He ran. Ran from the room where a hysterical Cenred bled and begged to where he would find justice. Becoming a part of the faceless mass of the London population, Merlin made his way to the office building he'd gotten the address for. It was near Regent's Street and left an uneasy squirming in his chest. It meant they were confident being so public, meant they were wealthy, and a reasonably permanent feature. Old Religion had to involve powerful people to be in the centre of London above ground. To not be hidden from the public eye took a disconcerting amount of bravery or disquieting security.
Marching along the wet pavement sent small droplets of water splashing out from beneath his leather shoes. The rain had relented but the sky was dense with shadows and clouds that pressed down on the buildings around him. As he approached their headquarters he felt a wave roll through him, electrifying but weighted too. Pausing to let the strange sensation pass he soon continued on, pushing the glass door open. The heat inside struck him like a wall and, although uncomfortable, Merlin soon adjusted and gained the receptionist's attention. Instant recognition flashed in the man's eyes.
'You're that policeman, the one that joined the serial spiral case,' he remarked, returning the phone he'd been holding and offering Merlin a star struck smile.
Stopping in front of the counter, he asked, 'Serial spiral case?'
'Old Religion, all that crazy stuff,' the receptionist explained. The man's greying bristles and recently dry-cleaned suit leaked aspects of his life which Merlin experienced like seeing a stranger in their home. Privy to momentary involvement in a different mind, different outlook and morals. Again the waters stirred with an electric jolt somewhere in his own mind, own body.
'How do you-'
'Media's been all over it from the start. With all the new tech advances and stuff it's gotten a lot bigger. Man, that's got to be stressful stuff to deal with,' the man rambled, leaning forward and giving him a look of apparent heartfelt sympathy. A faint whiff of tobacco reached Merlin, as did the scent of animals. Did the receptionist own dogs?
'The media?' Merlin pressed again, feeling utterly out of the loop. Ridiculous really, given it was the focus of his life right then.
'You were on the news just last night actually. Mostly christmas stuff, weather, normal stuff, but the BBC gave you and that Pendragon a mention, even showing your head shots. My daughter's obsessed with it, not the murder part but, uh . . . She likes the way you two look. You know how teenagers are,' the receptionist clarified with another smile, the soft skin of his cheeks folding as muscles forced them out of the way for the expression of contentedness.
'I guess it's a well known case,' Merlin reasoned, for his own benefit mostly.
'Very. Isn't there a press conference scheduled in the New Year?'
Merlin chuckled, the sharp change in atmosphere refreshing but growing tedious. 'I'm sure you'll be watching, then?'
'Well, it's got lots of people worried.'
'I'm sure it has,' he agreed, fetching up another smile.
The receptionist's smile dropped as he asked, 'Why're you here?'
'I need to know where I can find Morgana Pendragon.'
'She's with Scotland Yard too, isn't she? Visits a lot. Consulting I think.'
'Yeah. Which floor?'
'Floors thirty to sixty.'
'Thirty floors?'
'Yes. Can't be more specific than that, sorry. If you don't mind my asking, why're you trying to find her?'
'Oh, she's a friend of mine,' he lied, smiling.
'Brush shoulders at the office quite a lot I imagine.'
'All the time. Thank you,' Merlin said and left the man to enter the lift to the side.
'Happy Christmas!' the man called to him.
Without thinking he pressed the circular button with '50' engraved in its metal, and the number lit up as the heavy doors closed. He had no choice about seeing himself in the mirrors on the walls. His hair was damp and sticking up everywhere. 'Ruffled' barely cut it as a good description for his frazzled state. The thing that made him look away was what he saw in his eyes. It was a stranger. Paler, wearier, but stronger in the all wrong ways.
When the doors opened he was welcomed by decorations of tinsel and a small christmas tree. A long hallway stretched ahead, with several doors on each side. At the end was a wall of glass, through which he could see the hub of business. He could also see Morgana's fine figure flitting about in a dark dress, unfazed by any wound his bullet would have given her. Although he could see the busy office enjoying a bout of dubious work, not a sound escaped the glass cage.
