InsaneJournal

WHO: Morgana and Arthur. Morgause mentioned.
WHEN: Backdated to after her arrival, after Merlin comes to visit. During the evening.
WHERE: Morgause's flat and then Arthur and Gwen's.
WHAT: Reunited and feels so good. Lots of sappy, sad, heart-breaking, cutesy, touching, and sweet moments. Pt1/?: Arthur and Morgana feeling sorry for themselves and each other (more of Morgana feeling sorry for herself than Arthur feeling sorry for himself). They act like children (about seven) and get around to saying they missed each other.
Ratings: PG-13

When Guinevere fell asleep, it was to the sweet whispering sighs of Abigail resting on top of her, just below her heart. Arthur stayed on the end of the bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of Guinevere’s stomach as she breathed in steady sleep. He didn’t look for his shoes, or open or shut a drawer once he got off the bed. He crept out of the room as silently as a phantom and turned the front knob with excessive restraint, not wanting to disturb Mordred from where he slumbered on the sofa. He would have shaken the young boy awake, had it not been one of the first times Arthur could recall him staying asleep for any length of time.

Morgana’s message still echoed in his mind, the shrill, panicked urgency that her voice held as she rambled at him. And yet he could not move past the fact that she was alive. She was alive, and everything else was secondary. Morgause had Morgana now, he knew, which was where he was heading now. He would have gone earlier but he had been needed at home and as much as it tore at him, he knew Morgana wouldn’t appreciate him abandoning Gwen, the baby or Mordred in favor of going out to rescue her when there were plenty of other people capable.

It didn’t soften his own guilt.

He knocked on Morgause’s door, thinking on how odd it was to even be here, let alone being here for the second time that week.

“Morgana?”

Morgause had opened the door for him and had announced that she would leave them to speak. Morgana had quite the reunion with her sister. It had ended with Morgause swearing that she would find a way to fix this and with Morgana nodding, of course, accepting those words. She knew that Morgause would find a way; nevertheless, there still had this niggling feeling that it wouldn’t be as easy as it should have been to do so. That it shouldn’t be as easy as it should have been. Morgana couldn’t exactly place that feeling immediately. At first, she didn’t know why, but now she thought it might have been her talk with Death. It was the only that made sense in this entire mess that didn’t make any. From the sense of relief during her death, over Merlin’s arrival, to now Morgana recalled next to nothing. Except a strong sense of security and happiness and Death. The last one she wasn’t even certain wasn’t part of her own imagination; what she thought should have occurred: Death and Heaven.

Morgana was lost in her thoughts; unaware if Arthur and Morgause were speaking to each other, and sad to say, unconcerned if Arthur was left to just stand there. At least at first. Silence managed to creep through her haze and hearing it left her uncomfortable. She clenched her fist lightly on her lap to keep from fidgeting on Morgause’s couch. “Arthur?” She called out, her tone, high and reedy. She tried valiantly to keep it from shaking from uncertainty and frustration. Morgana hated being this laid out. Morgana couldn’t see a single thing, the world was shut away from her, yet she had never felt so exposed. The only time that had come even closest to this was arriving to Uther’s castle after her father’s death.

Exhaustion swept over Arthur in a crushing wave once Morgause finished explaining everything. He nodded, lost in thought until he realized he was going to be allowed to spend a few minutes alone with Morgana. Minutes Arthur wasn’t sure how to fill. Seconds ticked by filled with clinging silence until Morgana’s voice broke through it, galvanizing him into action.

Arthur sank down on Morgana’s right side and lifted her hand, squeezing it gently with both of his own.

“I’m still here,” he said, in way of apology.

