aDisclaimer: Merlin is not mine.

Merlin had looked exhausted. That was what Gwaine remembered most clearly. Every line in his young body was all but sagging over the lanky frame, looking as though, were it not for the bones that always showed so alarmingly clearly through the thin fabric of whatever shabby tunic he had chosen to wear that day, he would have collapsed into a heap of flesh on the floor below him. His eyes were so weary and somehow so heavy that Gwaine had been unable to understand at the time how they could still be so widely open. It was such a peculiar combination of expressions that Gwaine had to shelve his anger for a moment at the sight of the errant sorcerer returned so as to wonder how someone could look so utterly tired but still so completely awake. Not exactly alert—Gwaine had the impression that, if he had chosen to throw anything in the young man's direction, it would smack him in the face before he would have had the presence of mind to register that Gwaine's arm had moved—but awake.

So Gwaine had the courtesy to alter his previous plan for how this reunion was to work, which had indeed involved throwing something—Gwaine had never been sure exactly what, for it depended on whatever location that Merlin chose to finally deign Gwaine with his presence—in the young man's direction. But it wouldn't have been fun if Merlin was so dead to the world that he wouldn't have time to try to dodge. Throwing something at Merlin at that moment just seemed…mean. And things that felt mean often were not particularly fun, in Gwaine's opinion.

That was when Gwaine realized that he was perhaps less furious at Merlin than he'd believed himself to be.

That, plus he had the distinct impression that Merlin had deliberately sought him out for whatever he had to say. After all, why would Merlin wander into the armory at midnight?

But wander in he did, and when he saw Gwaine leaning upon the large table in the center of the room, a well-worn whetstone in his hand as he worked at sharpening his sword, as he so often did when he was unable to sleep and did not particularly want to lay in bed thinking about why, he stopped a few feet into the room at looked at the knight, no hint of surprise in his face. He did not speak.

Gwaine stood straight from where he had been leaning hard over the table, growing sleepy despite himself. He laid his sword down on the table and placed the whetstone calmly to its side. He had plenty of things to say to Merlin, most of them less than welcoming, but he didn't see why he should say them whilst holding items that could be certainly used as weapons of the deadliest kind. He wasn't planning on slicing Merlin with his sword and hitting him in the head with a rock or beating him to death with a stick or anything so ridiculously inconceivable, and there was no reason for him to make Merlin believe that he was considering it. Besides, he figured that Merlin would be more likely to listen to what Gwaine was saying if he did not have to keep an eye on his sword.

Gwaine strode over to the front of the table, wiping his hands needlessly on his trousers, and leaned his back against it, trying to appear casually expectant. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. If Merlin had anything to say, he would have to be the one to break the silence.

Then, the silence was indeed most clumsily broken. Unfortunately, it had not been through any efforts of Merlin's. Gwaine heard a frustrated but clearly determined voice echoing into the armory through the corridor, growing steadily louder as the speaker stomped closer to the room where Gwaine and Merlin were finally facing one another.

"Merlin, if you're not going to tell me why the hell you decided to come up here in the middle of the night instead of getting some sleep like a normal person, I'm just going to keep following you. Annoying, isn't it? Just stop and explain and for heaven's sake, try to sleep off what's happened today, and it will all stop. I'll stop following you and leave you alone and do all the considerate things that you never did when you followed me around no matter what I told you and why the hell are you going into the armory right now when—"

When Arthur finally stomped his way into the armory, Gwaine almost broke his deliberately stern countenance at the expression on the king's face. He'd actually managed to nearly work his way through a whole new unintelligible sentence in Merlin's direction before his peripheral vision finally indicated to him that perhaps the sorcerer had not been the only man in the room when he'd barged in. When he glanced over in the darkness of the armory—Gwaine hadn't been in the mood for any candles—and his eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, Gwaine was treated to the vision of the king's blue eyes widening to the point of appearing entirely spherical. By the time that he began to glance back and forth between Merlin and Gwaine, they were all but bugging out of his head.

Gwaine would have been concerned if he didn't always find it so entertaining whenever Arthur made a fool of himself in a manner completely unbefitting a king. His day usually automatically improved whenever he was treated to such a vision.

