A/N: So tired...don't know how I managed to get this done. This chapter just kept going. 5,800 words and one read through. Hopefully it turned out okay.

Title: Of Twisted Morals and Human Weaponry
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for...well, a lot of things. Some language, some violence, the whole general situation, a bit of torture, etc.
Characters/pairings: The cast is as follows: Merlin, Arthur, an antagonist, two guards with names, and a few without. Merlin and Arthur are the main focus of this story. Oh, and no pairings. Only friendship here, though if you want to read more into it, feel free. Whatever floats your boat :)
Spoilers: Um...none, as far as I know.
Warnings: Abuse, a bit of torture, me being descriptive
What to expect: Bromance, introspection, angst, some whump, H/C, lots of drama, lots of worrying...oh, and some magic. Can't forget the magic :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin :)

Not much to say this time, just that I hope you all enjoy the chapter :) It was actually a lot of fun to write despite not knowing exactly where I was going when I started writing it. But I'm sure many of you have been waiting for something like this to happen :)

Onward!

CHAPTER 22

He wasn't sure how long it took—keeping track of time wasn't exactly easy at night—but between both himself and Owyn, they were able to clean and patch up each and every wound that Merlin had been dealt during his stay with Barragh, and there had been a lot of them. Thankfully most of them had turned out to be superficial much like he had originally suspected, but there had still been more than enough to keep the two of them busy for quite a long while. The gash on the warlock's head had probably been the worst, resulting in a great deal of time, water, and bandages, and the whole time he had been cleaning it, Arthur had been watching, knowing that no matter how careful he was, it would still probably hurt. However, Merlin's face had betrayed nothing, not even a wince or a grimace. He may as well have been dead to the world for how lax his expression had remained.

Upon voicing his concern about the warlock's complete lack of response to pretty much everything they were doing to him, Owyn had tried to reassure him that it was normal, that people who had been through a great deal of pain, who had suffered severe injury or trauma, could sometimes fall into a deep sleep. He had told him not to worry, but the look on the guard's own face had rather ruined any chance of that happening. It was obvious that Owyn was just as concerned as he was, which was understandable given all that had happened. After all, it wasn't just the head wound that they had to worry about; Merlin's back was a complete mess as well.

It seemed that Barragh, being the uncaring bastard that he was, hadn't allowed the lash marks on the warlock's back to heal. Sometime during the last three days, the still healing wounds had been torn back open and rather carelessly patched back up. Just the sight of them had been enough to reignite the prince's anger, and Owyn had been forced to take over for a while until Arthur could unclench his fists and get his hands to stop shaking. He may have gotten used to seeing the sheer brutality that some men were capable of—all part of being a prince and a knight—but it never got easier, and the fact that it was Merlin who had been put through such cruel treatment only made it worse.

He swore to himself that he would do better, that he would try harder, that he would never allow something like this to happen to his servant again. Merlin was his friend and his responsibility, and even though he had managed to rescue him in the end, he still couldn't help but feel as if he had failed in some way.

He desperately wanted the warlock to wake up so that he could talk to him, so that he could say all of the things that he knew he needed to say, but seeing as how Merlin hadn't even twitched in the last few hours, it probably wouldn't happen anytime soon. He was just going to have to be patient for once—a difficult feat, surely, but after dealing with a servant like Merlin day in and day out for such a long period of time, he had learned a thing or two about being patient. He got the distinct feeling that Merlin would probably disagree with that statement, but that was really beside the point.

Besides, at that moment there was something far more pressing to deal with than Merlin's complete lack of consciousness.

"So," the prince began, motioning towards the warlock's right arm while addressing Owyn, "what do we do about that?"

On Merlin's arm was a brace, positioned just below his elbow. Arthur had seen it only once before, back when Barragh had told him that his servant was a sorcerer before dragging him from his cell. Back then the runes carved into it had been glowing, but they looked like nothing more than simple markings now. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not seeing as how he had no idea what the brace was even for. He wanted to just remove it, but he figured it would probably be a better idea to ask Owyn about it first. After all, when it came to magic, his knowledge was rather lacking.

"…I don't know."

…Well, that was wholly unhelpful.

"What is it for anyway?" Perhaps that question would earn him a more informative response.

"It prevents a sorcerer from using their magic."

Arthur got the feeling that he probably should've known that or at the very least suspected it. After all, it made a good deal of sense. It would probably be difficult to detain a sorcerer for very long without finding a way to suppress their magic.

