'Are you okay?' Arthur asked softly behind as they descended to the main floor.
'I'm good,' he said, letting his smile show. There was no one to question it as his stomach fluttered at the mere memory of Arthur's reaction.
'You seem to attract trouble,' Arthur murmured to himself.
'You're one to talk,' Merlin said under his breath, his steps faltering for a second at the surrealism of the comment. It felt like he had just tapped an elusive memory, like those from his childhood. Only this was different. Deeper.
They stepped out into freedom, the fresh air and breeze cleansing Merlin of what dark things had clung to his clothes, skin. Taking a long breath he moved out the way for Arthur who broke into the light with the box in tow.
'I hate this place,' he said with a hard look and didn't turn back to face Ambrosia. The remark hung in the air, closing the unpleasant experience off, much to Merlin's relief. Gwaine was waiting by the car and waved to them, taking the tapes from Arthur and tucking them away in the boot before they left. Inside Arthur barely looked at Merlin, but the same couldn't be said for the other way round. Merlin had barely let his gaze leave the Pendragon, and luckily Gwaine was too distracted recalling his adventures with the dancer Eliza - or Lizzy - to even notice.
'Where is he!?' a woman cried as Merlin opened the door. Followed by Arthur and Gwaine they walked into a heated scene between a middle-aged woman and the rest of their team. 'Where is the Detective dealing with Old Religion?'
The three of them made their way slowly forward, navigating the maze of desks and observing silently as Kilgharrah moved past Leon to stand before the woman.
'Why do you think we're working on a case which has been inactive for the better part of a decade?' he inquired, calmly, resolutely, and with an unshakable authority.
'The news,' she blubbered, the emotions racking her body as anger tore at her sadness. Just as Gwaine settled the box down on his desk, the woman turned to them. Her face twisted and she grabbed for Arthur, clawed hands tugging harshly at his jacket; raising a hand to slap him across the face he held her steady and away. She fought against him, eyes dark but soon blurring with tears and sorrow.
'My son, you killed my son! You did nothing and let them carry on and my baby,' she drew in a painful breath, her arms tired and struggle lessening, yet strength in her accusations, 'my baby boy is dead because of it! You did nothing, and now they're doing it again.'
Gwen gently took the woman from Arthur, rubbing her back as she cried, and helped her away from them, out of the door to let herself feel what needed to be felt. Merlin's eyes were wide and when he glanced to Arthur he saw a tousled, confused, and angry man. At that moment his stare was met with burning blue eyes. It wasn't anger at the assault. It was anger that her boy had died. That no one had stopped it.
'DC Emrys, can I see your for a minute?' K asked, the muffled conversations of everyone around him coming back into focus.
'Yes, sir,' he said quietly, unsure of whether leaving Arthur was a good idea. Then he remembered that he'd only met the man yesterday, and left without another look to the subject in question. Something twisted inside him at the action; his gut instinct. Fear trickled into his mind.
The door of K's office closed and he shot his first query, 'How are you and Arthur getting along?'
Frowning, Merlin considered the question carefully. 'He hates me, I think. I'd hate me if I were him. Only my second day and twice he's had to save me. It-It doesn't feel right. I don't really know how to . . . put it.'
'Feel you need to save him in turn?' K suggested, folding his aged hands in front of him on the desk. Merlin lingered near the exist, either to stay closer to an escape from a confusing conversation or to stay closer to Arthur. 'Even the odds?'
'I suppose,' he said quietly. The prospect made his confusion smooth out slightly, which he took as a good sign.
'You and Arthur were partnered for a reason, I hope you realise.'
As much as he tried, Merlin couldn't decipher K's expression. 'What reason?'
'Two sides of the same coin.'
'Sorry?'
'An old saying,' K said loudly, as if returning from reverie. 'Just know that Arthur needs you. He's young, ambitious-'
'Arrogant, self-centred-'
'And you're exceptionally intelligent with natural talent in the way of Justice. Together I feel London is a lot safer.'
Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again. He'd never spoken to his superiors like this before. Not about such trivial things. Although, they didn't feel trivial. In fact, Arthur seemed the complete opposite, and he had no idea why. 'Is that what you wanted to talk about?'
'Partly. Keep him safe. He's never dealt with such a cruel organisation.'
'And I have?' Merlin scoffed.
'I'm not worried about you, Detective Constable,' K assured him. 'Destiny has plans for us all.'
'I should get back to the case,' he said, still wearing a deeply etched frown and pulled the door open, slipping out and back into reality. Reality where everyone was gathered around Elyan's computer screen. Percy shifted to make space for him, and silently thanking him with a smile Merlin watched the CCTV tape from Ambrosia. The black and white world played out on the screen, and in it he saw the victim dancing. Her body writhed with the others in that blood and sweat stinking place. Her memory captured in such a dark place. Charlotte's figure moved seamlessly through the crowd, soon joined by a woman with a halo, her hair a shocking contrast to all those with darkness shrouding their heads. They were one for a minute or two before the haloed led Charlotte to the bar.
