to Merlin's wordless exclamation.

"How do you know about this place?" Merlin asked. He reached out a hand and touched a jar.

"I stumbled in here four or five years ago, been coming here every year since then. It kind of makes me feel..." he waved his hands in the air looking for the right word.

"I know," and it was Merlin who said it this time.

Selvena rolled a small table out from the back room. She went back and brought three wooden folding chairs out too and set them in a triangle around the circular table. She disappeared into the back room once more only to come out holding a tray with a pot of tea, three teacups and a little jar of dark golden honey. She set the tray in the middle of the table and stepped back. With her hand on her hips she surveyed the arrangement. With a nod at the table, she looked over to Arthur and Merlin and raised an eyebrow.

"You come or stand there?"

Arthur wondered if this was how mothers acted. They took their seats and only then did Selvena sit down. The teapot and the teacups matched in a cerulean colour and they were covered in black elaborate symbols. Selvena poured the hot tea into all three teacups and spooned a bit of honey into each.

"Oolong tea," she explained, "and lavender honey." She held the jar of honey out to Arthur. "Smell."

Arthur held the jar under his nose, he had never heard of lavender honey before. He inhaled and smelled the silken sweetness of the lavender pollen and it was luxurious. He held the jar out to Merlin who leaned in to smell. The suggestion of a smile appeared on his face.

"It smells just like the lavender my mother used to grow in her gardens," Merlin said. Arthur's heart twinged. He missed Hunith and her gentle ways. He remembered going out to sit in her flower garden when he had a bad day and how the scents of all the flowers together were his balm.

Selvena reached out and placed one of the teacups in front of Merlin. She looked at him with wise eyes and gently patted the back of his hand. Merlin half smiled at her and took the cup between his hands. Arthur wasn't watching Merlin though, he was looking at Selvena. When she'd touched Merlin a strange look had come across her face.

"Oh," she exhaled. Her face softened. She looked at them both with gentle eyes. "He your piece," she said to Arthur.

Merlin looked to Arthur with a look that was probably a question but Arthur wasn't looking at him. His eyes were frozen on Selvena. He had a horrifying suspicion that he knew what she was going to say.

"I think you might be mistaken," Arthur cut in before Selvena could say anything more. Merlin was looking between them, waiting for someone to explain to him. Arthur refused to meet his gaze.

Selvena made a sound of annoyance. "I not mistaken. I feel it."

"Um, I'm a little lost, what's going on?"

Arthur still wouldn't look at Merlin which meant that he saw Selvena frown at the two of them. Before Arthur could react she grabbed one of their hands in hers and closed her eyes.

Merlin bowed his head as if he believed they were going to start praying. Maybe he did. It seemed like the most logical explanation.

Arthur sat tense and Merlin shifted. Selvena's eyes snapped open and she glared at them in annoyance before she let go of their hands and started ranting in another language. She punctuated whatever she was saying by waving her hands around in the air. Arthur snuck a glance at Merlin. Merlin was watching Selvena in slack-jaw surprise. Arthur would have laughed if he had any air left in him.

When Selvena finally stopped gesturing and having her own conversation, she crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "You both fools. Blind fools," she added with a jerk of her chin. "You wake up and see or you have silver hair and too late."

"Arthur, I'm a little confused."

He looked at Merlin for a nanosecond. If he just said it now maybe he could finally put this to rest. If he just told Merlin what was the worst that could happen? Arthur almost laughed because that thought wasn't reassuring at all.

He looked back at Selvena. He wondered how he must have looked because her sharp eyes smoothed into kind ones when she saw his face. She nodded her head encouragingly.

"Now," she said.

How was she doing this? His throat was so dry he wasn't sure if he had the ability to grow the words he wanted to use. He swallowed but that didn't seem to help because it pushed the words farther down. They were nearing his stomach now, if he didn't do something soon the words and his resolve would be eaten by the acid in his stomach. He exhaled sharply and the words floated back up.

"I like you."

God, he sounded like he was ten, Arthur thought to himself. He could barely hear his thoughts over the roar of the blood gushing through his veins. Something ran across Merlin's eyes but it was gone before Arthur could catch it. Merlin looked at him flabbergasted.

"Uh, well I would hope after all these years you're not just putting up with me." Merlin smiled but there was something false about it.

Arthur wet his tongue on the roof of his mouth and he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. No human should have a heart rate this fast, Arthur thought. Good thing Merlin was a doctor. Arthur almost laughed, really he was straddling a fine line between scared crapless and giddy teenager.

He looked at Merlin and he almost lost his nerve. He reached out and snagged his nerve between his clenched hand and brought it, kicking and screaming, back to where it needed to be.

" Merlin, I like you a little bit more than that." He laughed because he was in the middle of it, there was no going back now. "That's a lie; I like you a whole lot more than that. Like with a capital L," he swallowed and said in a quieter voice, "maybe love with capital everything because I forgot the caps lock on."

Merlin's look of amusement slid of his face and splattered all over his shoes. He stared at Arthur expressionlessly and Arthur wasn't even sure if Merlin was still breathing. He waited for what seemed like years but Merlin just stared at him. Arthur leaned forward to say something, he wasn't really sure what, but he didn't need to say anything because the motion alone broke the spell.

Merlin stumbled to his feet so fast that the wooden fold out chair wobbled. He looked at Arthur and there were so many emotions sitting in his eyes that it was hard to pin point just one.

"I – I have to go." Merlin turned around and quickly walked out of the hut. The light from when Merlin pushed back the fabric at the entrance blinded him for a second. The fabric whooshed back into place and Arthur was on his feet to go after Merlin in the next moment.

A hand closed around his shoulder and held him back. "Let him," Selvena said. "Even wise man needs time to see truth."

Arthur slowly walked out of the hut because he didn't know what else to do. His sleeve cried red tears because he had been naive enough to stitch his heart there. Now he was left with a dripping mess and it stained his pants red, his shoes red and his thoughts blue. He leaked drops of blood like breadcrumbs from a fairytale as he walked home, except in this case Arthur knew that there wouldn't be anyone following them. He went home and sat on the kitchen table with a bowl under his hand to catch the blood that was steadily rolling down his hand and off the tips of his fingers. Arthur didn't need it staining his floor red, he didn't want that permanent reminder. So as his stupidity plunked into the bowl drop by drop he took a pair of blunt scissors and cut the threads that stitched his heart in place – threads that were once gold from hope were now rusty brown.

Arthur shoved his heart back where it should have been the whole time.