I am trying to follow the poll about what stories you want to see finished first, but my brain seems to want to do the opposite. Bit strange but writing something is better than writing nothing... I have a bit of writers block, I need to bang my head against it to get it to go away. Will be back with more stuff soon, although probably also slightly concussed...!

15 April 2015

George wandered away from the loud noise, and from the people who didn't like him. He wondered why he was there. Daddy was there, so that made sense, but all the other people he didn't know. Like the lady that Daddy had married, who had stared at him as if he was something bad. People had used to look at him like that, when he was with Mummy, as if she was catching.

He sniffed a little. Merlin, and Arthur, and Mordred and Elena, didn't look at him like that. George wished that he had said to Arthur, when asked, that he really didn't want to go to the wedding. Daddy's wedding. He had only done it to be polite, because it seemed expected. He certainly now didn't want to stay in the room with the other boy, the lady's son. The one Daddy liked, who was mean.

Staring around the empty foyer of the hotel he watched the woman on the desk put the phone down and return to reading her book. George stared at the device on the desk. He could go home, to the attic room he had at Merlin and Arthur's house, and he wouldn't have to go and see Daddy, when he was here, at weekends, if he said so.

He turned his head as a door creaked and the man using the phone booth stepped out. It looked very old fashioned, most people had mobiles. George didn't have one, his father had never offered to buy one and Arthur had said, in a discussion with Merlin.

"He's too young! When is he going to be that long without an adult that he can't make contact?"

George wanted to now and he knew how to use a phone, he knew the home number, so he trotted over to the phone booth and the strength of his decision helped him yank the door open and push his way inside. He had a little bit of money in his pocket which he could use. Pulling out the coins he assessed them uncertainly. The pound coin glittered against the silver. That was bound to be enough, George decided. He reached up to fumble with the receiver, and had to go on tiptoe to get the coin into the slot. It tumbled in nicely after he had balanced himself, leaning against the phone to stay steady as he stretched up to the slot to position the coin carefully before letting it drop. It clanked in and George carefully dialled on the keypad, knowing the home number, because Arthur and Merlin had made sure he knew it. Probably not for now, but if he was ever lost, or at school, or something, George thought to himself. After he pushed in the last number he heard the phone start to ring. On the fourth, it was answered by Arthur. George breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello?"

"Hello George. Are you all right?" Arthur asked automatically, although it seemed a stupid question. He was at his father's wedding and ringing them. Perhaps Carl had let him phone but Arthur wasn't inclined to think so.

"Could you come and get me please?" George asked, ever so politely, as he always did.

"Don't you want to stay?" Arthur asked, pausing walking, frowning slightly. They had arranged for him to stay overnight at the hotel, and Arthur was picking him up mid morning, when Carl and his wife, and her son, set off for the honeymoon.

"No," George informed him, sniffing slightly. "I don't like it."

It sounded like George was about to say something else but he seemed to hesitate. Arthur debated internally, as Merlin came down the stairs with Elena, now dressed in her blue pyjamas. Arthur knew that he really should have asked to speak to George's father to find out what was going on, but he knew how complicated things were, with a new budding family, and the awkwardness of what remained of his old one, in George.

To be fair, Carl didn't really know George, having been away so much. Neither did Arthur and Merlin, but they had stayed in contact with George and his mother since their first fostering of him. And they had been the first choice to take that up when his mother had died.

"All right," Arthur said, making the decision. The fact that George had called, and said what he had, meant that he meant it. George babbled when he was excited, and Arthur, getting nothing more than the bare bones of a conversation, knew that George wasn't happy, but he meant every word he was asking. And Arthur knew, if any of the children called, both he and Merlin would come running, even if it caused a ruckus.

Merlin frowned at him. "What's going on?"

"We'll set off now, George."

"Thank you. Bye."

"Bye, George," Arthur said in confusion as George hung up on him. Merlin was frowning at him, silently demanding to know what was going on.

"George wants to be picked up."

"What does Carl say about that?" Merlin asked.

"No idea. I don't think he knows."

"Shouldn't you have asked to speak to him?"

"He didn't want to go anyway," Mordred announced from the living room doorway. Both men turned to stare at him.

