Hello there, beautiful people!

Aaand I'm officially home again. I feel like I've been underwater this whole time. To make a long story short I spent about three weeks with grandma and grandpa back in nowhere- land where there is absolutely no wi-fi unless I happen to snatch some from an unsuspecting neighbor. That's why I've been MIA and, believe me, nothing felt better than to have this laptop on my lap again. (The one I left behind because I knew I would have no use for it whatsoever and momentarily forgot that my grandma and grandpa don't own a computer and are still figuring cellphones out) :)

I'm terribly sorry guys! I still have to reply to reviews (and read them hehehe.) then hurry up and review all of those amazing fics everyone's been updating. (Honestly, I go away for a while and everyone decides to update as if they knew.) but first, I needed to finish this up for a very special author.

Oz's birthday was the 10th and I couldn't even PM her on time. * ducks head in shame.* Still, happy –really- belated birthday! I know it's terribly late and it's terribly rushed and I send you a million hugs. You are a beautiful human being, you know that right?

So, yes. About seven months late I finally get hit with what 5x13 was. I was doing fine but the things listed below got in the way and it all morphed into...well, this.

I realize that this should be under 'An Uneaten Meal & Other Stories' but I just didn't have the heart to put it there. This took a mind of its own and became, in my opinion, one of the most heartfelt things I've ever written simply because of the song. (When is it not because of a song?) If any of you want to cry as I cried (sob is a better word for what I did while I wrote this.) listen to the song before reading this little fic. Whoever has a heart will understand. (This is Not The End by Clare Maguire is to blame.)

This is me bawling again 'cause 'Just hold me' and 'Stay with me'. Could this be considered being over it? It's as if this song has worked its way through my denial and cheery attitude to make every single second of pain and agony of that December night return. I am crying again! How is that fair?

There is an absolutely genius woman who's too blame for this too. I re-read Curtain guys. I cried. Again.

Two quotes. Re-reading two quotes was all it took ( and the song of course.) to make me cry again.

"I want, you see, to think about it as little as possible. Hercule Poirot was dead- and with him died a good part of Arthur Hastings."

And then, written down in Poirot's final manuscript: 'and you my poor lonely Hastings? Ah, my heart bleeds for you, dear friend. Will you, for the last time, take the advice of your old Poirot?'

Then, we have Lord Tennyson's 'In Memoriam' which is practically Merlin's tribute to Arthur I KID YOU NOT. He writes the whole thing to his deceased friend whose name is (you guessed it,) ARTHUR. Too perfect to be true. I've re-read it a bunch of times and drowned in feels over and over.

The title was easy to figure out ( for once!). After I read the whole thing these verses stuck with me:

Since we deserved the name of friends,
And thine effect so lives in me,
A part of mine may live in thee
And move thee on to noble ends...

And gathering freshlier overhead,
Rock'd the full-foliaged elms, and swung
The heavy-folded rose, and flung
The lilies to and fro, and said,

'The dawn, the dawn,' and died away;
And East and West, without a breath,
Mixt their dim lights, like life and death,
To broaden into boundless day.

- In Memoriam.

Then, with the title and the song this thing wrote itself.

Big thanks, a hug and another "Happy birthday!" to Oz for writing 'Something More' and giving me post 5x13 feels for weeks ( I re-read it about an hour ago, that's how much of a masochist I am.) That and the fact that I've been listening to the 'This is not the End.' non-stop after I wrote a song on the finale and actually shed tears over the piano. All of it just rolled into one big blubbering mess of lyrics and piano keys and all over the place feels.

(The word feels seems to be recurrent.)

My Dad asked me how in the name of maple syrup had I come up with such a 'blue' blues. (Yes, his sense of humor is uncanny. And it was not a blues in my opinion.) He still can't believe that I wrote it over a fictional character. But you guys understand, right? ;)

(By the way there are a bunch of quotes from 'In Memoriam'…scattered around. If I could quote the whole thing- which I can't because is about ten pages long- I would. 'nuff said.)

