Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot blah blah blah

A/N Thanks for all the kind reviews, I really do appreciate them! :)

Cellmate

Chapter 11 - Criminal Masterminds

"Are you sure you can do this, Merlin?" Lancelot asked, hovering nervously at his side.

"Yeah," Merlin replied, sounding far more certain than he felt. He gave Lancelot a small smile, attempting to look optimistic. "It's not like Tristan can actually kill me here, right? Committing murder in a prison is never a good idea."

"Yeah, well, nobody ever claimed Tristan was the sharpest tool in the shed," Arthur mumbled quietly, looking away from his cellmate. He was stood slightly to the side with his arms crossed, bouncing his knee anxiously and shuffling from foot to foot. A posture that hardly inspired confidence.

"Ha ha," Merlin replied sarcastically, although he knew that Arthur probably hadn't been joking.

"And lets not forget," Mordred smiled, in a way that was neither kind nor reassuring, "Tristan still attacked Lancelot in prison. Almost gave him brain damage."

Merlin choked, turning to the druid with wide, round eyes, voice high and strained. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Mordred smirked, face contorting in a way that looked faintly menacing. "No," he replied simply.

"Oh, shut it," Arthur snapped, rounding on the druid as Merlin's face crumpled. "This is hard enough for Merlin. Nobody asked for your opinion!"

"On the contrary," Mordred replied, "you asked for my help."

"And this is helping how?" Arthur sniped, eyes flicking up and down the druid's body with an expression of deepest loathing.

"Like you're any better," Mordred sneered, grinding his teeth so audibly it made Merlin cringe. "You've been making snarky remarks to try and put him off all morning." He gave Merlin a throwaway look before turning back to Arthur, shrugging his shoulders. "If anyone's not helping the plan, it's you."

"Fuck the plan," the blond hissed, "and fuck you!"

"Your concern for Emrys is touching." Mordred smirked, tone mocking. "Sickeningly touching."

"Right!" Lancelot cried, in a strangely high-pitched voice, throwing up his arms. "Enough! Neither of you are helping. Merlin needs to focus! For a few minutes, please, try not to argue!"

Arthur took in a deep breath and looked away again, mumbling "right, sorry," very quietly under his breath. But Mordred did no such thing, merely shrugging his shoulders and turning towards the wall, looking unconcerned. Not that Merlin expected anything less.

"You OK?" Lancelot asked, giving a small, reassuring smile as Merlin jerked his head. "Just relax and make sure you're clear on the plan."

Merlin bobbed his head again, and took in a long, deep breath. He closed his head and thought back to the previous day, running the whole discussion of the plan through in his mind…

The Previous Day

…."Look, all of this is irrelevant anyway," Lancelot said after a minute, always the voice of reason. "We need to focus on stopping Tristan and Nimueh. We need a plan."

Arthur and Mordred looked away from each other, neither saying anything.

But Merlin took in a deep breath, looking around at them all. He took a moment to steel himself before saying, "Well, luckily, I think I might just have one."

Both Mordred and Arthur looked quite surprised to hear this, both turning to look at him with expressions of varying scepticism. Lancelot on the other hand, looked interested, head cocked sideways in consideration. "You do?" he asked, smiling slightly. "Well, what is it?"

Merlin paused for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics in his mind. He waited for a minute before he turned to Mordred, voice low and musing. "Do you think Tristan will know about all of Nimueh's dealings? Her illegal ones?" he asked, figuring the druid would be the one most likely to know. "Like know how she set me up?"

Mordred stared at him with his forehead creased and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, considering Merlin's words. "Yes," he answered at last, drawing the word out slowly on his tongue.

"What makes you say that?" Arthur asked incredulously, shaking his head. "Why would he know all about Nimueh's dealings? He's just a minion."