However, something about that didn't quite add up. If that brace was supposed to keep a person from using magic, then how had Merlin managed to use his? He knew for a fact that he had, because that was the only explanation as to how he had escaped so many times. Was the brace perhaps faulty in some way…or was Merlin simply every bit as powerful as Barragh had claimed him to be? Was there truly enough magic in him to bring down an entire kingdom, so much so that not even an enchanted, anti-magic band could ever hope to fully restrain it? The notion sounded ridiculous. Looking at Merlin, one would never suspect him of being capable of sorcery, much less being a sorcerer of incredible power. Lying there as he was, he looked quite small, young, vulnerable… He didn't look at all like the evil magic users that Arthur had been told stories about, that he had been raised to fear and to hate.

So much of what he had grown up believing—of what his father had told him—had turned out to be wrong; of that he was now certain, but he was rather surprised with himself at how quickly he had come to accept that fact. He was pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to be easy, that having your beliefs dissected and torn apart until they were ultimately proven wrong was supposed to be a great deal more painful, more shattering, but in the end it hadn't been. Yes, he had had his doubts, but it hadn't taken long for them to clear away, for him to really take a look at what was essentially the very simple but honest truth. Actually, all it had really taken were a few wise words and the peril of a friend.

He knew that there was still a great deal he needed to learn, that it would take a little getting used to, but he also knew that everything would turn out alright. Even if it was a slow process, he would take the time to learn. Whether it be about magic or about Merlin, he was ready to finally start listening, to start seeing. He had turned a blind eye for far too long.

Arthur took a deep breath as he let his thoughts settle before turning his attention back to the task at hand, namely the metal band on his servant's arm. He was about to reach for it before Owyn stopped him.

"Don't bother," the guard said, drawing the prince's attention.

"Shouldn't we take it off?"

"If it was that easy to remove, don't you think it would be off by now? It's not like a shackle. There's no key, no clasp, no trigger—no way of getting it off by any normal means. Even if you were to pull on it with everything you've got, it still wouldn't budge."

"Then how are we supposed to get it off?"

"I don't know. I'm hoping that Rordan will have the answer when he gets here."

Arthur didn't particularly like the sound of that. It implied that very few knew how the brace worked. In fact, it was highly likely that only those who had been close to Barragh or who had possibly overheard or seen one being taken off would know how to do it. It was also possible that no one knew, that Barragh had been the only one, but the prince didn't want to even consider that. It would be far too cruel an outcome after all the harm that had already been done. They simply had to hope that Rordan would know what to do once he returned. Even if it ended up involving some kind of magic in order to take it off, they could surely find someone who would be willing to help. Surely Merlin wasn't the only good sorcerer in the world (though he'd probably be hard pressed to find one quite as self-sacrificing or as ridiculous as Merlin).

Arthur reached out once again and brushed his hand against the cold metal.

"Is it dangerous?" he asked. When Owyn didn't answer right away, he turned to look at the guard, and the uncertain look he saw there was enough to raise the alarm on the prince's suspicions. He found himself suddenly fearing the answer. "Is it?"

"Yes and no. It kind of depends on how you look at it. On its own, all it does is prevent a sorcerer from using their magic. Most of the adverse effects come from the sorcerers themselves. For some, the loss of that power is enough to drive them towards insanity. Merlin has actually dealt with it surprisingly well compared to most, though I suspect that's partially because he wasn't cut off from his power completely."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that even with that brace on, Merlin has still been able to use his magic. Nothing big, mind you, but just the fact that he could use it at all is remarkable. He's unbelievably powerful. Resilient too. Every act of magic while wearing that brace resulted in a great deal of pain, but he never stopped. He was determined to get back to Camelot no matter what. I've honestly never met another like him, sorcerer or otherwise."

No, neither have I, Arthur thought with a smile as he watched his friend, reveling in every rise and fall of that thin chest, in every breath taken.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away once again, and the look he found on Owyn's face was nothing short of kind.

"You should get some rest," he said. "I'll keep watch. I know you're tired. I can't imagine you've been sleeping too well as of late."

No, he really hadn't. Ever since Barragh had dragged Merlin away, sleep hadn't come easily for him. He had been too lost, too worried and confused to do much of anything other than sit there and attempt to sort out his thoughts. Everything had just kind of bled together until three whole days had gone by with him barely even noticing. The passage of time had seemed rather unimportant in the midst of everything else that had happened.

