The home phone blared at him and Merlin sighed. He left the book, closing off the escape, and got up from the sofa. Dragging his feet he answered with a tired, 'Hello?'
'Gwaine needs help in Soho. Morgause has taken someone out of the club and he's gone after them,' Arthur alerted him, panting heavily into the phone.
Merlin's brain switched on completely. 'Any idea where they were heading?'
'North towards Reagent's Park,' Arthur huffed and Merlin could hear the engines of passing cars and chatter of people over the line.
He started turning off his flat's lights. 'Right. I'll leave now then.'
'Be careful, Merlin. She's a killer. Serial for all we know.'
'I know,' he muttered back and hung up.
Grabbing his phone, jacket, then tugging on his shoes he left his flat within five minutes and ran out into the night.
Catching his breath once he jumped into a tube car, Merlin checked his phone and felt his stomach drop at the lack of updates. Warm air bombarded him from all sides and his hand was sweating, gripped around the green pole. Charing Cross ran across the notice board in electronic orange and the train slowed, doors hissing open. Blasted with air again his hair flew around wildly as he dashed for the next train. Bumping shoulders with people and skirting around the large crowds his chest was heaving by the time he managed to get onto the train heading to Goodge Street.
In his mind the coloured lines of the underground map darted in all directions, dark letters blooming into life along the lines like leaves on each branch of a tree. He was blind when it came to above ground. A burning in his chest shook him back into focus and seared away his fear, just in time. The doors opened and he moved with the crowd out and up at a painfully slow pace.
Soon enough he broke free and breathed in the cold winter air, flashing lights and night life beating all around him. Merlin headed to Ambrosia and then began to scour the streets around it. He ran around the streams of strangers, studying each face for a second and eliminating the possibility of it being Morgause. Going North his heart was hammering faster and faster. No news from Arthur. From anyone. Death mocked him with the smiling faces of those who passed. Oblivious while someone's life was hanging in the balance.
Staring into the shadows of alleys and doorways, looking through windows of shops and buildings, and asking people if they'd seen someone with Morgause's description. It all came to no avail. Pulling out his phone he called Arthur but it rang out.
'Shit,' he murmured and started his search again. Clipstone Street. The street sign was drenched in the street lamp light. Turning down it his eyes wandered over the brick and blackened windows of the towering buildings on either side. Only a few trees stood as reminders of nature, the rest were of man's making. Around the corner was a quieter, secluded path. Standing at its mouth, Merlin examined the wall of darkness and through it he could see them.
'Mordred?' he said, slowly coming towards them. Mordred was on the ground, holding a limp man in his arms. 'What happened?'
'I couldn't save him,' Mordred said. His voice was broken, lower, strangled. 'He was screaming, Merlin. His face . . . My god . . .'
'Mordred,' Merlin said again and approached him, cautiously, and crouched down next to him. He could see his pale face and wide eyes. It was an expression of shock Merlin had never seen a person wear before. Putting his hand on the man's shoulder he gave it a reassuring squeeze. 'This wasn't you. This was the Old Religion. Not you. Do you hear me?'
'Merlin,' Mordred whispered, finally drawing his eyes away from the dead body to meet Merlin's. 'I watched him die. I couldn't stop it. I was here and I couldn't save him.'
'Merlin!' Arthur erupted, running towards them with everyone else following close behind. He came to a halt when he realised the scene before him. 'Dammit. Dammit. God dammit!'
Gwaine pulled Arthur away quickly while Gaius and Morgana came towards them. Merlin looked back to Mordred and gently tugging on his shoulder said, 'We need to leave now. We need to let Gaius take care of this man, okay?'
Mordred had receded into himself. It wasn't bright enough to make out the storm in his eyes. Merlin wanted to see it, to know where he stood, how Mordred was coping. If he could just see.
'Merlin, let me take care of Mordred. Arthur needs your help,' Morgana told him. The warmth throbbed through his veins and his instinct was to stay, to keep her away. Arthur was pacing at the entrance of the gap between the two buildings, his face taught and irritated. Reluctantly Merlin stood and watched as Morgana spoke to Mordred. He got up after placing the dead man on the pavement. Heading to the DS, Merlin could feel his own body rejecting the choice he'd made. It was agonising.
Arthur's feet stopped at Merlin's approach. 'Is he okay?'
'No,' he said grimly.
'I'm sorry,' Arthur said,
'For what? It's not your fault these people are being killed,' Merlin remarked sourly. 'It's not your fault it's being done in such a cruel-'
'And impossible,' he cut in.