Merlin knew Arthur had seen what he had when he stiffened.
'The bar tender knows the blonde woman,' Arthur thought aloud, resonating with Merlin's own thoughts.
'A blonde hair found at the scene too,' Gwaine murmured.
'How can you tell?' Gwen asked quietly, having just returned from soothing the woman.
'Body language,' was all Merlin had as an answer. Looking up her face still bore confusion so he added, 'He's open, relaxed, but you can just make out his expression. He's smiling, and she responds in much the same way.'
'Bar tenders are supposed to be friendly and open,' Leon commented skeptically.
'True, but it's something that's not always the case, especially when paired with this woman's gestures,' Arthur said. 'Elyan, can you try to clear up this image a bit more and get a clear picture of the woman? Merlin and I can go have a chat with the bartender tomorrow night.'
'Night?' Merlin repeated, and when Arthur looked up to face him from his perch on the edge of the desk K's words drifted through his mind: 'Keep him safe. He's never dealt with such a cruel organisation.' Keep him safe. His stomach twisted, and the something inside him mimicked the sensation when it tightened around his nerves.
'I doubt he'll be there before Ambrosia opens, don't you?'
'Can't we visit him at home?'
'That requires more paperwork and I'd rather talk to him in his element. Might help him remember, open up.'
'Right,' Merlin muttered, folding his arms. Someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned and the first thing he saw was another set of blue eyes. They were muted and darkened as the sky is before a storm and shone with the same tension. Caught and frozen before black clouds and lightening could tear through them.
'I'm looking for DS Arthur Pendragon,' the man said gently, kindly.
'That's me,' Arthur responded, standing up and indicating to Elyan to stop the tape.
'I heard you reopened the Old Religion case,' the man said, his eyes shifting to Arthur and leaving Merlin feeling a strange sense of emptiness. The sky in his eyes had made him feel safer and yet terrified.
'You are?'
'Mordred,' the man replied, and anticipating their reactions to his name carried on to explain that: 'It's Old Welsh. I worked on the sixth murder in their last cycle, only a PC at the time, but I thought you might need some help. I've already spoken with my superiors and they've agreed to the transfer. I just need you to sign off on it.'
'Help is always welcome,' Arthur said with a smile and walked towards him, hand extended. Mordred took it firmly and they shook. When their hands separated Merlin found Mordred holding it out to him, expectant. Tentatively he took it, feeling the man's cool fingers wrap around his own hand at it had done Arthur's. Mordred's eyes were resting on him again.
'I know you from somewhere,' Mordred remarked, still grasping his hand. Merlin tried to concentrate on the light in the room, how it was dimming as night drew in closer, instead of the way something icy was dancing along in his veins. Only it made him aware of the shadows which were cast over Mordred's soft face. How their darkness made the storm in his eyes seem closer.
'Oh, you two know each other?' Gwaine erupted behind him, excited at this new revelation.
'Actually I can't say the same,' Merlin finally managed to say, pressing his lips together in a forced smile of courtesy.
Mordred cocked his head to the side. 'Sure?'
'Yes,' Merlin said tightly, the ice now forming steam and smothering him from the inside. It moved slowly. A gas cloud, emanating from the hand holding Mordred's. The connection was severed when their hands parted and the cloud was sucked out of his body in an instant, Merlin taking a deep breath of relief. 'If none of the past investigations were a success, what exactly can you help with?'
'Who knows,' Mordred said with a dark lyricism in his voice. 'But given the poor success rate more hands on deck can't be a bad thing, can it?'
Gwaine clapped his hands together and pointed a finger to Mordred. 'Exactly the attitude we need. Most of these lot are depressing bastards, no offence. Anyway, in the last few seconds of the tape Charlotte left with the blonde woman, so-'
'It looks like we need to pay another visit to Ambrosia,' Arthur finished, giving one last welcoming smile to Mordred before switching back into an air of authority and power. 'Percy, did you check the statements of the people in Regis House the night of the murder?'
'Yeah, but only three actually saw something possibly helpful,' Percy said.
'Get them in, then,' Arthur instructed.
He sat up straight from his lounging position in a desk chair he'd pulled over to watch the tapes. 'Now? Isn't it a bit late?'
'Does it look like I care?' Arthur asked, the hope in his eyes that Percy would catch on remaining strong, as any good leader's does.
'I'll get squad cars to pick them up,' he concluded.
'You do that,' Arthur said before bringing his attention to Mordred, who was intently watching Merlin with a curious look. 'Mordred, let's have a chat.'
The man reluctantly slid his sight from Merlin to Arthur, following him into his office, but not without one last confounded glance back. Merlin bit his lower lip in thought, his eyes boring into the closing door behind which were two people that triggered an instinct, or hormone, or some biological reaction beyond any scientific explanations he'd ever encountered. Puffing out his cheeks and blowing out slowly he made his way to his bare desk, which still lacked any personal items, and sat down.
