"Another sorcerer escaped from police custody today. Fortunately, this time, the magic user was capped, but rumors are flying around that the mysterious Devil of Camelot was responsible. They were confirmed by this photograph, taken by a bystander. Authorities-
"Here's the coffee you asked for, Arthur!" Gwen breezed into his office.
Before she could catch a glimpse of the video and tease him for it, Arthur slammed his laptop shut. "Thank you." He picked up the mug, sniffed it, and curled his lip in disgust. "Can't we get any decent coffee?"
"Not if we want to keep the lights on," Gwen answered brightly. "Is Merlin in yet?" She raised the second mug in her hand.
"No," Arthur growled, setting the coffee back down on his desk. Maybe his half-sister Morgana would be in a generous mood enough to buy a bag of good-quality coffee ground for him if he asked. His father Uther still refused to speak to him since he and Merlin had founded Emrys & Pendragon, a small law firm with an equally small number of clients.
Then again, asking anything of Morgana involved a little too much begging for his comfort.
Gwen frowned. "Isn't that the third time this week?"
"Fourth. Not that anyone's counting," Arthur groused, opening up his laptop again because someone needed to be working.
Gwen lingered in the doorway.
He looked up. "What?" he demanded.
"Well, aren't you going to call him?"
"No. It isn't my job to wake Merlin up just because he values his bed more than he values his job."
Gwen opened her mouth - probably to inform Arthur just how callous he was being even though he'd lived in the same dorm room as Merlin for three years and knew how he was - but she was interrupted by a clatter of footsteps in the hallway.
Fie, their walls were thin for what they were paying in rent.
Merlin burst into the room. "Good morning! Sorry I'm late."
"Speaking of the devil…" Arthur muttered.
"Morning, Merlin." Like the angel she was, Gwen smiled at him.
Arthur wished she would smile at him like that.
"I brought bagels!" Merlin brandished a bag from the local bakery.
Arthur wasn't an angel. He wasn't going to let Merlin off the hook that easily even if he did have a soft spot for bagels.
He crossed his arms. "Well, what do you know, it's Merlin Emrys, attorney at why in the world bother?"
"Arthur!" Gwen scolded as she twisted around to hand the second coffee mug to Merlin.
"No, it's all right, Gwen. Arthur's just being a prat." He took a long sip.
"I am not. You're late, Merlin. Don't you own a clock?"
"Yeah." Backtracking to set the bag of bagels down on Gwen's desk, Merlin grinned sheepishly. "I must have missed the time."
Missed the time.
It was a good thing they weren't needed in court.
Arthur harrumphed.
"Anyway, I'm going to go...work on things. Lawyer stuff. Don't mind me. Thanks again for the coffee, Gwen."
Before anyone could ask him anything (or, in Arthur's case, chew him out), Merlin bolted for his own small office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Disapprovingly, Gwen turned back to Arthur. "You're being too hard on him."
Sighing, he rolled his eyes. "I've been friends with him since law school. I'm not being too hard on him. My father cut me off for going into business with Merlin, and now we appear to be running a pro-bono business since Merlin doesn't know how to turn people away! If we don't get enough real clients soon…"
"I know." Gwen disappeared, and Arthur assumed that the conversation was over until she reappeared with her own mug of terrible coffee. "Did you notice his eye?" she asked after taking a small sip.
Arthur couldn't understand how she could stomach the revolving draught.
He frowned. "His eye? What was wrong with his eye? He isn't coming down with pink eye or something, is he?"
Just what he needed - a sick Merlin.
Not that it mattered since Merlin didn't show up for work half the time.
Could adults even catch pink eye, or was it only kindergarteners?
"No. Merlin was wearing makeup to cover a black eye."
"A black eye?" He snorted. "If he was wearing makeup, he was probably trying to cover up a rash or something. ."
Gwen pursed her lips.
When she was mad, she also looked like an angel, but more of the kind that needed to yell, "Do not be afraid!" to keep people from screaming their heads off.
