From the author's desk: Aaaaaand Chapter 4! There isn't much to say about this one except that you should seriously start heeding those warnings from Chapter 1. We finally get into Merlin's background, and some things finally fall into place about him in this life. As always, I've tried to keep him true to character in this time, and I would appreciate your thoughts on how I did.

As always, thank you to everyone who has left a review, is following the story, has added it or me to their favorites. Your support is everything to me, and I'm so glad that you're enjoying this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Again, an infinite amount of thanks to CaptainOzone and ExcaliburMaiden, my fantastic beta team.

Enjoy, and see you all next Sunday!

Disclaimer: IDOM.

x

Chapter 4

x

xxx

Powerful wings extend from a feline body as it roars into the night.

But its amber eyes glint like light catching on tears instead.

Remorse fills those eyes, but innocence and strength too.

Merlin knows the beast has done terrible things.

But he can see Freya too—fierce and strong.

xxx

Freya ends up sticking with the modeling gig, and Merlin can see that it's exactly what she needed.

"She's a natural," Arthur says simply after the first day of the photo shoot, a three-day project dependent on the limited natural sunlight of the short spring days. Freya looks surprised, and a small pleased smile chases away the hint of worry that Merlin had seen on her face. She later tells Merlin that at the shoot, Arthur was either very serious or very angry and therefore didn't smile much at anyone and didn't joke around the way he did at home. Merlin laughs, and explains to her that Arthur was the same way when they were in university together during final examinations, and that he got it from his father.

"The fact that you weren't intimidated by how he works says a lot about you," Merlin goes on. "Not everyone can handle Arthur when he's like that. And the ones who do are either like me and Morgana, who refuse to deal with him when he's being an arse, or like Gwen, who just has to give him the look to remind him to be nice to the other human beings around him."

"But I was intimidated," Freya confesses. "I don't like him when he's like that, and he scares me a little bit when he yells at people. But…but that just makes me want to try harder, I guess, because I understand that what he's doing is important to him. I want to try and make him smile. …That sounds kind of hopeless, doesn't it?"

Merlin laughs, hugs his girlfriend, and proceeds to kiss her thoroughly before responding. "That, that desire to make the people around you happy? That is what I love about you most of all."

He kisses her one more time, before suggesting that they get dinner.

Two days later, the shoot is done, Arthur and Freya come home (huh, when did Freya coming to the flat come to mean Freya coming home? Merlin likes the thought of it, though), and this time, Arthur is much more animated in his praise.

"Merlin, your girlfriend is amazing, and my mum wants her to be one of our regular models. Wants to make her a spokesmodel for the design house, actually," Arthur says to Merlin, and the grin on his face is blinding as he hugs Freya. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming in when we needed you, and for putting up with me. And if I was harsh at times, I'm sorry—I just wanted everything to be perfect."

Freya smiles up at Arthur, and though she doesn't say anything, Merlin can see just how happy she is and how hopeful she is for her future because of this experience.

Merlin can't even think of how to thank Arthur for what he's done for her.

And thus another couple of months pass, with Freya doing more modeling for Ygraine's design house, building her portfolio through other jobs thanks to Arthur's connections. Merlin notices that the more Freya works in the field, the more she seems to settle into her own skin and come alive from within. Freya's growing confidence and openness with them and others makes Merlin smile.

Merlin realizes that Freya truly has come into her own the day she tells him that she wants to introduce him to a new friend of hers, a young woman named Mithian who was her photographer at her last photo shoot.

So it's an ordinary Tuesday night when Merlin's monsters unexpectedly rear their ugly heads.

He, Freya, and Arthur are sitting and waiting for Gwen and Morgana to come home from work, chatting idly about the evening's dinner plans and surfing channels when Merlin's phone rings.

Digging it out of his pocket, Merlin sees Mum on the display.

"Hi mum. What's up?"

There's a pause on the other end, and she takes a shaky breath, before Merlin hears his mother's voice. "Sweetheart, turn on the news."

"Mum?" Merlin's pulse goes up a tick. Why does his mother sound so distressed?

"Turn on the news Merlin. Please."

Merlin gestures for Arthur to toss him the remote just as he hears the jangle of keys in the door, meaning the girls are home from work. Once he's got the remote, he flips the channel.