Mordred, Cenred, and the innocent deaths all flooded into him as a reminder. The previous normality conjured up in the receptionists presence fled and a dark pulsing rose around him. Merlin made his way down the hallway and each door he passed splintered, cracked and flew open with loud crashes. Wood shavings blew about wildly behind him. The occupants of the large glass room ahead remained unaware but the second his foot stepped out of the hallway and towards the glass wall, they couldn't stay absorbed in their own business.
The wall cracked at the edges and then with a surge of loathing Merlin shattered the glass, shards blowing into their work floor and whirling around before falling like a curtain of knives. Some people screamed and all ducked down to take cover. All except Morgana who remained unscathed.
'I was wondering when you'd finally arrive,' the lyrical and mellow voice commented. Merlin clenched his fists and watched as Morgause crunched over the glass to Morgana's side.
'Why are you doing this?'
'You'll have to be a bit more specific, darling,' Morgause mocked. 'Why are we taking lives? Why we tried to take yours? Why we've returned after so many years? Why Morgana? Mordred? Cenred?'
'All of the above,' he said indignantly.
'Sweetheart . . .' Morgause began, putting a hand to her chest to jokingly mimic pity, sympathy. 'If it makes things better I didn't agree with using Mordred, but Morgana insisted. Clearly, she was right.'
'He didn't kill me,' Merlin reminded them.
'No, but look at you. Fire and brimstone is what births a dragon and look at how you soar,' she proclaimed, throwing her arms out to the side.
'You're under arrest,' he said through gritted teeth. 'Everyone here is under arrest!'
'For what?'
'"Taking lives",' he repeated her expression bitterly.
'He's adorable,' Morgause said, turning to Morgana with a bemused smile. 'I can see why Mordred was so enraptured by you. Oh, what could have been. It's sad, really. Nay, it's pitiful.'
Merlin stared at her as the words soaked in. 'What could have been?'
'He technically failed to complete his test. You're not dead but you have come into your powers, as was intended, so all's well that ends well. However, those who fail their test lose their place with us,' Morgana related. 'Since they know so much, they usually need to die.'
'You killed him?'
'His existence became irrelevant. Waste. Of. Space,' Morgana said coldly. 'Now, are you in?'
'In?' Merlin reiterated breathlessly.
'Old Religion,' she elaborated with exasperation.
'No. You're all mad.'
'What we are is a family, Merlin,' Morgause said sweetly.
'A cruel, sick, twisted family,' he snarled.
'You don't belong out there!' Morgana yelled at him as she took a step towards him. 'You're not quite human if you haven't noticed.'
'And that's what you all are? Not quite human?'
'Yes. The government doesn't cater for the magical. Most of us can't keep jobs. We end up homeless, in working class jobs or less when we can do so much more. That's why we created Old Religion,' she ranted, the burning charcoal in her eyes blowing out burning golden embers. 'Do you honestly think Arthur will accept you?'
'You tried to kill me!'
'You were a threat. You might still be depending on how you answer,' she said, her voice dropping to a growl.
'I'd never be a part of Old Religion,' he rejected immediately. 'You kill. You hurt.'
'Then you're already half way there,' Morgana noted with a dark chuckle.
'That's,' he started but no explanation came. He felt the guilt close around his throat. 'That's . . .'
'It's in your nature to fight. To do what must be done if it means getting what you want. That's what we do,' she continued.
'Just stop,' he said with defeat. 'Stop all of this.'
'It's not going to happen, Merlin. I let you be brave, but now it's time for your final choice. Live or die,' Morgana said.
'I'd die any day if it meant being me. I won't become a part of your circus.'
'Pity. Your magic had the strongest potential I've ever seen,' Morgause said while heading towards him. Merlin raised his hand up in defence.
'Stay back,' he warned.