Unfortunately, he was not treated to the vision for very long. After glancing back and forth between Merlin and Gwaine for a few more moments, Arthur started to take long strides backward, clearly trying to make as little noise as possible. Gwaine almost smiled. Merlin must not have been the only one who was exhausted. Did Arthur really think that they wouldn't notice him if he was quiet on his way out? He must have been tired. His wide eyes were certainly red enough to indicate that he would benefit from a good night's sleep. Gwaine almost hoped for the king's own sake that Arthur would turn his hasty retreat from the armory into a determined walk to his bedchambers to lie down before he remembered that he was supposed to be almost as mad at Arthur as he was at Merlin. Besides, he could hardly blame Arthur for not wanting to be privy to this particular reunion, even if his method of exiting was somewhat less than dignified. Gwaine hadn't exactly envied either the king or Merlin when they'd had to face the wrath of Guinevere, and he assumed that this confrontation was likely to be of a similar sort. He wouldn't have had much in the way of dignity either.

Arthur finally out of the room, Gwaine turned his head back to look at Merlin, just in time to see the young man roll his eyes and shake his head with that strange expression of his that seemed to be a mixture of affection and exasperation. It was one that he often seemed to wear in Arthur's presence. Arthur happened to be the sort of king whose ideas didn't seem to make very much sense until they were put into action and their purpose became clear and far less laughable that when they were proposed. Exasperation was not exactly the rarest of reactions to some of Arthur's antics, in Gwaine's opinion. Being a good king did not automatically make Arthur the easiest of kings.

When Merlin finally looked back at Gwaine, he wore a very small and rather apologetic smile on his face. "Kind of makes you wonder if crown inheritance is the best method of managing a monarchy, doesn't it?"

Gwaine wasn't entirely sure how he wanted to answer that. Part of him wanted to abandon his earlier resolve and throw something at Merlin for embracing such levity when they were meant to be having a serious discussion about the merits of saying proper farewells to particularly close friends when fleeing away from them forever. Part of him wanted to smile that smile that everyone who knew Arthur and Merlin smiled whenever one of them insulted the abilities of the other, amused and exasperated and endeared despite themselves. Part of him wanted to agree, wanted to express to Merlin the deep-seated and fairly irrational fear that, one of these days, the part of Arthur that was Uther would manifest itself and Arthur would become the sort of king that he had sworn not to be. So Gwaine just opened his mouth and said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Kind of makes me think that you insulting the decision-making of another man is about the same as a dragon saying his flames are too hot."

Merlin visibly flinched, shutting his eyes for a moment, and held up his hands in an expression of surrender. "Gwaine, I'm sorry that—"

But Gwaine cut him off. Merlin had broken the silence between them; it was Gwaine's turn to vent. And vent he would. "Merlin, how long have you been back?"

Merlin blinked rather rapidly and paused, looking as though he legitimately had to think about it to determine how long he'd been in Camelot since his return from exile. When he gave his answer, he sounded genuinely surprised. "A day or so, I think.

"You think?"

"I've been kind of busy, Gwaine!" Merlin answered, sounding both angry and defensive.

Gwaine scowled. How did Merlin feel justified in speaking angrily to him? Gwaine had all of the high ground in this exchange. Where did Merlin get off?

It was ridiculous, and Gwaine was so annoyed that Merlin was not just standing still and letting Gwaine yell at him that he almost didn't notice that Merlin's anger—was that anger?—was tinged with something close to a sadness that had nothing to do with his exhaustion. He felt his expression soften. Whatever had kept Merlin busy—and Gwaine did not doubt that part of Merlin's story—had not been easy.

Not as easy as, say, giving a wave goodbye before running away like a coward.

Or running away like the friendship meant less to Merlin than it did to Gwaine.

Gwaine preferred to think that Merlin was a coward.

"Fine. You've been busy. I accept that."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at Gwaine's suddenly pleasant tone. He seemed to sense that anything that he should say would just lead him to falling into a trap of sorts.