"Arthur, you should really pay attention. I know what it looks like when someone tries to cover up a black eye. I did it plenty of times for my brother Elyan. Someone hit Merlin," she insisted.
"Merlin can take care of himself. It's not my job to look after him. We're business partners."
"You're friends."
In the other room, something crashed.
Gwen jumped.
"For the love of Camelot!" Merlin swore.
"Are you all right?" Gwen yelled.
"Fine! Just tripped on the corner of my desk!"
"See, Gwen, my point exactly. Merlin is a klutz."
Gwen was giving him the look, the one she gave to clients she knew were truly wasting their time or Arthur whenever he yelled at someone over the phone.
"Fine," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I'll talk to him."
"Good." She smiled at him. After shrugging off the wall, she started back towards her own desk.
"But it's probably nothing!" Arthur called after her.
From the other room, she made a noncommittal noise.
After several minutes, Arthur tried, "Gwen?"
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Are there still bagels left?"
…
Arthur had full intentions of talking to Merlin and finding out if something was wrong.
He truly, really did.
It was just the execution part that was difficult.
As she slipped on her coat to leave early, Gwen pointedly raised her eyebrows at Merlin, who was standing over the copier and swearing.
I know, he mouthed at her.
On her way out the door, she kissed Merlin on the cheek and gave Arthur another look.
The door clicked softly behind her.
Twisting to work a knot out of his back, Arthur stood.
"Aha!" Merlin cried as the printer started beeping. "Take that, you worthless hunk of metal." He slapped the machine.
The beeping died.
"Blast it."
Now was as good a time as any.
"I told you buying those from that auction was a waste of money," he reminded Merlin.
"Shut up, Arthur." Merlin gave the copier one last good hit with the palm of his hand.
"Have you tried kicking it, or is it broken enough?"
Crossing his arms, Merlin turned around.
Now was his chance. It was just the two of them, and even if he didn't like to admit it to Gwen, he did care about Merlin.
It was just rather difficult to express.
He would rather spend Christmas with the district attorney.
He cleared his throat. "Listen, Merlin, Gwen and I have some concerns, and I just wanted to know-"
"Yeah, I know we need this working as soon as possible. I'll call Lancelot tomorrow and ask him to come take a look at it.
Wait a minute. Arthur frowned. "Lancelot. Isn't that Gwen's friend?"
"Yeah. So?"
His frown deepened. "No, don't bother calling him. I'll take a look at it tomorrow."
Merlin squinted at him. "But you don't know how to even work a copier, let alone repair one. You're jealous, aren't you?"
"Of course not. Don't be an idiot, Merlin. Gwen is simply our very efficient secretary. The notion is absurd."
"You are."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"So I can call Lancelot."
"Absolutely not."
"See! Why don't you ask her? Of course, Lancelot's a lot more handsome and charming than you - less of a prat, too - but-"
"Shut up, Merlin," he growled. Before Merlin could say anything else, he made for the door, yanking his coat off the rack on his way past.
The sleeve caught on the knob and brought the rickety thing down to the ground.
Just another thing the law office of Emrys & Pendragon couldn't afford.
"See you tomorrow!" Merlin cheerfully called after him.
"No, I won't, because you're fired!"
"You can't fire your own business partner."
On his way out, Arthur slammed the door.
…
"-exactly what we should do?"
Looking up from his microwave dinner and paperwork, Arthur turned up the volume on his TV.
"Caps. We've got to ensure that all sorcerers are capped. This one somehow managed to slip through the cracks in the system, and it's key that we make sure that doesn't happen again."
"Some claim caps are inhumane."
"More humane than sociopathic magic users running around and killing people? They're simply magic-blocking devices, no larger than the end of a pencil. Once they're under the skin, you can't even feel them-"
"If you will pardon me for being blunt, I've heard stories to the contrary."
"That's what they are. Stories. Doctors wouldn't be recommending the procedure if it harmed their patients. Every-"
Bored, Arthur changed the channel.
