Note: Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers and readers for making my comeback feel really welcoming! As a virtual present, go look up youtube(dot)com/watch?v=10Zo4XDABIQ and youtube(dot)com/watch?v=S_cOltwNyXg these are two of my all-time favorite fanmade Arwen videos! As to the human rights legal jargon in this chapter, and the problems which occur, please tell me if I made anything seem like it would never "really" happen. I also tried to make the country which is responsible for the problems as anonymous as possible.

Chapter 14

Jarban and James. That's what the rather imposing sign said in front of a shiny, tall graphite building which Arthur found himself in front of at precisely 6:50am. He had allotted extra time for arriving in front of Gunievere's work to make sure he didn't arrive late. He straightened the Pendragon Red tie of his black suit, and ran a hand through his blonde locks quickly before going inside.

The lobby was comfortable. It wasn't too spacious, pretentious, or shabby. It was a lovely combination of moderation and class without going above their means. It had an inviting atmosphere which was perfect for a human rights office. There was a receptionist in the corner of the room, right by the lift. She was fairly attractive, with flaming red hair and startlingly green eyes. Upon seeing Arthur she sat up straighter and patted her hair down as he approached the receptionist her desk.

"May I help you?" the young woman batted her lashes at him and leaned forward slightly.

"Ummm yes. I have an appointment with Guinevere Leodegrance at 7. Do you know where her office is?" Arthur inquired.

"Of course, if you'll follow me, please," she said, starting to stand.

"Oh, un, that's okay. If you just point me in the right direction I'm sure I can find my way," Arthur said.

He didn't like being led around places. He would rather just figure things out on his own, and didn't have enough patience to be irritated this morning. It was already stressful enough to arrive and have to think about his encounter, and how it would play out, with Guinevere. He didn't need to pretend to listen to the small talk which was sure to come up with the receptionist. However, she was firm with her offer.

"Really, I insist," she proclaimed, and got up, signaling Arthur to join her in waiting to the elevation.

Her emerald blouse accentuated her eyes brilliantly, and the black, form-fitting pencil skirt with black stilettos emphasized her curvy form well. While waiting for the elevator she began to sway her hips in a tantalizing fashion, while humming softly to herself. She would've been a great tease if Arthur's mind hadn't been elsewhere. Noting that his eyes had a faraway look, she decided to take an even more proactive approach.

"So", she started, "What's your name, love?"

"Arthur," he answered.

The elevator dinged opened, and they both stepped inside of it. She pushed the button which indicated that Gwen's office was on the fifteenth floor.

As they silently swished shut, the receptionist opened her mouth again, "Nice to meet you, I'm Miranda."

"Pleasure," Arthur said noncommittally.

Miranda didn't know what to say in response-the tone of his voice carried a hint of finality. So the rest of the ride was spent in silence. Arthur utilized the time to count down how many floors he had until he had to face Guinevere. Miranda spent the time holding herself in a suggestive manner. She was trying to think of either the next conversation starter, or else a way to ask out the handsome man.

Ding!

They stepped out into a small space enough to accommodate the secretary's desk before it spilled out into a long hallway with numerous doors on each side. Each door had a number, shiny brass knob, and small letter box on the outside of it. There was also a little plaque attached directly under the numbers on the door with the names of the various employees.

Arthur strode up to the desk where this time a man was sitting. His body briefly tensed as the man fell underneath his gaze. He was a fairly good-looking man. He wasn't a big guy, but he was far from scrawny. An athletic build mixed with hazel eyes and blonde hair. Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously at this new development. He hadn't counted on Guinevere working with so many attractive people. Sure, it was only one man, but it was one man too many for Arthur's liking.

"Excuse me, but I'm here to see Guinevere Leodegrance," Arthur's voice took on an authoritative tone.

"Door 1521," the man responded without looking up to see who he was talking to.

Arthur relaxed slightly-the man was clearly bored with his job. Perhaps it was only an internship, or a "temporary gig" before the next one. He was about to go to Guinevere's office when he remembered that Miranda had led him up to the level. She was now standing in front of the elevator doors, a little affronted by Arthur's complete lack of interest in her.

