A/N: This is it. One more chapter to go.

Eight.

.

Their journey upstairs had been a struggle between the forces of gravity in a confined space, as two distinctly separate bodies tried to work their way up without waiving an inch of skin contact.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut with his back, grateful that Alice and Gaius weren't home yet, and gave Morgana the much needed chance to come up for air. Her hands were restlessly grasping through and under his clothes, running a hand down the cleft of his spine, almost desperate, grabbing as much as she could before it was all over.

Cal lifted her up, supporting her at the wall, vaguely realizing the full extent of his luck to have met her, that he had managed to wade through this life of his far enough to experience this pure moment of bliss.

That could be it. This moment. This gorgeous, magical girl, wrapped around his waist, dipping down to kiss him again.

Cal's mind had been more than a little woozy, but slowly, gradually, he had managed to push their way towards the bed, unsure how long he could have kept himself up on his feet. Together, they had plummeted on his poor old cot. The clothes she'd worn and his had been discarded in mere seconds and opened up whole new territories for their hands and mouths to explore. After their first time fumbling, they had soon found their fit and stopped no more.

Then, unimaginable relief.

'Morgana,' Cal uttered, out of breath, briefly back in focus. And instantly lost again by the very close proximity of her perfect skin, that he was allowed to touch. And he did.

'Merlin.' She repeated, breathing back into his neck. The name was familiar, but it didn't belong. So why did she keep calling him that?

He pulled away, slightly, creating a wide enough gap in between, to ask,

'Who's Merlin?'

It hadn't occurred to him that asking the question was such a wet blanket. He didn't mean to create that confusion, or her to roll over to her back, quiet tears flowing down her face. Kissing her again did seem to work for a moment, but through their mingled breath, he felt her tears coming down even harder.

'Morgana. What's wrong?'

Merlin pushed her hands away, kissed them, pressed them tight against his chest.

'I can't help you, if you don't tell me who he is.'

'You.'

She has said it at last.

'You. Are Merlin.'

Cal smiled like it could not possibly be really that easy. ''What... like form the myths?'

'No,' Morgana smiled, finally. 'You were the myth.'

'So, I am Merlin, the old wizard from the Arthurian legend?'

He was obviously trying to adjust himself to the caricature of a white-bearded sorcerer, solidified by myths and children's book covers. Naturally, it didn't take.

'Most of the myths are inaccurate. We looked mostly the same as we do now. Besides, you were never that old. You used this disguise to hide your true face.'

Merlin seemed even more fascinated by in that simple fact that magic had existed, rather than the complicated age-old feud that had warred between them. But slowly, the questions pertaining their present situation started popping up in his mind.

'How did it feel? Were we ever... close, back then?'

'Once,' Morgana said after a moment of thought. Only once for real. The times she'd tricked him didn't count. She was not even sure if she wanted Merlin to know about it, to fully comprehend how occupied they had been trying to kill each other in Camelot to consider anything simmering underneath their animosity. 'Be honest with me. You really don't remember? Anything at all.'

Merlin took his time answering, licking his lips, and staring at the ceiling, imagining all the things he had heard. Morgana waited, like she had so many times. But they were okay, he was here and not going anywhere.

'Not quite. But I believe you. I really do.'

They were still lying together with their arms linked, discussing, but mostly in silence. Outside, the day wore off, and downstairs, Alice was starting to prepare for the supper.

Who knows how long they would have stayed there, if their souls were still connected to their bodies, bodies that began to grumble at the smell of Alice's cooking that forced its way up.

'Don't go anywhere,' Merlin had said. Her Merlin. And, having thrown on some clothes, he disappeared downstairs. Morgana stretched, got dressed and out on the bed, out of the warm covers Merlin had left in his wake, and realized suddenly that in that very moment, she was completely, absolutely happy.

Then - after she'd thought this could not possibly be any better-, behind the glass, in a perfect peaceful harmony, the first snow began to fall.

Just like magic, but of the real kind.

Without switching on any lights, Morgana got up and walked to the window, outside, behind the square panes, the snow had begin to pile up.

In the front yard, the view had changed, as if Christmas had come way too early. The snow kept falling lavishly, like her mother's fur coat, over the starving land, like a shroud or a blank paper, with nothing to written on it. Tabula rasa.