If this somehow becomes an incoherent thing halfway between prose and poetry…I'm sorry. I can't help myself. Oh God you guys should see me writing music sheets. I'm a mess.

(This is the longest author's note I've ever written.)

My Arthur, whom I shall not see

Till all my widow'd race be run;

Dear as the mother to the son,

More than my brothers are to me.

(…)

'But I remained, whose hopes were dim,

Whose life, whose thoughts were little worth,

To wander on a darkened earth,

Where all things round me breathed of him.

O friendship, equal poised control,

O heart, with kindliest motion warm,

O sacred essence, other form,

O solemn ghost, O crowned soul!'

(…)

'I watch thee from the quiet shore;

Thy spirit up to mine can reach;

But in dear words of human speech

We two communicate no more.'

- 'In Memoriam' Alfred Lord Tenysson.

If it be your will to speak
Of memories we often shared
Talk to me of days gone by
Think of love and not despair

And when I'm gone
We'll meet again
As often do the closest friends
So dry your eyes
And lay me down
I tell you this is not the end.

-Clare Maguire.

The Boundless Day.

Ah dear, but come thou back to me:
Whatever change the years have wrought,
I find not yet one lonely thought
That cries against my wish for thee.

- 'In Memoriam' Alfred Lord Tenysson.

Avalon never changes. There it is; the evergreen tall grass where he's knelt a thousand times before. There they are; the same flowers greet him with their fragrance. Above his head is the limitless sky, as blue and pale as Arthur's eyes had once been. The tower stills stands tall in the island that rests on the center of the sacred waters and he nails his gaze on its familiar structure though his ancient eyes tighten and tears leak to spill over stubbly cheeks, effortlessly, for there's already a path carved for them.

His vision blurs as they roll down and grief overtakes him. Grief never leaves him, it only quiets and subsides so that the hole in his heart lessens although not entirely. Though he is the oldest man on earth and a thousand seasons have passed him by, though he has witnessed the greatest deeds and seen the greatest miracles Merlin could never adequately explain his grief. Once he had foolishly thought verses written down in paper and ink could put a name to his loss but time and time again he found that no poet could ever reach the inmost recess of his soul, where it lay, beyond slivered. He's heard, far too often, that time heals all scars. Sadly, he knows he is living proof that the saying is nothing but a fallacy. Time- occasionally a loathed enemy for him -does nothing to mend his broken heart.

When he finally reaches the shore and the tips of his worn shoes touch the waters of Avalon he understands that wiping his cheeks will once again be useless. His tears will not dry, no matter how he tries to muffle the sobs that shake his shoulders as they make way through his constricted throat and tear his soul.

The wind echoes with words long lost and for a moment he lets those voices from the past soften his heart and force his eyes shut with the tender memories they bring. It's been too long since he's last seen the face of his loved ones behind his closed eyelids, picture Gaius' fatherly smile, Gwaine's joyful wink or Guinevere's gentle gaze. But to see Arthur he doesn't need to close his eyes. He never has. Perhaps it's because Arthur is etched on his heart and carved upon his soul that he remembers his King so distinctly, as if the thousands of years he's spent alone have done nothing but strengthen his recollection of that strong face and keen eyes. Things that he'd never noticed about Arthur when his King's noble heart beat alongside his own had now surfaced and with them joyful memories of a prince and a manservant that walked together through the halls of ancient Camelot.

Even if it seems impossible the old warlock thinks that he knows Arthur better than he knew him back then. His memory lovingly regresses back to the way the Once and Future King sounded when he laughed, to the way his brow furrowed whenever something weighed heavily on his brave heart and the childish delight his eyes sometimes held. Merlin remembers the lively spark that illuminated his features whenever his people were happy. He remembers the small delicate scars- on Arthur's thumb, right below his brow- by others unnoticed. He remembers the mischievous quirk of Arthur's mouth …the affection that often went unspoken.

