The Heat.

'It's this left,' Merlin instructed, following the lines of the map on his phone. Colours. Too many of them for a normal street. Looking up he saw them drift and waft outwards from the turning they were supposed to take to reach his new road. 'Don't stop.'

Gwaine shot him a questioning look but when they passed the street's mouth he realised, and Merlin had his fear confirmed. Vans and reporters waited in front of the house, his ground floor flat targeted. Neighbours looked on with curiosity, some seemed to exchange heated words with the journalists. They waited for him.

'They might not be here for you,' Gwaine suggested as a park, grass and trees filled their view. 'How would they even know where you live?'

He didn't want to answer. He called Kilgharrah and willed the DCS, the ex-dragon, to hear. To advise.

Kilgharrah picked up instantly. 'Merlin, the press know.'

'I guessed that much.'

'Cenred gave a statement late yesterday afternoon,' Kilgharrah explained, his calm voice acting as some comfort to Merlin's nerves. They'd been rubbed raw with the lack of progress in Operation Nova, with his fear of the witchfinder. His slipping grip on most relationships besides Mordred. Something which still left him buzzing with adrenaline and conflictions.

'Aredian,' he huffed.

'Most likely.'

'How did he find out?'

'That hospital has thousands of employees, and Aredian made you his target. If anything I'm surprised it took him this long to learn about it.'

'Has DC Maclain heard?'

'I haven't seen her. She was on watch with Arthur last night,' Kilgharrah paused. Merlin could practically hear him thinking. 'DS Pendragon has been taking a lot of shifts lately. By my calculations he hasn't had a single evening free this whole week.'

As if Merlin hadn't noticed. The distance was a coping mechanism for Arthur, or that's what he assumed. 'We have other things to worry about.'

'Two sides of the same coin, Merlin.'

'Yeah, well you preached that last time and he got run through, I killed myself and everyone else died in various unpleasant ways,' he snapped. Gwaine gave him an alarmed look. Merlin closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

'I'm heading to the Yard right now, just remain calm, Merlin. There's enough time to sort out this mess.'

'Right.' He ended the call.

'Leaving all your stuff in the car might be dangerous,' Gwaine said into the silence which followed. 'Thieves abound and all.'

Merlin let his head fall against the seat's rest, watching the streaks and trails of lives pass them by. 'I have magic, remember?'

.

'You're all crazy. I can't believe this.' DC Maclain's voice carried over to Merlin and Gwaine as they stepped out of the lift.

'Merlin. We had to,' Gwen said the second she saw him approach. He only bothered taking a few steps towards them. DC Maclain glared at him. A cutting stare. A judging one. She still had Arthur's colours, traces on her neck and cheeks, her thin lips. She'd clung to the night she'd spent with him, believing Arthur belonged with her. Merlin partly suspected witchcraft. Wouldn't be the first time. Probably Morgana. It still made his heart ache.

Gwaine continued on to the rest of them, leaving Merlin there to face down the "mess".

They'd told her.

'This is bullshit,' Maclain said, hands on hips with a hysterical smile. 'Where's your pointy hat, Merlin? How about a wand? I'm reporting all of you as mentally unstable. Enjoy the asylum.'

'It's true,' he said, words sluggish yet piercing on his tongue. The others stared at him with their usual worry, all frozen as they watched the scene unfold. Arthur looked traumatised, lips parted and eyes wide, ready to step in at any moment. 'I'm a warlock. Wizard or whatever.'

She scoffed and started marching toward him, or rather the exit behind him. 'I'm leaving.'

His eyes met with Arthur's. That bright blue sky was grey, raining. He'd gone behind Merlin's back. He'd slept with her. Aredian threatened him. Morgana tried to kill him. Prosecuted for magic in his last life and this one, hiding, surviving, fighting. The poison, the anger, which had only seeped through cracks now broke free. Flooded his veins.

He pushed his hand out, palm aimed at her. Released.