And there it was, in the driveway. Arthur's car.

'I asked you a question. Do you have a warrant?'

Merlin his arms folded on his chest, was blocking the door. Arthur stared back at his stubborn face, his set jaw, taking in what he could only read as relentless defiance.

'No.'

'Then you can't come in here.'

'Do you even know who I am,' Arthur asked, incredulous.

'Oh, I know exaclty who you are.' Merlin eyed him, unflinching. 'I also know why you're here. You want to take Morgana back to a place she clearly doesn't want to be. You really think your father can buy her off with more money... How long do you think she will stay locked up in your crystal cage?'

'Cage?' Arthur protested, enraged on his father's behalf. 'And I would never see her locked up. Ever.' Then, quieter. 'Even if it means following her to make sure she stays on meds for the rest of my life.'

This apparently this came as a news, and Arthur was keen enough to pick it up. He leaned back against the doorjamb, fished out a packet of cigarettes, and grinned. 'She's failed to mention that, am I right?'

'Morgana is not... well,' Arthur paused for gravity, 'And I take no pleasure in revealing this, but buddy, I think you deserve to know what you've got yourself into.'

Cal stepped outside. He took the offered cigarette and waited. Whatever he would hear from him would not change his opinion of her.

'My sister was diagnosed with paranoid delusions at the age of five. Schizophrenia at 10. Manic-depressive at 14. She's been doing better and worse, making up stories of magical castles, foes and allies and monsters chasing her, tried to convince me I was the king of Camelot, for Chrissakes, but then again, so was my Dad. The tyrant that executed people in his front yard.'

Arthur let out a mirthless chuckle. 'Does any of that sound familiar to you? I wonder what she called you.'

Merlin had grown quiet, so very quiet.

'We've been through it already. It starts with a paranoia, which feeds into her tendency to make things up, invent backstories to people she's barely met. After her most recent episode, we had the permission for home treatment, until she went missing three days ago, in the middle of the night, escaped through the second floor window.'

Slowly, Merlin moved to lean against the door, as if his whole world had collapsed. Arthur made no attempt to walk iside, but if he had, there would have been no resistance at all.

He weighed the evidence, Morgana's multiple identities, her mood swings, the incredible stories, her highly paranoid nature. And not least of all, the various meds he'd found in her bag, ones she's never even brought up. Not once.

Morgana stood in the hallway, listening in on the whole conversation.

Then, the door opened.

'Merlin.'

She stepped closer to touch him, but pulled away as soon as she saw a glimps of the tortured expression on his handsome features. Everything she'd been dreading since their first meeting at the bus station took shape as he summoned his strangled voice to speak...

'Please, don't call me that.'

'Cal,' she whispered, desperate. 'Everything I said was, it was real - you said you believed me. The magic, our past lives - it's true, all of it is true.'

Merlin looked up at her, the expression on his face nothing short of heartbreaking.

'You are raving mad, Morgana,' he realized, eyes wet with tears, and for a terrifying, mad, incomprehensible while, she believed him.

Sneaking out through the bathroom window, onto the roof and the shed below, Morgana plopped down into the yard. She crawled low below the hedge, through the melting snow, her new dark coat as the perfect cover. Morgana had reached her freedom.

Wiping away her tears with the back of her glove, Morgana straightened up, felt the wind brush past the road, where snow had settled, like a white blanket. And slowly, as she walked on, she slowly remembered how to breathe.

Unexpectedly, at the end of the road, a familiar figure stopped to wave at her. Gaius. Unaware of the recent events, he came over to her side, asked if she was going away now.

'And what about Cal?'

Morgana gave a sad smile, shook her head.

'I've had my past failings, and I'm not the best advisor,' Gaius amended, his wrinkled hand resting on her shoulder. 'But I can tell you this: don't push him away, whatever it was. Use it like raft to take you to the shore. Don't try to swim alone. No one can.'

Morgana turned in the middle of the road, eyes welled with tears as she heaved, empty-handed. Then, she went and hugged him, wihtout warning.

'Thank you, Gaius. For all the times.'

The man stood there, watching her recede from his view.

A/N: So painful. I'm not pulling the final 'unreliable storyteller' card on you, or am I? Read and review to find out! I love all feedback.