She flinched slightly when he touched her, her heart beating faster. Her mind very vaguely contemplating the thought of running a way as well as seriously considering the idea of pulling within herself. Because she didn’t want him to see her like this. She didn’t want any of them to do so; however, the feeling was buried deep for the fact that she was so damn happy to see him. So very happy to have the chance to squeeze his hand, which she did. It occurred to her that this simple act wasn’t something that they had done all that often before Colligo, and even in this place they only held onto each other during a crisis. “I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.” The words came tumbling out before Morgana even thought about them; it was almost as if a part of her had been waiting to say it. This was a bit less odd for the two of them; they’d gotten better at admitting actual feelings for each other. Like love, protectiveness, and concern for the others well-being beyond the basic. Better was by no means good but it certainly was something.

While Morgana wished she’d better presented the words, so she would seem much less maudlin; she didn’t regret them. It felt right to say, even if she still didn’t really remember anything. Much less remembering that some point in time she had missed Arthur. Just now she was starting to recall that through it all, fighting the Toclafane, she’d wished that he’d been there. To have her back.

Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line when she flinched, nearly regretting the action until her hand tightened around his. She was shaken. Deeply. Whatever had happened, and Merlin had been quiet on the matter, nearly blessedly so, had been more traumatic than Arthur was used to dealing with.

He knew, of course he knew, he’d heard her say it, that she couldn’t see, but it was so very odd sitting beside her and not having her gaze trained on him like she could see past his skin deep into his heart and soul. It was unnerving.

But mostly it was sad.

“I would have come sooner.” There was no doubt he would have too. It had been more than enough to keep Gwen from flying to Morgana’s side the moment she realized the other woman was alive. It was harder to keep Mordred still.

Arthur wondered if he hadn’t managed another way to talk to Morgana without leaving. “I’m sorry.”

“You were busy.” Morgana’s tone was low and her smile bittersweet. None of it was against him. “Gwen and Merlin told me. I hear congratulations are in order.” Years of training managed to keep her chin from trembling – it also kept the regret, self-anger, and other sorrowful emotions out of her tone. Morgana was out of her element but she’d been able to keep her cool in such situations before. It was much, much more difficult now but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t trying. Attempting, rather desperately, to measure and keep control of every feeling and every word that came out of her. More so, because she knew she’d already let so much show.

It would take more than death to chastise her about her pride. Much more to erase Morgana’s sense of not wanting to be a burden. Throw in Arthur to the equation and Morgana would try her hardest to remain tight-lipped. He had enough to worry over and while she knew that no matter what she said wouldn’t have him worrying less about her, it didn’t need to increase. “I’m sure she’s as beautiful as her mother.” There was a faint, dry, hint of her traditional teasing tone. Words meant to be a compliment to both Gwen and Gail – and please be ignoring the slight hitch in Morgana’s breath at the nickname she wanted to use for her goddaughter but hadn’t had a chance to apply on the child yet – as well as an implied insult to Arthur. Heavily implied.

“What are you apologizing for Arthur?” It felt important to ask before telling him to stop it.

“Not being there.” It wasn’t his fault by a long shot. No one had told him Morgana would run out into a bloody massacre. She certainly hadn’t. Arthur let his forehead touch her temple for a brief second. She sounded so very wary and upset. Arthur hated it. He hated that she was being reduced to this and there wasn’t a damn thing to be done about it.

“But I’m very glad you’re back.”

“Arthur.” Morgana said on a breath, taking it in and letting it out rather quickly. “Stop being an idiot.” She knew what he was trying to do and she wouldn’t let him do it. The blame laid solely on her this time.

A tentative smile curved her lips, “So am I.”

Arthur rather adored that smile as little and hesitant as it was, it was real and it was there for him and he was taking it and pocketing it. The funny thing was, Arthur couldn’t recall ever being so damned pleased to see it, nor could he recall a moment when he honestly wished he could follow Morgana’s advice to the letter.

As with all rare occasions, this one required something to be given back.

“Don’t tell your sister this, but I may have cried.”

His confession didn’t have quite the effect that he had hoped as Morgana’s jaw clenched the same time her heart squeezed. However, she decided to feel sorry for herself and for how she hurt him later. Instead, Morgana let out a huff of a snort, raising a sharp brow that would have impressed even Gaius. “You may have cried?”