Bending below the weight of a thousand years he whispers between tears that once again spill down his unshaven jaw.

"I'm sorry I had to leave."

He expects no answer and he does not receive any. The lake is undisturbed by the old man's confession and it remains unmoving as he continues, his voice old and feeble. "You know I always return, though. It's not as if I can be away from here for too long."

A hint of a grin suddenly flits upon his aging face.

"A long time ago I used to resent the fact that my magic reacted to your every heartbeat. Believe me, old friend; it was not pleasant to wake up only to dash over and save you from whatever trouble you were in…and then polish your armor in the morning."

For one brief moment he almost smiles at the memories that he's buried deep within for too long- the warmth that used to inflame his heart with a long- lost purpose whenever Arthur smiled and locked his gaze with his.- but soon enough far worse images replace those beloved eyes and he shakes as he goes on,

"There were times…" his voice is almost unbearable in his sorrow. "…when you brushed past death. And I was certain that, should you ever die, my heart would give up with yours."

He unconsciously wipes the overwhelming tears dripping on his snowy beard. "Not a day passes without me wishing it had."

Then, almost as if his words had dealt him a physical blow, he flinches and squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again, revealing raw sincerity present in the depths of ancient blue.

"Oh, no." he says softly, bowing his head so that he looks down at the breezy grass. "That is not entirely true, after all. Who'd wait for you then, my King?"

A small smile that holds within the comforting tenderness of his devotion and loyalty forms in the ancient warlock's face, if only for a mere moment. He wonders what Arthur would say if he ever saw him like this, barely kept together and fragile as a newborn bird on a child's clumsy hands and his brow furrows once more as his King's hoarse whisper reminds him of the only promise he hasn't been able to keep.

He gazes at his wrinkled fingers and rubs his old jutted bones only to sigh the faintest of apologies because no matter how much he tried in the past he knows he could never be that young Merlin Arthur once called friend. Arthur had been sick and weary when he'd asked that of him and Merlin had been trying to negate the undeniable truth with all of his heart. So desperate was he that he had not seen how preposterous those simple words had been. Once Arthur was gone Merlin existed no more. Half of him vanished with Arthur and the other half that had been left to wander the earth always remained as shredded as when he'd laid the Once and Future King to rest.

When his gaze finds the silent tower again he tries to hold back all of the memories that assault him and aggravate the raw wound in his heart. He turns his head so that he doesn't relive it -that soul-splitting moment in which the small wooden boat sailed away and took Arthur from him… -again. Even now, thousands of years later, the soft waters of Avalon still evoke the last time he ever saw Arthur's face, already gray with the pallor of death. His hands still tremble when he recalls, unwillingly, how unnaturally cold his King had been under his fingers when he'd brushed that golden fringe away from his slumbering face.

There are times in which he wonders how come his heart is still beating and he hears the slightly ironic answer echo in his own mind, a mantra that he'd often repeated within Camelot's well-beloved stone walls. For Arthur.

He remembers, then, as if the soft breeze had murmured it in his ears, that he's been gone. Gone far too long and way too far from the place where Arthur sleeps. But a year or six are minutes to an immortal being such as him, and even though the closed fist around his heart never loosens his hold time passed him by.

If Arthur's actually listening Merlin knows that he would be demanding an explanation. He takes the knitted blue hat he is now wearing from his balding head and holds it in his hands at the height of his stomach, bowing with a humble heart.

"You know I cannot leave you Arthur." He whispers as he blinks upwards and looks with tender eyes over the silent silver lake. "I've been bound to you from birth until death."

He still remembers Hunith's lullabies and his never ending wish of seeing something more, of finding that which called him even before his birth, days and nights of quietly praying for whoever tugged upon his soul so badly. Camelot had been like breaking the surface of his life's sea to finally stare at the burning light of a never-seen star that he hadn't known he needed. Arthur had been his sun.

