There was no doubt he had fallen asleep. Arthur rolled on the hard concrete floor his neck aching, back suffering twinges and he was cold. He sat up feeling awful. In an attempt to make it better he rolled his shoulders, which made a spot just under his left shoulder blade start to ache painfully. He stretched his legs out, grimacing at the cramping pain in one foot.
Looking up he realised he was exactly the same place as he was last night, and it was not just a strange dream. He could look around now, properly. There were grubby windows running along the two sides of the building to his left and right, high up on the walls. Arthur surmised it was some kind of warehouse. From the right side, sunlight was streaming in through the windows, fighting its way through the streaks of grime on the glass. It was just enough to illuminate the room, so he got a good look round. They couldn't leave him in the dark now, which was he thought, nothing more than a trick to teach him a lesson. His very colourful vocabulary was obviously not appreciated. Merlin had looked shocked, but amused by the abuse Arthur had been hurling. Although Arthur guessed the youth was about the same age he was so that didn't seem surprising.
Yet, the others seemed to listen to him, and Merlin was the one that had drawn the designs and was presumably making them do whatever they were meant to do. Arthur couldn't quite work that out. He guessed the older man was really in charge, but Arthur really couldn't work out what they wanted. He wasn't exactly special but events didn't seem random.
He sat up and winced as he felt something jab into his leg. He looked at his jeans and winced realising there was a splinter of glass trapped in the material. He crossed his leg over in front of him, so he could reach the splinter and he spent a minute or so easing it out of the fabric, wrinkling his nose a little at the smell of alcohol. He pushed up the material and checked his skin for damage. There was a tiny graze but nothing more, he pulled his trouser leg down again and shifted so he was sitting cross-legged and carried on his examination.
His jeans had dried off overnight but as he wriggled his toes he realised his socks were still damp from the flood of alcohol when he had kicked the drinks cabinet. With nothing else to do Arthur pulled his damp baseball boots off and looked them over. They were frayed and threadbare; the once black material was now grey, and filthy from constant use. The soles had split months ago and the left one had a small hole on the ball of his foot. Arthur rummaged inside and pulled out the now very mushed cardboard that he had stuffed in it. It gave him some protection from the ground, and kept his feet a little warmer, not much but enough to make it tolerable. He did the same with his right shoe and pulled out clumps of damp card.
It had also stuck to his socks. He yanked them off and brushed them down as best as he could, then he wrung them out, shaking a few remaining drops loose onto the concrete floor. His feet were still damp and it would have been better waiting for everything to dry out but Arthur didn't particularly fancy that. It was too cold. Instead he pulled down the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and rubbed his feet down. It warmed them up a little bit as well. He didn't feel that cold, but the temperature in the large room was not entirely comfortable.
Giving his socks one last shake, he gave them a quick sniff, wincing at the strong smell of drink on them.
"Great, I smell like a wino," he muttered and huffed.
He pulled the socks back on, tearing the right one a little as he yanked, making the hole on the heel a fraction bigger. He pulled the material about a bit, but the damage had been done, he was just going to have to live with it. In actual fact he probably should have bought some new socks and boots months ago, but there was always something else that he had to spend the money on, and it just got put aside. He wasn't exactly going to buy something expensive but even so he didn't want to spend money if he didn't have to. It might not be something he needed to worry about now, but Arthur supposed that it depended on what these people wanted to do with him.
He looked at the baseball boots, checking them for any signs of loose glass. There were a couple of tiny shards that he found sticking to the fabric, but they were mostly fine, or as fine as they were ever going to get. Arthur slowly pulled them on again, fiddling about with the laces, the chains getting in the way as he tried to push the excess coils of metal to one side. Arthur yanked them again, just for the sake of it.
Last night they were talking about the odd drawings on the floor protecting him. Arthur had no idea from what, but they clearly wanted him in there, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered cuffing him. Arthur poked them next. He wasn't getting out of them, all he had succeeded in doing with his struggles was making his wrists sore, in places he had rubbed the skin raw and his hands hurt now, the pain shooting up his forearms, the muscles aching dully and adding to his discomfort. He was also becoming aware of the pressure on his bladder, it wouldn't be long before he was desperate to pee. He wondered if it might damage the drawing on the floor, or disappear the same way the plate had. Arthur felt a little too shy to find out. He looked up again. Directly in front of him were another panel of windows that looked to lead to another part of the building, so he guessed someone was probably keeping an eye on him.
They didn't seem very interested at the moment. No one had been in to see him since last night, and they didn't appear to be too impressed with him. Arthur shrugged and pulled the material of his hoodie about to check the state of that. There was no way to remove it, thanks to the handcuffs. He brushed it off a little, but it hadn't been too badly affected by the flood of booze. On giving it a tentative sniff he simply picked up the damp smell of the streets, nothing different to how it usually was after a night at work.
