Merlin felt and saw, and heard and dreamed those dreams. He recalled them now, as she did, and he felt the horror of pre-knowledge, of past knowledge given such new weight. The pain of losses, and horrors, almost unconscionable, and his heart broke for her. She must be aided, whatever the cost, and so he watched, the night whole, and in the morning, he found his way to the arboretum once more, where he dined on a simple snack much like the one left in her rooms. Tea, crumpets, and perhaps an addition of a few cheeses, not quite like he remembered them, but close enough.

Today, of all days, he wore not a Federation civilian outfit. Instead, his robes hung around him. Robes of fur and woven wool, hand-made and hand earned, wrapped around him, and leather boots, double thick, held his feet. His hood fell over his face as he sipped tea, there in the arboretum, and stared off into space.

And if perchance, there was a small bluebird that occasionally came over to sing near him, well, that was unlikely to have anything to do with him, yes?

Merlin smiled, then, and nodded gravely to the bird. He had seen the night through, and he had found himself rising to the challenge. He hoped he would not fail this woman of merit and honor so dear,

She was worth not failing.