"No, he's not," Mordred argued, standing to attention. He turned to look Arthur straight in the eye, lip curling smugly. "Why do you think Nimueh came into the prison to see him personally?" He paused, allowing the question to sink in before throwing Arthur a superior glance and answering it himself. "Apparently they were lovers."

The blond scowled. "And Morgana told you this?"

"Yes," Mordred snapped. "I trust Morgana."

Arthur looked away, and muttered under his breath, "Yeah, well, I don't."

"So," Lancelot said loudly, attempting to drown out Arthur's less-than-flattering private mumblings, eager to prevent another fight. "You think Tristan will know all about Nimueh's illegal plots because they were together?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," Arthur mused, smiling darkly. "Planning people's murders together must make for really interesting pillow-talk."

Lancelot held back a smile, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to be amused or disturbed by Arthur's words. But Merlin ignored him, getting straight back to the point.

"Just because they were…lovers," he said, looking pointedly at Arthur, "doesn't mean she ever told him anything." He watched the blond look away before speaking again, knowing his point had been made. "But it's the only thing we have to go on. Tristan is the only access we have to Nimueh in here."

"Right…" Lancelot agreed, nodding his head. "So, how do we use him?"

"Well, we know that Nimueh committed crimes when she set me up. We have a starting point. So, all we need to do is get enough evidence to get her arrested," Merlin explained, realising that he'd just made the whole thing sound ridiculously simple. "We use Tristan and hope he knows about Nimueh's illegal activities. We get him to reveal the truth."

"Well, for a start, Tristan would never do that," Arthur pointed out, shrugging his shoulders. "And even if he did, it wouldn't be enough to get Nimueh arrested."

"Maybe not," Merlin admitted, looking around at the group. "But it's a start. If we get him to reveal how she set me up, we can use the information to discover the truth….Maybe Morgana can use it to gather real evidence against Nimueh. Enough to get her arrested."

Everyone in the room fell silent, thinking things over. Merlin knew it was a long shot, but with all of them confined to prison, their options were frustratingly limited. Tristan was pretty much the only lead they had to go on.

Merlin waited patiently for someone to say something, waiting for the idea to be shot down, when to his great surprise, Mordred spoke up, dubiously voicing his support. "That might work," he said slowly, throwing Merlin a surprised look. "If we can Tristan to confess. But if he does, Morgana will know what she's looking for and maybe be able to find something to incriminate Nimueh."

"Ok," Arthur said slowly, as though reluctant to agree with Mordred. "Then how do we get Tristan to talk…?"

"We trick him. Manipulate him. Bait him. Whatever it takes," Merlin replied, aware that he was being vague but unable to give any definite answers. He hadn't quite thought the plan through in major detail, and he was well aware luck would have to be very much on their side in order for it to be successful.

Arthur evidently thought the same thing. "He'd never tell us. He'd know we'd use it against Nimueh," he said.

"He'd never tell you," Merlin corrected, drawing himself up. "But I'm not part of either of your gangs. I doubt Tristan thinks of me as much of a threat. Maybe I can trick him into telling me."

Mordred laughed coldly. "You?"

"Yes. Me," Merlin sniped, equally as icy. He didn't appreciate cruel sarcasm when he was the only person coming up with any solutions. "Got a better plan?"

Mordred fell silent. Arthur on the other hand, did not.

"Merlin, this is dangerous," he pointed out, as though Merlin didn't already know. His eyebrows were creased and his face was drawn, unable it seemed, to conceal his worry.

"I know that," Merlin replied, "but I'm the only one that can do it." He turned away from Arthur before the blond could say anything else, attempting to focus on the plan. "I can corner Tristan in the changing rooms, where everyone knows there is no surveillance, and get him to talk. And we can plant bugs in order to record what he says."

"Plant bugs?" Arthur scoffed, now looking both angry and upset. He did not take kindly to being dismissed. "Got many of them lying around, have you?"

