The very minute Arthur got home, he started his research.

There had to be magic bloodlines, right? There had to be some families who's ancestors were sorcerers in the time of Camelot.

He used the laptop and tried searching for anything he could get. Hours passed and he still had nothing. It was getting late and the day had been long, so Arthur fell asleep on his keyboard.

The next day, he went straight to the hospital before work. The doors banged open and he sat down beside Merlin again. Not much had changed - except some of his breathing tubes and things.

A nurse passed by the door and looked in, sympathetically.

"You have to keep hoping, love," She said gently. Arthur nodded politely.

"Can, can he hear me?" He asked, looking at her.

She smiled. "I like to think so."

And then she trundled on down the hallway.

Arthur thought for a moment, and then he went to work.

When his shift ended, he didn't go home. Not quite yet. He decided to poke around the libraries, gather some more information. Anything.

He made it to three libraries before they all closed.

Nothing.

The next day, his plan was similar, but this time he brought something with him to the hospital. It was the poetry book that he'd read, that day in the garden. The favourite one of Merlin's.

He sat beside the bed, he held his hand. And he read to him, slowly, feeling the words.

Then he went to work, and then visited more libraries.

For nearly two weeks, his plan remained the same. Merlin, work, research. It was exhausting, but necessary.

After two weeks, doctors tried to talk to him about the plan for the future.

"Please, do whatever you need to. We have, I have, money. Whatever you need just keep him alive, please." He said to them, simply.

The next day, he hit a breakthrough.

A record-spinning, knees-buckling breakthrough.

He'd ran out of libraries so he'd resigned to local museums.

"Thank you for seeing me, Sir." Arthur said, shaking the old dinosaur's hand.

"M'pleasure m'pleasure," the old man grunted. "Whatr're you here about anyway?"

"1000 years ago. Is there anything like records or evidence or... spells?" Arthur asked, desperately.

The old crone burst out laughing, a shaky, rattly sound.

"What are you on about, young lad? Evidence? You reckon I'd be here if I had evidence from a millennium ago?"

Arthur's heart sank, and he scratched his head dejectedly.

"Sorry for wasting your time. I was just..."

The man looked a bit more sympathetic and smiled with kind eyes.

"Well.. how about you come into my office? Eh? I'll try and found out what you're looking for?"

Arthur nodded and smiled gratefully and was led to the man's office.

They sat down, with steaming cups of tea in their hands.

"So, what exactly are you after, young man?" The man (he introduced himself as Wilson) asked.

Arthur lowered his cup to his saucer and noticed it shook.

"Well," And he tried to explain as best he could, he wanted old records of spells from that era. Wilson listened and didn't laugh.

When Arthur finished, he let out a big breath.

"Hmmm." Wilson hummed. "Well... unfortunately, all records and evidence from that time are unconfirmed, due to that era being so long ago. There is though, a collection of letters and writings BELIEVED to be from back then."

Arthur felt hopeful.

"But man, I must warn you. They are unconfirmed. They were found in a young man's attic during world war 2. He'd been keeping them for sometime, and been called up. They could be from the last hundred years, or the last 10 hundred." Wilson cautioned.

"These writings, where are they?" Arthur asked.

Wilson beamed, setting his tea down with a splash.

"Why, they're here of course!"

Half an hour later, he dumped the dusty box on his desk. Arthur jumped up eagerly.

"Here it is," Wilson announced, brushing the dust away. "I'll leave you to it. And remember, we have no clue when these were all from."

Arthur nodded and thanked him, and then started to sift them out, alone in the office.

His stomach was gripped with hope and fear and the exalting feeling that this was the closest he'd been to helping Merlin for weeks.

don't get your hopes up, clotpole. Merlin's voice ran through his head.

The first document was a scrap of parchment, like a journal entry. It didn't talk of much, just of hunting. Arthur moved onto the next one.

It had been a while until he finally found it. A tattered set of parchments, filed together. He recognised it before he read it.

He had written this. What in heaven and hell was it doing here??

This was a letter Arthur himself had sent to Merlin, when he was on a retrieval mission and Merlin was sick.

Dear the biggest prat in Camelot,

Your king here, writing to tell you to prepare my celebration robes. We're leaving this town in about three days, and this letter will reach you before I do. Bet your still sniffling, only leaving your bed to visit the tavern. Idiot.

Don't die. See you soon. Arthur.

Arthur felt his eyes welling up, but he continued to read. What were they all doing here? There were some letters from Hunith, and Gauis and even Gwen.

And then spells.

Merlin had written out aging spells, water spells, transfiguration spells, and then at last....

this is a spell for bringing your true love back from the dead, cause i'm totally gonna need this

Arthur read the spell, and placed it in his bag. Time to hit the hospital.

It was last visiting hours, so Arthur had to sneak in, bag in hand. A few nurses walked past but he walked purposefully like he was on a mission. He was, in a sense.

Once he was safely behind closed doors, he turned to face Merlin's lifeless body on the bed. His heart twinged painfully, but hope filled his mind. He prayed this would work.

"Hey, I'm back again," He said, sitting down. Merlin didn't move.

"I have a spell to uh.. bring back the dead. I know technically you aren't dead, your uh, just your brain is but.. I, I don't have anything else to try."

He took a deep breath. Then he brought out the spell.

"Hungee para thee kep nowtonlay. Backa shoolah tipa mut. thee kep nowtonlay."

The words filled the air, and they felt ancient and... calming.

Merlin made no move so Arthur went on.

"Degay kay po tunay stuu. thee kep nowtonlay."

That was it, that was the spell.

Arthur waited, holding his breath.

Nothing happened.

He gulped and looked anxiously down at the scrap of paper. Did he pronounce it wrong? Maybe this wasn't the complete spell? What did it even mean?

"Merlin please, wake up." He moaned, cupping the pale boy's face.

"I love you, you idiot. This, this isn't fair... you brought me back, I came back to save you and now you've left me here alone. I can't do it Merlin, I can't do it without you. You made me realise that feeling I felt in Camelot with you was anything but platonic and I was too dumb to realise it and now... and now we have no time left. You waited and I came and now you're gone. And I can't, I can't do it without you."

Tears were streaming now, and Arthur held the paper up again, and read it out forcefully, angrily, through blurry eyes.

" THEE KEP NOWTONLAY! "

He stood up, clenching his fists in frustration. This was supposed to work! This was supposed to-

" Arthur..."

This whole thing was stupid! Utter waste of time! Merlin was dead! He wasn't coming back-

"Arthur..."

Arthur stopped ranting, and turned towards the bed again. His knees buckled and he very nearly collapsed. He fumbled to his chair and sank down.

"Merlin? You're awake?"

Merlin was gazing at him under his long lashes. He looked like that woman from the movie they watched together on their first night reunited. What was it... sleeping sexy or something? Sleeping beauty?

Arthur fumbled for his hand and clutched it tightly. He let the tears free and Merlin just soothed him. He'd never seen Arthur cry like this, not even when Uther died.

"You're back."

"I'm back."

Arthur could feel joy spreading through him, like warmth. Merlin pulled him onto the bed beside him, and they cuddled up close.

"Oh, and Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Their lips found each other and Arthur stayed in that room for the whole night.