It was nothing he hadn't heard before.
…
As soon as he was settled in his office the next morning with a mug of tea (the highest quality of Earl Grey he could afford and from his own apartment, thank you very much), Gwen pounced on him.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" he snapped back crankily.
"Did you talk to Merlin?"
Oh. That.
"No."
"Arthur! Why not?"
"Because-" Arthur shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't send a stabbing pain up his back.
He remembered the luxurious chairs at his father's office.
If it wouldn't put his license on the line, he would kill for one of them.
Pointedly, Gwen cleared her throat.
"Because something got in the way."
"Really."
"Really."
"Arthur, something's going on with Merlin, I just know it. I can feel it. We have to help him."
"Why don't you ask him, then?"
"Because I think it would mean more coming from you."
"It's just one black eye. If Merlin was in trouble, he would come to us and say so."
"Would he?"
Arthur opened his mouth to say yes, then stopped.
No, Merlin wouldn't.
"I'm going to talk to him, Gwen. He just escaped before I could yesterday, and you can hardly expect me to talk to him when he isn't even here!"
In concern, Gwen's forehead wrinkled. "I'll call him."
Chances were that Merlin wouldn't answer his phone, but Arthur wasn't going to stop her if it made her feel better.
And, inside, a little seed of doubt was starting to grow.
What if Merlin was in trouble?
"He didn't answer his phone," Gwen reported, returning with her cell phone clutched in hand. "I texted him, but he hasn't responded."
Muttering choice words, Arthur pulled out his own phone and sent a series of texts off to Merlin himself.
Where are you?
Are you gracing us with your presence today?
Are you all right?
Merlin did not answer his phone.
Merlin did not reply to any of Arthur's or Gwen's texts.
In fact, Merlin didn't show up until Gwen's lunch break, and that might have been on purpose.
Well, Arthur wasn't going to let him get away with it.
"Where have you been?" he demanded, cornering Merlin in his office.
Like a deer in the headlights, Merlin jumped and guiltily looked up from his laptop. Around him, unfinished paperwork teetered.
"Uh...out?"
"And where were you 'out'? Why haven't you been answering your blasted phone?"
"It must have died. I was...uh...at a...bar. Yeah, that's right. At a bar."
What?
It was two in the afternoon.
At the look on Arthur's face, Merlin rushed to add, "Meeting with a client!"
"Merlin, you are a terrible liar. Is something going on? Do you need help? Do you need rehab?"
"What? No, I'm not an alcoholic, and I'm not in trouble! This isn't what you think it is."
"Then what is it?"
"It's…" Merlin's jaw set. "I don't have to explain it to you."
"Well, please do because right now I'm beginning to question our friendship when you can't even tell me where in the blue blazes you've been! Do you even care about this law firm?"
His eyes flashing, Merlin stood. "Of course I do!"
"You have a poor way of showing it. I'm the only one who-"
"I'm sorry, I've got to go." As he tossed his bag over his shoulder, Merlin brushed past Arthur.
Arthur turned around to demand to know where he was going, but Gwen was standing in front of her desk, and suddenly, he didn't know what to do.
"You did not handle that right," she chastised sharply. "I'll see if I can catch him."
…
She returned without Merlin and ignored Arthur for the rest of the day.
…
At his desk, Arthur sat with his head in his hands.
There was probably something he needed to be doing, but Arthur didn't feel like doing any of it.
What was the point?
Merlin was confusing and aggravating.
Gwen wanted him to talk to Merlin, but Merlin was the last person he wanted to talk to. Instead, he felt like crashing at Morgana's flat, drinking a decent glass of wine for once, and complaining to her.
But that wasn't going to help in the long run, and Morgana was as sympathetic as a cat.
It was eleven in the evening. Merlin would probably be at his apartment, and if Arthur hurried, he could catch him before he went to bed.
And if it didn't work out, he could at least irritate Morgana.
