Summary: Five times Morgana pulled Merlin into the alcove …and one time he surprised her.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-oo-

Say something…I'm giving up on you…

-oo-

I

She dreams of a boy with dark raven hair, running through the forest from something she cannot quite see, only hear, that deep growling sound that echoes through the open space, low and bone chilling. His face is turned away and she only catches a glimpse of his features briefly when he turns, the angular jaw tight with exertion, lips parted and there is something familiar there but she can't quite catch up however hard she tries. But as it turns out she doesn't have to. Arthur's voice calling out to the boy to run reaches her ears just as the beast catches up to him and she screams and wakes up from the nightmare to an overwhelming sense of relief (it was just a dream).

Only it wasn't because the kind of dreams she has often become reality.

The following morning she is up at dawn, unable to sleep so she takes a walk through the castle, too restless to wait for Gwen to bring her breakfast. It is early still and the halls are empty so she instinctively hides in the nearby alcove when she hears footsteps.

Whoever is coming this way will surely question why the king's ward is wondering the halls at this hour if they see her and she is in no mood for explanations. So she stays there and waits patiently for the person to pass, until she realizes who it is.

Without much thought she reaches for him, just before he's missed her completely and he turns around, blue eyes meeting green. Running, breathless, those same eyes wide and scared calling to her in a dream... She lets go of his hand as if burned.

"Merlin-"

She does not know what to say. He surely thinks her mad already for scaring him like this at such an early hour and anything else she tells him will only serve as a confirmation of his doubts.

"My lady."

"Where are you off to?"

"I'm going to wake that pra- I mean prince. The knights are preparing for a hunt and he isn't even up yet."

"Are you going too?"

"Of course. How would I ever miss out on a chance to kill innocent animals and spend an afternoon in the forest in the blistering heat?" he says with the usual dose of sarcasm when it comes to Arthur's favorite sport. She knows he hates these sorts of things and for the right reasons but Arthur just had to go and-

"Actually I'll go wake Arthur. And I'll speak with him about this; you don't have to go with him today," she assures him, the nightmare still fresh in her mind.

Merlin looks at her with that disarming smile and says "You don't have to. I'm quite used to it you know."

"I do but I'm sure Arthur can manage one afternoon without his servant."

He tried to argue with her after that but she won in the end (or maybe they both did). He stayed in Camelot and she got an excuse to annoy Arthur.

II

The next time she stops him and pulls him away from the wondering crowd it's for the same reason. To save a life. Only now it's not his but the life of the one person they both care about.

Arthur.

"Please, Merlin-" she says, determined to make him listen if Arthur won't, "-you must beware. This is only the beginning," she warns him in the only way she knows how.

He watches her carefully, standing tall over her, a far cry from that bumbling servant she often saw him as. For a moment she forgets all those minutes that dragged on as she stood here alone, biting her lip to calm her nerves and waiting for Arthur's doors to open, for him to come by. Forgets about the effort it took just to get up in the morning and put a smile on her face when's barely slept in fear of nightmares because he's looking at her as if he'll protect her from it all.

She's still unsure how to tell him the full story and she can tell he's slowly getting frustrated with her constant cryptic warnings and unanswered questions, so he shakes off her hand, one that's desperately holding on to him and walks away without a word even though she can read worry in his eyes, for her and for the prince.

She watches him go, disappear down the corridor and wonders why he hasn't asked her for more, for explanations. Maybe he understood she couldn't give him one.

III

The third time it happens she has nothing to hide from him, it's more of a habit by now, a place she feels safe at, without the prying eyes and Gwen's worried looks. She's a mess lately, tortured by her dreams and the reality that only intensifies her fears. She knows now with absolute certainty that she has magic and the knowledge does not bring her relief she once believed it would.

Most of the time she's scared someone will find out, see it in her eyes, in her actions and condemn her to death. She rarely sleeps now - even when she does she is woken by a nightmare. Every unknown sound, noise makes her jump, every fall of the axe at the courtyard like a knife to her heart.

And then she sees him walk down the hall and reaches for his hand like a drowning person for land, startling him. The look in his eyes is one of surprise, not fear and it makes her relax instantly.

"My lady," he breathes out, squeezing into the small space beside her. "Are you all right?"

"I- I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"I know, Gaius-"

"He tries," she admits "but the draft is not working and I-"

"Morgana maybe you should talk to s-"

"My secret- you're the only one I told. I hope that counts for something," she says, interrupting him and he looks at her as if it means everything.

Why did this boy, this poor servant look at her as if he understood, like he was so different from the other people in Camelot who believed magic to be pure evil. He did not turn and run away, just the opposite – he came to check up on her more often, sometimes even with flowers in his hand, to see how she was doing or to ask if she needed something.

