A/N: Cal or Merlin, strange to switch back... Meanwhile, it's also an easy way to distinguish the viewpoints. But now, on to the family drama.

Seven.

.

Cal frowned, wondering who could possibly be dropping by so early. Gaius and Alice were usually out at this time of the day, besides, he knew they kept the key under the stone banister and wouldn't resort to ringing the bell.

Morgana looked up from the bed, less than excited. 'Must be my mother.'

'W-what?' The idea of meeting her family after their recent snuggle felt... confronting, not to mention that he was still technically in his pajamas and... How did she even find them?

'I called her up.' Morgana sat up, grabbing her sweater. 'Last night, when you were sleeping.' Her hair was a lovely mess, and it was only as she pulled the t-shirt over her head, exposing her bra, that Cal remembered to look away.

The suddenly very possible outcome of her mother's arrival filled his mind with dread, alerting the voice in his head that said that this was it, she was leaving, and that last night was simply just that. A cosy snuggle. Thank you very much and Goodbye.

It must have been all very evident in his face, for Morgana cupped his cheek again, prompting him to look at her - now wearing a top, but still very much in her underpants - and looked at him: with that glass-piercing gaze, slowly breaking him down into smaller parts, his intent and feelings. His pulse was throbbing against the inside of her thumb with a rush of fear and excitement that was not all unpleasant. 'Cal.'

What was the name she had called him earlier?

'Relax,' Morgana implored, studying his pout. 'She won't tell on us.'

Letting out one nervous breath, Cal finally opened the door. Despite Morgana informing him earlier, so he had no idea what to expect.

'Come in, Mrs. Du Bois.' He stopped, afraid of having made a blunder.

Her calm blue gaze scanned him from head to toe, then settled on his face.

'Vivienne.' The tall blonde extended her hand. She was wearing an elaborate silver ring and a designer coat, her hair was long and sleek, her immaculate jaw line and her elegant eyebrows the only thing resembling Morgana. 'No formalities, please.'

'Uhm, nice to meet you,' he remembered his manners and stopped staring. 'I'm Cal.'

He helped her with said overcoat, and began shambling around, stumbling over Gaius' old wellies, trying to find a free spot on the clothing rack.

Vivienne stood aside, purse grasped tight in her hand, looking around her like an exotic bird in an unfamiliar cage.

'This way,' Cal showed her to the living room.

The woman in front of him excuded elegance, her nails varnished to perfection, the hint of French only lightly shining through. He was no longer sure what to offer to her, whether the shortbread aunt Alice had baked the day before would be sufficient for the occasion.

Vivienne refused politely, accepting only tea. 'I had a lunch on the train,' she apologized, settling her gloves on the edge of the sofa. Cal stood, unsure what to do or say next.

Thankfully enough the moment didn't last long. Morgana was already coming down the stairs, noisily, looking like a grumpled cat, wearing her own clothes again.

Her mother sat up, her posture trained rimrod straight. Morgana did not move to sit down. Their silence in this homely setting was unusual, if not a little unnerving.

'I'll leave you two to catch up,' Cal excused himself.

'He's a cute one.' Vivenne remarked to break the ice. 'You always did fall for the pale dark-haired ones.'

Morgana gave a bitter smile.

'Like you and my father?'

The older woman sighed with the load of two worlds on her shoulders.

'Morgana, this is not a joke. Why now? I heard you were already making such progress-...'

'I want to know what really happened. Why you left him for Uther. Why he didn't visit us, not once. In all those years.'

'You have no idea what you are talking about."

Still in technically the hearing range, Cal busied himself with tea in the kitchen. There was a distinct air of an argument approaching, and he felt torn between coming between them and taking cover in the nearest bomb shelter.

.

Morgana reached for something she had tucked under her sweater. Slammed a yellowish envelope on the desk.

'Don't I?' Morgana snapped, victorious. 'The restraining order. I knew it, when I heard talk about an accident. Uther beat him up, then framed him as you filed a complaint and got a warrant to stop him from ever seeing us again.'

Her mother's face grew pained, then icy, then sad.

'The accident happened to me. I lost a baby in a fight with your father.'

Morgana balked.

'Uther pulled him off me, took me to the hospital, but I already started bleeding. I lost the child, but the damage was contained. I did manage to conceive Arthur, after all.'

Morgana sunk into the couch, her hands on her face. Her mother remaind motionless, determined to avoid any unnecessary emotion.

An odd smile touched her face.

'They told me it was a girl.'

Cal had stopped breathing, one could have heard the sound of a needle dropping.

'I wish you had told me sooner,' was all Morgana could manage after a while. 'I could have, I wouldn't...'

'Come now. What would you have done with that information,' Vivienne admonished, incredulous, 'that you already haven't come up on your own?' That was clearly too harsh, even if it held some truth.

'You. left. me. With Uther.' Morgana roared, her voice terribly shaky, 'Uther. While I was too small to choose. Did you think, just once, what it meant for me?'

'Poor Morgana, it's always been all about you.' Vivienne pointed out calmly- 'But I suppose you got that from me. That, and your bone structure.'

'Please...' Morgana scoffed weakly. 'I'm not your genetic experiment.'

'No, you're my daughter.'

Wordlessly, Morgana curled up on the sofa, rested her head on her mother's lap.

Vivienne smoothed her raven black hair, the perfect photo negative of hers. Cal stopped on the doorway with this awkward sensation of witnessing something terribly intimate. He forgot about the tray. The two didn't notice him, didn't move at all.

'The baby... Did you have a name for her?'

'I suppose,' Vivienne hesitated, remebering, 'I might have gone with Morgause, to match yours.'

Knowing he might just as well forget the tea, Cal decided to go up to his room and finally give the two some privacy.

On the floor, Morgana's bag lay wide open, its contents visible, kicked over in an obvious rush to retrieve the documents she'd just shown to her mother.

Cal moved to pick it up, when he noticed something else had spilled on the floor. Pill bottled of several shapes and colour, and names on labels that didn't reveal much, but seemed pretty serious. Carefully, one by one, he picked them up and returned them to her bag.

Risperidone, Restoril, Olanzapine... the names told him nothing. Only that they weren't exactly something you could pick up from a shelf at Boots.

It could be anything, he reasoned lightly, remembering the trust they had established so far. And during the while they had known each other, Morgana had not mentioned being ill. Nor asked for water for any of the medications.

Then again, it made sense to take all the essentials with you when you left home for long. He himself had struggled with injuries as a child, knew how much time it took to heal.

Cal paced aroun, trying to put it all together, and put it off his mind. The idea of her being in pain filled him with unease, feeling stupid for not noticing something earlier. Most likely she didn't even want him to know.

He could not ask now, either. Not without making it seem like he had gone through her bag while she was away. Which, technically, hehad.

Cal heard the sound of shouting, then sudden commotion downstairs.

'Remember what you promised me. Mother?'

'Don't be a child.'

.

'Was that your mother, did she just-' CAl hurried downstairs, after the distinctive slam of the front door. Morgana met him halfway on the landing, grabbed him roughly by the collar, and effectively, shut him up with her demanding mouth against his. Reeling from the impact, Cal cupped her face, kissing her back, and clumsily backed up the stairs.

'Morgana, what hap-' he tried once more, but she silenced him again, her lips moving against his at their own rhythm. He gave up talking at all, wondering where the blood had gone from his brain. But that was alright.

Talking was not high on her priority list right now.

A/N: Whew, what a difficult chapter to work on. Next one will be more ... steamy, but nothing too explicit that would change the rating. Hope you enjoyed!