"—have been in police custody for the last several days, based on a recent victim's accusations. The ensuing investigation has revealed photographic evidence linking them to the victim, as well as more than 40 possibly unreported cases—"

Merlin stares at the pictures of two men's mug shots—one lean-muscled with short dark hair and a tall stature and the other with graying hair, wide eyes, and a distinctly hook-like nose. The screen shows footage from two days ago of the two men being escorted into police cars outside a grocer's shop just two blocks from the flat where Merlin and his mum used to live.

"—Police are asking any former victims to come forward—"

Merlin remembers that shop very well, the backroom especially. He's old enough now to know that a lot of what he saw in that room shouldn't have been in a grocer's backroom.

But what's making him feel sick right now are two phrases the reporter said that are on loop in his brain.

Photographic evidence.

Over 40 cases.

He's ten again, with a list of things to pick up for him and his mum and only a limited amount of cash. And Jarl the grocer says Merlin doesn't have enough money for everything, but that's okay. If Merlin can help Jarl with something in the backroom, they can call it even.

That's how it started, Merlin doing chores in the backroom, being helpful to Jarl to pay for the food and other things they needed. There were a few times Jarl, and sometimes his business partner Kanen, got too close to Merlin. The hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, and he'd find one of them standing right behind him, or sometimes he'd look up and one of them would be watching him with an odd look.

The favors got stranger. Could Merlin try on a shirt Kanen had brought for his nephew? They were about the same size, and he wanted to make sure it would fit. No need to be shy about anyone seeing; it was the backroom after all, and just Kanen and Jarl. Nothing to worry about. And the security cameras were there to keep Merlin and Jarl and Kanen safe. They would know if someone came to the shop.

And then—

Merlin's nerveless fingers drop his phone as the most horrid memory washes over him, the phantom sensation of hands on his body making him tremble and making his stomach roll with nausea, while in his head it's his eleventh birthday and saying no, thank you for the candy but then taking it at their insistence, and feeling sleepy after eating some and feebly saying no, please don't, please don't, stopstopstop—

His hand clamps over his mouth and he barely makes it to the toilet before he's on his knees and emptying the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Wiping his mouth and resting his head against the cool porcelain, Merlin succumbs to ragged sobbing.

He feels like he's been violated again.

All because of five stupid fucking words.

He knows where that photographic evidence came from—the blinking red lights like demons' eyes strategically placed around the back room, always watching him from the shadows.

Merlin's world, which had been carefully rebuilt after the betrayal and pain of that first time and the few times after and the near self-destruction Cenred fueled because of how helpless he had felt and how much he hated himself for doing nothing to stop Jarl and Kanen, feels like it's falling apart.

The dreaded warnings ring in his mind. You don't want to be taken away from your mum, do you? We know she's not home much, trying to make enough to take care of you. You don't want to make her worry about you, do you? A good boy like you? And oh, you are good, aren't you? Oh yes, very good.

He screams and punches the tile of the bathroom wall once, twice, three times before finally just curling into a ball and continuing to cry.

It feels like his soul hurts, and he wants nothing more than to fly into an oblivious bliss. He doesn't want to think about them, about what he saw and heard today.

Photographic evidence.

Over 40 cases.

He thought he was alone that whole time. But now, he's a number in a long, long list. There are pictures or videos or some sort of image that he's in, and someone has seen them. Possibly recognized him.

Merlin retches into the toilet again before curling back into himself in the opposite corner by the front of the bathtub.

The guilt for saying nothing eats at him again, whispering of his weakness and his lack of courage.

The familiar, physical craving for the drugs that nearly killed him pulls at his insides, his mind.

Merlin clutches and pulls at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate need to block out the world. He wants to disappear and forget the hurt and everything else.

"Merlin?"

His name is whispered softly with worry and love and care. He opens his eyes at the sound to see Freya kneeling in front of him.

She's looking at him with a knowing look in her eye, and he can see her hands are white-knuckled fists in her lap in an effort to keep from touching him right now if he doesn't want it.

Merlin can tell that Freya has put many of the pieces together.

"I can't think of anything to say that would help," she says, her tone pained, and her expressive eyes somber.

Merlin reaches shakily for her hands, suddenly desperate to not be alone and feel so lost. Freya laces her fingers through his, squeezing his hands tightly in the space between them, and the feeling of her hands in his calms him a little bit, makes him feel a little more grounded. She smiles at him, her empathy and care seeping into him in spite of the sadness.

Merlin swallows audibly, the sound of his ragged breaths echoing loudly in his ears, as he takes comfort from Freya's quiet strength. He concentrates on the feel of her hands, the sound of her calm and quiet breathing, the sting of the broken skin on his knuckles from punching the tile, and the building ache in his back and his legs from the cramped position in which he's been sitting.