'I'm not sure you understand, darling. This is a kill or be killed situation,' she sneered, keeping on course.
'Stop!' he felt the heat ripple through his arm and the air quiver as a quake shook through it. Morgana threw up her arm and swept the magic to the side, a window breaking in place of her body. Merlin tried to shove her back but it didn't work and then her bony hand closed around his neck.
'It's still inside you, isn't it? The Old magic. Once touched by it you will forever have lost a part of yourself, Merlin dear. Don't fight this. Let it run through you. You've felt it's strength,' Morgause said.
'No,' he said hoarsely, struggling to draw in air.
'Your King isn't here to save you this time. Happily, for you, we've already taken the life we need. In six days time though, we'll come for you. You've lost your life line.'
'I'll enjoy killing you. You're a traitor to our kind,' Morgana hissed into his ear with another dig of her nails into his neck.
She dropped him to the ground and he choked for breath. A shadow enveloped him and the office, the broken glass and the piercing glares all disappeared. Claws cut into his skin, and out poured the cold waters.
He woke shuddering, the warmth blossoming in his chest and soothing each limb. Rubbing his blurry eyes the world sharpened and he took in his new surroundings.
'Merlin? What are you doing here? What are you doing on the floor?' Arthur's string of questions got through to him after a moment's confusion.
Oh god. Another hospital. He could smell the disinfectant and scrambled out of the way of medics rushing someone pass in a bed. Shakily getting back to his feet and he stared at Arthur, rubbing his throat where Morgana's hand had squeezed. The sky blue eyes were darker with reddened eyes. He was upset.
'What's wrong?'
'You just appeared out of nowhere, and bloody hell you look like crap,' Arthur charged on to say, voice steady and the tears clearly having long since departed.
'Arthur. What's happened? You left and didn't come back,' Merlin reminded him, somewhat sourly.
'Gwen. Her dad . . . There was a car accident and they couldn't save him,' he explained, eyes momentarily seeming lost and scared.
We've already taken the life we need.
Merlin looked down to the linoleum floor, seeing the blurred reflection of the lights. Morgause had taken him here for a reason. She'd taken the coldness out of him, drained the source of those electrifying waves. He couldn't decide whether he was grateful or not. He'd unknowingly been numbed but now he felt everything with an unbearable potency. His throat was sore, his heart throbbed with shame at what he'd done to Cenred and then with misery at the death that swarmed around him. How the warmth he'd always felt was this power. A power that had warped everyone involved with the Old Religion.
'She's with a doctor right now. He's explaining what happened,' Arthur said, having come to lean against the wall next to him. 'How did you get here?'
'Um,' Merlin hummed, brow pinching slightly as he struggled to come up with an explanation. He thought about telling Arthur, but what Morgana had said was lodged in his head. Would Arthur accept it? Him? He didn't seem like someone who'd easily believe in anything close to magic. Let alone Merlin having it.
'And the floor? Did you trip or something?'
'Yeah, I fell. I've managed to hide my clumsy side from you so far but I guess it's out,' Merlin said with a hollow chuckle. Inside he could feel the heat unravelling, spreading its roots again. 'This is just one tragedy after another, huh?'
'Gwen, though. She doesn't deserve any of this. Neither do you,' Arthur said more seriously, his eyes locked on Merlin.
'And you do?'
'I know I can handle it,' Arthur explained. There was the warrior. Born to fight, but still so soft of heart. Standing there with battle scars weighing down his shoulders while they kept him standing tall at the same time, Merlin wondered about how bruised that heart was. How hard the kingly shell Arthur wore had become over the last few years. How hard it was going to become. If having armour made you resistant to fear.
'I'm not a damsel in distress,' Merlin scoffed, trying to maintain that shred of normality in their conversation. Keep it feeling less surreal, while Morgana's threat still stained his thoughts. 'I can handle it as well. I'd rather not have to, but we don't get much choice in these things, do we?'