Now, however, all those fears and worries and doubts had been resolved. Barragh was gone, Merlin was free, and he had finally come to terms with the truth about his servant, had found where he stood in regards to sorcerers and magic. His head and his heart had long since stopped hurting in that regard, and now that he was certain that everything was finally over, the exhaustion was starting to seep in. He had known that it would happen sooner or later—a person could only last so long on adrenaline and anxiety alone—but he had kind of been hoping that it wouldn't set in for at least another day or so. He didn't want Merlin to wake up only for him to be asleep.

"Will you wake me if he…?"

"Of course."

"…Alright." He figured he may as well get some sleep while he could.

After all, there was no telling what the morning would bring.

Dark. Everything around him was dark…which really wasn't much of a surprise. He had kind of been expecting it, honestly. After all, he had been spending a lot of time in the darkness as of late. At first it had bothered him, but eventually he had just gotten used to it. In some ways he preferred it seeing as how the waking world seemed to be filled with a great deal of pain as of late. Almost anything was preferable to that, and he couldn't help but remember thinking that it wouldn't be so bad to just close his eyes and never have to open them again. At that point he had been willing to do almost anything if it would bring an end to the pain, to the feeling of his body being torn apart and set aflame. He wasn't sure how much more of that he could take.

If he opened his eyes, would it come back? He didn't really want to find out, but in the end it seemed he didn't have much of a choice. Regardless of what he wanted, his body was waking up and his mind was stirring. He could feel something kind of soft but lumpy underneath him as well as something warm covering him, and it appeared that his head was no longer resting against the hard stone floor but was cushioned on something a great deal more comfortable. Also, he didn't seem to hurt quite as much. Even the pain in his back had dulled to a mild burn, more of an irritation than anything else.

It was all rather strange. He wondered if perhaps something had happened while he had been sleeping. Of course, the only way to find out was to open his eyes, and he still wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to. What would be the point? Surely there was nothing waiting for him. Hadn't he already lost everything at the hands of a madman?

His magic, his freedom, his home, Arthur…

Hadn't Barragh already taken all of that away?

What could possibly be left?

You won't know unless you open your eyes.

A part of him was tempted to ignore that (he was fairly sure that talking to oneself in such a way was a form of insanity), but a bigger part was suddenly reminded of something, of the last thing he had seen before closing his eyes. Honestly, he was tempted to pass it off as nothing more than a dream, because in the midst of his somewhat jumbled memory, that was what it felt like, but more than anything he wanted it to be real. He wanted to believe that what he had seen hadn't been a figment of his imagination, a pain induced hallucination, because as terrified as he had been at that time, one simple thing stood out above all the rest: Arthur.

The prince had been fighting Barragh.

Arthur hadn't abandoned him.

He needed that to be true, and so even though he knew that it would probably hurt, that it could very well shatter what little peace he had been able to find, he decided to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw was light.

He had rather forgotten how bright the world could be.

Closing his eyes rather tightly in an attempt to fend off not only the too-bright light but the approaching headache, he attempted to turn his head only to find that moving even just a little was enough to make those somewhat dull pains turn into rather prominent ones. He groaned at the discomfort (or tried to anyway, but given how dry his throat felt he was pretty sure it sounded more like a strangled whimper). Maybe it really would have been better to stay asleep for a while longer.

He was just starting to contemplate the benefits of going back to sleep and not waking up for at least a week when a shuffling sound caught his attention.

In the end it only took two syllables and a hopeful voice to change his mind.

"Merlin?"

He knew that voice. Even if he slept for a hundred years, he would still remember it.

Arthur.

With a great deal of effort, he forced his eyes back open, starting with just a crack. If he went too fast, he'd probably be blinded again. Once he felt a bit braver, he tried to open them at least halfway, which thankfully only resulted in a slight headache and somewhat blurry lines. It wasn't until the light finally dimmed a bit and the shapes around him stopped being so blurry that he decided to open his eyes completely.

He couldn't help but think that the sight that greeted him was worth every ounce of pain he had felt upon waking.

Kneeling at his side was the crowned prince of Camelot, the Once and Future King, his best friend, Arthur Pendragon.

"Merlin…" the prince sighed in a voice that the warlock could only describe as relieved. The look in his eyes and the smile on his face seemed to be full of relief as well, and Merlin couldn't help but wonder if Arthur had been there the whole time, just waiting for him to wake up. He kind of doubted it; even though his world had a tendency to revolve around Arthur, he knew that the opposite didn't hold true, but at that moment he almost felt like it did. It was kind of a nice feeling, the thought of being that important to someone.