Flames rippled into the air, encasing his fingers and coating his skin. Maclain froze. He saw the horror on Arthur's face. The magic surged through his arm, pulsing out from his chest and travelling through his shoulder. The fire fanned outwards. It hissed and flared out into a roar, shaping claws, teeth, a lion landing on the floor. Tendons shifted beneath smooth muscle and fur of flames twisted with smoke. A low growl rumbled through the air as it loped around her. It bared it's black and burning teeth, circling. Hunting. It would have been beautiful if not fuelled by his anger. Arm lowered he noticed its overwhelming size. Almost the same height as her, and on all fours. Jaw level with her neck.

Merlin felt the creature's smoky breaths like his own. 'Believe me now?'

'Merlin, that's enough,' Gwaine called to him, keeping his distance. Maclain's eyes were glassy. Trembling, she turned with the beast. Watched it with terror. Merlin felt her fear too. Felt it from the rest of them. Arthur said nothing, eyes riveted upon the creature as it stalked Maclain. His head throbbed. The lion launched at her, the roar deafening as it twined with her scream.

Ash and smoke blew against her. It covered her and the ground, the fire and life stripped just as the creature's claw had clipped the skin of her throat. One bead of blood. She collapsed onto her knees.

Gwaine rushed over to Merlin, but it still moved in his veins. The power. The poison. He turned, body thrown into a million molecules before he stepped onto the tiles of the bathroom floor.

A yell tore out of his throat. He opened eyes to see his fist embedded in the mirror. A hollow ache extended out from the knuckles caged by shards, a few dropping to the porcelain sink with light clinks. Merlin drew it back slowly. It stung, decorated with jagged pieces of the mirror which reflected blood beginning to leave the wounds. The pieces felt cold in his skin.

The door banged open. 'Merlin.'

Arthur's hand carefully wrapped around his wrist, index finger resting against is palm as he examined the injury. Merlin was aware of the movement, the touch, but he couldn't look away from the fractured image. His fractured image. His eyes. The pupils still encircled by golden rings, the precious metal still shifting and glowing with heat.

'Merlin,' Arthur said again. 'We need to go to a hospital.'

'No,' Merlin breathed, the anger and poison finally draining away. He pulled his hand back. Piece by piece he removed the shards, dropping them into the sink where the dripping tap cleaned away some of the blood staining their sharp edges.

'You didn't have to do that.'

He took in a sharp breath when he tugged out a piece buried deep between his knuckles. 'What? Maclain or the mirror?'

'Both.'

'Anger got the better of me, what can I say?' Merlin said, trying not to see Arthur's disjointed figure in the fissured mirror. 'First Morgana, now Aredian. Their goal of tearing me down is fast approaching.'

'We can't be sure it was him or Morgana.'

'That's not the fucking point, Arthur,' he said. A pained expression flashed across the ex-King's face. Regret panged in his chest. The ex-King who was destroying him more than Aredian or Morgana ever could. 'Doesn't matter. They think they can get away with murder if I'm gone and I'm tired of it.'

'They will, if you're gone. Morgana managed just fine with you still here too,' Arthur reminded him. The last mirror fragment clinked into the sink. His knuckles, fingers, were scratched and cut. Blood welled in the wounds.

Arthur's words hurt more. 'It's always my responsibility, isn't it? Protect the innocent, vanquish the evil, watch everything I love go to shit.'

'You put a man into a coma, Merlin. Why didn't you tell me?'

Arthur's use of his name felt like an accusation. It was fair. Understandable. He wasn't the saint, the silent hero, he'd tried to be in Camelot. Merlin. It was a joke of a name. Decorated with secrets and deaths and too many years.

Merlin finally turned to face him with a strangled laugh. 'You've never fully accepted my magic, Arthur. As if I was going to make that worse. There are somethings you can't comprehend.'

'Try me,' he dared with a hard stare.

Just hold me. The dead words sliced down Merlin's thoughts. 'No.'