…
When they had graduated from law school, Merlin had insisted on Arthur getting his own place, and since Merlin was kind of an annoying younger brother, he had agreed.
After double checking the apartment number, Arthur pounded on the door. "Merlin! Open up."
After looking down the hallway to make sure none of Merlin's neighbors were out to witness him, he pressed an ear against the door.
The apartment sounded empty, but that could have been because Merlin was hiding like the coward he was.
Arthur did have a key from the one time Merlin had ever gone on vacation to visit his great-uncle Gaius.
Thankfully, Merlin had forgotten about the copy.
Digging around in his pocket, Arthur found the key and slid it into the door.
When he swung the door open inwards, darkness and silence greeted him.
Compared to the price he paid for it, Merlin's apartment was luxurious. Arthur himself would have wanted it if not for the fact that it was in one of the...seedier parts of the city.
And by seedier, he meant infested with sorcerers and questionable people hanging out the street corners and eyeing Arthur's watch.
He didn't know how Merlin survived, sometimes. Or if he thought things through.
"Merlin?" he called out softly.
A slight breeze drifted in from the window, which was ajar.
An awfully odd night to have the window open, especially since Merlin detested the cold. Arthur usually gave him a scarf for Christmas or something to help him keep warm.
"Merlin?"
With his hand, he fumbled around in the dark, but he couldn't find the blasted light switch.
When he was just about ready to give up and leave, he heard a shuffling noise.
"Merlin?" He turned around.
Although the rest of the apartment was pitch black, the lights of the city through the window illuminated a figure. It leaned forward as though it had tried to conceal itself in the shadows but could not stand up anymore.
"Stay where you are!" Arthur barked.
His hand found the light switch, and he flipped it.
Dim light from the single fixture on the ceiling flooded the tiny living room.
It was Merlin.
Relief washed over him.
"Merlin! For the love of Camelot! What are you doing lurking around in the dark?" Arthur snapped, crossing the distance between them.
Merlin didn't move.
Merlin didn't say anything.
That was quite unlike Merlin.
Almost as alarming as the prospect of a burglar.
"Merlin, what's wrong? What's with the weird get up?"
Merlin blinked at him, then up at the light. "Bright," he slurred. As if to shade his eyes, he raised a hand.
Arthur saw dark red.
It splattered from his fingers like water droplets.
"Merlin, you're bleeding."
"It's fine. It's just...a scratch."
"Just a scratch?"
Instead of letting Arthur help, Merlin backed away. "No, s'fine. I'm fine. I prom-"
Merlin collapsed.
Before he hit the floor, Arthur caught him.
Even though a thousand thoughts were screaming in his head all at once, he dragged Merlin over to his couch, which was already stained from whatever garbage bin Merlin had originally dragged it out of.
His cell phone.
He needed to call an ambulance.
Now that Merlin wasn't hunched over, he could see a large wound through tear in Merlin's black t-shirt.
It took as though someone had dragged a spiked weapon across Merlin's flesh because the skin was torn to the muscle and bleeding.
So much blood.
Just a scratch.
He needed to stop it.
He needed to call an ambulance.
His cell phone.
His hands were shaking so badly that it took two tries to successfully yank the device out of his pocket.
He dialled.
On the couch, Merlin shifted.
"Don't worry," Arthur assured him firmly. "Help is on the way. They'll get you stitched up. Don't"
"No…" Merlin groaned. "No...no ambulance."
"Don't be ridicu-"
"No!" Merlin snapped, so harshly that Arthur hit cancel on the call before he could ask himself why in Camelot that was a good idea.
"My cell phone...Call Freya."
"What? Who is Freya?"
Trying to sit up, Merlin thrashed about on the cash.
To keep him from doing something worse, Arthur grabbed his shoulders. "Stay put, Merlin. Don't move."
"Call Freya," Merlin insisted.
"Where's your cell?"
"Pocket...jacket..."
Swearing, Arthur released Merlin. The jacket was hanging up by a hook on the wall. Arthur went through the pockets until he found the cell phone.