Merlin did his best to return the smile he was being given, and he succeeded to a degree, but when he opened his mouth to try and say something, even a simple greeting, his voice got caught in his throat. All that managed to come out was a series of harsh coughs that made his already sore body ache that much more. He was so busy trying to contain them and to not curl up into a pathetic little ball (because if moving his head hadn't turned out well, he couldn't even imagine what trying to move the rest of his body would feel like) that he barely noticed when Arthur suddenly disappeared and then reappeared just as quickly with a water skin in his hands.

As soon as the coughing had subsided a bit, he felt a hand gently lift his head up and another press the lip of something cool to his lips. Before he knew it, water was flowing down his raw, burning throat, soothing away some of the pain. He drank it in almost greedily, not stopping until it ran completely dry. He sighed in relief, feeling at least ten times better than he had (which really wasn't all that much of an improvement, all things considered, but he would take what he could get).

Once he was comfortably lying on the ground again, he opened his eyes once more and took a good look at his surroundings. He was apparently lying in a cave of some kind, not too deep or too wide but big enough to provide shelter. Beyond the mouth of it he could see grass and dirt, trees, sunlight, could hear the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves, the chirping of birds, the babbling of a nearby brook. He took in a deep breath, reveling in how clean the air felt, how peaceful and alive everything seemed.

How long had it been since he had last been outside, since he had been able to feel the warmth of sunlight instead of just the flames of a torch? It was incredible.

Turning his attention back to the prince, who was still kneeling next to him, he made a second attempt to say something. He knew his voice probably wouldn't last long, so he made it a point to ask the one question he really wanted an answer to, and even though he could feel the words catching in his still very raw throat, he more or less succeeded.

"What happened?" he tried to say, although what actually came out was more along the lines of "wha'apn." Close enough. Either way, he was pretty sure Arthur would still be able to understand. It was a fairly common question, after all.

However, the prince didn't say anything. Instead his expression seemed to fall as his eyes drifted off to the side. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the already unkempt blond locks even further and looking far more anxious than Merlin believed he should. It was a simple question. Surely it didn't involve that much thought.

"Arthur," he called, his voice almost too hoarse to be recognized, but the response his attempt got him was immediate.

"Be quiet, Merlin."

As used to those words as he was, he couldn't help feeling just a bit dejected. The moment that Arthur had said them though, he seemed to catch himself, his eyes snapping back to Merlin's. The warlock figured that he must have looked just as pathetic as he felt, because the prince's expression immediately flooded with what could only be described as guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words rushed but sincere, spoken more earnestly than any apology he had ever heard from the prince before. "I didn't mean it like that, I just…"

Seemingly at a loss for words, Arthur heaved a sigh and moved over a bit until he was sitting against the cave wall. Merlin kept his eyes on him the whole time, his earlier dejection replaced with curiosity and confusion. The prince was acting rather strangely, and as much as he wanted to ask him what was wrong, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get the words out. Instead he simply waited for the prince to either explain himself or at the very least answer his earlier question. He really didn't like being left in the dark for too long. He wanted to know how they had managed to go from being locked in the castle to hiding in a cave, because for the life of him, he couldn't seem to make the connection.

"Sorry," Arthur said again as he stared at a point on the opposite wall. "It's just that you shouldn't try to talk just yet. For now it would be better if you just stayed quiet, though I know that's difficult for you."

That last bit was said with a grin as the prince glanced down at him, one that Merlin couldn't help but return. It was something familiar, something normal, something that was just them. It felt good in the midst of so much uncertainty.

"Owyn said that your voice will eventually recover but that you'll need to rest it for a while to avoid causing any more damage."

"Owyn?" the warlock mouthed, knowing that even though the prince wasn't the greatest at reading lips (not that he was all that spectacular at it either), he would at least be able to understand that.

"Yes. I met up with him here. He's out gathering firewood at the moment."

A smile graced the warlock's face. So it wasn't just the two of them. Owyn had managed to escape as well. He was glad to hear that the guard was safe, that Barragh hadn't done anything too horrible to him. He had begun to worry when his friend had stopped showing up. He had thought the worst had happened.