Freya's calm has brought Merlin some peace back. He doesn't know how long he's been in the bathroom, but he's thankful that he isn't alone.

"Thank you," he croaks out, "for coming in here and staying with me."

Freya just shakes her head at him. "You'd do the same for me."

Merlin sighs shakily, before reaching over to flush the toilet and slowly climbing to his feet, his legs badly trembling. He feels physically spent and emotionally wrung out. Merlin quickly wipes at his face and eyes as more tears sting them and drip down his cheeks.

"I need to call my mum," he says, moving over to the sink and turning on the faucet. "Let her know I'm…well. Can't say I'm okay. That'd be a lie. But at least I know now." He stares at the gushing stream of water for a moment before cupping some in his palms and splashing his face, repeating the motions a few times.

When he looks up into the mirror, the haunted blue eyes of his reflection stare back at him.

"They're asking for past victims to come forward," Freya says from behind him.

Merlin looks at her reflection in the mirror, watches her cross her arms over her chest as she leans back against the wall. Her eyes meet his in the mirror.

"You're very calm about all this," is his response, deflecting her silent question as he leans his weight on the sink.

"Certain things make a lot more sense now," she says.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Merlin whispers, and ducks his head. God, she must hate him, considering she told him her own secrets not too long ago.

"No Merlin, I'm not mad at you, not really," Freya quickly clarifies. "I'm angry that the reason you knew how to help me was because you've been through this before. I'm angry that seeing their faces is still enough to hurt you now. I'm angry that you're hurting again, and I'm worried because…well, what if I'm in a similar situation to yours, and I see my ex-guardian or Haelig again?

"But in a way, I'm lucky, because I got justice for what happened to me, even though it left me stranded and alone. From what I can tell, you didn't."

Merlin is quiet for a long time, simply processing Freya's words, staring blankly into the bowl of the sink. Finally, he turns around to look at her face-to-face. He's not expecting what comes out of his mouth, because his mind is numb and his heart feels broken, but Freya, solid and strong and fierce like the winged cat from his dreams, is there with him right now while his demons have come out to play.

He wants to believe that someone else can protect him for a change, even though he logically knows that's absurd.

But Freya's mere presence is enough to make him feel some semblance of strength again, so maybe he really shouldn't be surprised when he starts to tell her who Kanen and Jarl were, and what they did to him, how they manipulated him into staying quiet, and how he nearly killed himself with a drug addiction because of what they did to him.

"The hard part about all this," he explains quietly while lying on the floor again, this time with his head pillowed in Freya's lap as she runs her fingers through his hair, "is the pictures, and the other cases. I thought I was alone, Freya, the only one that they hurt. I…I didn't say anything, because I thought they'd find a way to take me away from my mother or hurt her or worse. And then today…to find out that there are others, and that there's evidence…evidence that someone else has seen." He shudders violently at the thought. "I keep thinking that a lot of those other cases are my fault because I didn't say anything. I keep thinking things wouldn't be as bad as they are if…if I'd just…fought."

Merlin closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Freya's fingers through his hair, relishing in the quiet.

"You're letting them win," Freya finally says, and her voice sounds broken to Merlin.

Turning on to his back so that he can look up at her more comfortably, Merlin meets Freya's gaze with his own.

"You're letting them win when you finally have a chance to fight," she elaborates, looking down at him. "I can't tell you to come forward, Merlin. That's a choice you have to make. But…you finally have a chance to fight them. To get justice for yourself. To help others come forward and get justice for themselves."

Merlin is silent for a long time, simply staring up at her, and drinking in her fervor.

"I'm scared," he confesses finally, his voice trembling, "to face them after so long."

"That's okay," Freya says, and the smile on her face is gentle and warm. "We'll all stand with you. You don't have to do it alone."

She takes his hand in hers and brings it to her lips for a quick kiss before holding it tightly and resting their joined hands on his chest.

"You've been teaching me how to fight my monsters, after all."

Merlin smiles faintly up at Freya, and takes comfort in the fact that she's still here with him even after hearing his sordid history. He squeezes her hand, before letting go and shakily getting to his feet again, and facing the door to the bathroom.

He feels exhausted, but he knows he has to go back out there.

He has to face Arthur and the girls.

Merlin doesn't know if he's got it in him to let them see the scars he carries on himself and in his heart.