Why didn't he fear her? Yes, he has known her before all of this and yes, they were friends but that couldn't be all. She knew Arthur far longer and he was more than a friend to her, a brother almost and still she wasn't confident enough that he would keep her secret. So what was it about this scrawny boy that made him so different, that made him look at her with kindness and understanding and not fear and loathing?

There was something more to it, she could tell by the way he looked at her, with wide eyes and parted lips as if he wanted to tell her but was unable to for some unknown reason.

"Of course it does," he said softly, unwittingly leaning in just when she thought they couldn't stand any closer. "Why would you even say such a thing?"

Because she was falling apart, going mad and possibly imagining things (what if he was like her?) and the only thing keeping her afloat was his hand holding on to hers.

"I wish there was something I could do but I-"

"You're all I've got."

"That's not true. You have Arthur and Gwen and-"

"No, no I don't. Even Gaius has started to look at me with fear in his eyes, as much as he tries to hide it. I simply could not bear to see that look in their eyes too." she said, trembling at the thought. "You're the only one that looks at me the same. And I never thanked you for that."

"There is no need- I only wish I could do more. I'll speak with Gaius-"

"You did enough, there is nothing else he-"

"We'll find a way Morgana, I promise you." he said, resting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. He sounded so certain of it that for a moment she allowed herself to believe him.

It was the closest she felt to him and it had nothing to do with the narrow space they were trapped in. She savored it a long time, in her memory - that feeling of being safe, protected. She didn't even dream that one day she'd meet him at that same place and take that very feeling away from him.

IV

The whole council meeting was a blur in her head. She didn't remember a single word spoken by her dear brother, all she could focus on was him and those darkened eyes following her every move, not allowing her to breathe.

So as soon as it was over she took her chance and grabbed him on his way out, showing him to the nearest alcove with more force than necessary but she didn't care. All the frustration, the anger that lay dormant was shown in that hand grip – there would be bruises there tomorrow she was sure. Red and purple and as much as she wanted it to, it didn't bring her any comfort, only more anger, for the little pain she's caused him now was nothing compared to what she has suffered through. By his hand. The same one she was holding on to now.

The thought sickened her and she shoved him away, letting go with the harshness he did not expect.

Still he watched her carefully, eyes trained on hers as she spat out threats. He looked so innocent there, so confused as if she was doing this for no reason at all, as if she was a fool for acting this way, for accusing him of things he knew nothing of.

How dare he look at her like this, accusing her silently even after everything he did? She was an even bigger fool, standing in this same hallway all those months ago trying to save his life. Helping him save Arthur's.

Helping him kill her and leave this angry ghost behind, one that didn't have friends, only enemies, one that hid in dark corners and played the part of the innocent king's ward before the entire court, before everyone. Everyone but him. Before him all the masks fell and the dam broke, all the emotions she had bursting through but she kept them at bay, with clenched arms and snappy retorts.

Anything more and she'd break and he's know. Know that he'd hurt her. That he'd mattered enough to do so. And so for once she walked away from him and from the memories that place held, memories of two people long gone.

She never got to see his eyes that followed her, filled with regret and mouth slightly parted, calling out to her silently but knowing he can't reach her.

V

The last time, she was looking for Emrys and she found him.

Once she walked these halls with a head held high, so sure of herself. Now every step is filled with doubt, with uncertainty. At every new corner she turns she could meet her demise. Meet him. It was a ridiculous thought, but lately she's had a feeling that someone was following her.

Everything was slowly slipping through her fingers, including her own sanity it seemed. Sleep evaded her, what she wouldn't give for a moment of piece. Of silence. She had the whole kingdom at her feet and no one to talk to, turn to. Arthur was surely preparing retaliation, biding his time and she should probably focus her energy on that instead of thinking about old warlocks and false prophecies.

But today was different, despite anything Helios told her to assure her.

She could feel him. Feel her magic react to a kindred spirit. Emrys. But it couldn't be…

It happened once before, this feeling of familiarity, of understanding without words. But in the end that person, the one she put her trust in betrayed her too.

And so when Helios advised her to rest she did, but only for a moment. She closed her eyes and let her magic be her guide for once, instead of anger or stubbornness. With closed eyes she stood up and let out a breath, concentrating.

A minute later he was within her grasp and she clung to him desperately, letting out a breath when her fingers grabbed a fistful of the red robe as real as the man standing before her.

The relief that filled her at the realization was short lived as

"So it was you."

"Of course it was."

"Emrys. At last." The relief in her voice was evident but was quickly replaced by anger. "We have some scores to settle, don't you agree?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in a challenge as he looked at her indifferently. Those eyes…

"I have seen and done things you cannot even dream of." he said and her first instinct was to counter him, tell him about all those nightmares that woke her in the night many times in the past…but those eyes told her he'd seen them all, every single one and more come to life.

"Do you really think I interest myself in insignificant witches for no reason?" he asked shaking her back to reality. Reminding her that now she was the executioner of those nightmares, when once she did all that was in her power to stop them.