Of course, Merlin still didn't know exactly what had happened—not to him, not to Owyn, not to Arthur, not to anyone. The prince had yet to even touch upon the only question he had been able to ask before being silenced. He knew that if he tried to ask it again, the prince would probably scold him, so instead he waited until he knew he had Arthur's attention before carefully mouthing the words "what happened."

This time, even though that pensive expression returned, the prince answered.

"I killed Barragh."

Merlin's eyes widened, and before he could even open his mouth to form the word "how," Arthur was already explaining.

"Rordan. He came to me and said that he'd release me if I promised to help you. Obviously I said yes…though I would have done it anyway, promise or not." The prince turned to him with eyes both firm and pleading. "I would never have left you there, Merlin. I know you probably don't trust me, not completely, not yet, but at the very least, I want you to trust in that."

What…? He didn't understand. What was Arthur talking about? What did he mean by not trusting him? He did trust him—maybe not with everything, but with a great deal more than the prince was obviously aware of. He tried to open his mouth to say just that, but before any of the words could even start to form, Arthur cut him off with both his words and the warning glare that accompanied them.

"What did I tell you about talking?"

Merlin closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, doing his best to scowl at the prince since he clearly couldn't voice his frustration.

"You can argue with me all you want when your throat heals, but until then, just be quiet and listen."

"Fine," he mouthed, though he still wasn't happy about it. He never had been very good at staying quiet.

"Good. Anyway, as I was saying, Rordan released me and then told me where I could find you, but when I got there, it turned out that Barragh was there as well. I'm sure you can more or less guess what happened after that. It certainly wasn't easy, mind you. I'm not used to fighting with just a dagger. I need to remember to thank Rordan for that. I'm not sure what I would have done had he not lent it to me."

Merlin would have to thank him too, for helping Arthur when he hadn't been there to do so.

"…Merlin."

The warlock shifted his eyes back up to the prince's face from where they had drifted off, but for some reason Arthur wasn't looking at him. In fact, he seemed to be making it a point to not meet his gaze.

"I know you can't answer me properly, but a simple 'yes' or 'no' should suffice."

Merlin nodded once (or at least tried to. His body didn't seem to be in much of a mood to listen to him) and then waited for the prince to ask whatever question it was that seemed to be weighing so heavily on his mind.

"When I was fighting Barragh, did you help me?"

His eyes widened a bit, his mouth opening to ask what he meant by that before remembering that he wasn't supposed to talk. He did his best to convey his confusion through his expression, and thankfully Arthur picked up on it.

"The dagger," he began, this time looking directly at the warlock. "During the fight, I lost hold of it, and it ended up halfway across the room."

His fingers twitched, a side effect of the full-body flinch that his abused body failed to carry out in response to those words. He tried not to let his sudden anxiety show, but he got the feeling that he was failing rather spectacularly.

"But somehow, when Barragh was about to run me through, it was suddenly right next to me. Someone gave it back to me, and the only person I know who could've gotten it to me like that without even touching it…is you, Merlin."

The warlock couldn't help but close his eyes. Given the state he was in, it was the only defense he had left. He didn't know what else to do, and there were no words he could say. A part of him had still believed all of that to have been a dream or even an hallucination—it was hard to keep track of reality when every fiber of your being felt like it was on fire—but Arthur had rather prominently crushed any hope of that ever being the case.

In all honesty, he didn't remember much of the past few days. Everything that had been done to him had simply blurred together until he couldn't differentiate one moment from the next. He knew that it had been unbearable, that there had been times where he would have done just about anything to get it to stop. He knew that the reason he couldn't talk, the reason that his throat felt like it was on fire, was because he had spent hours screaming until he had completely screamed his voice away, his last words being a desperate cry for someone to just put an end to it, to everything, to him. He couldn't remember much, but he remembered the desperation and the hopelessness. He remembered wanting to die.

And just as he could remember the feeling of the world falling apart around him, he also remembered what had made him lose all hope in the first place.

Arthur knew. He knew about the magic. Barragh had told him.

He had ruined everything.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Merlin."

How could he ever expect Arthur to trust him again after he had lied to him for so long?

"Merlin!"

Oh how he wished he could just go back to believing that all of that had been nothing more than a dream, that the past few days hadn't happened.

"Damn it, Merlin, stop!"

Why did this have to happen?

"Look at me."

Maybe it would've been better if he had never woken up…

"Merlin, look at me!"