"I'm…glad. That's very understanding of you. Thank you?" Merlin responded halfheartedly, biting his lip hopefully, and Gwaine was distantly disappointed that Merlin hadn't said something more offensive. He would have loved to incorporate some current specifics into the complaints that he'd been accumulating on a semi-frequent basis over the six months of Merlin's absence.

"Of course I understand. I'm often busy when I'd rather not be," answered Gwaine.

"…Of course," said Merlin, rather cautiously.

"I understand lots of things, Merlin."

"I know that you do, Gwaine." Gwaine could tell that Merlin was very carefully trying to keep his voice neutral, and he got a sort of dim satisfaction in the knowledge that Merlin still didn't really know where he was going with this.

"But would you like to know what I do not understand?"

Merlin began to nod, although not so much in assent as in comprehension. "Oh. Yes, I see where you're going with this…"

Gwaine cut him off. "Would you like to know, Merlin?"

Merlin stood up very straight and assumed an expression that Gwaine could only assume was meant to convey something closer to penitence than it was to the resignation that was far more apparent. "Yes, Gwaine."

"I don't understand how it is that, when you get the news that you're to be banished from Camelot forever, and you start to make your plans to leave and your list of people to see before you go, you somehow manage to forget to include 'my loyal and true and steadfast friend Gwaine,' but still manage to give a goodbye to Arthur's new manservant whom you only just found out about, let alone met."

"Gwaine…"

"And he doesn't even like you! It's been six months since you left, and I still can't decide whether Roger hates you or is just afraid of you from afar!"

"His name is actually Robert—"

"I know what his name is, Merlin!"

"Okay! I was just making sure!"

"Thank you so much for making sure that—"

"Wait, does Robert really not like me?"

"No!" answered Gwaine automatically. It was true, but he probably would have lied about it if it hadn't been. The best way to argue with Merlin probably did not involve telling him how much he was liked by someone else.

"Why not?" Merlin sounded honestly baffled, and a little bit offended.

"I couldn't tell you, Merlin. It's not like he was one of your best friends in the entire world and you deliberately left the kingdom without giving him a moment's thought or anything."

"I wouldn't exactly say that I didn't—"

"It's not like he spent the entire month that Arthur left you rotting in the dungeons alternating between slipping you contraband comforts and refusing to speak to the king on your behalf!"

"Did you really not speak to Arthur on my—"

"It's not like you were the first person that he considered a true friend in his life!"

"Well, he apparently isn't going to be my friend now anyway if he doesn't like me—"

"It's not like he was stuck behind with Arthur to deal with the aftermath of you leaving without any real sense of closure with the banished sorcerer!"

"Actually, I think that that's exactly what happened to Robert when I—" protested Merlin, sounding somewhat more animated in what was a rather more defensible point than his previous interruptions.

Gwaine ignored him. "It's not like he had to deal with people asking him how he managed to go for so many years without noticing that his friend was a sorcerer—"

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest. "To be fair, I think that Arthur probably got that more than you did—"

"—or assuming that he had been covering up the fact that his friend was a wizard when it was illegal—"

"I prefer 'warlock,' actually, if you don't mind—'

"—or calling for the king to revoke his knighthood because he was clearly as much a traitor as the idiot wizard who had just been banished—"

Merlin refrained from voicing what was probably inappropriately perky interjection in the face of Gwaine's revelation of what had truly transpired upon his flight from Camelot. "Wait, really?"

"Yes!" At least Merlin was starting to understand that Gwaine was serious.

"Oh," said Merlin, very quietly. "I hadn't thought…"

Gwaine wasn't ready to start being quiet just yet. "Much of anything?"

Merlin shook his head, looking suddenly earnest. "It's just, I knew you'd be mad but—"

"But it didn't matter, because you wouldn't be around to have to face me?" If it was true, Gwaine needed to hear him say it.

