A/N: Based on Bikers Against Child Abuse

Art by LadyWallace. She's also doing full character sheets for each episode. You can see them in my fics on Ao3.


Chapter 1

The raucous rumble of half a dozen motorcycles reverberated down the street as Arthur and his Pendragon's Knights rode up to the courthouse. They wound around the front of the building and turned into the parking lot. Five parking spaces had been reserved for them, and the bikers pulled into the ones on either side while the car following behind pulled into the middle one. The Knights killed the engines and propped up the kickstands, then removed their helmets. Arthur strode around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. A twelve-year-old boy in Sunday attire climbed out. He was tense and nervous, but the Knights flanked him and his mother as they made their way into the courthouse.

A group of bikers always drew looks, but the attention was on them and not the boy they were escorting. And they walked with purpose, parting the crowds with the sheer force of their presence. They reached the courtroom, and their entrance drew every gaze in the chamber as well—including the hard expression of the man sitting on the defendant's side. Arthur and his Knights walked Julio all the way up to the front pews behind the prosecution and then sat in the row directly behind the first.

Morgana, looking prim and proper in her emerald green blouse and charcoal gray blazer, turned around from the prosecutor's table and met Arthur's eye briefly before leaning over the low wooden railing toward Julio. "How are you feeling, Julio?" she asked kindly.

"Okay," he murmured.

"Just like we practiced, alright?" she said with an encouraging smile.

The door in the back opened and the bailiff announced loudly,

"All rise for the Honorable Judge McElroy."

Everyone stood as the judge entered and took a seat on his dais. "Be seated," he said.

There was a momentary rustling as everyone settled, and then the judge recited the case details before addressing the prosecution to call their witness.

"The People call Julio Escobar," Morgana replied.

Julio stood up and walked toward the center gate, which the bailiff opened for him. His head was down as he walked up to the front to climb into the witness stand. The judge went over the rules for questioning a minor, then turned it over to Morgana.

"Can you tell us your name for the court?" Morgana started with a genial mien.

"Julio," the boy replied timidly.

"Julio, is the man sitting over there your stepfather?"

Julio glanced at the man in the defendant's chair. "Yes."

"How long has he been your stepfather?"

"Four years."

"And in that time, has he ever struck you?"

Julio looked at his step dad again, then at the Knights. Arthur and his gang met his gaze with encouraging nods. This was their mission—offering support to abused kids facing their abusers in court. They assembled in solidarity when kids had to take the stand, were there to help them through their fears, even offered physical protection if their abuser wasn't yet behind bars.

"Yes," the boy said quietly.

"How many times?" Morgana asked gently.

"E-every week."

"Your Honor, the People submit copies of the ER visits for Julio Escobar going back over a year." Morgana picked up a stack of papers from her table and brought them over to the bailiff, who passed them to the judge.

The judge looked them over, then nodded for her to proceed.

"Julio," Morgana said, turning to the boy again. "Why did your stepfather do these things?"

The boy's eyes welled with tears. "I don't know."

"Are you afraid of him?"

Julio nodded, then looked at Arthur and his guys again. "But they taught me I can be afraid and brave at the same time."

Morgana gave him a soft smile. "And you have been very brave, Julio. Thank you."

The judge directed him to step down and return to his mother. There was nothing the defense could say in the face of the evidence, and the judge readily found Julio's stepdad guilty of child abuse and sentenced him to a year in jail. It was a paltry punishment, in Arthur's opinion, but at least Julio would be safe from him now.

The Knights walked Julio and his mother back to their car and then escorted them all the way home.

"Thank you," she told them.

Arthur nodded.

Merlin went over to Julio and knelt down in front of him. He reached behind the kid's ear and pulled out a gold dragon pin. "You're one of us," he said. "For life. If you ever need anything, you just have to call."

Julio took the pin reverently and nodded.

With that, the Knights revved their engines and headed off, another case complete.

They went to The Apothecary, the Pendragon's Knights's unofficial headquarters owned by Gaius. Arthur slapped a wad of bills on the bar counter and declared drinks on him to celebrate the demise of another dirtbag. Gaius served them a round of beers, except for Lancelot, whom he gave a glass of diet soda. There was boisterous drinking and recounting the events of the trial to Gaius.

Until Merlin's tone abruptly turned serious.

"Lancelot?"

Arthur looked over at the pool tables to find Lancelot fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaky and face flushed. His phone slipped from his grasp and hit the floor. When Lance bent down to grab it, the rest of him went after it.

Merlin urgently dropped down next to him and pulled out his own smart phone, which he held over Lancelot's upper arm where his continuous glucose monitoring sensor was located. As Lancelot's roommate, Merlin had wanted the app on his phone so he could know what was going on if there was an emergency. Like now, apparently.

The phone beeped, and Merlin's eyes widened in alarm. "42. Call an ambulance!"

"Oh god," Lance moaned. "No, just get me some soda."

Gaius rounded the bar counter and held out a can of regular Coca Cola. "Here."

