"I think you'll be glad to hear, I've made a breakthrough!"

Merlin sat up in his bed, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Really?"

It had been weeks since Hunith had been able to bring any new information to the table about Balinor. She had found his birth records and confirmed that he belonged to a muslim family of whom they had not recovered any further trace, but he disappeared off the record before turning up in the UK. After he had left Ealdor and gone back, there was little information to come by.

"Yes. I've come into contact with this woman doing a study, and she says his name has come up in a file. She said she would have a look through it later today and send me the information."

"That's great! You'll forward it to me, yeah?"

"Of course."

He spent the rest of the day in an unusually good mood. Not even Arthur being his grumpy but annoyingly beautiful self could get him down.

Later that afternoon, he was sitting on a bench at the edge of the university campus, casually talking to Gwaine. Amazingly, the two had become quite good friends after that somewhat awkward introduction at the rugby game. As he might have predicted, Gwaine reacted to the good news with a cheer and a slap on Merlin's back that nearly knocked the air out of him.

"That's great, man! So excited for you."

"Thanks," he grinned, "It's so surreal. Just the thought that I might actually have a dad out there, you know? And if they find him, I might get to meet him. I wouldn't say it's my biggest dream since forever or anything, I mean , my mum was more than good enough on her own, but, you know, anyone who grows up without a father kind of wants to meet him."

"I know," said Gwaine, in a tone that hinted that his might be yet another broken home. Before Merlin got around to asking him about it, though, he nudged Merlin's side and said, "Shame, though. I thought when you arrived all beaming like that that you might have made some progress with your massive crush on Arthur."

Merlin's jaw dropped for a moment, and he hastily scanned the area, praying not to see anyone who knew him. He was in luck, but who knew about Arthur's friends - being rich, handsome and good at sports, it seemed there was no-one who didn't know Arthur Pendragon.

"For christ's sake be discreet," Merlin pleaded.

"All right, all right." His alarm seemed to amuse Gwaine. "Still no change, then?"

"If anything, it's taken a turn for the worse. I think he suspects," Merlin confided.

"How so?"

"Well, he seems to be angry with me all the freaking time. I mean, he's always said I was annoying, but it's getting a bit ridiculous. And he used to put me in a headlock or slap my back and stuff all the time, now he shies away from anything that could resemble physical contact. Why would he do that if he doesn't suspect that I fancy him?"

Gwaine laughed.

"So you're worried because he's not physically abusing you?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, yes. Well, it could mean he suspects you fancying him, it could also mean that he famcies you."

Now it was Merlin's turn to erupt in laughter.

"Hah! Yeah, that's not it. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't swing that way."

"Maybe." Gwaine leaned back, flipping his head so that his fringe fell aside. This gesture was far from random; Merlin could see his friend's eyes survey a couple of pretty fit looking girls who were walking past, giggling.

"But you have to remember, he's been raised by Uther Pendragon. That guy is pretty conservative, to put it mildly. So if Arthur were gay, or had, well, leanings toward something or other, then I don't think he'd have an easy time coming to terms with that."

Merlin frowned.

"Really? I dunno, he seems pretty open-minded to me. I mean, he's never given you any grief, has he?"

"No, but there's a difference, isn't there. I think as long as he can convince himself he's straight, then he's got no problem with me wanting to shag anything that moves."

That comment made Merlin chuckle.

"Now I'm a little less flattered by the fact that you came on to me," he joked.

"Oh, by all means, don't be - I'd do you at least twice."

"…Right. This conversation is officially a little bit weird now."

"Aye, sorry. Change of topic?"

"Yes, please."

Somehow the change in topic lead the conversation out on a strange road, where Gwaine somehow ended up persuading Merlin to come with him and the rugby lads to this obscure pub at the other end of town where he had heard a rumour the pints were cheap and exquisite. This plan did not work out exactly as planned, though. After everyone had given up and gone in different directions, Merlin was stuck at a desolate bus stop with Arthur, his shoes soggy and his mood dampened.

"Why the hell did you come along for this, anyway?" Arthur asked, displeased.

Believe me, had I known you were going…

"Gwaine made it sound like a brilliant idea."

"Yeah, well, if you knew Gwaine as well as I do, you'd know never to listen to a word that man says. About anything. Ever."