"No! Well, yes, a little bit. But I hadn't thought that you would get any of the criticism for the trouble I caused. I figured that it would all fall onto Arthur's shoulders, and considering that he'd had me locked up for almost a whole month, I wasn't too upset about that at the time. If I'd known that you were going to get any of it, I would've…"

"What? You would have what?" asked Gwaine, bitterness and regret—feelings most often denied by the unorthodox knight—beginning to overcome anger. "By the time that you set the council chambers on fire, it was already too late for you to do anything. And blame Arthur all you want—I certainly have—but it's your own fault that you stayed in the dungeons for the whole month. You could have escaped any time you wanted."

Merlin winced. "Okay, yes, I could have escaped. But I needed Arthur to trust me, and Arthur needed to think everything through, so I had to stay in the dungeons."

"How noble of you," Gwaine said flatly.

Merlin clearly picked up on the tone. Growing defensive again, he answered. "Well, I hadn't exactly thought that Arthur would need a whole month to think about it, but I'd made the promise to stay already."

Gwaine nodded. His head was starting to hurt, and the whole confrontation was starting to feel completely absurd. What use was it to stay mad over something that had happened half of a year ago? Over conversations had and not had so many months past? What mattered was what was happened then. "One last thing, Merlin."

"What?" Merlin looked slightly taken aback at the finality of Gwaine's tone. Gwaine couldn't blame him; his previous comments had been designed to offend and provoke. This was something of an abrupt change.

"Are you sorry?"

Merlin did not look surprised. He almost looked relieved at the questioned, and seemed to answer automatically, not bothering to think about it. "Yes."

"Good."

Good. Merlin was sorry, Gwaine could be satisfied, and it could be over. This was good.

"Well…"

Gwaine was starting to see Arthur's point as he had complained about Merlin's less that forthrightness during their conversations in Merlin's dungeon cell.

"What?"

Merlin spoke very fast. "Well, I'd probably do the same thing all over again, but I am sorry that it worked out this way, and you were one of my greatest friends and I hope that this hasn't cost me that friendship."

Gwaine considered this carefully, weighing his options. "Alright then."

This time, Merlin did look surprised. "What do you mean?"

Gwaine shrugged. "I'm done yelling. We can be friends again."

Merlin stared at him. "Just like that?"

"Why not? Fighting enemies is fun. Fighting friends doesn't do anyone any good."

"You don't even want me to explain why?" Merlin almost sounded baffled, which Gwaine took to be a sign that they had been too far apart for too long.

"Were they good reasons?" he asked.

"I wouldn't have done it if they weren't."

"Alright." Gwaine shrugged again. "I trust you."

After a long moment in which neither spoke, Merlin laughed a very small laugh, hardly more than a particularly vehement exhalation, but a laugh all the same. "See, this is why you're so much more fun than Arthur. So much less melodramatic."

"I try."

"You know he still talks about that fire room?"

"It was kind of memorable."

"I know, but he brings it up in completely random conversations. 'Merlin, these turnips are overcooked. It's like someone cast a fire room when they were being prepared.' What does that even mean? It doesn't make any sense."

Gwaine pretended to consider the matter.

"…and you just summarized the king."

Merlin laughed, more loudly this time. Gwaine couldn't suppress a grin himself. It was fairly enjoyable to make fun of Arthur. They were both perfectly aware of the pressures under which Arthur was forced to live constantly, both aware that his training for rule of a kingdom probably meant that his decisions made more sense in the grand scheme than they sometimes seemed to those not raised to wear a crown, both knew from experience that Arthur was sometimes better at coming up with plans and executing them than he was at explaining them. But he was their friend as well as their king, so they generally felt all but duty-bound to tease him.

Feeling more comfortable now that there was some good humor back in the air, Gwaine glanced at Merlin and decided to ask a question that seemed so very simple that his nerves should not have been so much as slightly prickly, but there was something about Merlin's demeanor that made Gwaine almost not want to know the answer. But they were friends again. He had to ask.

"Tell me one thing, Merlin."

Merlin looked up, met Gwaine's gaze, and nodded. "Sure."

"Are you staying this time?"

Merlin almost looked surprised. "Yeah, Gwaine. I'm staying."

