A/N: WOW, another chapter guys! This story is literally writing itself at the moment and good thing too, cause it's still only the beginning. I've got so much in store for our characters, just you wait ;p
Oh, and a happy birthday to Colin Morgan, who turned 33 today ;)
Now, enjoy this next chapter ;)
0_0
Morgan shuffled through the streets of downtown London, as he pulled his jacket closer around him.
The weather was getting colder, as it was already well into the winter, however this didn't seem to face the people in a city that always seemed to be awake.
The cigarette hung loosely between his fingers, his hands partly covered by gloves. He moved in between the people, as they talked and laughed together, heading wherever. Morgan listened to them with half an ear, imagining what it would be like if he and his friends was part of such carefree life. Not having to worry about how to get money for the next fix, one of the few things that made this life bearable. Something that would allow him to forget and escape into a better world.
He turned a corner and immediately found himself in another part of the city. The part of it that was still standing, after multiple tear downs. He heard the dry coughs, the pained groans and cries.
Morgan stopped and looked around.
The neglected buildings, old warehouses, stores with walls covered in macabre and dark graffiti, giving off a sense of despair and hopelessness.
Huddled figures sleeping on the street and people gathered around a burning trashcan. These were the people, who had been thrown out of their homes and sacrifice a life of safety, for uncertainty and a chilling cold.
Morgan still had his small apartment, but for how long?
This was, after all, what his life was.
He dried his nose in his gloved hand, before heading to the small group.
"Young Morgan." One of the men greeted and patted Morgan's shoulder giving him a decayed smile, "It's getting bloody cold, isn't it?"
Morgan knew the man well. He went by the name Foyle and had been around, living on the street, since before Morgan had become a part of the world. For some reason, the middle aged man, with the pale, dirty face and missing teeth, had taken a liking to him and taken it upon himself to show the young Morgan the ways of the street. It was still somewhat a mystery to him, how they'd both managed to still be alive, with the, not so few dangerous situations they'd been in. Morgan had lost count of how many times Foyle had saved Morgan's ass, thanks to his knowledge of the ways and wits of the street and well, Morgan's youthful ignorance and stupidity.
Morgan nodded and inhaled the last of his cigarette, before throwing it into the fire and putting his cold fingers in the pockets of his ripped jeans.
"It's a fucking mess." Another man, called Larry, said and shivered, as a cold breeze hit them, "People being thrown on the streets. Local attacks and riots." He mumbled, gliding his hands together, trying to get some warmth from them, "That fancy minister, talking about equality and safety for all, I bet he's never tried what it feels like not to be safe."
Morgan rose a brow at Larry's comment.
"Since when do you care about politics?" Foyle asked his comrades, looking between them. They looked back at him, as if he had grown an extra head.
"I do read, you know." Larry replied, causing Foyle to utter a small laugh and shake his head.
"Yeah, news headlines." He whispered leaning into Morgan and blinked at him, "What do you think, Morgan? You're still young, what are your thoughts on the current state of affairs?" He asked, giving the younger man a curious look, bringing him into the conversation. Morgan shrugged.
"Nothing. I hope to never become a part of it, if I'm honest." He said and moved his hands to his jacket pocket, pulling out a joint to light up. Morgan figures he already had enough on his plate, with figuring out what was happening to him. Having to take interest in what was happening around him, in his city, would be too much to deal with.
The other three nodded in agreement and a silence feel between them, as they all returned to stare into the flames and concentrating on keeping warm.
"It will depend on what and who you're fighting for." Someone suddenly said from beside them.
An elderly woman, with dirty grey hair and filthy rags, popped her head out of the nearby cardboard box.
"Today's politics are like the wars of old times." She said and looked directly at Morgan, "It is a war fought for a cause or a person you believe in - sometimes both." The woman added, giving him a smile, showing off her rotten teeth. Morgan held her gaze for a moment, before making a face and throwing the remains of his joint in the fire.
"Yeah well, I don't have a cause, even less a person to believe in or fight for." He replied. The woman merely kept smiling at him for a silent moment, before she leaned back into the box.
"Well, you're still young." She squeaked in a low voice, "You'll see soon enough..."
Foyle stared at the box for a moment, looking perplexed, then a smile crept over chapped lips. He patted Morgan's shoulder again and gave him a small affectionate squeeze. It was with this notion that Morgan noticed the tattoo on Foyle's left wrist. He had once asked the older man, what the three connected circles meant. Foyle had chuckled and told Morgan that it was called a Celtic triskele and was and ancient symbol of his ancestors. Morgan had given him a look with a raised brow, to which Foyle had merely laughed harder.