But he can't hide forever, can he?

"Stay with me tonight," Merlin asks Freya. "Please?"

Her weight against him is warm and solid. "Whatever you need."

Merlin opens the door slowly and walks out into the living room, Freya's hand held tightly in his. He finds Morgana sitting on the end of the sofa, staring out the window, her face blank. Gwen is curled up next to Arthur on the other end of the sofa, her eyes puffy and nose red from crying.

More than anything, though, it's Arthur's stony expression that gets to Merlin. His blue eyes are smoldering in restrained anger, his lips are pressed into a thin line, and the grip he has on the armrest of the couch is so hard his knuckles are white.

"Um, hey," he says quietly, his grip on Freya's hand probably bordering on painful as he brings their attention back to the room. Morgana looks at him, her electric green eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears, as she stands up from her place and comes over to him.

She doesn't say anything for a minute, just studying him with this look of sad acceptance, before finally she says, "I'm sorry."

Merlin swallows, and glances away from her, unable to bear the pain in her gaze. He nods his thanks and feels Morgana gently ruffle his hair as she always does when she's bugging him before pulling him into a hug.

Morgana gives some of the best hugs that Merlin has ever experienced, and he can't help but relax a little in her embrace.

But he keeps a hold of Freya's hand in his own, desperate to keep her near him.

"You need anything, you come tell me, okay?" she whispers in his ear, her voice brooking no argument, and he nods into her shoulder before she lets him go.

Gwen is next to come over, and she's a sobbing mess again. She doesn't even say anything before she hugs him tightly, and leaves a damp patch on his shirt in the process. Merlin would comfort her if he could, but the truth is, he doesn't have the emotional energy to reassure her of anything right now.

So Merlin asks Gwen for something else instead. "Please stop crying. You'll scare Arthur away, and he already looks like he's ready to have a conniption or something."

Gwen laughs, and it brings a slight smile to Merlin's face as she steps back and wipes her eyes with her hands before looking at him seriously again.

"You'll tell me if there's anything I can do, right?" The smile leaves Merlin's face, and he looks away.

"Just…keep smiling for me. Please," he requests, because seeing Gwen happy always makes him feel better, and he could really use her smiles right now.

Gwen nods and smiles while wiping more tears away before excusing herself from the room to go talk to Morgana.

Finally, it's just Merlin, Freya, and Arthur.

Merlin irrationally feels like he needs to tell Arthur everything, like he owes it to him. Arthur is his best friend, Arthur was around on nights during uni when Merlin was craving thanks to his stress levels being through the roof, Arthur kept him company on some of those nights when he couldn't sleep because of bad dreams or racing thoughts. Those nights were some of the best, though.

They were nights spent being idiots online and going to grab food at 2 AM from the sketchy little Asian places near the uni campus and procrastinating over projects and assignments and moaning and groaning about them together and talking about their possible futures and Arthur's issues with his dad and Merlin's transition from living with his mum to living with his great-uncle Gaius and how they both loved their mums like nothing else in the world.

They didn't start that way—and it always makes Merlin laugh when he thinks of how they started—but Merlin loves how far he and Arthur have come, and how close they are.

And he hopes to God that Arthur will forgive him for keeping his secrets when Arthur shared so many of his own fears and troubles and insecurities, being the only son of two divorced and very well-known people.

Merlin stares at his friend, his heart hammering in his chest, his hand clutching Freya's desperately in an effort to stay grounded. He opens his mouth, closes it again, trying to find the right words.

"Arthur, I—" Please don't think I'm weak. Please don't hate me for keeping silent.

He never even has a chance to finish before he's pulled into a firm hug.

"Shut up, you idiot. You don't need to apologize to me," Arthur says to him, his voice thick with emotion. "I'd be a right arse if I expected you to tell me about all that."

"Well, you're a right arse anyway," Merlin says with a weak chuckle, falling into their usual rhythm with ease.

"Remember who's hugging you right now, dollop head," Arthur responds back, arms still wrapped tight around Merlin.

"My word," Merlin mutters, his throat starting to choke up as his vision blurs again with tears, this time in thankful relief for the normalcy Arthur gives him.

"Suits you perfectly," Arthur says, and Merlin buries his head in Arthur's shoulder, trying to draw energy and strength from his solid frame.

Merlin registers Freya squeezing the hand he's still clutching, a silent question asking if he's all right.

Merlin squeezes her hand back tightly.

He's not all right. He won't be for awhile.

But he will be.