'Way,' Merlin finished as he watched PCs keeping the public back while setting up the barrier of police tape. 'They're cornering this section off?'
'Yeah they are. At least now we know it's Morgause,' Arthur noted.
Merlin crossed his arms. 'Actually we don't.'
'What are talking about?' he questioned,
'The fabric found at Regis House?' Merlin started, and Arthur's nod insured he knew what he was talking about. 'It doesn't match what she was wearing.'
'She could have taken a coat or jacket off,' he pointed out.
'I suppose, but-'
'Don't tell me you have the gut feeling,' Arthur said with reproach.
'Afraid so,' he answered with sympathy for his DS's fatigued state.
'That's just perfect,' Arthur murmured, running his hand down his face. 'So, it wasn't Morgause. Not for the first murder.'
He marvelled at how swiftly Arthur had taken aboard his own instincts about the tricky situation. 'You're willing to bank so much on my gut feeling? Not exactly the smartest move.'
'See, Merlin, that's where you're wrong. You're an idiot and rather useless in a lot of things, but then I've only known you for a week,' Arthur explained and Merlin's fear settled slightly with the insulting distraction. 'Despite all that you do show something akin to wisdom. In fact, I believe it is wisdom. If you're wrong, you'll be the one getting reprimanded anyway, so I've got nothing to lose.'
He grinned at Merlin, but it didn't touch his sombre eyes. Morgana passed them both with Mordred in tow.
'Where are you taking him?' Merlin questioned, moving out in front of her. She stopped short of walking right into him. She gave him a look of incredulous offence.
'Home. He's in shock,' she remarked, the concern in her voice so disturbingly fake Merlin could practically see her wear it as a mask.
'Shouldn't he go to the hospital?'
'He's not physically wounded,' Arthur supported Morgana without hesitation although he did give Merlin a reassuring pat. 'Take him home, Morgana.'
Merlin stepped aside. Inside his body cold winds lashed against the tearing fires. Mordred looked back to him, and now in light Merlin could see the man's eyes. The blue was darker, the seas in them frozen, languid, and the clouds heavy, drooping too close to the ocean's surface. He wanted to go to him, to keep him away from Morgana. But Arthur's presence beside him reminded him he had a job to do.
Clearing his throat, Arthur turned to Gaius who returned from his preliminary examination of the body.
'I'm going to need you both to provide DNA samples later, so I can eliminate you from the forensics,' he told them before returning to this work and coordinated the forensics officers who were arriving on scene.
'I'll get Percy to check the CCTV cameras while we go question some witnesses,' Arthur decided, indicating to Merlin to follow. They headed away from the police cars, flashing blue lights and interested citizens back to Ambrosia. Merlin had no idea what to say, his fear still trained on Mordred and Morgana.
Approaching the club's entrance they saw Cenred watching while his workers filtered out all the customers.
'Getting rid of any and all witnesses, evidence too, right?' Arthur insinuated as they marched up to him. 'Stop them and bring everyone back in. Now.'
'It's closing time,' Cenred sneered.
'You close at three a.m., don't you?' Merlin asked, checking his phone. 'I make it only eleven forty two p.m.'
'Fine,' Cenred said with a hard glare. While they pulled everyone back Merlin noticed how close Arthur was standing. Their shoulders were almost touching.
'What is it?' Cenred asked curtly.
'A man's been murdered. Right after leaving your club. If you don't mind, DC Emrys and I will be talking to a few of your patrons,' Arthur informed him, upper lip pulled up with disgust and body buzzing with agitation. They escorted Cenred inside and began with their questions, taking a few people at a time into Cenred's office and drilling them. Merlin felt the dread of how long it was going to take and that they weren't going to get a wink of sleep.
'Thank you,' Mordred said once they reached the door to his flat. 'I'll be fine.'
'Oh no, I insist I at least make you some tea,' Morgana implored, hovering too close to him. 'I can't imagine what you're going through, but tea always helps me calm down.'
'I'm not sure if I even have tea,' Mordred muttered, turning back to the door and fitting in the key. The sight of his hand trembling made him grit his teeth. He was scared. He'd vowed never to be scared again yet there he was. Shaking.
'I'll improvise,' she insisted with a sweet smile. Mordred could feel the weight of her words push against him and with a resigned huff he unlocked his door and let her in. Breezing past him she took in his studio flat, piercing eyes stabbing at everything they could set their sights on: the dark oak floor, the peeling beige cement walls, the bookshelves and odd ornaments resting atop the fireplace's mantelpiece. 'Kitchen?'
