A/N: A big thank you to all of you who are reading and following this story. I have the thirteen chapters written out, so you won't have to wait long in between updates. Please leave me a review to tell me what it is you liked about the story, or why you didn't like it. constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Oh, and the song is "Little Talks" by Of Monsters And Men, I noticed I forgot to mention that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I'm afraid I never will, either.

Chapter Two

The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake.
It's the house telling you to close your eyes.

Merlin turned onto his left side yet again. He'd been in bed for hours, but sleep had not yet come to claim him. At least not properly. Every time he'd tried to close his eyes, the same sound had penetrated his increasingly foggy thoughts: footsteps on the wooden stairs leading to his room.

And they were footsteps he knew well. They were Arthur's, too recognizable to be anyone else's. They climbed the stairs two at a time, each second step heavier than the ones before. He'd relentlessly teased Arthur about it in the beginning in their relationship, but he'd stopped when Arthur had said that they could use it to their advantage.

And they had. Merlin had quickly lost count of how many times Arthur had snuck past a sleeping Gaius and up to his rooms. Arthur had claimed he could go everywhere he wanted as a Prince and no one would dare ask questions. After Uther's death, Merlin had started making his own journeys to Arthur's room as well, as soon after that their relationship had become common knowledge.

But these were the footsteps of a phantom. Arthur was dead; he couldn't be climbing those stairs any longer. The sound was a figment of his imagination, keeping him awake when all he really wanted was to slip into the arms of sleep and have a few hours without the pain and grief still haunting him.

Angrily, he swung his legs out of bed. There was no point in pointlessly tossing and turning; it would only help to drive him mad and make him even more angry than he had been for the last two weeks.

Merlin knew it wasn't healthy to be awake for two or three days before getting a few hours of sleep. His body needed more sleep, needed to let him dream so he'd be able to deal with his remaining guilt over not being by Arthur's side when he was wounded. He'd obeyed Arthur's orders for the first time since they'd begun their relationship, which had been to protect the western left flank while he and the other knights dealt with the eastern flank. And his obedience had gotten Arthur killed.

He pushed his wayward hair out of his face, standing up as he did so. Maybe it was time to take one of the sleeping draughts Gaius had suggested he take for a few days. It sounded very tempting at that moment, as if it was his only means of escaping the torment he was enduring when he was awake.

"Come on, Merlin, it's time to admit you don't have a choice anymore. You're about to trip over your own feet in exhaustion and Gwaine's been looking at you like he's ready to knock you out to get you into a bed. Not to mention the worry that Gwen shows every time she looks at you," he muttered to himself.

It was all that fair to remind himself of the mess he was making; it might lead to him feeling even more inadequate than he already was. But right now, it was the only thing that would be able to make him move. Apart from someone needing saving, but at this time of night that wasn't very likely.

Finally, he managed to make it to the door. His room was spinning rapidly; it probably wasn't safe for him to move at all right now. But there was no other choice. He was not going to wake up Gaius. The man had been busy the entire previous day, bringing a baby into the world and making sure mother and child survived. Merlin had been there for part of it, but he'd been lucky enough to have been put in charge of making the poultices and potions the inhabitants needed. That could be done while seated.

"I can do this. I'm strong. I can do this," he kept repeating to himself under his breath, the words becoming some sort of pillar of support. It wasn't sufficient, because he stumbled down the first two steps more than he walked.

Merlin pressed his hands to the walls on either side of him, steadying himself. There were only ten more steps to go. If he made it down, there would be good things to come. If fell, there would be a huge reprimand from Gaius and probably some more potions than only a sleeping draught. Potions that were sure to leave him unable to move for days, knowing how worried Gaius was.

Unfortunately, he missed the next step. He tumbled down the stairs, his shoulders and arms taking most of the fall as he twisted himself to make sure his head would not hit any of the steps. He couldn't afford the injure himself too badly, not now. There were too many things left to do to ensure Camelot's safety and help the people that were too ill for Gaius to cure.