'Watching you like this? It's killing me, Merlin. With you or away from you, you are what I always think about. I don't care if it's horrible, whatever it is you're hiding. You're suffering. Let me understand,' he begged, clean hands cupping Merlin's face gently.

'No. You need to be stronger than the rest of them. I can't be, not anymore. I just can't,' Merlin said, his eyes stinging now as well. What had he told Mordred? Cut the ties. Aredian wasn't going to stop. He couldn't forget. 'You won't be strong enough if I make you understand.'

Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin's, fingertips tracing circles against his neck. 'What's scaring you so much?'

'I love you, Arthur,' Merlin said. Part answer, part declaration. He knew what he had to do. What he couldn't do. He'd put it off too long. Just hold me. Hooking his chin over Arthur's shoulder he felt the man's warmth, arms secure around him as he accepted the embrace. Thank you. 'More than this world and the next and more than anything that's come before. Which is why I can't do this. I can't watch you die. Can't let you see the same happen to me. It will happen.'

Not again. The words hung in the air. Unspoken. Ugly. Merlin pulled out of the hug. Arthur stared at him, and in the silence the series of feelings that crossed his face almost had a voice of their own. He settled on anger.

'You love me so you can't be with me? What the fuck, Merlin? That makes no sense,' Arthur said, his eyes starting to shine. 'What happened? What's scaring you? Please, just tell me.'

Last time he held on as Arthur died. This time he was letting go to make sure he lived. Before he walked away Merlin pressed his lips to the corner of Arthur's mouth, hand on his chest to feel the human heartbeat. The strong and steady rhythm. He headed towards the door.

'No. No, you can't just end this. You can't leave me-'

.

Merlin stepped into a summer shower, the shock of the transition enough to distract him from what he'd just done. Rushing across the street and up the steps he knocked on the door with his bloody fist. The front door opened.

'Merlin Emrys. Make this quick, I'm in the middle of cooking breakfast,' Aredian said. Sleeves rolled up with an apron tied around his waist he seemed domestic. Safe.

'We need to talk.'

'About what?'

'You know what,' Merlin said with narrowed eyes.

'I made my intentions clear to you the last time we met. I also told you not to come to my home.'

He could recall all too clearly. The hollowness. The weakness. 'I didn't choose this. I never wanted magic, and I can't get rid of it. Why do you kill people like me? Destroy us?'

'I am your choice,' Aredian remarked, tone almost patronising. 'You don't want this life? Let me end it.'

Merlin frowned. 'No.'

'Then go waste someone else's time,' he said and started to shut the door.

'Why don't you just kill me now?' Merlin asked quickly. He had to know.

'Why don't you kill me? I hunt, Merlin,' Aredian replied with a sigh. 'I don't strike until the perfect moment. For you, that moment has yet to come, and it will come.'

Aredian closed the door in his face. The rain was light but constant and Merlin started to shiver as he left. The surveillance team snapped photos, keen eyes questioning his presence. Notting Hill was out of the question. So was returning to a flat he'd likely never see the inside of again. Scotland Yard hosted the witnesses to his breakdown.

He listened to the rain, how it pattered on cars and the ground, felt how it ran down the back of his neck causing more shivers. Merlin took out his mobile, letting the droplets hit a magical barrier in place of the screen as he tapped out a text to Mordred. CAN WE MEET TOMORROW? NOTES, NATIONAL GALLERY.

He spent the rest of the day wandering, thinking. The perfect moment. You didn't have to do that. His headache was back.

.

London was still being drowned by the skies when Merlin rang Gwaine's doorbell.

The Irishman opened the door and instantly grinned. 'You're dripping.'

Merlin's mood lightened, the soaked curls of his hair dripping onto his nose. 'I am.'

'Was worried you did the disappearing act again,' he admitted.

'Sorry.'

'Never have to apologise to me, mate,' Gwaine said, stepping aside to let him in. 'You're packed up home is currently residing in my hallway.'