'It's bloody Christmas as well!'
'Bloody's the right word to use,' Merlin muttered darkly.
'Hey. We're trained into the ground to deal with this kind of thing. Albeit nothing quite to vicious and some things no one can ever be prepared to face, but we'll end it. Soon,' Arthur insisted. Merlin stood in awe of the unfaltering hope, the optimism remaining strong underneath it all. Affection was pierced by jealousy.
'Arthur,' Merlin began, speaking lowly. 'In another six days someone else dies. Another one after that. Who knows what happens when they've completed this cycle.'
Should he tell Arthur? About where to find Old Religion, about Morgana, about Mordred? About himself? The fear that it would make things worse, that Arthur would charge into hell and it would snap its jaws shut around him forever, held him back from saying more. Let him be hopeful. Ignorance is bliss after all. Morgause had never given him a straight answer as to why they murdered people so what would stop them from changing their minds and killing Arthur?
'You're really out of it,' Arthur commented as he pressed his hand to Merlin's cheek. The contact brought Merlin out of his thoughts. He felt Arthur's own warmth as he had in St Thomas', and once again he felt it with death brooding over them. Reaching up he curled his fingers around Arthur's hand.
'There's always a light at the end of the tunnel, right?'
'Always,' Arthur murmured.
'Oh, sorry, I, um,' Gwen stammered, emerging from the room. Arthur immediately pulled his hand away and moved to her side, hands on her shoulders and wiping tear streaks from her cheeks.
'Do you want me to take you home?' he asked her quietly, but Merlin could hear it with an odd clarity. Behind the two of them the doctor appeared. Merlin took in his bronze skin, strong jaw, thick brows and dark eyes. Arthur noticed as well and, remaining at Gwen's side, greeted him.
'Doctor Lance du Lac,' the man introduced himself, giving Gwen a comforting pat before speaking with the two of them. Merlin had tuned out, shrinking into the hospital wall. As one problem fixed itself several more reared their ugly heads and his mind tried to compartmentalise. Anything to keep his emotions in check. To stop what had happened with Cenred from happening again. Ever. The power he'd felt skirted along his skin still and the gut wrenching noises the man had made kept echoing in his mind. Behind that suffocating layer rested Mordred and the fear. Beyond that Merlin couldn't bare to explore. So, he locked it all up and kept it hidden. The only things he would let free would be the present troubles and Arthur.
'Merlin, I'm going with Gwen. Do you want to come?' Arthur asked lightly, tugging him from his thoughts.
'No,' he replied, still withdrawn.
'Merlin, you can't be a alone,' Arthur implored.
'Don't worry. I've got something.'
Merlin flinched at the pained expression on Arthur's face. 'Merlin. For me?'
'Gwen needs to mourn, and my being there won't help. You two go. I really do have something to do,' he explained.
'Don't go after Old Religion alone. Promise me?'
'I promise,' Merlin said too easily. It sounded far too genuine and calm. Had Morgana truly rid him of everything poisonous Mordred had infected him with? Like the cold touch of fog, something still didn't feel right. Everything felt unsettlingly fine which in itself put him on edge and scared him more than any death threats could. He felt fine. He felt the power. He heard the shattering glass, the wet crack of bone, the kind conversations of strangers and it all convened in the present. It all felt fine. He knew it wasn't.
Arthur started to turn away but twisted back and enfolded Merlin in a tight hug. His arms were strong and secure, his body bulkier than Merlin's and comforting. Merlin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He'd always hated lying. Keeping secrets. He had since he was little and now he was doing it to the man he found the most joy in. He knew he hated it. He did hate it, didn't he? His hands clutched at the soft fabric of Arthur's grey shirt.
It struck him how it must seem to other people. Two grown men hugging in a hospital. They'd assume loss or bad news. Merlin lifted his eyelids wearily and felt the warm wetness of tears which left his eyes to travel down the landscape of his cheek. They pulled apart and he left before Arthur could notice.