Two bags weigh heavily on his shoulders but still he doesn't let go. There's a slight sadness darkening his gaze as he recalls the reason for his abrupt return and once again casts his gaze around with a hope that fades as a slowly melting candle.

"How foolish of me." he says out-loud, not caring if the sadness in his voice breaks his composure and his breath hitches with tears. "…To think that my time waiting was over."

It had been foolish indeed, to rush hastily towards the blessed lake when he'd woken up with the taste of ancient magic fluttering around his old, snowy head and felt the familiar and never-forgotten tugging upon the very blood on his veins, the tremors that shook his heart and reverberated through his soul, tremors that so often had meant Arthur needed him, wherever he was.

As he made his way through the sleepy land that was Arthur's he never once considered that, perhaps, it had been nothing but an illusion of the life he'd lost long ago. A sweet hallucination to lift up his sorrowful spirits. But now, as he gazes around and sees not a shadow of the broad-shouldered man that is the other side of the coin, he realizes that maybe…it is not time yet.

It leaves him even more broken than before and, without holding anything back, he weeps for the man that is more precious to him than his own life. For the King that holds in his hands his will and loyalty, for the friend that is more than a brother to the extent where he cannot even explain what he and Arthur had once been and still are. He kneels on the shore and his shoulders shake with the force of his sobs, for all of his hopes have disappeared like shadows chased away by the sun and there is no one waiting by the brink of water. No one for him to guide and protect, to care for and love more than what he ever thought possible.

As he blinks away the tears and presses his old hand to his mouth he recalls- as if from a dream- conversations past, and he's convinced once again that there's no name for the grief that consumes his soul. For what is heartbreak compared to the years he's lived with only half of his being? What grieving father has lost his child for more than a life's time and knows not the comfort of reuniting once more in the hour of death?

Yet he finds himself choking hopelessly on phrases that are jumbled up in his heart for they had come closer than any others. "….I count it crime…" he whispers between sobs. "…to mourn for any overmuch; Oh, Arthur…I, the divided half of such a friendship that had master'd time." (1)

And he thinks that, just once, his never-ending agony has called upon him the presence of an angel for the lake suddenly rocks softly and the sacred waters stroke the shore with renewed vigor. But as soon as it appears it fades and he is left alone on the darkness of his grief. Tears splatter upon the silver surface of Avalon and silent sobs rock his slight, hunched frame when he cries once again.

When the voice he holds dear above everything and anything else speaks, he stops breathing.

"Merlin."

Kneeling and with tears still clinging to the whiteness of his long beard, he thinks that perhaps he's finally reached the point of lunacy. He doesn't turn around for fear of being right and stills his thundering pulse by placing one hand over his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. But soon his old heart is fluttering again at the realization that his name had just been spoken one more time, softly, even gentler.

"Merlin." The irresistible pull upon his every bone shifts and becomes a command when the sound reaches his ears.

For the first time he feels the burden of millenniums on his weary limbs when he turns around slowly, slower than he's ever thought possible. His movements are those of an ancient man rather than an immortal warlock, sluggish and heavy, as if what weighs his down his heart pulls down on his bones.

It takes him painfully long seconds to look up with his raw eyes and blink away the radiance of the dying light. The twilight's bright hues dim and blur until he's no longer looking at a blinding golden glow but a dark silhouette contrasting against the light of the setting sun. (2)

The first thing he sees are those eyes... eyes that had captivated him in eras long past. This time they are not dull and glazed with pain, there's no glint of fever in the palest of blues, there's only the deepest and strongest of emotions and Merlin is sure that he's dreaming for Arthur never once looked at him with such affection, the way mothers look at the child they'd thought lost.

He barely has time to stand on his wobbly, bony knees before his heart stutters when the glorious figure smiles and suddenly the light of the sun around him like a golden halo is not what makes the ancient warlock's eyes well up. It takes him two heartbeats to see clearly and find that his breath's been stolen. The Once and Future King stands there, on the patch of timeless grass where Merlin held him as they fell together one last time.