"Erm, thanks for your help," Arthur offered.

Miranda considerably brightened at Arthur's thanks, and quickly moved forward. She suggestively stepped into his personal space and withdrew a business card from the inside of her shirt.

"If you ever want to meet for drinks sometime," she whispered in his ear before slipping the card into his front pants pocket.

Then she swaggered back towards the elevator, happy that her mission was complete. She blew Arthur a quick kiss before the doors shut on her form.

Arthur let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Miranda was quite a piece of work. He heard the younger man snort quietly under his breath. 'Apparently this wasn't the first time Miranda had pulled this stunt,' Arthur thought derisively.

'1517…1518…1519…1520…' Arthur counted in his head, '1521!'

He raised his hand to knock on her door when suddenly he became nervous. It was one think to want to see Guinevere, or, as Merlin would put it, mope about after her, but another entirely to see her again since Christmas. The last time they had seen each other was when they had woken up in each other's arms (an experience Arthur would gladly repeat as soon as he could). And to make matters worse she had reverted back to her "Mr. Pendragon" ways. However, if he didn't knock on her door now he would be kicking himself later. So he gathered any amount of courage that he could find and knocked on her door.

….

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The gunshots rang out loud and clear for Merlin, but he didn't stop to look around. All he knew was that they needed to get away from their pursuer as fast as they could. He gripped his hold on his companion's hand even tighter as he led them through a series of mazes which made up the backstreets of England. It was only seven am but his day, it seemed, was only just beginning.

….

When she opened the door, Arthur wasn't sure what to expect. She had always looked beautiful, but a little vulnerable to him. But not anymore. She was wearing a severe hairstyle, her hair was pinned up into a tight bun and not a strand had escaped. Her make-up was minimal, but the effect was dramatic. It accentuated her already beautiful features. She was wearing practical, but stylish, black flats which matched her ebony-colored pencil skirt and blazer. There was a crisp light purple shirt underneath all of the black, and she wore a silver necklace which lay becomingly on her collarbone. What the most striking thing about her, though, was the change in her eyes. Arthur had previously seen them sparkle with happiness and fade with sadness, but he had never seen them like this before. There was a calm, cool look in Gwen's eye with a firm sense of determination and passion which her job seemed to give her. He could see now why she was a lawyer-he wouldn't want to go up against her in court. Yet he knew that she was still hurting. There was the faintest glimmer of it by the way he noticed she wriggled her toes and slightly bit her lower lip.

"Mr. Pendragon," she said in a rather stiff tone.

"Guinevere," Arthur responded.

"Thank you for coming," she ushered him inside and closed the door behind him. She gestured to a chair which sat across from her desk as she went to the other side of the room.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?" she inquired.

"Some coffee would be great, actually," Arthur said. It was, after all, seven in the morning.

Gwen went to prepare the drinks and asked over the whirr of the machine, "Cream? Sugar?"

"Just black, thanks," Arthur answered.

She came back to her desk with two mugs with the logo of Jarban and James branded onto the front of it. Gwen set one in front of Arthur, and went around her desk, finally setting her own cup down once she had sat as well.