His eyes snapped open as his head was jerked just enough to grab his attention. He sucked in a sharp breath that got caught on the way down, escaping in what could only be described as a sob even though he hadn't the voice to shape it. His vision was blurry again, but this time it wasn't due to the light or from being closed for far too long. His eyes were wet. At some point he had started crying, the tears building up until they overflowed, leaving two clear trails down the sides of his face. He hadn't even noticed.

He took another breath and tried to calm down, but for some reason his body wouldn't stop shaking. The only part of him that seemed to be still was his head, and that wasn't through his own will but by that of the hands on either side of his face. Their grip was solid but light, almost gentle, applying only enough pressure to hold him still but not enough to restrain, to hurt. They very carefully turned his head until his eyes met a pair that were just as blue, and even though they weren't wet like his, the fear and the desperation he could see in them made him feel like they were mirroring his own.

In the end, what finally drew his attention, his focus, was the very thing that had pulled him from the darkness in the first place, the reason he had come back despite the pain waiting for him there.

A plea, soft and sad and hopeful.

"Merlin?"

He blinked just once to try and clear his sight before locking his eyes with Arthur's, and after one last searching look to make sure he truly had the warlock's attention, the prince began to speak.

"Thank you."

His eyes widened. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that hadn't been one of them.

"You saved my life. Even after everything I did, you still… I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you for what you've done for me, but I'm going to at least try."

Merlin simply stared, too deep in shock to even think of something to say, let alone find a way to convey it.

"I'm sorry for reacting so poorly. I'm sorry if I made you think even for a moment that I would abandon you…that I didn't care."

Had the warlock not been so intently focused on every single word, he was certain he wouldn't have heard half of them given how quiet the prince had suddenly grown, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Merlin, I know about your magic. I know that you're a sorcerer, and I don't care. You're still you, and nothing will ever convince me otherwise."

He had very nearly started panicking again the moment the word "magic" left Arthur's mouth, but by the time the prince had finished, his heart had very nearly stopped as an indescribable feeling flooded through his chest. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. His body stopped shaking as warmth spread to every inch, washing out every trace of the cold terror he had felt only moments before. It felt like relief, like unbridled joy, but at the same time it was so much more than that, something too big for any words to describe.

He wondered for a moment if maybe this was what it felt like to truly be free.

"I won't ask you to forgive me, and I know it might take a while for you to trust me, but I want you to know that I'm sorry, and that I still trust you. I do have a lot of questions, but those can wait until you're healed, and I swear, when the time comes, I'll listen to whatever you have to say. Until then, I just want you to know that your secret is safe with me."

How long had he been waiting to hear those words? There had been days where he had believed that he never would.

Damaged voice or not, he had to say something.

"Arthur," he called, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"I thought I told you not to—"

"Thank you."

As much as he hadn't been expecting to hear those two words, it seemed that Arthur hadn't been expecting them either. That slightly irritated expression he had donned while attempting to scold him for talking melted away in an instant, replaced by genuine shock but also just the slightest bit of hope, and in that moment, he realized that he had been wrong earlier. Perhaps everything hadn't been ruined after all.

It was true that a great deal was still broken around them, that they both still had a long way to go and a lot to make up for, but he no longer believed that it couldn't be fixed, that they couldn't piece everything back together again. It would probably take a while—like Arthur had said, there were a lot of questions to ask and an equal amount of things to say—but that was alright.

In the end they would find a way, because even though the world around them may have changed, nothing between them truly had.

A/N: Well, there you go :) I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Like I said, it was rather a lot of fun to write even though I did get stuck quite a few times when it came to the dialogue. I just hope it turned out well in the end :) Emotional situations can be hard to write sometimes, but they're some of my favorite scenes to do.

So, anyway, while working on this chapter this week, I stumbled upon a realization while talking to my sister. I know I've made comments before about how this fic is a bit different for me, and I finally figured out why it feels that way. Out of all the things I have worked on, I have never written anything, fanfiction or otherwise, where the final chapter wasn't the most dramatic moment—the final battle, everything coming full circle, the epic conclusion, etc, etc. I have never had a winding down sort of ending before, and it feels kind of weird to not have something I'm essentially building up to. This might honestly be the first thing I've ever worked on where I don't have a clear cut ending in sight. I have possibilities but nothing definite. It's a bit worrying, but it's also kind of fun :) I'm sure everything will fall into place eventually. It usually does.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad you're all enjoying my fic :) If you want to review, I would love to hear from you, but like I've said before, please don't feel obligated. I'm not much of a reviewer myself, so I totally understand. Thanks again!

Until next week!