It is when Arthur holds out his hands and nods gently that Merlin moves. He's forgotten that he carries with him two bags full of the unlikeliest things and that he is no longer a young, strength-filled man but an ancient being of magic because he hardly feels the weariness with his heart thumping as wildly against his ribcage. With Arthur encouraging his every step from up the never-changing hill, looking every bit as the Golden King he once was, he does not remember that such fleeting, desperate sprints will never do and it doesn't matter if his heart is willing… that his bones are brittle and his lungs are old.

His steps are reluctant at first, with the heavy weariness that has characterized him for centuries. But Arthur shines as the beacon of light that he has always been and with his sight set on him the ancient warlock Emrys begins to quicken his pace until he is running across the evergreen field with a throbbing heart and a singing soul. He does not even realize that he's falling until he is in the ground, weighed down by the heavy bags on his shoulders and his old bones. But he's up again before a breath is even taken because Arthur is still there, as glorious and as great as he'd been the day when that golden crown had been placed upon his head.

That's when he says it, almost too quietly for anyone to hear but him though his soul cries out from within 'Arthur….' and he's not surprised when something flashes in that handsome face he has not seen in thousands of years before his friend takes soft steps forwards and the distance between them lessens…

"Arthur!"

For the first time the ancient warlock notices that the man before him is wearing a tuxedo, one that hurriedly peels off and throws to the grass without a second glance, leaving him only in a white button down and black pants but -what are those trifling details when Arthur walks towards him with a look of static joy on his face…?

It's the greatest thing Merlin has ever seen. Greater than a dragon flapping its wings for the first time, greater than Guinevere being crowned Queen or witnessing a blessed sword emerge from the very same lake that now lays behind him, for once forgotten in its entirety, because there is nothing that can possibly oblige him to take his eyes from the sight of his King opening his hands, palms facing upwards, as he takes another step.

He barely makes it past the hill and stumbles into the open field when Arthur repeats "Merlin." and this time he cannot repress a wet sob from tearing his throat and leaving his trembling lips as his King approaches while his old bones finally give up when he falls to his knees without a sound. The grass cushions his fall as it did so many years ago after Arthur sailed across the lake and he was left on his own.

The world falls silent around him when he feels two fingers slide below his bearded chin, tender as a mother's touch, and softly raise his bowed head until he meets Arthur's eyes. He's smiling- smiling like Merlin has never seen him smile before- with such a joyful sparkle illuminating his wise eyes that the old warlock suddenly feels his chest tighten and the hope that has started a fire on his heart cool down. He wonders if he is dreaming.

"I must be dreaming." he whispers before he can stop himself and the unyielding warmth in Arthur's smile falters and stutters as a dying flame.

"No." Merlin doesn't even notice how Arthur kneels in the grass by his side, giving up his attempts at rising his dear friend to his feet. When he speaks his voice is hardly above a whisper. "I'm here."

The ancient warlock closes his eyes as he shakes his head, much like a stubborn child, and the fingers under his chin tighten. Arthur's voice is still commanding even when he doesn't will it for Arthur is King and always will be. "Merlin, look at me."

He's never been able to refuse anything to his Once and Future King, not even after all these years.

Again, Arthur's eyes are the first thing he sees when he re-opens his own and he can hardly draw in another breath because his King looks perfect, as perfect as he'll ever be. There's no shadow of the fragile young man Merlin had held in his arms. There's no sword-wound perforating his side and no pain on his eyes. When he speaks, it's not the hoarse whisper that had broken Merlin's heart with his strained 'thank you' but his accustomed firm tone that used to draw kingdoms and kings to their knees. "Even after all these years…" He chuckles and Merlin thinks he's never heard anything more wonderful and he never will be. "…you still don't do as you're told, Merlin."