"George; he didn't want to go. Arthur even asked him, and he did nearly said something. But since he pretty much got told that he ought to go, even by you," Mordred said to Arthur. "He went. I suggest you go and get him, since you just said you would. I'll come with you."

Arthur blinked, looked speechless and turned to Merlin for help. Merlin looked from Mordred to Arthur, back again, and then at Elena, who looked around quizzically.

"Okay, maybe you should," Merlin conceded, before carrying Elena into the living room.

"Have you been at Merlin's psychology books?" Arthur asked Mordred as he picked up the car keys.

"A bit."

"Oi!" Merlin yelped from the living room.

"Seemed a good idea, for business dealings."

"Oi again!" Merlin said.

"He's probably got a point," Arthur said.

"Go get George!" Elena ordered, also from the living room.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

George jumped as the door to the events room opened and his father came out, looking around in concern. As his eyes alighted on George, he relaxed his shoulders, but his eyes still looked angry.

"What are you doing out here?"

He slid off the seat he had been patiently sitting in, and took a few steps towards his father.

"Waiting."

"We were worried, come back in here now."

George's eyes drifted to the clock in the lobby, that he had been watching. More than one, there were others, telling the time in other places, and all of them had turned forty minutes since he had made his call. His gaze went back to his father and then to the door, as two figures moved close. Arthur pulled the handle and Mordred walked through first.

"My case study is Cenred," he said to Arthur.

"Ok, slightly fair point but I still don't think it's one hundred percent right," Arthur said, after their road trip discussion over the use of psychology in business.

They both stopped, letting the door swing shut behind them as they came upon George on one side of the lobby and Carl and the wedding party on the other. Carl looked even more furious as he saw Arthur. George hunched his shoulders. Arthur stepped forward, Mordred went to George's side.

"George phoned us, and said he wanted to come home," Arthur said.

"And you didn't think to speak to me?" Carl demanded, he looked at his son, who had reached out to take Mordred's hand, and slide behind him slightly.

"Children call, Arthur and Merlin come running," Mordred said. Arthur frowned at him.

"Stay away from Merlin's books," Arthur snapped, even though he had had the same thought less than an hour ago.

Mordred shrugged. "I'm right," he said and left it at that.

"Where's your stuff?" Mordred asked George. There were times when Mordred, when he wanted something done did things tactlessly, but somehow still managed to leave most people involved unoffended. He was just too practical to get angry at.

"In the room, 2109," George said. "Up in the lift and round to the right."

Mordred nodded, then looked at the clustered adults. The confrontation was now drawing a crowd. Carl's wife had joined him, and his parents.

"Does anyone have the key?" Mordred asked, then turned to look at the woman on reception, who had put down her book to watch the live action unfolding in front of her.

"Oh, they're with me behind the desk."

"Can I have 2109," Mordred said, reaching out. George shifted his shoulders slightly and lifted his arm to get his jacket sleeve to drop back over his wrist. His suit looked slightly large on him, whoever had bought it for him, hadn't got it quite right. Carl felt a flush of embarrassment as he saw that. George didn't fit the suit, but Cedric's fit perfectly. Carl's mother had no objection to refitting her new step-grandson's suit, but her own grandson, she did with a martyred air. And even then she only managed to fix the trousers.

Now he watched as George trotted off next to Mordred, his hand in the older youth's, talking to him as they went to get George's belongings, which was another clever move on Mordred's part, he escaped the uncomfortable situation and left Arthur to deal with it. He turned to face Carl, his new wife had momentarily turned to guide the guests back to the party.

"Sorry," Arthur said, meaning it somewhat, because it was probably rude to interrupt a wedding in this way, but he had good reason. He didn't know if he conveyed that with one word, but for once he felt a little stumped for words. Where was Merlin when he needed him?

"How did he manage to ring you?" Carl demanded, glaring at the receptionist. She looked startled.

"Pay phone, I expect," Arthur said pointing to the nearby booth. "He knows the home number off by heart and he had been taught what to do in case his mum ever needed it. Much good it did."

"What?"

Arthur blinked and then managed to look somewhat sympathetic. "Her last attack, he was with her, he called the ambulance. Did no one tell you this?"