Her smile might have faded off but it wasn’t a wholly unexpected reaction, though he hadn’t necessarily meant it about her death. There was a very decent chance he had cried just that afternoon, just from her voice alone. Perhaps it was better she thought he only meant over her dying. It was slightly less embarrassing, if not maudlin of him.

“It possibly happened twice.”

“Oh, possibly?” Her tone had a very ‘uh-huh’ tinge to it and her smile did manage to become a bit more genuine. Baiting Arthur – whether with sharp barbs or almost gentle taunting – would always be a favorite pastime. “How nice that I rate your contemplation and your considering to be moved. Is it probable that you sniffled into a handkerchief as well?”

“I may have wiped snot into your hair, Morgana,” Arthur replied in a blithe tone. He most certainly didn’t do that at all. Hardly noticing the first time he was crying enough to stop himself or wipe his face until Merlin had finally come in to interrupt and the second time Morgana had been, not safe, but not in wiping distance either. And that second time there had been a gassy baby to attend to as well, which was it’s own brand of hilarity that Arthur wished Morgana would have gotten to see. Babies made the oddest faces when they were uncomfortable. His baby wasn’t an exception.

“How is that for moving sentiments?”

Morgana turned her head to where she assumed his face would be and gave him a Look, before her fingers turned slightly and pinched the skin where his thumb joined the rest of his fingers. “Acceptable.”

“Ow, you bloody harpy, see if I share any sort of sentiment with you again.” He brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked on the abused skin, loudly, just so she would know exactly what he was doing so allowing her to imagine his petulance in its entirety.

“You’ll love her.” And Abigail wouldn’t much care either way. For a baby who had been spending her entire life to date inside her mother and then practically glued back there once in the world, she was surprisingly easy to pass around without much complaint. The only complaints ever seeming to be over hunger, a trait Gwen was already blaming him for. Whatever that was supposed to imply. “I would have brought her with me had she not just fallen asleep.”

Morgana grinned. It worked. It was so simple and it managed to pull a positive reaction so easily. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Arthur’s reaction was familiar, Arthur was familiar, and she needed that right now. The smile dimmed slightly as she nodded, “I’m sure that I will.” She murmured softly, ignoring – for now – the pang that came from the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see Gail. Morgana didn’t know if it would even be safe to hold her. She was unsure of her actions, her movements, and had taken to simply sitting still. Something, thankfully, not completely uncustomary.

Arthur gaged Morgana’s expressions with careful attention The slight tightening of her stance and the way her smile faltered just ever so. And it was enough to know he needed to switch the topic, again, and fast.

“I can’t believe you pinched me.”

“You can never believe it when I pinch you.” She retorted. “You would think that you would come to expect it. You almost always deserve it. I certainly don’t do it half as much as I should.”

“Yes, but it actually hurt this time,” Arthur muttered. It did too. The sting was easing but the skin remained red. “And I didn’t even do anything for once.”

“I can hear you pouting.” Morgana grinned again, possibly a bit more gleeful than the situation warranted. Even in comparison to how full of glee Morgana tended to be whenever she made Arthur pout.

If anything, Morgana’s pronouncement only made his pout get poutier. He couldn’t even work up the proper spite to glare at her. Arthur all but wailed, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh, my God, Arthur.” Morgana said – disbelief, mild exasperation, and amusement all warring in her tone – as she rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to pinch you again? Keep whining and I will. You were being a smart-arse.” She sniffed superiorly in defense of her previous action.

Arthur grinned and reached out to pull on her hair, feeling about seven years old and just as annoying. It was reassuring, bafflingly so. Arthur never thought he’d be thrilled to have her threatening him, even in such a minor way. “If you insist. I suppose I should defer to your superior judgement on the matter.”

“Is that maturity that I’m actually managing to hear? It seems that people are right. Fatherhood does settle and bring certain men … well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it wisdom, in your case.” She shot him a tiny smirk, “But I do believe that this is the first time that you’ve deferred to my superior judgement on anything. Supposedly or otherwise.” Her tone was arch but there was an underlying gentleness to her words, a soft smile that curved her lips. “I am happy for you.” She added after a momentary, brief, pause.