He checked the pocket again, the money was still safe, but the knife was gone. There was nothing else in any of his pockets. It wasn't safe to carry anything while he was out. He hadn't even had a chance to use the knife, not that he ever fancied doing so, it just sometimes acted as a good deterrent. He hadn't expected Leon last night to be a threat. His Wednesday night man had the same sort of look about him, although he was considerably older. Arthur was just expecting him to be civilised. It just went to tell him that appearances were deceiving. And he hadn't picked up any sort of threatening vibe, it was like Leon was just doing his job, although Arthur started to think that he hadn't been happy picking him up.
Arthur straightened himself up and he looked around. The view hadn't changed, himself and Merlin's artistry were the only things occupying the place. There was a door to his far left, at the back of the room, if he could free himself he could try and get out. His head snapped back round again as there was a heavy clanking sound from the other end and the metal door started to slide. It sounded like there were some serious locks on the door, Arthur glanced back at the other door and presumed that was probably well secured, keeping him in.
He stayed sat where he was, waiting to see what would happen. Arthur blinked as Gwaine stepped through the door, rolling it shut behind him. This man hadn't said much last night, while Arthur had yelled at them. Now he regarded Arthur almost dispassionately, looking him up and down. Arthur glared back, feeling very sulky, but he didn't want to drive away the only company he had straight away.
"Good night?" Gwaine asked him pleasantly, making sure he didn't drop the items tucked under his arm, as he checked the door was secure.
"Oh yeah, it's like a five star hotel in here," Arthur snapped. Gwaine smirked and walked to the edge of the circle, looking down at the designs. Then he hefted the sleeping bag he had rolled up under his arm and threw it across the gap. It hit Arthur as he flailed to catch it, landing in his lap. Arthur spread it out and glared at the man opposite him.
"And you didn't think to give me this last night?"
Gwaine smiled and shrugged. "Only went to buy it this morning."
Arthur eyed him with narrow-eyed suspicion. True, the sleeping bag felt new, and the label was still on it, but Arthur got the feeling this man just hadn't bothered to bring it down to him.
"Really? You're not that organised when it comes to kidnapping people are you?"
"It's not like we make a habit of it," Gwaine said. Arthur glared at him and lifted his arm.
"And yet, you seemed to remember the handcuffs, and drugs."
"You need to stay within the circle; I don't exactly think you are going to do that willingly."
"How long am I stuck here for?"
"Another day Merlin thinks," Gwaine said, he didn't think there was any harm in telling Arthur that. He had been told to be careful exactly what he said, and Morgana was monitoring the conversation from the other room. If he went too far she would let him know.
"I'm going have to get out sooner than that, I need to piss." Arthur deliberately spoke in the crudest way possible, it made Gwaine's eyes narrow for a fraction of a second. Arthur smirked.
"I'd advise you to moderate your language, otherwise the moment Uther gets hold of you he'll wash your mouth out with soap."
"Oh yeah, what's it got to do with him how I talk? He's not my fucking father!" Arthur snapped. Gwaine tensed a little but kept himself composed and distracted Arthur by throwing the bucket he had draped over one arm at him.
"There you go, you can't get out, and even if Merlin could let you, he's asleep, that spell takes a lot of energy and concentration to build up. I'm not going to wake him."
Arthur winced back a little as the bucket flew at him, he dodged it but it struck his shoulder and bounced onto the sleeping bag, before rolling off onto the floor just to his left. Arthur looked at it, standing it up almost by reflex, getting the hint of what Gwaine meant.
"You have got to be kidding me! I can't do it in a bucket!"
"Oh, come on, don't be such a princess. It's only until tomorrow."
"Only!" Arthur yelped and then swore at Gwaine colourfully, spewing out as many insults as he could get. Gwaine shut him up by hurling the blue carrier bag he had looped over his other arm at him. It struck Arthur in the face, knocking him back and silencing him temporarily.
"Enough of that, and for the record my name is Gwaine. You really do have the most appalling manners."
"Sorry if I don't know the correct etiquette for dealing with kidnappers! My finishing school training didn't deal with that!"
Gwaine laughed. "You're funny, you know that."
Arthur glowered. "Yeah, stand up comedy or having sex with strangers for money, it was a tough choice."
He pulled at the handles of the carrier bag, they had been tied together to stop the items from falling out. Arthur looked down at a bottle of water, a packet of croissants and two chocolate bars.
"Breakfast, don't throw it away in another hissy fit, it's all you're getting," Gwaine informed him. Arthur looked up at him.
"You can't keep me here."
"Actually we can," Gwaine said. "No one has reported you missing, and you can't get out. I'm sure Merlin will be kind enough to empty the bucket for you when he wakes up."