There's a heartbeat of silence before the first sob escapes his throat, followed by many, until he cannot see Arthur anymore and he blinks the tears away desperately because he wants this moment to last the eternity that he's wandered the earth.

"Arthur..." he sobs, suddenly aware that he is shaking and Arthur's strong grip has vanished from his chin so that he can rest his warm, alive hand on top of Merlin's snowy hair, perhaps thinking that the familiar, longed for touch will sooth his shaking warlock. The Once and Future King's eyes speak of a gratitude that he cannot convey with words and when the ancient man reaches up he takes that withered hand inside his own, gently holding it over his chest so that Merlin can feel the life beating from inside him.

"I'm sorry." Merlin says at long last, unaware of the sadness that replaces the glee on his King's face for he is looking down as he cries. "I'm sorry I had to leave you alone. I didn't want to."

Merlin doesn't know if he's apologizing for those hours before Camlann or for the six years he's spent away from Avalon as the tremors that wrack his frame become unbridled and he's gasping through his sobs, unable to gulp down enough air.

That's all it takes for Arthur to wrap his arms around his old friend with a gentleness unbeknownst to him before Merlin, when he was a prince without his warlock,The Once and Future King without Emrys. "I know." he whispers softly, realizing that he can feel Merlin's bones through his worn blue jacket. Realizing that there's so much less of him to hold in his arms. "I know you didn't."

Merlin's thin arms encircle his neck with a strength that no man should possess, clutching almost impossibly tight but Arthur doesn't mind at all and lays his stubbly cheek on Merlin's soft white hair, tightening his hold on his warlock as well. As Merlin weeps and warm tears trickle down his neck the once-King suddenly realizes that perhaps he's missed Merlin as much as Merlin has missed him- even if the years they spent apart were but a dream to him-because there's a weight suddenly lifted from his soul and a never-ending ache diminishing with each passing second. Merlin belongs with him, that much he knows, but the overwhelming need to hold his friend even closer, even tighter tells him that he belongs with Merlin as well.

"I think I had forgotten..." Merlin whispers softly, voicing Arthur's thoughts through his chapped lips. "...what it feels like to be whole."

With a throbbing soul, The Once and Future King lets his hands encircle the ancient warlock's narrow shoulders so that he can look into that worn, aged face he used to know so well. His heart swells with brotherly love as he studies the scars time left on Merlin's blue eyes. "You are the bravest man I've ever met." he tells him, knowing that it's the truth.

Merlin's eyes well up again and he feels tears blur his own when his friend's shoulders shake with sobs once more.

"Merlin." He reaches down to wipe the tears away from those sunken, wrinkled cheeks, sighing sadly. "My faithful friend."

There's something on his voice that Merlin has never heard before. He brings his own hand up to place it over Arthur's, knowing that, were he able to die, his old heart would've given up from the bliss long ago.

"I've missed you." he manages through his sobs. Two crystalline tears blossom from his eyes but Arthur's thumbs gingerly brush them away before they can reach his already soaked beard. "I've missed you, My King."

"I know." Arthur answers softly and through his pale eyes Merlin can see that it is true, as true as the thumping heart that now beats inside him. He knows. It is not only raw emotion what places Arthur's words on his mouth but the surety that he's come to know the hell of being a sundered coin. It is then when the ancient man understands what is behind the way Arthur's looking at him, almost like a father who's seeing again his most beloved child. Merlin's not the only one that's been waiting with the loneliness of a torn soul. Arthur's been waiting too.

"You've gotten old, my friend." The corners of Arthur's eyes crinkle as a smile fills his lips and when he laughs Merlin cannot repress the joyful tears that fall. Arthur doesn't notice, though. He runs his fingers along Merlin's old, feeble, shaking hands. "But you're still the same." he assures gently, much quieter. "You're still my Merlin."