“It’s made me tired.” But God, he wouldn’t change it. Perhaps the circumstances in which Abigail came into the world. The ones still affecting them now, but he wouldn’t give her up for anything and he had known that from the first moment he’d seen her. The first hug he got and the first time he held her. He was done. That was it. That was it.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he told her, finally caving into the need to do more than hold her hands and tugged her into his side, hugging her close and kissing her cheek. For all their fights and stupidity and anger, she was his sister. He only had one of those and he was a little lost for what to do without her.

“You like it.” Morgana grinned, “I can … I can hear it.” The words didn’t cause her smile to dim surprisingly. It was also an odd thing to say, because perceptive as Morgana was, even she hadn’t mastered the ability to decipher tone without the added help of sight just quite yet. Nevertheless, she knew Arthur, almost as well as she knew herself. He did like it. She might even go so far as to say that he loved it. Yes, it made him tired, yes there would be moments he whined for sleep but Abigail had already become such a part of Arthur. Morgana, as someone who knew him better than most if not best of all, could spot it. She didn’t have the heart to begrudge him this newness, this experience where he was learning how hard it would be yet enjoying it. She couldn’t begrudge him that by being bitter over the fact that she would love to see the look on his face this very moment. Morgana had meant it, utterly, she was happy for him.

Morgana’s brows quirked slightly and her fingers twitched in his hand, her eyes widening, startled by his actions but that didn’t stop her from going with them. It certainly didn’t stop her from leaning into him and taking comfort. She swallowed again, irritated and upset over her lack of sight. Yet … she was so very glad that she was here as well. “I know.” She said softly. However, as happy as she was to be there and as much as she had missed him a sense of pettiness kept her from admitting the words. It was selfish of her, yes, but a part of her hoped that somewhere that the one responsible of this knew that she refused to settle so easy. To accept whatever ridiculousness this – her lack of sight – was an accept everything as “honky dorey”. Then everything would be all better because she had accepted this punishment. Nevertheless, Morgana hoped that Arthur knew what she was feeling even though she refused to admit to it out loud.

Arthur rubbed Morgana’s arm in slow circles as she finally relaxed against him. She wasn’t doing half as well as she could be. There weren’t any ready apparent tells. Nothing that an outsider would immediately catch on to and be able to identify but Arthur could feel it, the subtle shift from teasing to worry and melancholy. He only wished they could have pushed aside the main problem for just a little while longer.

“We will find a way to make this easier for you.”

Morgana didn’t want to talk about it. That was there in her answer when she said: “Morgause has already been researching spells.”

“Good.” And that was all Arthur had to say on the matter. “Do you trust me?”

Yes. But the words that came out of her mouth were wary and cautious, “What are you planning?” Her head still remained upon his shoulder, however.

“I’m going to take you to my apartment. Abigail never sleeps more than a few minutes at a time, I don’t want her waking up Guinevere, not yet.” He wanted Morgana to meet her. In this little way, sight or no sight, he trusted Morgana to hold his daughter and not somehow drop her. Morgana would never allow it to happen.

Arthur might trust Morgana to hold Abigail; however, Morgana wasn’t anywhere as certain. She’d held babies before but that was rather far between. Visiting nobles tended to stay at home with or leave their children behind, newborns included. It was a strange request to ask the people of Camelot to hold their children. Not many seemed to think that the first Lady would want to do so. Which was quite alright because Morgana didn’t realize how much she might until one was placed in her arms. Those children, however, were at least a year old. A newborn was completely different territory.

Morgana chose to deliberately misunderstand. “You don’t have to baby-sit me Arthur. Morgause is here. If you need to go back, you can go. I understand.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile that threatened to split across his face. Her hesitation didn’t faze him. He had expected some kind of protest, some sort of of fake reasoning.

“You’re coming with me.” He paused. “Or I could bring her back with me.”

