Nothing you recognise belongs to me. A little thing that belongs to the aftermath of my "Chosen" Au. Part one of three in this episode.

"Here. His name is Carrot."

It took a couple of moments for Lancelot to pull himself out of half slumber, lift his head off the stone wall that he had been resting against, and focus on the object dangling in front of him. The little stuffed zebra held in the small boy's hand was grimy, but the tag protruding from its belly identified itself as having being once part of a child's Mc Donalds Happy meal.

Happy meal toys, mad men and criminals, he thought dimly, letting the small boy place the little stuffed zebra in his lap. What strange things to escape the apocalypse.

"You helped get me out of the dark place, so I got something for you." The child eyed the the toy in his hand and shoved the hand that wasn't encased in a cast into the pockets of what had to be at least third or fourth hand me down jeans. "Like a reward or a thank-you. So now we're even." Blue eyes far older than their years narrowed, and Lancelot almost laughed. Instead he studied the offering.

"Alright." He turned the toy over in his hand. It looked back at him with wonky orange plastic eyes. The stomach of the stuffed animal was squashed from what had obviously been small fingers holding it too tight and the legs were misshapen. It looked vaguely familiar from one of the films he had watched while doped out of his mind with his ex girlfriend curled up against him and his so-called friends passed out on the floor, but the memory of them hurt to much to linger upon, and so he turned his attention to the boy.

"It's Lucan isn't it?" He said quietly to the small blonde boy infront of him. I remember you from that hell hole I helped drag you and Guinevere out of didn't seem to be appropriate, so he settled for "How are you getting along?"

"I'm ok." Lucan's voice was matter of fact, but his eyes were curious. "You got shot by one of the Saxons . Dagonet told me. He blew up Thomas in the big fight."

Right then, from bad to worse. Where the hell was Bors or the handbook for dealing with really awkward situations involving kids?

"Thomas was..." Lancelot paused, trying to think of the right words.

"He was a right evil bastard and the tosser killed people." Lucan squared his small shoulders. "That's what Jennie says, but excuse her French."

Lancelot tried and failed to work out how that litany of woe could possibly fit into what he remembered from long ago French classes, but was spared the effort by the arrival of an extremely flustered woman. Her dark red hair was half escaping its ponytail and her cheeks were flushed, but the expression of love and relief that lit up her tired brown eyes hit him harder than any of Saxon's bombs. She might have been perhaps in her late twenties but exhaustion made it hard to tell.

"Lucan?" Walking over quickly she picked up the young boy, hugged him, put him down and shoved her hands in her pockets as though to prevent herself from strangling him. "Do you remember what we talked about when it comes to leaving the camp?"

Lancelot suppressed a smile as the small blond boy looked up at the pretty red-head with an innocence that wasn't at all convincing.

"Don't do it unless you have to," the eight year old said seriously. "I had to give something to Mr Lancelot though, so that makes it alright."

The woman looked confused, and Lancelot held up the toy in explanation, trying not to laugh when she not so subtly rolled her eyes.

"Brilliant," she muttered, barely acknowledging him. Crouching down she placed her hands on Lucan's shoulders. "An amendment to that rule. Even if you have to do something then tell me or someone else first, ok?"

"Ok." The boy glanced at Lancelot with a why do women fuss so much? look, and the Samartian had to bite down a smile so as not to offend the woman with him.

Getting to his feet, he winced inwardly as she took a step back. His barely healed leg cried out in protest when he tried to put his weight on it, but he shoved back the pain and tried to smile. "Lucan just came to say hello. I'm sorry, I didn't realise he wasn't supposed to be here."

"No... Um, I'm sorry we didn't mean to intrude." Her brown eyes were wide, and she took Lucan's arm with a hand that was not quite steady. Fear perhaps made her hasty - certainly she was intimidated, and Lancelot felt himself wishing that his brother wasn't out on a scouting mission. Arthur already had the love and respect of the camp at Hadrain's wall. So far he had been most famous for almost bleeding out on it.

"So do you like Jenny or not?" Lucan asked, obviously bored with the impasse. "Because if you do then you'd better get a move on. David is much better at talking to her than you are, and he's much better looking. And he lives in the room next door." The boy narrowed his eyes at Lancelot appraisingly. "Kevin, he's the bloke who lives down the hall fancies her as well, because I've seen him looking at her bum when she locks the door. You're taller than him though, but you saved her life like you saved me so she might kiss you if you ask her."

"Lucan, that's..." The pretty woman who was presumably called Jenny flushed crimson and feeling sorry for someone else rather than himself for the moment Lancelot smiled at her.

"I think that it might be best if we started again with the introductions." Holding out his hand the woman took it and gave a quick, polite squeeze. "I'm Lancelot, and you are?"

"Jennifer. Jenny," she amended. Lucan took that opportunity to sidle off towards the barracks, but catching him by the collar, she gave him a little shake. "No running off."

Lucan gave a smile that Lancelot recognised as being wholly insincere from knowledge of once being Lucan's age and inwardly made a note to himself to keep an eye on the boy. Watching Lucan race towards a group of children who greeted him gleefully, Lancelot felt his heart sink and wondered why he even cared what a load of kids he didn't know got up to.

"He's a good boy really." Jennifer, no Jenny, he corrected himself watched the boy go with an unreadable expression on her face. Turning her gaze towards him she gave Lancelot a sad smile.

"He's just a bit impulsive. You and Dagonet are hero figures to Lucan."

Dagonet was a hero, Lancelot thought with a pang of regret. He'd almost died to save the people at Hadrian's Wall. Glancing at the woman beside him he tried not to notice the gold flecks in her brown eyes and the quiet faith in her expression when she met his gaze.

"I'm not a hero." The words were supposed to be cruel and defiant, and Lancelot almost winced at how pathetic and unsure they sounded when he spoke them aloud.

Jennifer shrugged and narrowed her dark eyes, studying him as though he were a species of animal that she had never seen before.

"You saved Lucan." she said decisively after a moment. "You fought even though you were wounded when Saxon attacked. You might be a self pitying idiot but that doesn't mean that Lucan and I don't owe you. I'm cooking you dinner; tonight at eight. You don't have to dress up but if you could drag a comb through the mess that is your hair I'd consider it a favour."

Lancelot blinked, torn between outrage and amusement.

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll break the heart of an orphaned little boy," she retorted. "Do you really want me to make a complaint to your brother?" Turning, she gave him a sunny smile, and Lancelot couldn't help but grin. One meal... What harm could it do?