He let out an unbecoming humpf as his back collided with the stones at the bottom of the stairs. He tried to keep it in, but it was no use. Almost instinctively, his arm came to rest over his eyes. The childlike thought that if he couldn't see the world then the world couldn't see him was the reason for that.

But the world, or more accurately, Gaius, did see him. Merlin could hear him stand up and walk over. He groaned, feeling very tempted to use magic to make Gaius return to bed and forget all about it. But that would mean taking away his free will, and Merlin had vowed he would never do such a thing.

"Well, it seems you're even more clumsy today than you've ever been. Or maybe you're just interested in the craftsmanship that went into that flight of stairs?" Gaius asked, his voice only containing the smallest hint of teasing.

Merlin dropped his arm, very aware of how much his shoulder was protesting against him loving the limb. He didn't bother to hide the signs of discomfort; Gaius could read him too well, he'd see right through him. And he wouldn't be happy about Merlin hiding anything from him.

"The craftsmanship is the least of my worries. I was heading down here to find one of the sleeping draughts you keep in the cupboard. One of the stronger ones. I need to sleep or I'll start losing my mind," Merlin told him, opting to tell the truth straight away. It would make this conversation shorter, which would mean more sleep.

Gaius' eyebrows went up, but he extended a hand to help Merlin up as well. Apparently, he was convinced no permanent damage had been inflicted and the younger man would be fine. Merlin took the hand, not sure he would be able to get to his feet without the aid. It was utterly embarrassing.

"You should have listened to me when I first told you that you should take one. But I'm glad you've finally come to your senses," Gaius toned it down before he began to pull Merlin towards a chair.

Merlin let him, too weak to struggle or even speak. Everything around him was turning into an assembly of shapeless shadows, varying in shade and size. Those shadows were spinning again as well, making him feel nauseous.

"Here, take this. It'll calm your stomach down enough for you to eat something. You're not getting a sleeping draught until I'm sure it won't make you even more ill than you already are," Gaius sternly told him.

Merlin swallowed the content of the vial Gaius pressed into his hand in one go, no longer caring about anything but getting better. The effect was noticeable within minutes; he could sit up somewhat straighter without feeling like he would have to puke out his innards when he opened his mouth.

Gaius disappeared from view, returning with a plate with cold meat and bread on it, a cup of water and a vial with a familiar blue colour. It was the strongest potion to help someone sleep they had. He obviously was more worried than he'd let on, Merlin realized when he saw it.

The food did not look in the least appealing, but he forced himself to finish one slice of bread with a piece of the meat. He could very well kill himself if he took the draught without having anything in his stomach. And despite everything he had been through lately, he had no desire to die at such an early age.

Even though he wasn't looking at the older man, he was well aware Gaius was eyeing him intently. He drowned the blue liquid, scrunching up his nose in disgust; even burnt food tasted better. Then again, he'd always been told that the worse a remedy tasted, the better it worked. He hoped this went for the draught as well.

"It should take you about fifteen minutes to fall asleep; you should head to bed and get comfortable, because I'm not dragging you there. You're too heavy for that. And too old too," Gaius said, smiling for real this time.

Merlin nodded, although he still wasn't looking forward to getting back into bed. Fifteen minutes seemed like a long time to wait. There would be more than enough tossing and turning to be done until the darkness finally closed in around him.

"Could you sit with me until I fall asleep? I don't want to be alone. I keep hearing footsteps on the stairs, I keep imagining that Arthur's there. That I'll see him when I open my eyes. Maybe it won't be as bad if you're there. Please?" Merlin whispered, not looking at Gaius.

The words stung in his throat, but there was no denying the truth anymore. He'd leaned on Gaius when he'd first come to Camelot years ago, and he needed to lean on him now. He could only hope Gaius would be able to shoulder the burden. Because he would most certainly be willing.

Gaius reached out to touch Merlin's hand. he physician's hand was a lot warmer than his own, and the feeling of being protected that came with it was immediate. Maybe he should have allowed Gaius in sooner, just like the man had said. But there was nothing for it now; he couldn't change the past, not even with all the powers that he possessed.

"Of course I'll sit by your side until you're asleep. I'd do anything to help you. You know that, don't you?" Gaius asked, tipping Merlin's head up so they were looking into each other's eyes.