Carl shook his head.

"It's not going to leave him behaving very rationally," Arthur said, almost to himself. George had been distressed, so he had phoned the people to deal with that. As when his mother had been ill, he had called the people to deal with that as he had been taught, and because of that he had assumed that calling Arthur and Merlin, now, was the thing to do. Arthur decided he didn't care who he offended - not that he ever had - but at least now, he could get Merlin not to care either.

"Children get over these things," Carl's mother announced carelessly. "His mother..."

She stopped as Arthur growled. "They do not 'just get over these things'!"

He knew that to be true, Elena and George both reacted because of what had happened to them, and in his own way Mordred hinted at some level of damage.

"What do you know about children?" she asked.

More than you, Arthur was tempted to announce to the woman.

"Mum," Carl said in a low tone.

"Well dear, you are hardly responsible for Sarah, and there is no guarantee..."

"Mum! Nothing to say about that, George is my son."

"Unbelievable," Arthur muttered audibly. They all turned to glare at him and something of Mordred's 'no care in the face of disapproval' took over him. "If you wish, I'm sure a DNA test could sort it out."

"No need," Carl said forcefully. "He's my son. He bloody well looks like me."

Arthur shrugged, conceding that point, and then stopped worrying about it as Mordred and George returned, and as they came through the door George announced.

"Arthur's would have a dragon, a big gold one!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "What are you two talking about?"

"Heraldry," Mordred said, with a look at the wedding party that dared them to ask how they had got onto that random subject. Even Arthur didn't particularly want to ask on the strength of that look.

"Right, okay; George do you want to just say goodbye to your dad."

It was then that George seemed to realise that he had disturbed something that was nothing to do with him. He shifted slightly and Mordred took his little overnight bag, George trotted over to his father, hitching his backpack up on his shoulders in such a familiar gesture that Carl could hardly breath. George looked almost frightened as he looked up now.

"Bye dad, sorry, but..." as George shrugged helplessly Carl looked at the backpack on his son's back, one that he had bought for him five years ago and George had been immeasurably proud of it, clearly he still was. Carl reached out and hugged his son, holding on hard, feeling the surprise ripple through the sturdy little body. As he pulled back he nodded at the backpack.

"You still have that."

George smiled up at him. "It fell to bits but Gwen fixed it!"

Arthur had been looking on the internet to find a new one, Merlin had just hoisted the original off to the supreme seamstress and came back with it looking new, shiny and with just a slight change of colour to the stitching and George had been immensely happy with it, because his father had given it to him, and it was important to him. Carl blinked and George turned to the bride, realising he didn't even know her name and he held his hand out to her.

"Thank you for inviting me," he said, very formally, and politely because his mother had taught him that. His stepmother took his hand, shaking it gently, suddenly thinking, this was her step-son, and it felt strange, and wrong. Her own son was coming on holiday with them on their honeymoon, George wasn't, and in fact until now she was sure she hadn't even directly spoken to the little boy in front of her. And he didn't resent her, she hadn't deposed his mother. She was just his father's choice and she had heard some of thing things Carl's parents had said about the little boy and his mother. She had never met George's mother but the descriptions didn't equate with what she saw in George.

"I'm glad you came, you must visit your dad, or he'll visit you, when we come back, he can spend the day with you."

She wasn't quite sure how that came out of her mouth, the rest of her body suddenly felt stilted and frozen, but it was the right thing to say.

"Daddy used to take me to the museums, they have things made of brass!" George announced that to her as if it was the funniest thing in the world. She smiled.

"He can take you again, another time."

"Yes," George said, as if he agreed that was a very good idea. "I have to go now," he said to his father before trotting off towards Arthur and Mordred. Mordred held his hand out again.

"Come on Munchkin," he said. George turned to wave at the remaining group, then he trotted out with Mordred, the little back pack jogging about on his back.

Just before they got into the car Carl saw George looking up at Arthur, babbling away to him in his usual way. He'd hardly said two words throughout the day, now he was wittering away eagerly. He jumped as he felt his wife's hand on his arm and she said.

"Leave it for another day."

He nodded, realising he didn't have much choice, and as he turned he noticed his new stepson Cedric looking little short of smug.