Back with another chapter! (I hope everyone had a happy last few days! Actually, never mind - it was the anniversary of Merlin's finale a few days ago. Face it, we were all pretty sad.)

Enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen. Hiraeth

"Maybe work on those acting skills, hm, Violet?"

"Don't blame me," Violet muttered, sitting down on the carpeted floor. She didn't care if she looked unprofessional – she had been standing the whole day and her legs were aching. "I didn't think you'd actually pull me into the room!"

Morgause gave Violet a wry smile. "Be prepared," the woman only told her. "Next time, it might not be a friendly face who tells you to come into an interrogation room."

The door swung open – and both Violet and Morgause turned around to see Guinevere walking in, rubbing her hands together with her usual regal expression. As the days had passed, Violet had found herself straightening her back each time Guinevere walked into a room – and often times, she would have no choice but to stare in wonder to wrap her mind around the fact that this was the queen of Camelot. (She was still doing this. Still. How was she not dead yet?)

"Well," Guinevere murmured, smoothing down her uniform, "it's clear that Merlin has absolutely no idea of what's going on around him. That'll save us some time before the next interrogator comes around."

"I still think it'd be wise if we not tell Merlin until the base is secure," Morgause muttered under her breath.

Guinevere shot Morgause a cool look. "Merlin is a dear friend of mine," she said, "not to mention he is much cleverer and quick-witted than most people give him credit for. When he understands what's happening, he'll be a valuable asset. At least, one that you would value, Morgause. You've made the mistake of underestimating him before, have you not?" Morgause's lips only curled into a sneer, but that alone gave both Guinevere and Violet the signal that there would be no more arguments.

"He thinks I'm working for the other side," Violet said at last. "Did you see the way he looked?"

"Merlin's had the bad habit of trusting the wrong people before," Guinevere replied, and this time, Violet could see sympathy in her eyes. "He was surprised, I'm sure – but in the end, he'll come around to understand why you did what you had to. It's all just an act, Violet – you must not lose sight of that." Violet chewed on her lower lip, and though Guinevere looked reassuring enough, she couldn't shake off the feeling that there would be a much bigger price to pay at the end of this. (That is, if Violet would ever reach the end of this.)

Morgause suddenly straightened up, saying, "I'm off to see to Morgana next."

"Be careful," Guinevere said warningly.

Morgause only let out a soft scoff. "I'd say the same thing to you – aren't you supposed to talk to your precious husband now?"

Violet whirled around to look at Guinevere, who only smiled flatly. "I am," the queen responded. "And you're off to interrogate your sister. It won't be easy for either of us." With that, Guinevere opened the door, letting Morgause walk out first. Over her shoulder, Guinevere said, "And you'll have to go to Merlin, Violet. You remember what we went over before?"

Violet nodded mutely.

"Violet."

Violet's head jerked up. Guinevere was looking over at her skeptically now. "You're not doing anything wrong," she said gently. "You'll be explaining why you're here – Merlin will understand. Trust me, as long as you explain things to him, there won't be anything to be worried about. Chin up – we've got a long day ahead of us."

Violet nodded again. Before Guinevere could leave, she asked quietly, "How are you feeling, then? You're going to have to pretend that you don't know Arthur first, right? And then you'll explain things to him after the second round of interrogation?" Her voice softened further. "How are you going to be able to do that? Look at him in the eye and lie so easily?"

Guinevere's lips turned down. "Whoever said this was easy?" she asked. "I haven't seen Arthur in thousands and thousands of years, Violet. And the first thing I must do to him is lie in his face and pretend that I haven't been yearning for him for…more lifetimes than anyone can count. I have to pretend that there's nothing left inside of me. That isn't easy."

"Then why do you do it?" Violet asked sharply. "Why – why do we do this?"

"Same as you, I would think," Guinevere answered simply. "I believe in a better future – a better world for all of us."

"That's not what I believe right now."

"No?"

"No. I came because you said I had to." And suddenly, Violet felt like a little child again, throwing tantrums and pointing accusatory fingers at anyone who dared annoy her. And she felt even more of a child when Guinevere smiled at her – smiled with such gentleness and knowingness and wisdom that made Violet feel as though she was a tiny girl who had scraped her knees against the driveway. "I was home. I was with my family," Violet added, and though she tried to sound angry, her words sounded feeble to her ears. "I was going to be happy."