"I know. I've know that since I set foot in Camelot. I just thought I had to do this alone, that it would be easier if I didn't let anyone tell me what to do but did what felt right to me. The only problem is, I don't know what's right for me anymore. Everything I do makes things worse," he muttered, struggling not to look away from Gaius.

Gaius seemingly had no such qualms, however. He stood up and took Merlin's hand in his again, pulling him up as soon as that was possible. The court physician then led Merlin back to the bedroom he'd vacated before.

Merlin could feel the draught taking effect. His eyelids were growing heavy and his legs were becoming more difficult to manipulate. But he would have to wait a little longer for the effect to be complete.

As soon as Gaius had gently pushed Merlin down onto the bed, the older man tucked the blanket in around him. He then settled in close to the young magician, his hand touching Merlin's forehead for a second.

Merlin turned onto his side, resting his face against Gaius' thigh like he had done with his mother when she sat with him when he was a young boy. It made him feel protected, safe and loved, three things he desperately needed to feel. And he hoped there was something good to find in all of this for Gaius as well.

"Thank you," Merlin mumbled almost unintelligibly when he could no longer keep his eyes open. He wanted to say more, wanted to find the words best suited to convey what he wanted Gaius to know: that he cared for him as if the old man was his father, that he was sorry for being a burden and that he would never forget how much Gaius had done for him.

Gaius probably understood, though. The man was intelligent and perceptive, and he'd known Merlin for quite a while now. Therefor it came as no surprise that he uttered a few soft words.

"Ssh, it's all right. Sleep now. There'll be time enough to talk in the morning," Gaius whispered almost inaudibly.

And Merlin let himself be dragged beneath the surface of sleep. As he drifted off, the sound of footsteps did not return to drag him back up. In fact, there was nothing to be heard except for Gaius' soft breathing as he sat beside him.

Merlin didn't wake up until the sun was almost at midday height. For the first time in two weeks, he didn't feel like he wouldn't be able to get out of bed. He was more rested and he wasn't as dizzy as he'd expected.

But the fatigue wasn't completely gone, and the room still spun around him a little when he stood up. He might have set foot on the road to recovery, but he was nowhere near the end of it. He'd be walking it for a long while to come, taking small steps every day. Because even more present than the other discomforts was the ever lingering pain, accompanied by a unhealthily large dollop of grief.

He didn't think he'd ever find a way to deal with that, but at least a good night's sleep had helped to make him feel less weak. Maybe there was some hope after all. Arthur wouldn't have wanted him to stop living his life because he'd died. He'd told Merlin that himself before they had ridden of to battle.

When he joined Gaius at the table, he saw two plates of food standing at the ready. His was obviously filled with bread and honey and a few other things one might eat for breakfast. Gaius was already eating an early luncheon.

"Finish that plate before you disappear to wherever it is you disappear to. I don't fancy having to go through the same ordeal twice in as many days," Gaius warned him, although the worry was too present no to overrule the slight bit to the words.

Merlin did as he was told, cleaning up the table and the plates before heading out. He wanted to go to the river and after that buy some necessities at the market place. He wanted to do the things he usual did on a day like this.

But as he wove his way between the people of Camelot who were buying their own supplies of food and the likes or were heading off to see those they cared about, a sudden thought struck Merlin.

He would never manage to deal with his grief here. Everything he saw had Arthur written all over it. Everyone he talked to knew Arthur. He would never succeed in coming to terms with his death if he let himself be surrounded by Arthur's ghost.

But that would mean leaving everything and everyone he knew behind. Because all of his friends lived right here, in Camelot. Ealdor was out of the question too. Will was dead, his mother was not alive anymore either and he had never felt quite as at home there as in Camelot didn't help.

Deep in his heart, Merlin knew there'd be some difficult conversations to have before he could leave. And a part of him didn't want to, because he was afraid cutting all ties to the physical remnants of Arthur's life might prove to be the wrong thing to do. But the other part of him knew he had no choice.

After all, what life would he have if he let it be controlled by the ghosts of the past?