Her office was spacious, but one could tell it had a lot to do with arranging the furniture "just so" as well. There was a large window behind her old-fashioned looking desk. Her leather swivel armchair perfectly matched the one he was currently occupying, and the room was lined with a deep red carpet. 'Pendragon Red,' Arthur subconsciously thought. It was the exact shade of red on his family crest which his father had proudly hung above their fireplace. As his eyes swept over the surface of her desk he couldn't help but take a brief inventory of the contents-standard computer, pen holder, etc. There was also a large calendar which sat on a mat, making up most of the surface. There were various important dates scribbled on every inch of the page. Some of the things were crossed out, but then written out again, and others were written in handwriting so small Arthur had to squint to make out some of the letters. Everything was in purple ink. He faintly smiled at that, since he now couldn't see the color without thinking of her. Lastly, the thing which caught his attention was the only photo frame in sight. It was actually three picture frames in one-it folded outward horizontally, and each frame was connected by a set of hinges. It stood up all on its own. Arthur couldn't see the pictures well from his vantage point, but he could see that one of the pictures-the one on the left-was of herself and Lance. His heart sank at the thought-she still hadn't gotten over him. He could also make out a partial image of the center one. There were two men with part of who he assumed was Guinevere. He knew one of them was her brother-Elyan, but he didn't know the other man. He assumed it was her father, though, from the look of him. He was a spitting image of what a person could easily guess Elyan would look like when he grew older. Arthur could discern bright, big smiles on all of their faces, and felt warm inside at the thought of Gwen being so happy once. It instantly died though, once he remembered that she wasn't so happy anymore. But he couldn't make out the picture on the right-as hard as he might.

Arthur shook himself out of his reverie. He just wanted to be able to talk with Guinevere, but he wasn't sure if now was the appropriate time to do so.

"So Mr. Pendragon," Gwen began, relieving Arthur of his indecisiveness, "I have a case of a-erm-particular nature to bring to you. Do you know who Mithian Smith is?"

Of course he knew who she was. Who didn't know who Mithian Smith was? She was the best Olympic gymnast-ever-in the history of England. She had won the gold medal in floor events for the past three years, and had already broken many of the world's records. She was also a part-time model, and extremely active in various functions for charity. On top of that, her family was also closely associated with his. Uther and her father were close business partners, and Arthur had spent most of his life around the lovely girl. She and he had got off really well, and at one point in time they had even dated briefly. However, time changes most things, and gradually they begun to drift apart as their lives took them separate directions.

"Of course I do. Mithi and I always got on really well. Why?" Arthur responded.

"Well, she has some-erm-legal trouble in South America," Gwen explained, "Well, not she so much as her boyfriend Ryan Gonzalez, who went to study the various exotic plant life there. However, he ended up in the middle of a protest against a rather-unfriendly-government's treatment of their workers. He's now in a lot of trouble with their government, and in a rather unpleasant predicament. They won't listen to him at all, so Ms. Smith is trying to find a better way to help him. She came to me, hoping I would have some expertise in this area. I believe we have a tentative solution to her problem, but unfortunately we need a government official to make the plan work. Obviously, we wanted someone who would be able to make an impression on the rather imposing officials, but wouldn't cause an international incident. Mithian refused to agree to anyone else besides you for the job, and I wouldn't dream of opposing such a strong requirement of a client. So I am hoping that you will be sympathetic to our cause, and help us."

Gwen crossed her fingers under the table. She had delivered the speech calmly and professionally, but her pulse had sped up so much she thought her heart would simply stop from exhaustion. She had only told a part truth at the end. Mithian had insisted Arthur, but it was after Gwen brought him up in their conversation. She had forgotten that Mithian was an old acquaintance of Arthur's, but who wasn't one in some way or another? It seemed as if the Pendragons had connections everywhere. When Mithian's case first came her way, Gwen wasn't so sure she could pull it off. How on earth was she supposed to successfully get an unknown scientist out of a precarious situation without causing an international incident? On top of this, who would be able to help her? She didn't have any connections important enough to extend all the way across the Atlantic. So, naturally, she took it on. Gwen was trying to distract herself from her own problems by immersing herself in others, and this case certainly had a lot of problems. What she didn't expect was that with Mithian came Arthur. She really hadn't meant to say his name in their conversation. They were just having the casual small talk most people do when they first meet, and Gwen was telling her story about going to Merlin's art gala. Just a slip of the tongue that Arthur was there, and Mithian refused to have anyone but her old friend help. Gwen had just put off asking him until the last possible day so that they didn't have to interact. Today was that day.

"Anything for Mithian," Arthur said firmly, "Just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll try my best."

He neglected to mention the hope he felt when she had mentioned that Mithian had given him such a favorable impression, then the hurt when Gwen had implied she had only taken Arthur on because Mithian insisted. He hoped it did not give it away by the look in his eyes.