"We can get someone on the outside to smuggle some in," Merlin said calmly, determinedly not looking in his cellmate's direction. The last thing he needed was to be drawn into a fight with one of his only allies, and dare he say it, his friend.

"Who?"

Merlin paused. "Gwen!"

"What?" Lancelot squawked, startled. He straightened up and looked between Arthur and Merlin, shaking his head. "Now, hang on a minute -"

"I'm sorry," Merlin interrupted, before Lancelot could voice his protests. "But Gwen's the only one who'd be able to smuggle some in without getting caught. She's a member of staff so security isn't as tight."

But Lancelot looked horrified, obviously choosing to ignore the logic of the plan. "You can't expect me to ask her to -"

"If I can work with Morded," Arthur snapped loudly, speaking over him, "then you can ask Gwen to do you a small favour."

"A small favour?" Lancelot yelped, sounding panicked now. "She'd get fired!"

"If she was caught," Arthur pointed out, crossing his arms, apparently incapable of summoning even the smallest bit of sympathy.

Lancelot looked around the room, from person to person, seemingly hopeful that somebody would come to his defence. But when nobody did, he let out a long sigh of defeat, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Fine," he muttered dully. "Doesn't look like I have much of a choice."

"Great!" Merlin exclaimed. "So we have a plan. Gwen gets us some bugs to plant in the changing rooms, I corner Tristan there and get him to talk, and then Morgana uses the information to gather evidence."

"And where will the rest of us be during this master plan?" Mordred asked blandly, sounding subtly sarcastic.

"In the showers as backup," Arthur said, before Merlin could reply. He draw himself up to his full height and looked his cellmate directly in the eye, pointedly leaving no room for argument. "In case something goes wrong…."

"Merlin?" Arthur cried, startling him out of his musings. "Anyone alive in there?"

"Right, sorry," Merlin said, shaking the fogginess out of his mind. He brought himself back to the present, focusing on the faces in front of him. "Just thinking about the plan."

"Great, good," Arthur nodded. "'Cause it's time to put the plan into practise. Lancelot set the bugs up early this morning, so the changing rooms are well wired. Everything's ready."

"Are you ready?" Lancelot asked, biting his lip. He looked more nervous than Merlin did, dark circles around his eyes and hair in disarray about his face.

"Yes," Merlin replied firmly, inclining his head and ignoring the pointed stuttering of his heart.

They all stared at him, each wearing expressions of varying concern. Lancelot was the most visibly shaken, followed by a worryingly anxious Arthur, whose face was blank but body wired. Mordred was perhaps the only exception. He looked serious but utterly relaxed, obviously wanting the plan to work but not particularly caring about Merlin's well-being.

"Let's do this," Lancelot smiled, giving Merlin a clap on the shoulder. "Do the best you can, Merlin. But try and make sure there are no mistakes. By smuggling in the bugs, Gwen's put her job on the line here."

Merlin smiled in a rather strained manner, suddenly feeling a whole lot worse.

Arthur glared at his friend. "Way to put the pressure on, mate."

Lancelot shrugged apologetically, face drawn. "Sorry," he mumbled, moving away. "Good luck."

"Remember not to mention me or Arthur. Nimueh can't know we're involved. And if Tristan does give you brain damage," Mordred said in complete seriousness, "try to get some answers before he wallops you." He then nodded his head and drifted towards the door, ignoring the daggers Arthur was shooting into his back. But Merlin was hardly surprised. He supposed they were the only words of encouragement he'd ever get from Mordred.

"You don't have to do this," Arthur said after a moment, causing Merlin to turn towards him.

"Yeah, I kind of do," he replied, smiling.

"Right." Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded his head, arms crossed as he looked down at his feet. "Just…don't fuck up and get yourself killed," he advised, only half-joking. His lips turned up into a brief smile as he glanced up to meet Merlin's gaze, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"I'll…bare that in mind," Merlin replied, sounding embarrassingly breathless. Arthur's bright blue eyes tended to have a rather humiliating effect on him.