Arthur glared at him. Now he had the means his body was really demanding he do what was necessary. Gwaine watched him curiously. Arthur shuffled back, pulling the sleeping back over his lap.
"I'm not doing it while you're here!"
"Not shy are you?" Gwaine asked. Arthur felt his eyes widen and his cheeks started to flush. He clenched his jaw to stop it trembling. Over the years he had been put through some humiliating circumstances. This one probably couldn't rate as the worst, once it got into retrospect, but it was the one that was happening now, and his nerves felt very raw.
Gwaine watched his reaction and his eyes seemed to roll, drifting toward the windows above the metal door. He looked back to Arthur and shrugged.
"Okay, have it your way," Gwaine said, he turned and headed towards the door without a backward glance. Arthur watched him go and then looked up to the windows. It confirmed that they were watching him, even when they were not in the room, which meant they would still see it all.
"Is that it?" Arthur yelled, not quite sure what he was complaining about, but he decided he might as well add to it. "And I need some clean clothes!"
"Yeah, you probably do," Gwaine said.
"You fucking wanker!" Arthur bellowed. He probably could have carried that on but since Gwaine just opened the door, stepped through and locked it up again Arthur decided it was probably pointless. The man was so annoying, Arthur could feel his temper simmering, and tears prickled at the corner of his eyes. Gwaine didn't seem to care at all that he was captive and helpless. It seemed like a run of the mill thing for him. Arthur felt the stirring of panic in him again, his stomach churning, and a sick, heavy feeling was settled deep within in chest, just under his ribcage. Arthur looked around. He had no choice. Either he did it into the bucket or he pissed himself. It was hard for him to tell which one was more humiliating. At least if he had it in the bucket, he was in with a chance of throwing it at someone.
Arthur glanced up at the windows again. Moving slowly he turned around so he was facing the far wall, eyes moving to study the landscape, hoping that no one could see him. He didn't exactly like flaunting himself, why anyone would assume that was a little beyond him. As he put the bucket in position and unzipped his jeans Arthur could feel his face burning with embarrassment. But he did it, he got through it, trying not to think about it. He didn't distract himself with other thoughts, that didn't work, instead he just completely blanked his mind out. None of it was there, none of it was happening, he was just floating somewhere, and it was dark, and calm and peaceful.
When he was done he put the bucket on the edge of the circle and set up the sleeping bag as far away as possible and he lay down so he was facing away from the door. He pulled the carrier bag with him. The last thing he wanted to do was take anything from these people, but he was hungry. He hadn't had anything yesterday, only the whiskey that Sophia had given him and the vodka and coke in the car. At the end of the night he had hoped to get something but what he had been offered he didn't want to take. He looked at the bag and pulled out the water. If nothing else he had to drink, his throat felt dry and sore, probably from all the shouting. He took a few sips and pulled out one of the chocolate bars. It was eaten in three bites, but he stopped there. Arthur could have eaten it all but it seemed, for the moment, the only way to rebel. He threw the rest aside and curled, up, holding his belly as if that could reduce the hunger cramps and he pulled his knees up, and fixing his eyes on the far wall, blanked his mind as best he could.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there. It didn't seem like much time had passed, but he had dozed on the odd occasion. He didn't have a watch. The shadows seemed to have moved in the room as the sun shifted in the sky, but again, he didn't really know how to measure it. Instead he just waited as the door opened again, at some point later in the day.
"You could have woken me," Merlin's voice said.
"You were exhausted, I think I could cope with giving the little princess some food and a bucket."
"Gwaine, don't call him that," Merlin reproached. Gwaine didn't answer. Arthur kept his eyes firmly fixed on the wall, not daring to look over his shoulder at them. He could just pretend to be asleep, but that seemed pointless. Instead he just sat there, pointedly awake but refusing to acknowledge them. He heard the scuffing of footsteps coming closer and the sound of the bucket being picked up.
"I'll just empty this," Merlin said. He shuffled away.
"Where are you going?" Gwaine asked.
"There's a sluice drain just over here," Merlin said and then that was followed by the sound of flowing liquid. Then the footsteps came back.
"Why is there a drain there?" Gwaine asked.
"For when they washed the floor down, it used to be an abattoir."
Arthur couldn't help his snort of laughter. "Oh, that is priceless. Make yourselves look like complete homicidal maniacs why don't you!"
"We're not," Merlin said, stepping closer and Arthur heard the bucket being put down. "You haven't had anything to eat."
"I had a chocolate bar."
"That's all you've had since yesterday," Merlin reasoned.
"Actually since the day before," Arthur informed him. "I don't want anything from you!"