"There is a prophecy you were told. The darkness…" he took a breath. "And you have done everything in your power to ensure it shall come to pass. And so here we are. Is this what you wanted Morgana?" he asked, a question that hunted her dreams.

No she didn't want any of this. She only wanted to be free. But it was too late for that now.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"There is still time…"

"You sound as ignorant as that servant boy." she said bitterly.

"Maybe you're the one who's ignorant Lady Morgana." the warlock said. "You see sometimes no matter what we do, destiny is there to prove us wrong. That maybe all our doings were for naught," he added. "I see them all the time, webs of lies and deceit mingled with shy happiness that sometimes meant something, but now leaves a bitter taste," he finished, eyes avoiding hers.

She let go of him then, a shiver running down her spine as he spoke. How could this warlock know her so well? How could he…

"Sleep well my Lady." he said in a soft voice raising his hand as she looked at him in confusion.

A few whispered words - old English she recognized it immediately, and she was falling. Her eyelids suddenly felt far too tired and as if through fog she saw his face. It looked youthful and his hair was not grey any longer, it was raven.

A lot like Merlin's.

VI

It was a nice sunny day for a change in Camelot and Merlin was returning from another search for herbs for Gaius when he spotted her at the other end of the corridor walking in his direction. The sun reflected of off her dark long curls creating a halo around her and for a second there he actually thought she was just a figment of his imagination before he remembered the search and the forest - she was back for real. After a year of empty halls and empty room at the top of the stairs and an empty chair at the dining table she was actually here and nothing could stop a smile from appearing on his face.

And so only a day after her return home Merlin has made up his mind. He was going to tell her the truth no matter what…

…But he never did.

How different it all could've been… That was the one question no one could give him an answer to, and the opportunity to find out has been missed a long time ago. In the end maybe it wouldn't change much, but then again maybe it would.

And that maybe pushed him to try one more time.

After he successfully stopped her from harming Arthur once again, Morgana fleed the scene and he followed with Gwen close behind him. There is no one that knew those corridors better than him, and he quickly estimated the route she would take to the exit, choosing to intercept her.

The sound of footsteps, becoming lauder and lauder made him duck into the small alcove on his right, back against the wall and he let out a breath and waited, absently tracing the lines down the stone wall.

His hand reached for her, pulling her in and the next thing he knew he was enveloped in the storm of black waves and perfume as she turned to face him, lips parted in surprise.

Before he could think things through he pushed her against the wall, covering her mouth with his hand just as Gwen passed down the corridor, no doubt looking for Morgana.

They stood like that, inches apart, and he half expected her to blast him away with her magic, but she did nothing of sorts, only removed his hand with her own and pushed him away angrily.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your life."

"From Gwen? She's hardly a threat," she scoffed in a manner that he's become quite familiar with lately. "To think I once stood in this very place and did the same for you. What a fool I've been."

"What do you mean?"

"Saving a life of someone who'll eventually kill you…ironic don't you think?" she said with a laugh but he could hear the bitterness in her voice, one that colored her voice ever since that day…

"I had no choice." he says automatically, with them by now it all feels like a replay of a scene already seen, rehashing of old events, mistakes, pains… tearing at the old wounds, over and over again. Never letting them heal, never moving on.

Even the place they stood in was an old habit, a sanctuary once, now tainted by their hateful games and petty fights. The stories it could tell… stories of two people that have lived through the darkest of times for magic, hiding in alcoves, whispering assurances, yet not even the cover of the walls or the sheer closeness they were trapped into could make them admit the truth, one that would bring them closer unlike the silence that tore them apart.

"Liar," she said and let out a laugh, low and filled with bitterness. His grip on her hand tightened - she always did know how to make his blood boil.

It's gotten harder these days to recall her laugh, real and honest when he'd catch her chatting with Gwen at the courtyard, the unrelenting conviction with which she fought for those less fortunate, the sea of possibilities in her eyes when she told him that magic was a force for good. And him wondering, could they really be the same.

The almost childish glee that overcame him at the mare possibility that he didn't have to be alone anymore. There was someone who understood.

He has forgotten how it felt like. That was a long time ago.

Listening to her now it was clear that she has too.

They have both grown up.

"Do you really think so low of me, that I would kill a friend if there was any-" in his anger he came far too close to her, only becoming aware of it now when her hair tickled his neck and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He was so distracted he barely heard her response, but he clearly saw "No." was the word those perfectly shaped lips formed. His glimpse at what could have been…

All those little bits and pieces, small glances, things said and even more so those unspoken truths that lingered in the air between them, all those little clues, the ease with which he could read her from across the room, fall together before his eyes like the pieces of a puzzle, pulled out from a box of things he deemed impossible.

There will come a time when she will stand before him, facing him for the last time and he will remember this moment, out of all the others, with perfect clarity. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the softness of her skin and he will hold up that sword and he'll think - this can't be how it ends.

And yet-

(the end)