Gwen did notice, however, but chose to squish her writhing conscious in her gut for the moment. There were some more pressing things to be getting on with.

"Well for a start," she began, "I need to know if you would be able to confirm the state which Mr. Gonzalez is in-indiscreetly, of course, but perfectly legal and humane."

"I could," Arthur verified solemnly, "I have a few contacts there which owe me a few favors."

"Excellent," Gwen said.

And for the next five hours the two of them gradually began to piece together Gwen's plan, and open up to each other again. Gwen had forgotten what it was like to be with Arthur, and wondered why she had bothered enforcing a distance between them. He was unlike anyone else she had ever met. His humor continuously caught her off guard, and his smile was able to penetrate her firmest of defenses. Finally, it was time to take a short lunch break. They walked to the elevator together, and Arthur pushed the button. As the doors opened and they stepped inside, Arthur picked up where their previous conversation had left off.

"...so let me get this straight-you and Leon both-"

"Yup," Gwen chortled as the doors shut, "We both ended up with a terrible disaster of a double date. Leon had a soda shower and mine puked all over my shoes."

Arthur laughed as the image of poor soaking wet-and sticky-Leon was left alone at a table with a mortified Guinevere and boy named "Timmy" came to his mind. He was pleasantly surprised that their conversation had been able to comfortably stray towards Gwen's personal life, but of course that wasn't the "official" term for their topic. They were on the subject of most embarrassing moments from their past.

The rest of the ride was spent in contented chuckles as the doors opened once again to the lobby. Arthur stepped out with Gwen and noted that Miranda was mercifully out to lunch.

"So where to, my lady?" Arthur asked Gwen in a rather grand tone. He accompanied his words by a sweeping bow, and took her hand and laid a kiss on it.

She colored prettily at his ridiculous actions, and withdrew her hand as he straightened.

Without any real anger, she scolded his behavior, "Mr. Pendragon, stop that! We're in my place of work-a public place of work, I might add! People might see us!"

Arthur merely shrugged, and pointedly ignored her words.

"You didn't answer my question," he merely said.

"Umm…well, I actually don't know many places to eat around here. I'm usually so caught up in my work that I don't take lunch," Gwen admitted.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, startled, "You can't just not eat! That's not very healthy Guinevere."

There it was. The way he drawled out her name. Gwen simply couldn't deny the fact that she loved the way he said her name. But her conscious squirmed inside of her once more at her rejection of Lance.

"I know I know," she consented.

"Well then, the way for us this lovely afternoon is perfectly clear," Arthur said.

Gwen raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"We just have to go explore and see what's good!"

With that, he led the way out of the building and they went off to see what they could find. In the end they found a quaint bakery with lots of delicious steaming breads, and hot coffee. It was perfect for a quick lunch stop.

They sat down at a small table situated outside of the shop, and pulled out their purchases. Both had gotten a hot cup of coffee (Arthur's was black, and Gwen's had so much cream it had turned a dim shade of white). Arthur had gotten a simple ham sandwich on a baguette and Gwen had a croissant.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, until Gwen said, "So Arthur, what do you like to do for fun?"

It was a simple enough question-a great conversation starter.

He swallowed, and answered, "Well, I'm not really sure. I don't really have much time to think about it, I guess."

"But if you had time? What would you like to do?"

Arthur had a suspicion that he couldn't say what was really on his mind. His idea of fun would be to be able to waste a day away with only Guinevere for company.

But instead, he said, "Mmm I guess work out. I know that seems so boring, but exercise really gets my heart pumping. I'm a footballer at heart, so I like to play whenever I get the chance. But I also like to box, fence, swim…basically if there's a sport to be had I like to do it."

Gwen smiled, happy that he had opened up a little for her.

"I was never any good at sports," she confessed, "I was always that kid in gym who was the last pick."

"You're kidding me!" Arthur exclaimed. He had a hard time imagining Gwen being the last pick for anything.

"I wish I were," Gwen laughed without bitterness, "But I completely understood. I didn't even want to pick me!"

