The Wild Roses.

They wouldn't shut up. Ringing over and over and over again. Violent images flooded his partly dreaming thoughts, a dreaminess which conjured the killing grasp of hands around an irritating neck. The knots in his back hardened each passing moment he laid against the cardboard, and the edge of one box dug into his spine with a cruel, unknown motive.

The doorbell was insistent and impatient, his ears ringing in symphony to the audible assault. Arthur dared to open his eyes. The room shone with the light which streamed like a river in through the courtyard's doors. The bell droned on. A blanket kept his legs warm. Merlin's. The other heat source slept in a ball next to him. Merlin. His head kept company with the hard floor by Arthur's hip, clearly too exhausted to care. His sleeping frame's resemblance to a cat, with the curled up limbs and steady soft breaths, led him to stroke that dark fur, hair, which richly covered his head.

A fondness bloomed in his chest, then found itself plucked at and torn. A dark sheen had taken to one of Merlin's eyes, skin stretched broken over his cheekbone, a gash cut its way from his temple to hide beyond his hairline. Arthur's fingers were drawn to the marks of blood and bruises written on Merlin's blank face. The ringing sprung into life again. Silently cursing he pushed himself up to his feet and jogged over to the flat's door, unlocked it and stormed into the communal hallway before he threw the front door open.

Vivian Maclain's eyes widened. 'Why are you here?'

'Why are you?' Arthur asked, blinking against the sunlight. 'What time is it?'

'Ten twenty. I'm here to see Merlin,' she said with a pout.

'Why?'

She scoffed and crossed her arms. 'To tell him to keep away from Scotland Yard, me, you, everyone.'

'And why would he do that?'

'Because he's destroying your lives,' she spat. 'Ever since he joined your team he's been dragging you down. Not even thirty and he's already under more scrutiny than some of the Met's greatest disgraces.'

Arthur ground his teeth. 'Vivian-'

'He's ruining you.'

'It's complicated.'

'By magic? By the weird connection you all feel? None of it matters. Operation Nova has been handed over to another team and evidence is missing. That alone is enough to send you all away to a prison.'

'What should I do?' Merlin's voice cut open the bubble of their heated conversation and poured in cool and viscous words. The three stood in the darkening tidal pool. 'Hide? Run? Go to prison?'

'I don't care,' she said. 'As long as you're gone and out of our lives. As long as you leave Arthur alone.'

Merlin moved to Arthur's side. 'You're scared? Of me? Of what I'll do to him?'

Maclain shot him a dirty look. 'I'm terrified. You should be too, Arthur. He's a monster. Walking death.'

He'd had enough. Morgana, now Maclain. Always insulting Merlin, calling him a beast, a curse. Arthur went to shut the door.

Maclain caught him in a vice-like embrace, her head hooked over his shoulder. 'Please, you're not safe with him. Everything's falling apart.'

He forced her off limb by limb. 'Then I'll fall too.'

'Arthur, please.'

'If staying with Merlin, whether he wants me to or not, means I'll fall? Lose my job? I will. Doubt it will happen, but if it does I'll face it with him. He's a stubborn git, but he's my stubborn git,' Arthur said, any morning grogginess now thoroughly stomped out. He turned to look at the so-called stubborn git. 'Keep your secrets, Merlin, but something bad is happening and I'm not leaving you alone.'

Merlin stared at him, silent. His wounds looked worse in the direct light. After a minute of silence Arthur asked, 'What happened to you?'

'Long story,' Merlin said then pressed his lips together.

'Can't you heal?'

'Haven't tried for a while,' he muttered, keeping his eyes on Arthur as the gold erupted with sparks, whirled around the black pupils with an impossible wind before flaring into a full blown pool of burning metal. Arthur hadn't seen Merlin's magic this intimately before. He hadn't let him. In fairness he'd been unnerved by it. Not any more though. Arthur didn't budge as the translucent petals of amber magic settled over each injury, melting into Merlin's skin. The black eye faded, skin connected, dried blood flaked off and Merlin was flawless again. 'Better?'

