Merlin: The Return Of The Once And Future King. (BBC MERLIN)

-9-

Hours had passed. It turned out that everyone in the team was busy recovering and doing whatever they declared was important after the attack they had experienced in the forest. Clarke told Merlin that his meeting with the team would have to wait until the morning. She didn't even seem interested in what Merlin was wanting to discuss with everyone. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she denied any claim that she was upset. Merlin knew that it was Chloe she was mourning for. It was quickly Merlin realised that the R.T.I weren't just a group of agents all dedicated to the same task, they were family.
The vision of Chloe dying replayed over and over in his head. If he had of gotten there quicker, he could have saved Chloe from being shot. Now she was dead. And he felt partly to blame.

Arthur hadn't raced after Merlin. Merlin thought that Arthur would eventually make his way to Merlin a few hours later, but time had passed and Arthur had certainly not come to his room. Maybe Arthur needed space and time. After all, it was Merlin who walked out on Arthur.
Overwhelming guilt still played on Merlin's mind. The decisions he had been making were crap. Why couldn't he just man up and face Arthur? Why couldn't he be a friend to Arthur, offer his condolences and tell him everything was going to be okay. But that was just it. Everything wasn't going to be okay. And Merlin couldn't bare to lie to Arthur. It was best avoiding him for the little time left he could get away with.

Hours had continued to pass. Merlin skipped dinner. He guessed that not many would show up for it, they'd all be grieving in their own way, trying to process the death of the their friend and co-worker, Chloe. Merlin wasn't hungry anyway. He didn't know Chloe very well, yet it still pained him to think of her death.
Instead, he lay on top of his covers in this foreign bed. In his thoughts. The last thing he should really be doing.
It was driving him mad, his loss of magic. It felt like someone had removed his dominant right arm and told him to write with his foot. He was so attached to his magic. He knew, it had to return eventually. Nothing was ever powerful enough to take away Merlins magic forever, Magic was sewn into Merlin's very being. Without it, he was nothing. He couldn't bare to think of the long, unanswered and agonising wait for his powers to return.
Merlin couldn't sleep. He wasn't in the mood to do anything really. After what felt like forever trying to motivate himself, he finally gave in and decided to go for a walk.

R.T.I was gigantic. It was like a labyrinth, no matter where Merlin turned it seemed as if he were discovering more corridors and room's that he hadn't known existed before.
There where no signs or maps about the place to help him coordinate where to go, but then again, it wasn't a public tourist attraction. The people here knew where they were going, it seemed like the only new people here where Merlin and Arthur. The only signs Merlin could find where signs placed upon random doors, such as 'Room E11.'
Merlin trailed his fingers across the walls, curious as to where the corridors were going to take him next. Considering it was 1am, there where no people at all to be seen. However, this still made Merlin wonder, surely Clarke would have security guards? Although, there where cameras placed at every corner of the place to record everything, but it still made Merlin curious. Clarke had placed him under strict instructions, not to wonder the corridors under any circumstance. So why, was there no one out here chasing him back to his room?
Merlin felt that the answer was right there. Because, his mind answered for him, She's watching me through the CCTV, curious as to where I'm going and what I'm doing. Even though he didn't know Clarke, he felt that he could read her well enough to know that she was smart enough to wait and see what Merlin's plan was before intervening and putting him back into his room. It was a wild guess, sure, but Merlin felt pretty sure that he was right.
He tried to ignore the cameras. The feeling was similar to walking past paintings and feeling like the eyes were watching you.
Finally, he came across a corridor that pored interest into him.
On a sign, (I know, rare, considering this place wasn't a fan of signs apparently.) was written,