"You do that," the blond replied, drawing closer. He hovered in front of Merlin's face for a few brief moments, brow furrowed, as though inwardly debating something. Then, without warning, he moved forwards, pressing his lips chastely to Merlin's mouth. "Good luck," he breathed, nodding his head.

Merlin was pretty sure he died then and there.

Twenty minutes later, Merlin was hovering awkwardly in the changing rooms, still alive but on the verge of a nervous breakdown, waiting anxiously for all the other prisoners to file out. He had just returned from his shower and was dressing himself slowly, attempting to be unsuspicious, while watching Tristan out the corner of his eye.

The cafeteria worker was pacing the room in annoyance, shuffling through towels and discarded clothes, swearing quietly under his breath.

In a moment of uncharacteristic genius, when Merlin had told Will the plan, the mouthy prisoner had suggested hiding Tristan's clothes during his shower, so that when he returned he'd be unable to dress. It insured Tristan would be stranded in the changing rooms until all the other prisoners had left, enabling Merlin to catch him well and truly alone.

And so far, the plan was working well. Ten minutes before, Will had left his shower, put Tristan's clothes on underneath his own, and waltzed back to the communal area unchallenged, leaving the cafeteria worker stranded in the showers with nothing to wear.

Not that Tristan knew it. He was still riffling through the changing rooms in a towel, searching for his missing stuff. Merlin might of even found it amusing, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

And now he was stuck in a empty room with a convicted sociopath growing gradually more irritated. If Arthur, Lancelot and Mordred hadn't in the showers watching out for him, Merlin didn't think he'd ever of been able to gather the nerve to proceed with the plan.

But they were there, and it was that comfort that allowed him to speak as soon as the last other person had exited the room, leaving him and Tristan frighteningly alone. "Lost something?" he asked, voice strained but clear.

Tristan gave him a long, calculating glance before continuing his search, face thunderous. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with," he said dismissively.

"Right." Merlin nodded and took a deep breath, putting his hands in his pockets and tapping his feet. "So…" he breathed, steeling himself, "spoken to Nimueh lately?"

Tristan dropped the pile of clothes he was holding and spun around, expression registering both shock and horror. Merlin contained the urge to flinch away and levelled the criminal with an innocent look, head high and back straight.

"What….what did you just say?" Tristan asked, tone positively deadly. He moved towards Merlin slowly, like a cat cornering a quivering mouse.

But Merlin did not move away. "I said, 'spoken to Nimueh lately?'" he repeated, sounding far cooler and calmer than he felt. Because the only coherent thought actually running through his mind was 'oh my god, oh my god!'

"How do you know about Nimueh?" Tristan muttered.

"I saw her at the visit. It was foolish for her to come here," Merlin replied, raising his eyebrows and trying to contain the shaking of his hands.

"Nobody knows what Nimueh looks like," the prisoner said. He breathed down on Merlin from a much greater height, both dark and deadly. But despite the imposing posture, if Merlin wasn't very much mistaken, the man looked slightly afraid.

"I do," Merlin said clearly, so the recording equipment Gwen and Lancelot had managed to obtain could pick up his words. "I've met her before." He looked Tristan directly in the eye, praying that the man would not call his bluff. "She might have mentioned me. Merlin Emrys."

"Emrys?" Tristan breathed, face clouding. He appeared to be trying to recall something, expression twisted in confusion.

So Merlin decided to give him a helping hand. "I was the financial advisor she framed for embezzlement," he explained, knowing he was going to have to twist the truth slightly. "We met when I went to confront her about the suspicious funds, so that's how I recognised her." Merlin hoped that Tristan wouldn't know that he had dealt with Afanc - Nimueh's second in command - rather than Nimueh herself during the confrontation, because it was vital nobody found out about Mordred and Arthur's current alliance.