Well, what was apparently Merlin's cell phone.
It looked like a burner phone.
What in the blue blazes was Merlin involved in?
One contact was listed - Freya.
Glancing frantically back at Merlin, Arthur dialed.
After thirty agonizing seconds, it went to voicemail.
"Blast it," Arthur swore again. "I don't know who in Camelot you are, but Merlin is bleeding out in his apartment, and he thinks you can help." He hung up.
When he turned back around, he found Merlin crumpled over on the couch.
"Merlin!"
Arthur's hands would not stop shaking as he tried to feel for a pulse. Then, realizing that that never worked as well as it did on television, he hit Merlin across the face.
Merlin jerked awake. "What?"
His words were slurred, and Arthur could see that more blood was splattered across his forehead and matted into his hair.
A head wound.
A blasted head wound.
"Don't move."
"I'm...not?" Merlin tilted his head in confusion.
Arthur took off his suit coat. "Here, press this against your stomach. Is there anywhere else? Freya didn't answer her phone. I'm going to call an ambulance."
"I'll never speak to you again."
"Merlin, you're bleeding out on your couch. You have a head wound. You're not thinking straight. Just hold still, and I'll-"
"Arthur, turn around."
"You're delirious."
"You don't become delirious from a head wound. Dizzy. Disoriented. I'm not hallucinating. Turn around," Merlin insisted, his voice thin. "Please. If it doesn't work, you can call the ambulance."
"If what does work?"
What was going on?
Aside from the stab wound, why was Merlin acting so strangely?
Aside from the stab wound.
The thought was so absurd that he almost started laughing.
"Arthur, please."
Merlin's voice was so earnest that Arthur turned his back, his cell phone clutched in one hand, ready for him to dial for an ambulance again.
Behind him, Merlin groaned.
"Merlin?"
"Shut up, Arthur," Merlin hissed. "Don't...don't turn around."
Arthur's patience was wearing thin. He needed to do something, anything before Merlin died in front of him.
For the love of Camelot, why couldn't Merlin just let him call an ambulance?
Merlin gasped.
It sounded like a wheeze, as though he couldn't suck any more air into his lungs.
Far be it from him to let his own best friend die on the couch in the middle of his apartment while he was standing right there.
Arthur whirled around.
His heart stopped.
Around Merlin's fingers, which hovered above his stomach, a blue light danced. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were glowing, brilliantly gold, almost on fire.
Merlin was a sorcerer.
Their eyes met.
Arthur opened his mouth.
A sorcerer.
"You have magic."
The black clothes.
The open window.
The magic.
Merlin had magic.
Arthur's stomach burned.
"You have magic."
"Thanks," Merlin hissed, closing his eyes. "Didn't notice."
The glow faded, and Merlin slumped backwards onto the couch.
Arthur's feet were cemented to the ground by horror.
Why would Merlin, of all people, start practicing magic?
"I know what you're thinking. I didn't choose it. I was born with it."
"What?" Arthur shook his head. "Choose what?"
"Magic. I was born with it. I used it to stop the external bleeding."
"External? What about the internal?"
"That's...where the blood's supposed to be." Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Merlin grinned at Arthur, but there was fear in his eyes and behind the expression.
Arthur wanted to punch something.
He had lived with Merlin for three years, and never had he seen a drop of magic from him.
It was laughable.
It was impossible.
And it was staring him in the face.
"All these years," he said, "and you lied to me."
"I didn't have a choice."
"We're friends. You could have trusted me! All it takes is going, 'Hey, Arthur, I've had magic since birth, but don't worry - I'm not going to kill you!'"
"Your father is Uther Pendragon! He kills people like me. You would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes."
"No, I wouldn't have."
"That's easy for you to say. You didn't have to grow up and live your entire life in fear. Do you know what it was like to waltz into those dorms and find out my roommate was the son of Uther blasted Pendragon, political hero and leader of the Purge movement! Sure, you never outright said anything about it, but how was I supposed to know that you didn't think the same way?"