"Except a sleeping bag," Merlin said gently. Arthur riled. He couldn't help it. It wasn't even said with any sort of edge. Merlin was just trying to talk to him, but Arthur couldn't even deal with that. He shifted on the floor, yanking at the sleeping bag to drag it out from under his body. As he pulled he heard the sound of ripping, but he didn't care, he yanked it clear of his body, so he was again lying on the concrete and he threw the sleeping bag over his shoulder, in Merlin's general direction.
"You know what, just keep it. I don't want damn anything. Next time I'll just piss on your bloody stupid scrawls!"
There was a pause, he heard Gwaine's sharp intake of breath. Merlin however said nothing for a moment. When he did, he sounded embarrassed.
"Erm, I didn't quite mean that… for you to… I mean, I didn't mean," Merlin stammered and then stopped. Arthur heard the sounds of tidying up behind him, the scrape of material and the rustle of the carrier bag.
"You need to have more to eat, we could get a pizza?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Maybe a burger?" Merlin offered.
"I am not hungry!" Arthur said, defying the sound of his stomach rumbling.
"You must be, look, at least have a bit more from what Gwaine brought." Merlin started rummaging in the bag, and then he looked up. "Gwaine, is this all you brought?"
"Yeah, it was the first thing I picked up."
"Croissants and chocolate?" Merlin snapped. "He needs something better than that.
Arthur slowly rolled his shoulder, turning so he could look at them. Merlin had his back to him, concentrating on Gwaine, who was looking at Merlin. Arthur propped himself up on his elbow and watched, thoughts slowly occurring to him. Merlin was important, if he could get hold of him, maybe he could make them let him go, get some answers.
"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled.
The youth spun his eyes widening as Arthur jumped up and grabbed hold of him. He grabbed Merlin's arm, hoping to pull him down onto the floor and pin him. Arthur looped up a length of chain, as he dragged Merlin down onto his knees he tried to get it around Merlin's neck. Merlin's face was filled with surprise, and shock and Arthur was close enough to see the reaction. Merlin's blue eyes suddenly changed colour, they were gold. For a moment they were gold. Arthur was too close to allow himself to be convinced otherwise.
Arthur yelped at the bolt of pain that ran through his shoulder. He let go of Merlin, who staggered up and away from him. Arthur sat on the floor gasping for breath as he cradled his right arm. Shockwaves of pain ran up and down, he couldn't even move it, and his fingers were tingling painfully, pins and needles driving along his skin.
"Merlin!"
They both looked at Gwaine who had pulled a gun. He moved around the circle so he could aim at Arthur without Merlin getting in the way. Not that Arthur could reach Merlin now. He was stood on the design, out of ranges. Lights were flashing around the drawings, where Merlin now stood. Merlin stared at Arthur, looking shocked.
"Merlin! Are you all right?"
The youth seemed to shake himself out of his daze and he glanced at Gwaine.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, there's no need for that!"
He then turned his attention back to Arthur and he stepped forward.
"Merlin, don't you dare!" Gwaine snapped. He raised the gun, Arthur flinched, although it probably wasn't lethal, Arthur didn't want to be hit by whatever it might shoot.
"Gwaine, I hurt him. I didn't mean to, I just want to check he's okay."
"No, Merlin!" Gwaine said, almost pacing up and down. Arthur sat cradling his arm, fear mounting into panic. One glance at Gwaine made him look down at the floor.
"I need to make sure he's all right," Merlin said.
"No you don't. He looks all right to me, just leave him. Merlin, step away now."
"We're supposed to be looking after him."
Gwaine shook his head. "My job is to look after you, simple as that. Now step away from him. He's conscious and he'll survive it, Merlin, leave him."
Arthur glanced up. Merlin was looking at him, his distress evident. He turned to glance at Gwaine, who waved Merlin over towards him with a sharp gesture. Looking a little reluctant Merlin backed up. He bit down on his lower lip and hesitated on the far edge of the circle.
"Are you all right? I didn't quite mean to do that," Merlin said. "You just took me by surprise."
"Shut up, Merlin," Gwaine said.
"I don't think he was really going to hurt me," Merlin said. "We can't leave him."
"Yes, we can, he's got food, water and something to sleep on. He just tried to attack you, you're my responsibility, so I deal with you first."
"I'm fine," Merlin protested as he was dragged away.
"You're shaking," Gwaine protested.
So am I, Arthur thought to himself. He swallowed heavily, keeping his lower jaw as steady as possible. Gritting his teeth he allowed the pain to shoot around his mouth, he focussed on that, while Gwaine took Merlin out of the room. Arthur hadn't wanted to hurt him, he just wanted out of this. With his good hand he pulled the neatly folded sleeping bag towards him, pressing his face into it, taking several deep breaths before he spread it out again. It took longer, his right arm throbbing with pain. Arthur didn't even know what Merlin had done to him.
Very slowly Arthur lay down and sighed. He guessed he really was not destined to make any friends this morning.