A/N: Thank you GuestM and Buckhunter for reviewing!


Chapter 3

The Knights had spent a sleepless night meticulously planning and trying to account for every eventuality they could think of in order to pull this heist off without a hitch. They contacted the dad of a kid they'd once protected who worked in construction and asked for his help. He was willing to do anything for the people who'd helped his kid, and so he took his crew and set up fake road work only a block from the hotel right before the entrance of their parking structure. It was a one-way street, so Agravaine would have no other route but to go that way, and he'd find himself stuck in traffic before he had a chance to try to go around.

It was perhaps a little risky setting up fake construction so close to a prominent hotel, that would know doubt get fed up with the traffic after a while and maybe put in a call to the authorities. The Knights didn't want the crew getting in trouble for helping them, so they had to make this quick. The equipment and signs were set up, but the crew were letting traffic through until it was time.

Percival and Elyan were tailing Agravaine in Percival's new car that he'd gotten because of his niece, while the rest of them were in position along the road.

Merlin was sitting on a curb between two parked cars, jiggling his leg anxiously. This had to work.

His phone buzzed with a text in their group thread.

"Agr made stop. Painting in trunk. On the way."

Merlin inhaled sharply and got ready. The crew down the street began to stop traffic for their "work." Slowly the cars started backing up as the person directing traffic let only one through at a time.

"Incoming," his phone buzzed with a notification banner.

Merlin got into a crouch, creeper in hand and ready to deploy. When Agravaine's car slowly inched into place, Merlin dropped the creeper on the asphalt and rolled out on his stomach to the rear of the car. Turning over onto his back, he then shimmied underneath the bumper and began to reach up into the undercarriage to cut a small hole from beneath into the trunk.

Agravaine was sitting idly for a long time, but every so often he'd inch forward, and Merlin would have to grab the frame and roll along with him. He tried to work quickly, but he also had to make sure he didn't make too much noise or cause any vibrations that might draw Agravaine's attention.

Finally, Merlin got through the padding of the trunk floor and flailed around for the painting. A cylinder container rolled into his fingers, and he pulled it out through the floor. Then with his two feet on the ground pushing him to stay concealed beneath the car, he unscrewed the cap and removed the rolled up painting. He then stuffed the rolled up poster of dogs playing poker into the cylinder and shoved it back up into the trunk. Tucking the expensive painting into his jacket, Merlin then pulled the trunk padding back down and smoothed it out from the bottom. Agravaine probably wouldn't notice unless he looked closely. And even then, who would expect someone to cut up through the floor of the car?

Agravaine finally reached the edge of the construction, and as the crew gave him leave to drive through, Merlin pushed the creeper out from under him and rolled toward the gutter. The road workers caught him and helped him up. Merlin patted their arms and thanked them, then jogged off to meet up with the others.

"You got it?" Gwaine asked urgently.

Merlin nodded and held it up, then unrolled it just to be sure.

"That's it," Leon confirmed.

Arthur immediately called Lancelot's phone. "We have it," he said without preamble. "I want Lancelot now." He listened for a moment, then hung up. "I have a location." He held a hand out for the painting, which Merlin handed over.

"I'm going with you," he declared.

Arthur nodded; Merlin had Lancelot's insulin supplies, which he'd need the moment they got to him. But the others had to stay back, lest Sigan think he was being ambushed and cheated again.

Merlin and Arthur rode their bikes to an old abandoned warehouse, the sound of their engines giving Sigan plenty of warning of their arrival. Merlin grabbed the pouch of diabetic supplies and followed Arthur toward the door, which he opened cautiously.

"Sigan?" Arthur called.

"Over here," the man replied.

They ventured in further, pulling up short when they spotted Sigan standing over Lancelot with a gun pointed at him. Lancelot was slumped against the wall, eyes closed.

"The painting," Sigan growled.

Arthur tossed it through the air, and Sigan had to lunge forward to catch it, at least moving the gun away from Lance. Eyeing them skeptically, he unrolled a few inches to examine it.

"That's what my uncle had on him," Arthur said. "Real or fake, our business is done."

Sigan narrowed his eyes.

"If it is another fake," Arthur continued, "you and that Arab prince will have something to discuss, don't you think?"

Sigan smirked and finally moved away from Lancelot, heading for another door in the back.

Merlin and Arthur rushed across the room to their friend, who was trussed up and barely conscious, his skin nearly gray. Merlin reached to feel for a pulse, which was thankfully still there. But Lance didn't react.

"Lancelot," Arthur called, bending down behind him to undo the ropes.

Merlin immediately opened the supply kit and stuck a test strip in the meter. He wouldn't bother checking the CGM since the meter was more accurate and Merlin needed to know exactly how bad it was. When Arthur got Lance's hands free, Merlin picked one up and pricked his finger with the lancet, then squeezed out a large enough drop of blood to fill the strip. The meter counted down five seconds, then beeped with an alarm. HI.

Merlin's veins flooded with terror. That meant Lance's sugar was higher than the meter could read. Merlin wracked his brain for what to do. What was the meter's limit? 600? It was a starting place. He frantically grabbed Lancelot's pump to input a reading of 600. Even though it was out of insulin, it was programmed to calculate how much was needed to bring Lancelot's sugars down, something Merlin didn't know how to figure out on his own. Once he got the number of units, he snatched up a syringe and the insulin bottle to fill it. Arthur was on the phone with Elyan telling them where to come in with the car.