There was a rather pregnant pause. It was very nearly a stop; even Gwaine felt that stopping the conversation on that particular note would have been a poignant conclusion of sorts. They could speak no more on this sad matter and they could look forward, moving past the separation so that they could work together once more. They should end there.

Instead, Gwaine shoved himself forward off of the table against which he still leant and spoke. "Tell me one more thing, Merlin."

Merlin groaned good-naturedly. "What now?"

"Why did you come back?"

Merlin sighed. The weariness very suddenly crept back into his face, and Gwaine felt a stab of regret for putting forth his question.

For a few seconds, Merlin did not say anything, and Gwaine had the impression that he was trying to gather his thoughts or, at the very least, come up with a valid excuse for why he did not care to share them just then.

"Gwaine…I know that I'm not really in the position to be asking any favors of you right now…"

Despite himself, Gwaine snorted, and Merlin smiled. "…I know that I shouldn't be asking any favors, but right now, I really really really don't want to talk about why I came back."

Gwaine nodded thoughtfully. Unspoken in Merlin's refusal to answer his question was the implication that he would tell him and, as Merlin had vowed that he would not be running off again, Gwaine figured that there would be plenty of time for him to find out why Merlin had come back and why he seemed so exhausted by it. He figured that he could let the boy get a few hours of sleep in first.

"What do you want to do, then?"

Merlin smiled, and relief skated across his features before his raised his palms and rubbed his face with his hands. "Honestly? I'd like to sleep for about a year; collapse an important part of the castle and claim not to be able to put it back together for the sake of annoying Arthur; do something foolhardy and unnecessarily risky, probably involving a dragon; get rip roaring drunk…"

Merlin trailed off, and Gwaine waited a moment, to see if he would continue. When he did not, Gwaine opened his mouth to respond.

"Well, that last one doesn't sound so bad. I haven't any problem with annoying Arthur or being unnecessarily risky, but if we get drunk enough first, we can probably make it through your whole list by dawn, and I always have had the strange desire to poke a sleeping dragon. Besides, if we're drunk enough before we start, it wouldn't be fair for anyone to blame us for any damage that we may or may not cause."

Merlin laughed. "I should have known better than to suggest getting drunk with you."

Gwaine shrugged. "It sounds a hell of a lot better than me staying mad at you for the rest of the night."

Merlin smiled a smile that was somehow heartbreakingly sad. "Oh, I would if I could, my friend."

"Why can't you? It wouldn't take all that much effort, unless you've spent the last six months conditioning yourself to be able to drink more than a tankard without starting to sing songs and spill secrets."

Merlin rolled his eyes, not bothering to deny Gwaine's implication about his inability to hold alcohol. "Because, Gwaine, if I made a scene on my very first night back in Camelot, Arthur would probably just exile me all over again and I'd be mysteriously missing before the sun comes up tomorrow."

Gwaine glared and Merlin, catching the expression on his face, laughed aloud. "Too soon?"

So they were thus reconciled, simply and angrily and peacefully, all at the same time. It wasn't until much later that Gwaine found out that the reason that Merlin had not chosen to spend the night behaving irresponsibly with Gwaine was because he had a different sort of duty that night, self-imposed and selfless and cathartic in its self-destruction. While Gwaine had gone and celebrated on his own, gotten himself a drink, pinched a few girls into giggling and insulted a few drunks drunker than him, staggered home tipsy and cheerful in the fact that Merlin was back and they were once more on friendly terms and that Arthur would be mad in the morning when Gwaine showed up with the headache and pallor of the morning-after variety, had gone back to his bed and gone to sleep, content and comfortable in the routine that would be able to become routine once more, now that everything and everyone were slipping back into their proper places, Merlin had returned to the chambers long allotted to the castle physician and taken his place above the peaceful and motionless figure that was that of his former guardian, standing vigil over the body of he who had become his father throughout the entire night, alone and awake and adult.

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Probably only one chapter left! Gwaine will find out a little bit more about why Merlin left and everything will be ready for a sequel to begin.

Thank you for the reviews! I would love some more.

ETA: Sorry for any typos-my computer word processing is acting up and keeps copying text from one place to another. I tried to re-edit, but I may have missed a few.