Merlin was inclined to agree - Gwaine was, after all, the one who claimed this sour faced, grumpy oaf might have a crush on him, something which had never seen more unlikely. However, agreeing with Arthur about anything was not something he wanted to do at the moment, being cold and tired and generally as annoyed with his flatmate as his flatmate was with him. He drew his breath to utter some form of sarcastic comeback, but was interrupted as his phone went off.

"What?" Arthur exclaimed in outrage, "How do you have reception out here? I don't have a single bar on my phone!"

Merlin ignored Arthur's moaning, because the name displayed on his phone was 'Mum'. Hunith had news. She most have spoken to her contact, gotten news. His heart perked up and his mood was immediately elevated. He accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear, stepping a few feet away from the bus stop for privacy.

"Mum?"

"Hi, Merlin."

She sounded calm.

"Do you have news?"

"I - "

There was a pause. The notion that news did not equal good news suddenly occurred to Merlin.

"What is it?" he asked, bracing himself.

"Balinor is dead."

His heart sank. It was as if he was a balloon and someone had just stuck a pin into him, right into his gut. He wondered how he stayed on his feet. He wondered how he was even able to speak, but speak he did.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I - Well, I'm sad, of course. I'm shaken, but - but honey, are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't - Do you need me to come home?"

"No. No, I can manage. I mean, unless you feel you need to?"

"I think I'll be fine," Merlin said. His mouth was moving automatically now, and there was no emotion in his voice. "There's only a few weeks left of term, anyway - I'll be home then."

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. Merlin, honey - you're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I mean, I didn't know him, did I. I - I'll hold up until then."

"If you say so." Hunith did not sound entirely convinced.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"How - how did it happen? Do we know?"

There was a silence. Merlin could imagine his mother carefully deciding what to say next.

"I can send you the email I got if you'd like," he said, "But it's quite heavy. I'm not sure it'd be good for you."

"That's nonsense, mum. Send it."

"Really, I - "

"Mum, I want to know."

The last statement came out harsher than he had intended. From the bus stop, Arthur's head turned to see why Merlin had shouted.

"As you wish."

"Merlin!" Arthur called. The bus had arrived, and the driver looked very irritated to have to wait.

"I've gotta go, mum."

"Alright, love. But honey, if you need to talk - "

"I know, mum. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

"Bye."

He spent the bus ride home looking out of the window. He could see in his peripheral vision that Arthur had his eyes on him, but didn't say anything. If he said something, he was afraid he would break down. All he wanted was just to be home, in his room, safe and alone, where he could cry as much as he needed to.

"Merlin, are you okay?"

Desperately he shook his head and waved a hand, signalling that the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Arthur seemed to accept that, leaning back in his seat and saying nothing for the rest of the trip, but watching him with apprehension.

It made it worse, Merlin theorised, to have Arthur there. Because it wasn't true that he didn't want to talk about it, he wanted and needed to talk about it, to be comforted by someone he was close to. And he so wanted to be close to Arthur, for him to be that person, but he wasn't, and couldn't be. He didn't know where he had Arthur, and right now, baring his feelings to him about anything, however unrelated to whatever was or wasn't going on between them, seemed a feat he could not perform.

He felt like such a fool. To have let himself hope like that, that he would have a father - how could he have believed that that would happen? With his damned luck, it was never meant to be that easy, that normal. Hardly anyone he knew had two parents present in their lives, so why should he get that privilege? And why did it hurt so much to hear of the death of a man he had never met, when he didn't know how, or when, or why… He was an idiot, a bloody great fool, to let himself crash into a mess like that.

He held it together, and made it almost to the sanctuary of his room where he could bury his face in his pillow. He would have gotten there, but Arthur didn't let him.

"Merlin," he said. His voice sounded almost stern now, demanding to know what was upsetting him. Merlin wanted to tell him to fuck off. He didn't answer, but he made the mistake of stopping when his name was spoken. Then he felt Arthur's hand on his arm, and he couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew it, he was sobbing into Arthur's shoulder, pressed close to him, Arthur's hand gently stroking his back, arthur's voice in his ear whispering, "Shh."

And he loved him in that moment, and he hated him, because it hurt to need him that much. But right then, the loss hurt more, even if he'd only lost something he had never had.