"Oh…" Tristan smirked, nodding his head. "Emrys. Yes, I remember your case. I always wondered why your name sounded so familiar."

Merlin scowled. "Well, now you know." He took in a deep breath and tried to keep the conversation going, pleased that he'd got the man talking. "Confronting Nimueh probably wasn't the smartest thing to do."

"No," Tristan smiled, lip curling cruelly. "But you were just a assistant. You couldn't have been expected to know how organised gangs operate." His tone was sarcastic and triumphant, positively gleeful at Merlin's naivety and wrongful arrest.

"What?" Merlin asked, praying the recordings were picking everything up. "You mean like how Nimueh set me up for fraud?"

"It was almost too easy," Tristan laughed, seemingly revelling in the memory. "Pay a few witnesses. Set up alibis. Plant a few incriminating forms at your work. Done."

Merlin scowled, partly pleased that Tristan was confessing everything for the microphones to hear, but also angry that he'd been so spectacularly set up. He'd only been an innocent bystander, harmlessly doing his job, who just happened to get caught up in a dangerous web of deceit and lies.

"It's hardly rare for Nimueh to make someone else take the fall for her," Tristan continued, bearing down on Merlin menacingly. "All in a days work."

Fearing that the criminal had done with talking and was now going to take action, Merlin staggered backwards, trying to keep him distracted. "Running an illegal gang is not work," he pointed out, before realising that making Tristan angrier would probably not help the situation.

But the cafeteria worker merely laughed, following Merlin's retreat. "If you tell anyone about Nimueh -"

"I won't!" Merlin cried, sounding panicked now, praying Tristan would just take his word for it.

"I know you won't," Tristan replied. "I won't let you."

He advanced upon Merlin with intent in his eye, backing him into a corner, when suddenly a door swung open. But instead of Arthur and the cavalry coming in from the showers to rescue him, it was a prison guard, looking around the changing rooms in confusion.

"Shower time is over," the man explained, eying Tristan towering over Merlin suspiciously. "Is everything OK in here?"

"Yep," Merlin squeaked, "just coming."

Tristan scowled, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I was looking for my clothes," he said, taking in a long deep breath. "They're missing."

The prison guard nodded his head and began talking about replacements, giving Merlin his chance to escape. He'd got all the information he was going to get out of Tristan and he knew Arthur, Lancelot and Mordred would handle the bugs, enabling him to leave immediately.

Heart pounding heavily, he dodged round the prison guard and exited the room, feeling high on his small victory and suddenly grateful for his life.

"I can't believe it," Arthur muttered, as he and Merlin stumbled back into their cell. "It worked. Better than any of us expected."

Merlin grinned, staggering towards Arthur's bed and collapsing on top of it. He really couldn't be bothered to climb the ladder to his own. It had been a very long day. "Well, what can I say?" he joked tiredly, feeling uncontrollably relieved. "I'm a criminal mastermind."

Arthur sat next to him and smiled, Merlin's good mood obviously catching. "Well, I wouldn't go that far…" he said slowly, bringing his cellmate straight back down to earth.

"Don't ruin this for me," Merlin grumbled, scrunching up his face.

Arthur laughed, low and deep, a sound which sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "Right, sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. In fact, he sounded almost as relieved as Merlin did, face lighting up in a way that was almost unrecognisable. It really was a very pretty sight.

"So…" Merlin coughed, attempting to initiate conversation before he did something embarrassing. Like tackle Arthur to the ground and give him a lap dance. "I guess all we have to do now is wait for Morgana to gather some evidence from the recordings. It's in her hands now."

"Yeah," the blond agreed, lying back. "Find the fake witnesses. Prove the forms were planted. Or rubbish Nimueh's alibis. Then we've got her." He put his hands behind his head and turned his face to watch his cellmate, smiling slightly. But it was a minute or two before he spoke again, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I'm…I'm actually glad you're OK."