That was a lie, and Guinevere knew it as well as Violet did.

"I'll see you in a bit, Violet," Guinevere said, and with one last smile, the queen was gone.

Violet slumped back against the wall, breathing out an angry sigh of defeat. She peered down at her hands. They were trembling and looked frail against the harsh lights of the room. Violet squeezed her hands together, taking quiet note of the dryness of her skin. It was all of this stress, she was sure – and it wasn't like she had time to look after herself, either.

Back to this again, Violet thought to herself, though she was more weary than angry now. What did she want anymore, anyways? She certainly hadn't been happy with her parents – she could only tolerate them for so long, and even after Violet had left home, they were still jabbering about political matters that Violet couldn't stand to be around.

When Violet had announced that she was leaving, her parents seemed to look at her for the first time since she had come home. (Really, properly looked at her.)

"You're leaving? But you just got here," her mother had said with a frown.

"I know," Violet replied, shoving her hands in her pockets. "But something came up. An emergency. A friend of mine needs me to be there."

"A friend?" Violet's father asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. "From the UK?"

"I have some of those, yeah," Violet responded dryly. "I'll be leaving tomorrow on the plane. I don't even really need to pack that much stuff – just some overnight things."

There was a painful silence in the kitchen. Violet suddenly became aware of the dripping sound from the faucet. She vaguely remembered how when she was a teenager, her parents were always talking about fixing it, though that never came around. She could also hear the distant hum of the fridge in the corner, along with the sound of the breadmaker sitting on the counter. And for the smallest of moments, Violet felt a shot of panic. Her family was imperfect, yes, but was that enough for Violet to just drop everything and leave again?

"You've changed," Violet's mother said softly. "Something happened to you when you were in the UK."

"Well, I was living alone," Violet replied, trying to keep her words matter-of-fact. "They say that you can find out some pretty interesting things about yourself when you go away." She didn't miss the way the space between her mother's eyebrows wrinkled. All hell would break loose soon, and Violet would be caught right in the middle of it. She couldn't let that happen.

"Listen," Violet added, trying to cushion the blow, "it's nothing major. I'll come back home." (Would she, though? Violet wasn't sure.) "I promise." (She definitely wasn't sure.)

"Did you meet someone?" Violet's father asked, a small edge to his voice. "Is that it?"

"I met several someones."

"You know what I mean."

Violet stiffened. "No," she replied honestly. "I didn't meet someone. Not in that way." She ran a hand through her hair. "It's just complicated. And it's messy. And it's an emergency, as I've said before." She tried for the most pleading look she could muster up. "It's just for a few days, I think. And then things will be back to normal."

"Didn't you say you lived next to that whack-job? The sorcerer on the news?" Violet's father asked, his eyes hardening. "Violet, I know that you're smarter than that – but if this has anything to do with –"

"No, Dad," Violet replied vehemently. "I told you before – I didn't even know about him until he was gone." Her parents were giving her cynical, skeptical looks now, and just like that, Violet felt something boil underneath her skin. She drew something deep from inside of her – something that had always been nestled in the cracks of her heart.

"And for the record, what does it even matter if I lived next to someone who practiced magic?" Violet asked coldly, taking her hands out of her pockets. "I'm sure they're just the same as us." Her mind momentarily flashed to one of the first times she and Merlin talked – they had been arguing over a woman, who had been dragged away for being accused of practicing magic. She thought about Mary, who died because she had been trying to help them. She thought about the people who had chased them in the woods, with guns blazing and bullets flying around them. She thought about the frozen feeling of fear in her stomach when she thought about whether or not they would survive. She thought about all of the people who have been hurt – who are being hurt – who will be hurt –

"They're not the same as us, Violet," her mother was saying. "They never will be. They're – well, they're something else. Something dangerous. You can't trust any of them."

"Why not?" Violet asked loudly. "They might not have even asked for this. How do you know all magic-users are dangerous terrorists? How do you know what a magic-user feels? Don't you think they have friends? Families? Loved ones?" She was seeing red now, flashing and creeping around her vision. Her words fired out of her, relentless. She was letting out all of her years of pent-up resentment now, letting it consume her parents and herself whole.