Arthur smiled. 'Beautiful.'

'You all have a death wish, you know that?' Maclain said, her skin taught with anger. Arthur sighed.

'Losing our jobs won't kill us,' he argued.

She gave him a hard glare. 'Aredian will.'

Maclain walked off with a scowl.

Arthur's stomach growled. 'I'm starving, how about you?'

'I don't have any food,' Merlin said.

'Let's go out then,' he suggested, the need to keep the open dialogue between them badgering his thoughts. He hadn't had this for months. Merlin scratched the bag of his head, Arthur noted the grey shirt, crumpled from sleep and folded up to his elbows. He didn't recognise it.

Merlin caught him looking. 'I'm still wearing Lance's things. I'll go change.'

Arthur smiled through his confusion. 'Must be a really long story.'

.

.

.

Merlin watched Arthur bite into a slice of toast, the crunch softened by the avocado smeared over it. The sound's of Camelot's castles, Arthur's complaints about his sub-standard breakfasts, whispered in the air around him and Merlin looked back down to his bowl of granola, fruit compote, and Greek yogurt. The glass of iced latte had drops of condensation slowly running down its side.

'You'd really risk it all for me, wouldn't you?' he asked once Arthur finished chewing.

The ex-king frowned at him, a crumb caught on his lip. 'Does that surprise you? You'd do the same for me.'

'No, but it annoys me,' he said, pushing some of the granola around with his spoon.

'I swear you're gonna drive me insane,' Arthur said with a huff. 'Merlin, London's frightened with these attacks. A hunter who's said he wants you dead has disappeared. You'll probably be fired for grievous bodily harm and misleading the Old Religion case. You need me now more than ever before. It's my duty, if nothing else, but it's still so much more than that. The fact you and Mordred have something again doesn't change a thing. Did you think dumping me, moving out, would change how I feel?'

'I think I hoped it would,' Merlin said, looking up to the wild roses in the glass bottle sat between them, then to Arthur. The tinkling sound of dishes and conversation swept around and between them. It acted as a film, to keep either of them from flinching at the sharpness of their situation. It softened the edges and made it bearable. 'I killed Morgause. Almost did the same to Cenred. I let you suffer. You should blame me. You should hate me. Magic, Aredian, Morgana's hatred, Mordred. You'll never be safe with me, can't you see that? You matter to me, Arthur, so I need you to hate me. Please.'

'And what about what I want?' Arthur's question came out blunt like armour beaten to within an inch of its metallic life. Merlin could see the pure light of the man's colours dance in the air and drift lazily around his head. It looked like a halo. A crown. 'Or do my feelings count for nothing?'

'Of course they count, but you don't understand.'

'I will,' Arthur said, pausing to let it sink into Merlin's thoughts. He would, would he? Arthur forked one of the cherry tomatoes in his plate and hid it from Merlin with a mobile wall of lips and skin. He could imagine Arthur split the red skin with his teeth, see the sweetness burst into his mouth, and took a bite of his own sweet mixture. 'I'm smarter than you give me credit for, you idiot. I'm not a clotpole all the time.'

Merlin hid his smile with his chewing, and he took another bite to excuse his silence.

'When Mordred kissed you,' Arthur continued, spearing one of the mushroom slices and bringing it to his mouth. 'He was acting, wasn't he?'

'Why do you think so?'

'It's that or you've really dived off cliff Sanity,' he said, and a dry chill brushed Merlin's skin. 'He's no longer enchanted, but Morgana thinks he is.'

Merlin watched Arthur take another cherry tomato into his mouth. 'Yes. He was acting.'

'Whatever you've been doing has something to do with your bruised face and wearing Lance's clothes, doesn't it?'

'Right again,' Merlin said, smiling as he took another spoonful of his yogurt. It was a fruity bite.