Merlin let out a breath, trying to shake off the butterflies attempting to burst from his chest. He sat up and folded his fingers together, suddenly not tired anymore. "Look, Arthur," he muttered, gathering his courage, "I've got some things I need to say to you."

Arthur followed his lead and sat up, a frown contorting his features. "Go on," he prompted. He sounded resigned, and if Merlin wasn't imagining it, maybe a little disappointed.

"Well, over the last few days… I've still been angry and upset about the whole Owain thing, even if I pretended I wasn't," Merlin began, holding up a hand when Arthur started to speak. "And during all the commotion, I guess I forgot to say thank you."

The blond blinked, looking completely thrown. "Thank you for what?"

"For agreeing to work with Mordred," Merlin explained. "I know how hard that must have been for you. So…thanks."

Arthur laughed. "Well, I would say 'it was no problem', but that would be a lie." He shrugged his shoulders and leant back against the wall, considering Merlin with calculating eyes. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to say something about the kiss," he admitted.

Merlin looked down at his hands. "Um, nope. Definitely not talking about the kiss."

"So, there was no problem?" the blond asked, voice casual. He shuffled forwards so they were side my side, only inches away from each other.

"Um…" Merlin began, increasingly aware of Arthur's close proximity. His brain seemed to have short-circuited, abandoning him in his time of need. "Well, I…um…"

But before Merlin could form any sort of coherent argument, the blond lent forwards and closed the remaining distance between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Merlin let out a breathy sigh and froze, genuinely unable to move away, eyes fluttering closed.

Arthur took Merlin's reaction as an invitation, choosing to thread a hand through his cellmate's dark hair and kiss him again. It was deeper the second time, sloppy and wet, and before Merlin quite understood what was happening, he was responding with vigour, tilting his head to better the angle and thrust his tongue deeper into his cellmate's mouth.

It was deep, frantic and hungry, teeth clashing and tongues wrestling, filled with a passion Merlin had been desperately trying to suppress. And when Arthur moaned low and deep in his throat, Merlin suddenly remembered why.

He pulled back, breathing ragged and cheeks flushed, leaping off the edge of the bed. "Oh god," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. "We can't do this."

Arthur watched him from his place on the mattress, looking both disappointed and confused. "Why not?"

"Because…because I can't do this with you again," Merlin replied, attempting to pull himself together. He took in two long hacking breaths and steeled his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for a fight. "I won't do this with you again."

The blond groaned in exasperation, running a hand over his face. "If this is about the Owain thing, I've said sorry," he argued, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Are you ever going to forgive me?"

Merlin laughed shrilly. "The whole thing was partly my fault in the first place," he admitted. "I assumed things that I shouldn't have….I've already forgiven you, Arthur. I just haven't forgotten."

Arthur bit his lip and looked away, unable to find an appropriate response to Merlin's words. He shrugged his shoulders and let out a sigh, signalling his defeat.

Merlin bit back a sigh of his own and looked down at the floor, attempting to suppress his internal disappointment. A rather large part of him had hoped that Arthur would argue further, would attempt to fight for him, but deep down he knew it was something the blond would probably never do. Merlin didn't think Arthur was even capable of making himself so vulnerable, capable of submitting to someone, and the thought saddened him more than he cared to admit.

But before he could comment on Arthur's commitment phobia, their cell door banged open, revealing an incredibly flushed looking Lancelot.

"We have a problem!" he announced, oblivious to the atmosphere of the room.

Arthur jumped to his feet, looking alarmed. "What?" he asked.

"Morgana's been arrested!" Lancelot cried.

To be continued…

A/N I decided to shake the format of the chap up and add a flashback, so The Plan stuff wasn't too long last chapter, so what do you think? Very plotty chapter again, and great use of artistic license to make the plan work, but I had to cut some corners - this is a fic, obviously not a novel! ;)

Arthur/Merlin is developing. Veryyy slowly. More next chap, promise!

Please R&R!