'Gwain,' Merlin called, and the man popped his head out from behind the computer screen with a friendly look.
'Yup, Merlin?'
'Can I have that tape? When we see the blonde woman?'
'Sure,' he answered, bringing it to Merlin a few moments later. 'Planning to do some mystical expert analysis?'
Merlin took the disk and inserted it into his own computer. 'Obviously.'
'Ah, well have fun. I'm off now, so,' he trailed off, slowly retreating and Merlin focused on opening the tape and internet browser. 'Oh, and Merlin?'
He could see Gwain's figure in his peripheral vision but concentrated on getting the tape to the right time. 'Yeah?'
'Is it just me or was there a moment between you and the Mordred guy?'
His fast forwarding leaped two hours too far and he cursed softly, reversing again. 'A moment?'
'You guys weren't even shaking hands, just holding them. Everyone was too in awe of this new tall, dark, handsome stranger to even notice. It doesn't seem a bit odd to you?'
'Trust me when I say there was no "moment", and we weren't holding hands. It was more of a . . . size each other up kind of thing?'
'Ah, a test of strength. Impressively old fashioned, and subtle,' he said admiringly.
'Glad you think so,' Merlin murmured with a breathy chuckle.
'Well, g'night,' Gwain said and left, noticeably empty handed unlike most officers who inevitably took their work home with them. Merlin's heartbeat had sped up, and only now could he feel it beating heavily away. It slowly began to calm down as he searched for images of the Shotgun Jacket. Once he had several photos up he switched back to the video and let it play, trying to distinguish the jacket in the crowd, and more importantly on the woman.
'What're you still doing here?' Gwen asked him, his eyes tiredly scanning the CCTV footage again and again and again.
'Oh, nothing,' he drawled. 'Just seeing what clothes the woman's wearing. Seeing if they match the fabric I found.'
'Does it?'
'Nope,' he said, looking up at her with a defeated smile. The interview room's door banged open and a ruffled Arthur emerged with Leon following close behind, running a hand through his golden curls.
'That was brutal.'
'A drunk, a liar and an adulterer,' Arthur listed with irritation.
'I take it the interviews didn't go well, then?' Merlin inquired mockingly.
Arthur paused beside Gwen and stared him down. 'No, Merlin. They didn't.'
'Well, we get the tapes of Regis House on Thursday, and they might shed some light on the situation,' Leon noted optimistically, but even he seemed worn from the several hours spent talking to useless witnesses.
'Why so late?' he couldn't help but ask, his own mind already beginning to slow down, thoughts moving through a boggy landscape.
'Civil servants, Merlin. Need I say more?'
'That's a bit mean,' Gwen noted and playfully whacked Arthur on the arm, and began to straighten his tie before pulling back at the obvious action. 'I'm tired, so see you guys tomorrow?'
'Of course,' Arthur responded too quickly with a fond smile. Twist. It twisted and squeezed at his heart, and Merlin looked away from the moment they were sharing. Why should he care? They've no doubt known each other for years. He's been there for days. Nothing can compare to that.
'I'll be off too,' he said and left, grabbing his bag from the side of the desk; it didn't even factor in that he'd left his computer on, or that Gwen had asked him if he was taking the tube and if so they could go together. Somewhere in his mind these things were understood and acknowledged, but they made it no further.
Emotions of an unknown source were knocking away with maddening noise at his thoughts and his body. He had no idea how it was he'd managed to make it back to his flat, but one second he was leaving that sickly sweet scene, the next bombarded with an icy cold, then the torrent of warm air underground, people, noise, and finally after a short walk and lift later Merlin was back in the comfort and safety of his flat.
Lights. Take off shoes. Hook coat on a peg. Throw bag onto the sofa. Routine and systematic, leaving his brain free to mull over the case. Over Arthur. Mordred. Merlin took off every layer, pulling on a t-shirt and a soft pair of pyjama trousers before sitting down in the middle of his sitting room. It wasn't a particularly large flat, one bedroom, a small bathroom, kitchen and sitting room melded together and nothing he could really call a dining room. There was a balcony, which was perfect in warm weather, so he barely got the chance to use it.
Letting out a long breath he drew his thoughts back to the case. Fixating on mundane things was avoidance and it did him no good. Stretching over to the sofa he tugged the bag off, slipping his fingers in and finding the cold folders. Spread around him in a semi-circle, he opened each one, studying them in turn. Arranging pages here and there, ones which might have connections, ones which meant nothing, ones that he'd need to think a bit harder about.
Time fell through his fingers as the words fell through his imagination, carving and cutting at his mind - the only balm to soothe the pain being logic and 'justice' as K had put it. These victims had nothing in relation to the Ambrosia club. None. He hadn't had the sense to request a file on Cenred, but night was wrapping around him. It cruelly pulled him down onto his side, head resting on papers, and lulled him into sleep.