A/N: Aww, my first Merlin story....I'm so proud! Anyways, I don't know where this came from other than I felt I needed to write something depressing. And, no, I have no clue where Gaius is in this. I didn't feel like writing him.
Disclaimer: I think it's pretty obvious that I do not own this. But, in case I'm horribly wrong, I will say it anyhow. I no own, you no sue.
Spoilers: A present day AU Arthurian tale based on a TV show needs spoilers?
Warning: Slight bit of slash...I couldn't help myself.
Pairing: Merthur. You don't like it? Well I'm pretty sure no one is forcing you to read it, so you can go eat a fudge pie or whatever.

Merlin wasn't crazy.

He told himself that every day. When he took his little blue pills, when he refused to eat the mush they gave him, when the nurses and doctors had to restrain him after picking a fight. He wasn't crazy because he could, no matter what anyone said, he could do magic. And not those little magic tricks you see in a casino performance. He could do magic.

But those pills, those damned little blue pills, blocked it. He didn't know how or why, but they did. And it wasn't like he could just stop taking them. If he did, he would be switched to an IV. The IV was even worse because you couldn't go anywhere without dragging the metal contraption used to hang the IV bag on, and it left him drowsy. The nurses rarely checked the IV, despite the 'constant flow' written in red ink, and if they changed the IV after a long period of time too quickly he'd hallucinate.

He tried not to feel betrayed by his friends and his mother, but the feeling would sneak up on him. Was he to be blamed? He confided in them and was simply locked away in some facility. It hurt. But he tried to ignore it, because one day he would be let out, and then he would show them he really could do magic. That he really was a wizard.

One day.

Merlin wasn't crazy.

Arthur told himself that every day. When he woke up and Merlin wasn't the one tripping over the threshold, when it wasn't Merlin asking why he needed his undergarments ironed, when it wasn't Merlin who stood by dumbly as Arthur defended his honor. Because Merlin wasn't just a deranged servant his father hired to keep Arthur's room clean, Merlin was a friend with a momentary mental breakdown. They all had them…didn't they?

He couldn't bring himself to visit the young man, trapped in that mental institute. It would be worse than death to see the lithe boy who used to make a joke out of anything in such a desolate place. He knew it was his fault, because Merlin had come to him and Arthur shoved him away quickly. What he had done was shameful, especially after the many times Merlin was there when Arthur needed him, but he had believed it was for the best. He honestly believed he could 'cure' Merlin. But Merlin didn't need curing. He needed someone to believe in him, to stay by him, not fill him up with drugs in a place full of killers and rapists and people who believed they were Elmo.

Because Merlin was his friend and friends aren't supposed to do that. But he did. Did that make him a bad friend? Arthur believed so. He could almost hear Merlin now, in his ear, his mind, telling him that it wasn't his fault. He did what he thought was right and that made him great. And, as always, Arthur decided that voice was wrong. Because friends don't do that to one another.

Merlin was crazy.

Uther believed it with all his heart, and he wasn't upset at all to see the young man set up in the institute. Though he was rather upset his son insisted on the best money could get for the boy. In all honesty, Uther never liked Merlin. He seemed oddly close to Arthur, and distracted his son from his duties. It was abnormal, it wasn't right, and it had to be stopped. He was just thankful he didn't have to stop it.

But Arthur was different from then on. He was saddened and distressed, he would shirk his responsibilities and take to staring out the window, he'd write letters Uther would never see sent, and at times he refused to eat. It was odd; the effect of what one boy could do to his son. At first he tried to deny it, tried to argue with himself and say that business and the economy was taking a toll on Arthur, but the economy was getting better and the business couldn't be more prosperous. So he admitted it to himself.

Arthur was, undeniably and irrevocably, in love with Merlin.

It hurt to even think.

Merlin was crazy.

But so am I, Morgana would argue with herself. Because she couldn't be able to see in the future, she simply couldn't. It wasn't right or normal. But it happened, and she could rarely deny it even unto herself. She held respect for Merlin, for being able to come out with it. But she couldn't do it herself, not until she was certain her fate wouldn't be the same. She had to have proof and, somehow, proof for Merlin as well.

Because they were both crazy. They simply had to stick together.

Merlin was…crazy.

It was hard to believe. Merlin, the sweetest boy on the face of the planet, was crazy. Gwen wasn't sure how she missed it, because Merlin was her best guy friend. And he was—God, it hurt to say—crazy. He was mentally deranged and she never even saw it.

It couldn't have been for long. At least, not as long as he said. He couldn't have been crazy for so many years because that wasn't him. He was-he was…well, he was the boy who'd take her to a remote bar and play 'I never' with her even though they knew everything about each other. He made her day and, eventually, ruined her life. He was her best friend, and he betrayed her as she did him.

She wished—oh, how she wished over and over—that he'd never spoken of it. Or, at the very least, confided in her first. She should hate him for leaving her, for saying such ridiculous jargon and leaving her all alone. But she couldn't bring herself to. Because, in some odd way, she believed him.

Maybe she was crazy as well. Maybe they all were, and Merlin was the only one sane. She wasn't sure anymore.

Merlin wasn't crazy.

Hunith knew this. But she couldn't just announce it to the world, because she would be sent to the institute as well, and it would mess with Merlin's destiny. Hunith knew about his ability since he was a baby, but she never spoke of it. She knew what was to come, what would happen, and she knew this was only a part of it.

Eventually, he'd be out of there, he'd save many people, and they'd learn to tremble at the sound of his and Arthur's voices. Eventually, they'd learn the meaning of the letters she was about to send. Two sides of the same coin. Find the other side, and save him. But for now? She would wait. She would keep silent and watch after her son, she would take away the red pills for the mentally deranged and give him Gaius' blue pills to suppress his magic.

She knew how to keep quiet.