"She's right you know." He said and caught Morgan's eyes, "And I have a feeling that you where meant for something great, young Morgan. I'm sure you'll make us all proud one day." He winked at Morgan and held the younger man's gaze for another second, before a shattering boom resounded trough the street and a vibration in the ground.
Morgan froze and for a few seconds it was as if time had frozen as well. Complete silence following the boom and then it broke out.
Chaos.
Screams. Shouts. Sirens.
People waking up from their slums. The elderly lady from before looking back out, to see what had happened.
Questioning and confused looks exchanged.
Then panic, as people got up and started running, seemingly aimlessly, as gunfire echoed nearby.
"What the..." Larry mumbled, looking up towards the main street, just as a dozen of masked men came running, closely followed by several men in uniforms.
Morgan was pulled down on the ground by Foyle.
"Stay down kid." He whispered in a hiss, "Just stay down."
Morgan did as he was told and kept quiet, face against the cold concrete as the bullets tore through the air around him.
He closed his eyes shot and covered his ears, desperate to drown out the screams and shouts along with the occasional thump as another body hit the ground.
He didn't know how long it went on. Maybe hours or just minutes. He didn't know if it had stopped long before he decided it was safe to glance up. But when he did, the silence was deafening.
Morgan sat up slowly as he took in the sight around him. A lump got stuck in his troath as he held back a sob, tears already escaping his eyes, out of control. He had smelled it before he saw it.
The blood.
Pools of blood painting the concrete a deep red.
Then was the bodies, scattered around him and unmoving.
Masked, uniformed and rags.
Eyes closed, never to open again.
Morgan whipped his eyes with his sleeve and only just now realized it being soaked in red. Eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest, Morgan looked down to find a pool of blood under him. However it couldn't be his own.
With a shaky breath, he glanced to the side.
Morgan let out a strained sob and sat back, as eyes landed on an unmoving Foyle and the blood under him.
"No...no..." Morgan mumbled, feeling tears coming anew and his chest tightening up painfully.
Larry, the old woman in the box, all of them, unmoving and bloody.
Morgan felt his stomach turn and cramp, chest squeezing the air out of him. Then a warmth grew in the pit of his stomach. The warmth turned hot, burning, scorching.
Morgan bend over, clenching his stomach groaning at the agonizing pain as it intensified. The scream began as a growl and grew as Morgan felt the fire spread inside him.
Windows shattered. Ground shook and pools of blood started boiling. He distantly heard the voices. He sensed the presence and movement, but he couldn't stop or control what was happening around him. Morgan leaned back and let out another scream towards the darkening skies, trying to make it all stop. However, thunder and lightning broke the sky as rain started falling hard, washing away the blood.
The chaos, the pain inside him. He wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop.
Then suddenly it did.
Silence.
Morgan's own heavy breathing the only sound breaking it.
He slowly uncovered his ears and opened his eyes. A gasp escaped him, realizing that everything around him had frozen. The raindrops stopped mid air. Several lightning lit up the dark skies. Morgan saw uniformed men frozen in the air, as if they've pushed back by something and others stopped in mid run or pointing gun towards him.
How?
"Quite impressive." A voice broke the silence followed by a clap and approaching footsteps, "To be able to control weather and stop time like this. Impressive indeed."
Morgan turned his head and got up startled by the sudden change.
He knew the voice. He would recognize anywhere and anytime.
"Y-you..." he breathed, "You did this...?"
The man dressed in the familiar red let out an amused chuckle and shook his head.
"Oh, I don't have this kind of power, Morgan." He said and stopped by a uniformed man. He graphed the helmet and twisted it. The sickening sound of cracked bones made Morgan flinch. The man smirked gleefully and continued towards Morgan, picking out a bullet, frozen in the air, heading straight at Morgan. He stopped shortly, twisting the iron bullet between his fingers, before he glanced up at Morgan, giving him a twisted grin.
"This," He said and pointed around them, "This is all you."
Morgan took a step back, shaking his head, not wanting to believe the man in front of him.
"I'm Morven, by the way." The man in red said and held out his hand in greeting, "I don't think I've introduced myself properly yet." Morgan didn't accept the hand, but merely gave him a suspicious look. The man calling himself Morven, chuckled and took his hand back.