Arthur paced in front of the couch.
He couldn't think straight.
"Do you trust me, Arthur?"
Merlin's voice was almost pleading.
"After you've lied to me for all the years I've ever known you?"
"Yes?"
Stopping, Arthur ran a hand down his face.
One half of him wanted to hate Merlin, wanted to throw and break things and yell at him for lying and using magic and becoming a blasted vigilante, for crying out loud.
The other half of him knew that in reality, as much as he loathed to admit it to anyone, he would have done the same thing.
But he couldn't just let it go.
"Merlin, for pity's sake, you're a lawyer. What are you thinking? If you get caught, that's the end of it for you. That's the end of it for both of us."
Merlin pulled down the collar of his shirt.
A silver square of metal was embedded in his collar bone, just underneath the skin where it could still be seen but couldn't be removed without pain. A white, gnarly scar encircled it.
As if the night couldn't get worse.
"You're capped."
"Obviously."
"How…"
"I was born with it. I can't stop it. Nothing can stop it. For some reason, I'm different from the others. If I get checked, no one will believe me even if I told them I could use magic."
His head was swarming with questions, so many details he didn't know, but he settled on one.
"Why?"
"Why? Precaution. My uncle Gaius did it. He's a physician, remember? It still...hurt."
"No. I meant why did you start doing this?" He gestured at Merlin's ridiculous costume.
"Because there are others like me living in fear. I don't want to hurt anyone. But I also can't stand by and let other people be hurt by the Purge."
Arthur clenched a fist. "They say the Devil of Camelot's killed people."
"I've got red in my ledger."
"Now isn't the time to quote The Avengers."
"You don't know what it's like, knowing you're doing wrong just by being alive. I've never wanted to kill a single person. It was all to help others or in self-defense. I have to…I have to make up for it. For the magic. "
With one hand, Merlin scrubbed his face.
Aside from the screeching of cars and the wailing of sirens outside, tension and silence filled the apartment.
"Are you going to turn me in?" Merlin eventually asked.
His voice was thin, tired, subdued.
He was covered in blood, his lip was split, and a bruise was blossoming across the side of his face.
There was probably more, hidden by his clothes and the shoddy lighting.
Arthur's license was on the line. If Merlin were discovered, everything he had worked for and defied his father for would be destroyed.
But looking at it now, Merlin meant far more to him than anything his father had taught him to value.
"Shut up, Merlin."
He dug Merlin's phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Merlin, who fumbled to catch it. "Call your girlfriend before you get blood all over your couch."
"Too late," Merlin muttered, relief laced through his voice.
Arthur collapsed on the couch next to him.
Merlin grunted, clutching his side.
"Sorry." Arthur winced.
His head was spinning. Even though adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, he wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
"Freya's coming. She texted me. Told me she was asleep when you called."
Arthur checked the time on his phone.
11:30. It seemed too early for everything that had happened..
He snorted.
"What?"
"It's a good thing we don't have any clients because I don't think either of us is going to be sleeping tonight."
Silently, Merlin laughed.
Or he could have been having a seizure.
Just in case, Arthur leaned forward.
"'M fine. Freya's coming. She'll be here."
Even though he hardly knew anything about internal bleeding, Arthur was afraid of whatever was coming.
But if Merlin was content to sit and wait, so was he.
He wasn't going to leave.
"She's a saint, whoever she is."
Merlin hummed in agreement.
In the silence, Arthur listened to make sure he was still breathing.
"Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Arthur reached to the side, gripped Merlin's shoulder, and squeezed.
...
...
Outtakes:
"Did someone with magic do this to you? I'll kill them."
...
"It's just a scratch."
"I've seen lesser scratches on my father's Porsche."
"I'm not insured for over fifty thousand."
...
"I've got red in my ledger, Arthur."
"Did...did you just quote The Avengers?"
...
Arthur's license was on fire.