"Hell, maybe those people were born with magic," Violet spat out. "Maybe it's something…oh, I don't know – something related to genetics. Science. There's got to be some logical explanation for it, don't you think? And don't you think there's a logical way to approach them? Why do you have to treat them like monsters? And why does it matter so much that I might have had a magic-user as a fucking neighbor?"

"Violet –"

"I'm so tired of having to be on the listening end of all of this nonsense!" Violet cried out, stamping her foot down on the ground. "I'm so tired of always sitting in the back, not knowing what to do or what to say or how to feel – do you understand that now?" She stamped her foot down on the ground again, this time causing her parents to flinch.

Everything had been a blur after that. Violet had run to her room, grabbed her overnight bag, and stuffed everything she could inside of it. She had the plane ticket that Guinevere had given her. And though Violet felt as though a heavy load had been lifted off her chest, she found herself dreading what else was going to happen in the next few days.

Yes, she might have said exactly what she wanted to her parents – she might have been able to get rid of all of the conflicts surrounding that issue –

But it didn't change the fact that either way, Violet was still heading straight back to unknown territory.

•◊•

The cell was only allowed to be accessed by senior agents, but Morgause had given Violet her pass. "If anyone comes into the room, tell them that I let you into the cell to take notes," Morgause had told Violet the day before. "And if they don't believe that, tell them to take it straight to me."

"Won't it look suspicious?" Violet asked doubtfully.

"It will, but they don't have any solid proof, so they can't say anything," Morgause had responded with an uncaring shrug of her shoulders. Violet had only stared up at the woman incredulously. She knew that Morgause and Morgana shared a close relationship – so much that Morgause often referred to Morgana as a sister, though Violet couldn't see too much of a physical resemblance, save the same proud look in their eyes – but that might be the only resemblance that they need. (Then again, Violet found it hard to believe that Morgana and Arthur were siblings. Those two definitely didn't share any similarities either, unless stubbornness was specifically a Pendragon trait. Maybe it was.)

Violet was standing below Merlin's cell now, one hand on the ladder and the other clutching her pass. The way the cells worked here was odd. Violet had first thought that the cells would look like the ones in the movies – a sealed door, maybe, with bars running across. Only this facility had cells like no other. For one, Violet needed to climb up a ladder and get through an earthy-looking trapdoor to get to the cell. According to Guinevere and Morgana, that was the only exit and entrance to the cell. ("The cell's floor is completely covered with dirt," Guinevere had explained. "That makes it harder for any prisoners to tell where the trapdoor is. And of course, that's only if they're somehow able to get out of their chains in the first place.") It was a clever trick, though at the time, Violet hadn't felt like commenting on the schematics behind the cell's construction.

Violet held up her pass. There was a small buzz from next to the trapdoor – and then she sprang it open.

Instantly, a bit of dirt fell from the ceiling – and Violet took some to the mouth. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she coughed some of it out. She heard a faint rattling from above. Merlin must have already noticed the disruption. Violet only wiped the rest of the dirt from her face and headed up the trapdoor.

The first thing she felt was wet dirt. Grimacing, Violet pushed herself up, trying to move as gracefully as possible. It didn't work – she felt the wetness of the ground seep instantly to her jeaned knees. Violet cringed, full aware that she might have to change them later. With that, she stood up and slammed the trapdoor shut.

"Who's there?" Merlin called. He was chained to the metal table, his wrists tinged red and his hair plastered against his face. Violet felt something painful kick in her chest. She tightened her grip on her knapsack and closing her eyes, she replied, "It's me."

There was a silence.

Then, Merlin said tersely, "Violet."

"Yeah."

There was another rattle – Violet saw Merlin straining to turn around. Violet swallowed hard and bracing herself, she stepped in front of him.

Merlin's eyes – always the same strange hue of grey and blue – widened as Violet came into the light. "It's you," he said quietly, his eyes fluttering to a close. "It's really you. I thought –"

"It wasn't a trick," Violet replied. She swung her knapsack from her shoulders and dug out a water bottle. She wordlessly walked forward, screwing open the cap and lifting it to Merlin's lips. Merlin, however, refused to open his mouth. He turned away, his eyes glaring defiantly at the wall.