"I told you on the train, Morgan." He began, slowly walking around Morgan, hands resting on his back, "You're a powerful one and you'll have to choose a side. If you choose us, I can help you to gain control. I can help you to use and wield your powers as you choose." Morven gave Morgan a friendly smile, "Doesn't that sound nice?"
Morgan looked down at his hands. They were still trembling. He closed them into fists, remembering the pain, the chaos he had felt inside, not only now, but a few days ago as well. He remembered the faces looking at him with fear, confusion and contempt.
He remembered the feeling of helplessness, facing the cold concrete, with the gunfire around him. Morgan looked down at the cold body of one of the few he had called friends. He saw the frozen splashes of raindrops hitting the blood pools and creating small bloody crowns.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened and the anger and frustration growing inside him wasn't unfamiliar. They had been stubborn companions of his ever since Morgan had witnessed his mother's murder.
"I don't," Morgan began in a sneer and stepped up to Morven, inches from him as he glared at the other man, "need anyone." Morgan pushed beside Morven and headed for the main street, trembling hands deep in his pockets.
"A war is coming, Morgan." Morven called out behind him, "It has already begun. And whether you like it or not, you are right at the center of it. You both are."
Both? Morgan stopped at those words and glanced back at Morven. The other man crooked a knowing smirk.
"The detective, Arthur Pence." Morven clarified, "We know."
Then without another word of explanation, Morven disappeared in the blink of an eye.
0_0
The atmosphere of the cafe was pleasant. Being small and off any of the main streets, it wasn't visited much, except for a few regulars. The bar was kept by the owner herself, a middle aged woman with a few grey hairs and a warm and welcoming smile.
For the past three years this had been Arthur's favourite spot. He spend several afternoons, after a day shift, at the cafe with a warm drink in hand and the owner always greeted him by name, asking if he wanted the usual.
This late afternoon was just like that. Arthur was nursing a hot Irish coffee, going through the last couple of days in this mind. There had been another couple of cases with the bodies of young people found like the first one. Arthur pinched his nose and swallowed hard. The images of the bodies were stuck in his mind. In his short life he had rarely seen anything like it or smelled anything like it for that matter. The bodies had been covered in open wounds, burned from the inside out. No doubt the victims had been in agonizing pain, before finally being relieved with death.
Arthur had just been greatful that his bad feeling was proven wrong. However, everytime he got news about a body found, Arthur would fear finding Morgan on the coroners table. Luckily, it still seemed that the other man was safe.
The department had gotten none the wiser with the drug and what was causing these wounds. Next step would be asking Arachnia, the major drug company, which delivered medicine to all of the country's hospitals and clinics. Arthur figured that, dealing with biotics everyday, they might have the resources to learn what the blue drug contained for it to cause such ulcers.
When the doorbell signaled a new customer, making Arthur look up. Seeing his old friend, Arthur held up his hand, letting him know where he was.
He got up to give Leo a short hug.
"Thanks for coming out." He said and sat back down, Leo sitting across from him.
"Sure." Leo said and took off his jacket, "It's been far too long since we've done this anyway." He pointed out and ordered an americano from the cafe owner, "So, what's up?"
Arthur let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair, fiddling with the small piece of chocolate served with the coffee.
"You look troubled." Leo noted and forrowed a brow at his friend. Arthur let out a small huff. 'Troubled' didn't really seem to cut it.
"I really don't know where to begin." Arthur admitted and shook his head a little.
Leo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
"What about what comes first to mind?" Leo suggested, giving Arthur a waiting look. The blonde thought for a moment, trying to relax and let his mind wander.
Morgan.
The perfect feeling of the smaller man in his arms and soft, moist lips against his own. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, not believing that with everything going on at work, Morgan still occupied Arthur's mind this much.
"Were you excited about marrying Elaine?" Arthur then asked and looked at his friend. Leo took a sip of the coffee as it was placed in front of him and looked at Arthur over the cup.
"Yes, of cause." He answered with a smile, no doubt thinking about his wife of three years, "Nervous, but in a good, butterflies in the stomach way. I was marrying the woman I loved after all."
Arthur hummed. Yes, he guessed most people in this day and age would be happy about marrying a person they've chosen themselves. Of cause, arranged marriages were still a thing in some cultures, but not in the 21th century Britain. Arthur had chosen to marry Ashley himself, so he should be thrilled about it, right?
"Why?" Leo asked, interrupting Arthur's thoughts, "Trouble in paradise? Are you getting cold feet?" He crooked a smirk and sat back, "It's completely normal Arthur. Getting hitched is terrifying for most men, just wait to the day she walks up that aisle. Every doubt the disappear in an instant."