'Just over there,' he pointed at it and shut the door, letting his black coat fall down his arms and then hung it up on a hook. Without hesitation she floated through the archway, not before pausing to study the platform on the far side. On it stood a wooden stool, his easel and a work in progress, then more bookshelves. He could hear her searching while he tugged off the chocolate coloured scarf and sank down into his small sofa. The charcoal sat cold and motionless, deprived of fires to crackle and sputter within it.
She came back out holding his cup of tea. She'd chosen one of the fine china cups. Even adorned it with a saucer.
'So, there was some tea?'
'Hiding behind old imported coffee,' she said and perched next to him, handing it out to him with a caring smile. Mordred forced himself to smile lightly and took a cautious sip. It was sweet. Ridiculously and almost sickeningly so.
'Is it alright?'
'Yup,' he lied and took another sip to confirm his lie.
'Good,' Morgana said while settling in more. 'How are you and Merlin?'
'Why do you want to know?'
'Don't be like that. I'm just trying to talk about something happy. Merlin makes you happy, doesn't he?'
The past began knocking against his thoughts. Scratching at the entrance. He could hear the crying. He could hear the shouts. 'He does.'
'Merlin does have something special about him, wouldn't you agree?' Her voice drowned out as the memories became stronger. Mordred examined the fine cracks in the charcoal, trying to keep present, but he was being dragged back. The crying was so loud it was as if a child were in tears just outside his front door. 'It's okay to become more public about your relationship.'
'I wouldn't call it a relationship,' he murmured, feeling the pressure around his wrists, the cold terror that was starting to strum that familiar beat in his limbs.
'Mordred?'
'Sorry. I'm not feeling . . .' his voice left him when he felt the hot breath cutting into his face. Years stripped away and what was became what is.
'You've got tea and you're home safe. Your safety is what's important to me, so I'll leave you to rest,' Morgana prattled, taking the cup and placing it down on the side table before she stood. Mordred didn't watch her leave. His fingers dug into the edge of the sofa as the floor fell away. The cement crumbled into ash. The books burned and left as smoke. The paints and canvas, the pictures and china figurines all cracked and spilled and melted away.
Heat wrapped around him and the searing, sweaty hand was clamped down over his mouth again. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't move. Enveloped in the stifling warmth and darkness he tried to fight it, tried to cry out, but he was trapped.
It was happening. It was pain. It was shame. It was helplessness. It was horror.
Mordred heaved in a breath and choked with the shock. Reality put itself back together again and he left the sheets. Left his old room. Left the monster. He threw himself from the sofa, hands running into his hair and gripping the curls tightly. Silent, tearless cries shook him and his back hit the wall. Sinking down he pulled his knees up, locking his arms around them. Burying his head down the hands and fingers ran over his body, the breath against his ear sending repulsed and terrified shivers through his body.
Real tears fell, carving themselves into his skin and stinging his eyes. Old wounds burst with new agony over his body and in his mind. Then a freezing and thick substance formed in his core. Hand to his chest his tears stopped and terror held him motionless. Like a ball in his chest cavity, he could feel it. Against his bones and organs and the next moment it burst. Whatever it contained swarmed around inside him until it coated every part of his existence. The ice touched his mind and everything that had happened crashed into him with one final blow.
One blow too many.
A drop of black ink into the waters of his thoughts and Mordred could only see him. Merlin. The angles of his face as shown by the dark curling liquid which shaped him perfectly. The unwanted caress and fright felt by his past self was now locked down and tamed. He funnelled those sensations and together with his own cravings an abomination took its first breath within Mordred's shell. Who he was and wanted to be was anchored down at the bottom of an ocean, left to drown, while the new creature got back to its feet.
Taking in its surroundings with new eyes, Mordred put his hand to his face and drew it back wet. Nose crinkling up with derision at the sight he dried of his face. Tearing off his clothes he searched in the drawers of the bureau and clothed himself with a new focus. A new want. New purpose.
In the mirror he could see that same old face. It grinned back at him. What he'd feared now made his heart race and thoughts surge all for the one thing.
'Merlin,' he tested out the name. It felt heavy and sweet on his lips. He wanted to bite into it. The world was shrouded, clouded, with something, but that one name and thought remained painfully clear and bright. The smile he wore grew and he said it one more time, the ink image of the man now tattooed behind his eyes: 'Merlin.'