Arthur smiled a little at her light-hearted tone, but didn't appreciate the self-depreciating humor. So he decided to ask her, "Ok, so then if not sports, what do you like to do for fun?"

Gwen thought for a moment, "I'm not really sure either! I guess I don't have a lot of down time-like you."

"Oh come now, surely you must like to do something!" Arthur probed.

Gwen was silent for a little before bashfully claiming, "I really love to sew."

Arthur indicated for her to elaborate on her point.

"All sorts of things," she said, "I actually make all of my own clothes."

Arthur was impressed. No wonder everything Guinevere owned looked so good on her-they were custom made. Not only that, but they were stylish, functional, and complimented her beautifully. He didn't know anyone else who made their own attire.

"That's impressive."

"You must be teasing me," Gwen laughed, "Most men don't think that sewing is very impressive."

"No no, I'm being honest here! I don't know anyone else that makes their own clothes."

Gwen's cheeks took on a pleased coloration.

"Well maybe I should make you something some time," she suggested.

"Maybe you should," Arthur smiled. He would love anything she gave him, but an article of clothing that she had poured her time and attention into would be priceless. He hoped that she would sincerely make him something one day.

"Well if I did, what color would you want it?" Gwen inquired.

His heart filled with hope. It sounded like she was at least seriously considering it.

"Pendragon Red," he said confidently-until he noticed the look on Guinevere's face. It was a mixture of puzzlement over the shade, and shock that he would have the audacity to name a color after his own name.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't know another name for it. It's the color of the carpet in your office," he offered.

"Oh, you mean scarlet? Why do you not know another name for it?"

"Because it is the color that my family crest is made up in-always. So my family has called Pendragon Red since our crest was invented."

Gwen didn't know anyone else who was important enough to have their own crest.

"I see…" she drifted off, not knowing what to say next.

They sat in awkward silence for a bit until Arthur started up again, "What's your favorite color?"

"Lavender," she answered automatically.

Arthur smiled-he was pretty sure that was her favorite color, and he was happy that he was correct.

"It looks lovely on you," he said, indicating her blouse.

"So we've got favorite color down. What's your favorite fruit?" Arthur asked jokingly.

Gwen laughed, and their conversation carried on over their various "favorites". They shared a good amount of laughs until it was time to head back to Gwen's office for further discussion on Mithian's case. As they entered the lobby once more, laughing over an amusing sign Guinevere had spotted, Arthur noticed that Miranda was back.

She was as observant as a hawk. She noticed how Arthur was acting a lot friendlier to Gwen than he had to her, and how Gwen was glowing in a way she hadn't since she had first met with Lance. Miranda had met Lance when she was just a lowly coffee runner/intern at the firm. She was obviously taken with his good looks, but noticed that the girl people said was Guinevere Leodegrance had apparently "marked her territory" on him already. For as she was leaving for lunch, both Guinevere and Lance were together-laughing, glowing, and going out to lunch.

She hadn't seen Guinevere act like that in a long time, but with Arthur it seemed to come naturally for her. Even more than naturally-it seemed like Guinevere was meant to act that way. As if her behavior really belonged, and so did his. They complimented each other in a way that was slightly disarming. Any outsider, like herself, would assume that the two were in a relationship. They weren't holding hands, but their arms brushed at sporadic, but consistent, intervals. They were also noticeably comfortable-yet nervous-around each other.

'So much for him,' she thought a little bitterly as she watched them go up in the elevator together.

Arthur had worried that Miranda was going to follow them up, but she had remained in her chair. She merely stared at them as they made their way back to Guinevere's office.

….

And so the rest of the day was spent in discussion over Mithian's case, and by the end of it Gwen was exhausted, but pleased with their work. They made a good team. They were efficient, and they were both constantly coming up with new ideas-bouncing them off one another until they found one which worked. Mithian was going to be very pleased with their progress. However, despite her lovely day with Arthur, Gwen's conscience was still wiggling around inside of her. 'What would Lance say if he saw me now?' she wondered.

To be continued