"Will it?" Arthur asked and rose a brow at his friend. He highly doubted, that what he was feeling, whatever it was, would disappear from the mere sight of Ashley in a dress.
"I... I've met someone." Arthur then admitted and looked down at his half empty glass, not wanting to see the disappointment and disgust, which he knew Leo would show, when he continued to say what he needed to say.
"I've only met him a few times and considering who we are, we really shouldn't associate..." Arthur began, taking in a deep breath before he continued, "I can't explain why, but whenever I'm with him, it feels as if I'm with a dear old friend I've known for years. I've never felt so content and at peace, as when I'm with him and..." He took another shaky breath, clutching his hands together nervously. He really had no idea how Leo would react to what he was about to tell him, but Arthur felt that if he could tell this to anyone, it would be Leo.
"We've... done things..." Arthur said in all but a whisper, still not looking up, feeling too ashamed and embarrassed, "Everything, but the act itself and honestly... it's been amazing..."
"So..." Leo began after a long, nerve wrecking silence, "You're telling me that you're having doubts about marrying Ashley, because you've fallen in love with another man?"
Arthur looked up at this, eyes wide in surprise and shock.
"What?!" He exclaimed, "Love?! No, no I never said anything about being in love!"
Leo let out a heartfelt laugh.
"You may not have noticed yourself Arthur, but it sure sounds like that to me." He said and gave Arthur a pointed look, "In the years you've been with Ashley, I haven't ever heard you talk about her, as you just did this man."
Arthur made and face and let out a groan, dropping his head on the table. Leo reached out and patted Arthur on the shoulder.
"Don't worry mate, this is the 21th century, if you really like this guy, then go for it." He said grinning at his friend, "I'll support you, as long as it makes you happy."
Arthur glanced up at Leo, slightly concerned.
"I'm not saying that you're right about me being in love, cause there's no way I am," He told the other man stubbornly, "but should you really be encouraging me? Ashley and Elaine are old friends, remember?"
"That may be so," Leo said and crossed his arms nodding, "However, truth be told, I never really like Ashley..."
Arthur chuckled and then moved on to tell Leo about everything else that was going on. About his weekend at Barmoral Castle and the things he'd read there. How well it all seemed to fit with his dreams, which had increased as well over the past few months. Leo had joked about Arthur really being the reincarnation of the legendary King Arthur and trying to come up with a reason as to what could be happening in Britain, since the legend had reawakened.
Arthur laughed along, however deep down he felt a concern about how well it all fit together. Could it really be a coincidence or was Arthur indeed the King Arthur, having been reborn? And if that was the case, what was he supposed to do?
Arthur shook his head and moved on the to next matter.
Work.
Everyday there was something new. A murder, dead drug addict, explosion, riots and evictions. It seemed there was no end and they were stuck in this evil circle of chaos all the while the government grew more scared and made the people suffer more by raising taxes and tearing down buildings.
Leo nodded and absently stirred his coffee.
"And it's getting worse." He said after Arthur finished, "This isn't official yet, but Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland has announced their plans to break the union with England."
"What?!" Arthur exclaimed and sat up straight, completely taken aback by this news. Leo nodded solemnly.
"We were told at MI just yesterday." He explained, "They can sense that the Primeminister and his government is losing it and doesn't want to be part of it. You can't really blame them, though. It's nuts."
So not only was the people losing their homes and dying left and right, but United Kingdom was falling apart, all thanks to Arthur's father's whims and insecurities?
Arthur felt a sudden deep anger and frustration, learning this. It had cost so many lives, so much suffering and pain, to gather this country and build it into the strong nation it was and now, because of one man, it was all falling apart and people was once again suffering unnecessarily.
His people.
Arthur stood up abruptly and placed a few pounds next to the empty glass. Leo looked up at him confused.
"What's up?" He asked and stood up as well, gathering his jacket.
"This can't go on." Arthur said between gritted teeth, "I need to talk to my father." He paused by the door and looked back at Leo, "MI5 is all about national security, right? They'll fight against the government if it's a danger to the nation, right?"
Leo looked at him puzzled and was about to answer when Arthur interrupted.
"Tell the chief that I'm in." He said and pulled his jacket closer, "I'll see him at his office on Monday."
Arthur had barely stepped out of the small cafe, when the ground suddenly shook under him and a deep boom disrupted the air.