Lancelot's hands were shaking too much for him to snap the metal clasp up, so Gwaine quickly took it and popped it open before handing it back. Lancelot chugged the drink.

Leon was on the phone with 911. "He's having a hypoglycemic episode. Yes."

"I don't need an ambulance," Lancelot protested.

"Remember our deal," Merlin countered sharply. "Below 50 we call 911, no buts. Not after the stroke you had last time. We are not taking chances." He grabbed Lancelot's insulin pump from his belt loop and suspended the insulin delivery.

Lancelot gulped down more soda as they waited for the paramedics and the rest of them stood around anxiously. They were all familiar with type 1 diabetes, and there was little they could actively do to help Lance when these kinds of things happened, except to have sugar on hand. The stroke incident had been frightening and a bit of an eye opener. Prior to that, Lancelot was absolutely against calling an ambulance unless he lost consciousness or had a seizure and handled his lows himself. None of them had known a severe low could cause a temporary stroke, which hadn't become apparent until the next day when he had no balance and couldn't recall the simplest words. Thankfully, he'd recovered from that transient ischemic attack, but Merlin had made Lancelot promise he'd call for help if his number dropped below 50 in the future.

Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder. Elyan ran out to wave them in.

"Oh god," Lancelot groaned again, curling in on himself. He'd once described these episodes as feeling like his insides had turned to lava and then been scooped out with an ice cream spoon.

Elyan led the EMTs into the bar. "Over here."

Arthur gestured for everyone to back up a little and give them room while Merlin spouted off Lancelot's information. The EMTs checked his sugar by pricking his finger and using their own test meter. Lancelot winced as they shot the lancet into the pulp of his middle finger firmly. Their machine wasn't as fast as the CGM, and they had to wait several seconds for it to beep its result.

"60," the woman reported.

Lancelot was loaded onto a gurney and wheeled out to the ambulance, despite his protests. Merlin hurried alongside him to ride with them.

"Which hospital are you taking him to?" Arthur asked.

"St. Matthews," the EMT replied.

Arthur nodded his thanks and turned to the others who'd followed them out to the parking lot. "I'll meet them there," he told them.

Lancelot wouldn't want them all waiting around the emergency room when in all likelihood he was going to be just fine; he didn't like to cause a fuss. Never mind the fact they were his friends and cared about him. But Arthur agreed they didn't all need to go, so he hopped on his bike and rode off.

By the time he tracked down Lancelot and Merlin in the ER, Lancelot's blood sugar had come back up to a safe level, though he was utterly wrecked from the episode. They were just awaiting tests to see if he'd had a TIA.

"Sorry about this," Lance mumbled self-depreciatingly.

"Hey," Merlin said. "Making sure you're okay is never a problem."

"I hate the ER."

"I know."

A series of three beeps interrupted them.

"Oh, you can probably turn the pump back on," Merlin said. "I'd suspended it."

Lance reached for the pager-looking device clipped to his jeans and deactivated the suspension. He dropped his head back against the medical bed. "Wonder how bad I'm gonna rebound from this. If it goes too high before I get out of here, they'll probably then keep me longer until it comes back down."

"I'll check with the nurse," Arthur volunteered.

He made his way to the nurse's station, but it was empty at the moment, so he stood at the counter and scanned the area, trying to catch someone's eye. The one he caught was not the one he was looking for, but it captured his attention. A boy sat on a narrow gurney, his right arm in a freshly made cast. There was a darkness in his eyes when he looked across the way at Arthur. A nurse was speaking to a uniformed officer who had one hand on the boy's shoulder, the boy hunching slightly at the contact, and Arthur knew.

He waited until the nurse directed the officer to follow her so he could fill out some paperwork, and then he crossed the room toward the patient station.

"Hey there," he said. "That's quite a cast."

The boy flicked a fearful look up at him, then quickly down again.

"How'd you break it?" Arthur asked casually.

The boy avoided his gaze and mumbled, "I fell."

Arthur's expression hardened. He crouched down to the kid's eye level. "I've known a lot of kids who've had 'accidents' like you. I can help. You just have to tell someone."

The boy shook his head sharply. "I can't."

"Hey!" a loud voice barked. "What are you doing with my son?"

Arthur straightened as the cop returned. "Just talking. He looked scared. ERs can be scary. I just wanted to help him feel at ease."

"He's fine," the cop snapped.

Arthur's eyes flitted over the guy's badge identifying him as Officer Greelie. He then coolly met the man's eyes. "You must know who I am and what I do."

Officer Greelie narrowed his gaze. "I know the parade your gang likes to put on, making yourselves look like heroes. But you're just scum like every other criminal in this city."

Arthur's jaw tightened. His Knights were not involved in anything illegal. And profiling them as such based on their appearance was unconscionable.

"Let's go, Tim," Greelie barked at his son.

The boy slid off the gurney and followed his dad, head down and body tensed. Arthur pulled out his cell phone as he watched them leave.

"Leon, hey. Yeah, Lancelot is fine. I need you to do some digging on an Officer Greelie. He's got a kid, name Tim. Find out everything you can about him. We've got a new case."