The boxes had been stacked up on one side, climbing three rows high in a pyramid structure. Dark dots marked where the rain had hit them. It was an impressive task to do alone.

'Very symmetrical,' Merlin said as he trudged past the detective and former knight.

'Don't want to live in a dump, do I? I figured you'd show up here so I brought it in for safe keeping.'

'Thank you.'

'Best friends, remember?' he said, clapping him on the shoulder after he shut the door. 'And, as your best friend, it's my job to say you look like shit. Only wetter and paler.'

'I appreciate the honesty,' Merlin said. He followed Gwaine through to the living room.

'If you wanted to know what hell your stunt triggered, I can run you through the short version,' Gwaine suggested, but he continued before Merlin agreed. 'Maclain's being counselled by Gwen, our superiors are being secretive dicks, and Arthur's pissed.'

Merlin internally groaned. 'It was stupid of me.'

'Just be grateful we were the only sods at work that early on a Thursday morning,' he said as he pulled on a thick knitted cardigan from the washing machine. Gwaine tugged another knitted creature out and gestured to Merlin but he shook his head. The magic swarmed to his skin and into his clothes, drying them with ease. 'Still won't tell Arthur about the reincarnation thing?'

He probably hadn't told Gwaine about the part where Arthur died in his arms. How he jumped off a cliff after centuries of waiting. Definitely hadn't told him that in his drunk state. 'I can't.'

'You're too nice for your own good. With Arthur anyway,' Gwaine said before waving an arm at the dark brown leather sofa. 'I'll grab some spare sheets and the living room is yours. Unless you want to cuddle?'

'The sofa's perfect,' Merlin assured him with a half-hearted smile.

.

.

.

Mordred had slept the whole of Thursday away. Whatever Edwin gave him had definitely been more than "harmless herbs". The odd tang still tinged everything he ate or drank. His mind had cleared thankfully, and the rest of his senses seemed sharper as he walked along the street. The sky was blue, pure, with clouds beginning to swarm across it. For now they were kept at bay. It faded away to an almost white in the distance. Buildings and trees hid where the sky met the earth. The high stone spire of the Coliseum reached up to scrape the daring clouds.

Countless smells coiled in the air as he navigated through the throngs of people searching for the cafe Merlin had suggested, "Notes". Merlin. He could feel his magic, his chest itching at its touch. Plucking on the threads in the warm air he followed the vibrations with his eyes until they led him to the warlock across the street. Stood beside a chalkboard, Merlin waited and admired the row of motorcycles parked in front of the cafe. The admiration was weighted with something, and even as far away as he was, Mordred could see the touch of a golden glow in his eyes. Not a good sign.

Passing the chipping red telephone boxes Mordred crossed the road. Less people made his movements easier, and he hopped up onto the paving and stepped into the shadow cast by the pub on his right side. Rich cherry oak panelling gave it a rustic feel. Merlin looked left, eyes fixing onto Mordred with a smile folding into his cheeks.

Heat crashed over him.

Pain splintered over his entire right side as the explosion hurled him several yards away. His body hit the ground, chest pressed against the paved tiles. Debris and wooden limbs from the building showered down around him, glass and splinters having ripped into his skin.

Right ear pulsing, Mordred barely registered calls for help, the crackling of fire and screams from somewhere. His temple rested on the cool ground, skin burning and punishing him for any movement. The sharp scent of blood and smoke consumed his sense of smell. His own breaths seemed louder than the rest of the world. Inhale. Exhale. Keep still. Close eyes.

Fingers wrapped around his arm and pulled him up. His muscles protested, the burning getting worse, diving deeper into his skin and along his nerves. The world felt warped, out of focus. Inhale. Exhale. Keep eyes open. A wailing erupted. An orchestra of wails. Sirens. Lots of them. Breathe. The gold touched eyes were telling him something as he was led away from the running people, the smoke billowing out and up into the air. The cherry oak was gone, the pub left collapsed, ruined. Black. Blinding orange. Heat.

The heat was everywhere.