As if the words reminded the old warlock of something he'd pushed away in the ecstasy of seeing his King again, the hand clutching Arthur's tightened and his eyes took in the white button down, the excellently made black pants and costly tuxedo, now laying on the grass behind them as a worthless rag. "You're...dressed." he manages, and Arthur's eyes lit up with fond memories of their morning conversations in that legendary land called Camelot.

"Perhaps destiny thought that it was better this way." Arthur answers, still smiling. "I've been waiting for you, Merlin."

Merlin turns his head away as he remembers the years he's spent away from Avalon and guilt settles on his heart. Yet, Arthur's smile is brighter when the old warlock looks at his King again.

"I've known I had to look for you since I can remember." the sun bathes Arthur's features with golden light as he speaks and Merlin cannot stop himself from squeezing Arthur's hand with his own. The trembling on his aged fingers ceases but even so, Merlin cannot help the sudden tightness that takes hold of his chest as he realizes that his King has been walking on earth, breathing the same air and watching the same moon... and he-

"I should have found you sooner." now his voice doesn't sound quite as old but more like the Merlin Arthur knew.

The once-king shakes his head and smooths his fingers over his warlock's thin arm.

"We're here now, Merlin. It's alright."

As he speaks Merlin can see how truthful his King is, for his old, liver-spotted skin becomes pale and taut again when the wrinkles disappear and he no longer feels the weight of the years upon his shoulders. He looks up and knows, as soon as he sees the tremulous smile on Arthur's lips, that his King is seeing the man who bid him goodbye on that very same spot, such a long time ago.

And before Merlin can protest ( even though he knows he wouldn't have.) Arthur's rough hand is upon his hair, ruffling it as if he's waited an eternity to do so ( he has.) and smiling with that twinkle upon his eyes that Merlin thinks about so often. He's beginning to smile when Arthur's hand slips down and suddenly is cupping the back of his head and drawing Merlin into a hug so tight that he cannot breathe but it doesn't matter because he's as touch starved as Arthur is and so he clutches his dear friend just as tightly, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on Arthur's shoulder when his King gently presses his face into the white fabric of his shirt. (3)

"It's going to be alright, Merlin." the Once and Future King soothes gently and Merlin's heart swells with hope as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon.

Merlin realizes, with tears still burning his eyes, that there's no need for the life-giving star anymore. He'd been living in the obscurity of a senseless life for centuries and now that Arthur has been returned to him it is not as dark and desolate but rather bright and full of light. So he agrees. He agrees with all his heart. It is a boundless day.

His soul is whole for the first time in centuries. All is well.

And if someone else
Must take my place
For I'll be gone the longest time
I'll wait and I will understand
A heart of thorns must
Leave the mind

But when in time I see your face
The scars will fade
The heart will mend
So dry your eyes
And lay me down
I tell you this is not the end

- Clare Maguire.

Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,

So far, so near in woe and weal;

O loved the most, when most I feel

There is a lower and a higher;

Known and unknown; human, divine;

Sweet human hand and lips and eye;

Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,

Mine, mine, for ever, ever mine;

Strange friend, past, present, and to be;

Loved deeplier, darklier understood;

Behold, I dream a dream of good,

And mingle all the world with thee.

- 'In Memoriam' Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Did I just end with the a J.K Rowling quote? ( An adaptation of it at least.) Yes. Yes I did. ;)

(1) Alfred Lord Tennyson. 'In Memoriam.' *mouths: OH MY GOD.*

(2) I couldn't stop thinking of the scene in 4x03 when Arthur opens the door and Merlin is sitting there, waiting for him. It was kind of a tribute to that. ;)

(3) I'm still not over the fact that they only had ONE hug and Merlin didn't even remember it.

As I was finishing this my Dad started playing 'Songbird' (Fleetwood Mac) on the piano. Do you know what that did to me? I started sobbing. I still am.

Oz, I hope you had a perfect day and that you ate lots and lots of cake. *hugs tightly.*

Big hugs! Now I'm just going to try and keep up with all the updates. ;)