"Merlin, I'm not actually working for the other side," Violet said quietly. "Come on. Drink some water."

"What are you doing here?" Merlin's voice was sullen, quiet. "You left."

"I know I did. I – well, I was home, but then Guinevere came and –"

"What's she doing here? Is she working for –"

"No."

Merlin flicked his eyes back at Violet. They narrowed, and for a chilling moment, Violet wondered if Merlin was able to read minds. That would have been certainly possible, though Violet would rather not find out. Not that she was hiding anything – she was telling the truth, though Violet didn't want Merlin to see just everything yet. God knows that she had already made a fool of herself before.

"I only came because Guinevere told me that the world depended on it," Violet said, her voice a little gruffer. "The minute this is done with, I'm leaving again."

"You are?"

"What else would I do?" Violet nudged the water towards Merlin again, and this time, he drank from the bottle. The two sat there in silence, and then Merlin asked, "Where's Arthur? And where's Morgana?"

"They're in separate cells," Violet replied, putting the water bottle down. "Guinevere and Morgause – yeah, she's on our side, too – are talking to them. They'll find out the truth sooner or later. Probably sooner instead of later." She reached for her knapsack again. "Guinevere's got this plan to break everyone out – this facility is apparently right underneath one of the government's main buildings. That way, once everyone is broken out, Guinevere could lead everyone to where you could let out your message. Morgause and I are supposed to distract everyone." Violet wiped her hands on her legs. "After that's done, and assuming we're all alive by then, everything can end happily ever after."

She looked back down at Merlin, her eyebrows lifted. "Did you get all of that?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly.

"Good."

They fell back to an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Merlin asked, "How are you doing, Violet?"

Honestly? I'm utter crap, Violet felt like saying. Instead, she tried for a flat smile. "I'm fine," she replied. "I could be doing better, but I'm looking forward to this whole thing blowing over."

"You're really going to leave after all of this? Again?" Merlin asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "Just like that?"

Violet unexpectedly felt something lump together in her throat. "Of course," she replied, looking down at her shoes. "I mean – I can't exactly stick around you guys."

Merlin's voice sounded light when he said, "We should have an annual reunion after this."

Violet felt a smile tug at her lips, though it wasn't a happy one. "I'll send a postcard every once in a while." She opened the water bottle again. "I'll be coming around every few hours. We've got a few days to regroup and tune out the finer details of the plan. After that, we'll actually get going with whatever Guinevere's got in store." She let Merlin drink down the rest of the water before putting the now-empty bottle into her knapsack. "Just hold on until the next time we come around. And pretend that you don't know who I am during the interrogations, alright? I don't really have to tell you that." She started to head for the trapdoor.

She was about to open it when suddenly, Merlin said, "Violet." He called her softly, his voice just barely above a whisper. It almost sounded like he had said her name by accident – as though he hadn't meant for it to slip out.

Violet didn't bother turning around, though she hesitated before she opened the door.

"Violet."

She hung her head, trying to swallow something back in her throat. Her hands were trembling again. Stop this, she thought to herself, putting her hands over the trapdoor. Stop this. Leave.

"Merlin." Violet let his name linger in the air for three heartbeats. She was kneeling down on the ground now, the wet dirt staining her jeans. She couldn't move.

"I was worried about you."

Violet closed her eyes, squeezing her hands together. "I didn't ask you to be worried about me. I don't need you to be worried about me."

Merlin's next words were quiet – quieter than ever. "I know."

Violet turned around for the briefest of moments. Her eyes felt wet, though she didn't feel like crying. She didn't understand why her eyes felt so warm or so heavy. She didn't want them to. Stop, she thought again. This is a waste of time.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said at last.

Violet placed one hand over the trapdoor. She turned back around, opening it up. "Yeah," she said at last, wiping at her eyes so that Merlin wouldn't see. "I am, too."

A/N - The rest of the plot is coming together, and I thought it was high time for me to make a little more progress in Merlin and Violet's relationship. Just a tiny step forward. (Baby steps.)

Reviews would be greatly appreciated! I know that they can be a little time-consuming, but all I ask is a quick few words, because reviews are really great motivators. Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not!