Either way, Morgana would be introduced and she would fall just as hard and fast as Arthur had. There wasn’t any doubt.

Morgana scowled at him, sitting back up and hoped that he could see that she wasn’t amused. This was all before she sighed and nodded. Sometimes he was almost as good as reading her as she was him. And she hated that. At times.

She almost told him to bring the child to her because she didn’t want another emotional upheaval should Mordred and Gwen awake. However, Morgana never knew when to be a coward. Even when it was for her own good, even when she was scared or upset. “Alright. Fine.” She answered him, frowning slightly, “I’ll go with you. I just … I just think it would be better, safer, if I don’t hold her.”

“You’re not paralyzed, Morgana,” Arthur pointed out, tone firm and stubborn. “and I’m not going to leave you alone with her. I’ll be right there.”

“No,” She snapped, her tone biting, “I’m just blind.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them, she had a flash feeling of thinking that her father would think them unworthy of her. She also knew that blind people were capable, both in this time and in Camelot. However, Morgana had never been very good at admitting when she was scared. It took a lot for her to open her mouth and to share such feelings with a person. And right now she was feeling just as stubborn as Arthur was acting.

“Yes.” Arthur touched her cheek and guided her face toward him. “I was worried you’d never say it, to be honest.”

He was never that perceptive, rarely did he manage to pinpoint where the trouble rested, or where the knot of fear was tied, but for Morgana he knew. He knew because he had been a knight long enough to see all injuries, blindness included and the way it could kill a man’s spirit. The crushing weight of not being perfect or as capable as they once were wore them down until they were nothing what they once were. Arthur dreaded it every time he went out into battle, knowing he might not die but come back a lesser person. He couldn’t begin to pretend he knew what Morgana felt, but the fear resonated.

“When has anything stopped you before?”

“I’ve said it.” Morgana countered, automatically … just to do so. However, uncertainty thinned her tone and caused the simple statement to sound almost like a question. Had she not said the words before? She had. She was sure of it. Just possibly not beyond stating what was wrong with her. To explain why she couldn’t make it back to her apartment on her own. She was blind. What did he want from her? She couldn’t be strong … she wanted to say that this was different. However, Morgana didn’t know if she believed that. She didn’t – she couldn’t make sense exactly of what she felt. Every emotion twisted into something else and for a moment Morgana felt as if she didn’t have the right answer. The right words to Arthur’s question; therefore, she solely nodded, licked her bottom lip, before sighing. “Fine. Alright.”

Arthur beamed, which, yes, Morgana couldn’t see but he did so, quite triumphant in his success. He grabbed Morgana by the hands as he stood, squeezing her wrists. Morgana needed this, he was sure. There was something so strange about holding Abigail even when she was fussing that managed to both stress him out and calm him down.

Something so small and fragile that needed care like she did, it changed how he thought about certain things. Including corners of tables and doorways. One day soon, he’d have to have Morgana or Merlin help him alter them so Abigail wouldn’t hurt herself unnecessarily. But that was a thought for much later.

“I do like to hear you admit that.”

“Admit what?” Her words still managed to be given with a raise of her eyebrow, though it wasn’t as sharp as it could have been as she calculated the steps from the couch to Morgause’s door and the steps in the hall. The sense of trepidation increased when it came to figuring out how to maneuver herself around Arthur’s apartment, not liking having to rely so much on him.

Once in his apartment, Arthur placed his hand at the small of Morgana’s back guiding her to the chair beside the sofa where Mordred still slumbered. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, which was fine. Mordred had been a quiet presence, ever alert, but polite in his home for long enough that he just accepted the boy’s actions for what they where.

“Sit down,” he murmured, not willing to guide her that much. He already knew she was unnerved. He certainly would be less than pleasant had the situation been reversed, trying to do much more on his own than was logical. “I’ll go get her.”

Morgana’s annoyance over his not answering her question, was only momentary and an attempt to hold onto any emotion aside this nervousness. She pursed her lips and attempted to steady herself as she waited.