Merlin gave Lancelot the shot, then rocked back on his heels, unable to do anything else except get him to a hospital fast and hope for a miracle.


Lancelot was admitted to the hospital with diabetic ketoacidosis. Arthur didn't know exactly what that was, but he'd heard it was dangerous. He hadn't woken up yet, but the doctors said he wasn't in a coma, so that was something at least. They'd given him a couple more insulin injections and got his blood sugar down to 270. Still very high but much better.

Leon brought some pump supplies from the apartment so Merlin could refill the pump cartridge, since the hospital didn't have that stuff on hand. Arthur's phone kept buzzing with calls from Agravaine, but Arthur ignored them.

Lancelot finally woke, looking utterly wrecked with dark circles under his eyes and a waxy complexion.

"Lance, hey," Merlin said, leaning forward from his chair by Lancelot's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

He moaned. "Sick."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Your numbers are coming down, though, and the doctors are flushing out the ketones."

Lancelot's bleary gaze lolled up to the two IV bags hanging off to the side, then followed the line down to the crook of his elbow. He had a catheter in, too, but seemed too out of it to notice at the moment, which was probably a good thing.

Lancelot shifted his eyes to Arthur. "You got what he wanted?"

Arthur nodded. "I'm so sorry for all this, Lancelot."

"Wasn't your fault."

"My affiliation with my uncle put my friends in danger."

"I wonder what that Arab prince will do when he discovers he bought a poster of dogs playing poker," Merlin mused.

Lancelot quirked a confused brow at that.

"If you're wondering whether Agravaine is still breathing," Arthur said darkly, "he's been calling nonstop."

"Still, couldn't have been a good meeting," Merlin said. "If we hadn't been in a hurry, I would have liked to see the look on their faces."

"Are you okay?" Lancelot asked Arthur.

"I'm fine. My uncle made his own bed. The only thing I care about is that you're going to be okay."

And he would be, though it'd take a while for his body to recuperate after the ordeal.

The others came by to see him. Elyan whispered to Arthur that Agravaine had been by The Apothecary, but none of them had told him anything about where Arthur was.

"Where's your ride?" Gwaine asked Lancelot.

Lancelot's brows furrowed. "I was grabbed outside the post office. I hope my bike's still there."

"We'll get it," Gwaine assured him, and he and Elyan left.

Percival also had to go and pick up his niece from school.

"At least the birthday cards got mailed," Lancelot said ruefully.

Merlin's expression pinched with guilt. "It should've been me, if I'd made that run to the post office."

"You couldn't have known," Arthur told him. "None of us could have," he added, acknowledging that he couldn't have either. But even so, it was time to permanently cut ties with his uncle.

He hung around the hospital a little while longer until Lancelot fell asleep from exhaustion. Merlin and Leon were going to stay so he wouldn't be alone, so Arthur left and finally went to The Apothecary. Agravaine was waiting for him in the parking lot, unsurprisingly.

"Where is it?" he demanded as he crossed the lot to accost Arthur.

"Where's what?" Arthur replied coolly.

"You know what. The painting!"

Arthur crossed his arms. "Cheated another buyer, did you?"

Agravaine's cheeks puffed puce. "Do you know what you've done? I will never be trusted in the art dealing world again. And that Arab prince is likely to put a bounty on my head for humiliating him!"

"That's regretful," Arthur said, echoing his uncle's very words when it'd been Lancelot's life on the line. "Guess you'd better get a head start out of town."

Agravaine gaped at him disbelievingly. Then he drew his shoulders back. "At least give me some money."

Arthur shook his head. "We're done, Uncle. I ever see your face again, I'll alert all the people you've cheated about you being in town."

"You'd betray your own family?"

"I'm taking care of my family," Arthur rejoined, then turned around to get back on his bike and ride off.

He wanted to go back to the hospital, but found himself taking the turn to Gwen's garage instead.

"Arthur!" she exclaimed as she came hurrying out the open doors. "I've been so worried, what happened?"

"I'm sorry, I should have called," he apologized. "We got Lancelot back. He's in the hospital. It was serious but it looks like he's going to be okay."

Gwen's shoulders sagged in relief. "And Agravaine?" she asked tentatively.

"In some trouble," Arthur replied coldly. "And hopefully leaving town before it comes down on his head."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I never should have let him back into my life. None of this would've happened if I hadn't."

Gwen reached out to touch his arm. "You wanted to know about your mother. No one can fault you for that."

"I knew better," he insisted. "And this time Lancelot paid the price."

"You can't blame yourself."

Arthur exhaled heavily. "Thank you again for your help. We wouldn't have been able to pull it off without you."

"Of course." She trailed her hand down his forearm to wrap her fingers around his. "What do you need right now?"

"I need to get back to the hospital…"

"Arthur, what do you need?"

He faltered for a long moment. "Coffee would be nice. And maybe…someone to listen."

Gwen gave him a kind smile. "Coming right up."