'Anything I missed?'

Arthur was digging for information. Merlin didn't hesitate when he answered, 'The bombs were planted by Old Religion.'

'Morgana?'

'Not her. A different branch. A lot less friendly,' he said before taking his first sip of the latte, drinking the heart shaped with chocolate sauce atop the cream. The glass clinked when he put it back onto the mint blue saucer. He wanted Arthur to know. 'And I kissed Mordred yesterday. He'd just got blown up.'

Arthur choked on a mouthful of poached egg. 'Great.'

'Arthur,' Merlin breathed. 'My head, it's been feeling foggy for months. Heavy. It's like this thing, this shadow inside me. It's angry and it's been growing stronger each day. I feel stronger with it. It's what I felt when I was shot. It protects me, but other times I do things I know are wrong but I don't care. It doesn't care. I don't care about right, wrong, just about what I want. What makes me feel good. I . . . Since February, it's been growing. Overpowering.'

Arthur left his food untouched, all attention on Merlin. 'It's not a spell, is it?'

'No. No, it's me. Part of me. I don't want it to go either,' he said, grateful he could see Arthur's light again. See how it didn't dim at what Merlin was telling him. 'Magic sucks.'

'I wish I could understand it. Help you.'

Help him? He couldn't let that happen. 'I know you do.'

'Guess that's where Mordred has me beat,' Arthur said before taking a large bite of spinach, mushroom, and egg all shoved onto the one fork.

'Don't say that,' Merlin told him. 'There's more to this than that.'

Arthur nodded. 'I know.'

Merlin. Mordred's voice was loud in his head, demanding his attention.

Nimueh's recasting her enchantments.

'Merlin?' Arthur said, but he couldn't listen to him. He used his returned magic to strengthen the tether binding him to Mordred and listened.

I need to get evidence for the Met. Now's my best chance.

Merlin felt their connection, felt the difference. It wasn't as rich, as complete as it had been when they first undid Nimueh's magic. It wasn't right.

Reaching out Merlin spoke to him in turn. She said they'd kill you if you ever went back.

It was a second before Mordred responded. Need to make sure they don't notice me, don't I?

Merlin let the interior of the Wildflower cafe fade away. Why are you telling me? In case you don't come back?

You need to have more optimisim, Merlin.

Let me help.

Not going to happen. You have your life to sort out. I'll handle this. Wanted you to know is all.

Their line of communication was cut and the scent of the freshly baked food, the bouquets of flowers, coffee, all came back to him. Arthur had fixed him with a look of great concern.

'What is it, Merlin?'

'Mordred,' he said, having another several spoonfuls of the sweet and crunchy yogurt. 'I'm suspended?'

'Yeah,' Arthur replied, gaze moving from his food, up to Merlin, then past him to the window behind him. 'They'll arrest you if they get the chance.'

'Are they looking for me?'

'The bombs were a distraction, but they'll be out in force today,' he said, taking his last mouthful. Merlin's conversation with Mordred must have taken longer than he thought. 'Pretty sure they are anyway.'

'How can you be?'

Arthur nodded to the window. 'I can see them down the street.'

'Seriously?' Merlin said and twisted around, gripping the back of the chipped yellow chair for support. Uniforms were walking down the opposite pavement, a police car passing them and heading toward his street. 'Shit.'

When he turned back Arthur was grinning like he'd heard a brilliant joke.

'You're smiling?'

'I am. It's just so ridiculous,' he explained.

'Guess I should turn myself in,' Merlin mused, drinking more of the creamy cool latte.

Arthur gave him an alarmed stare. 'What? Why?'

'I'm guilty,' he said after swallowing.

'There are extenuating circumstances,' Arthur said, lowering his voice when another patron gave them a glare. 'Merlin, this is serious.'

'Makes turning myself in even more important.'

'What about Aredian? Old Religion? Morgana's dream? The only other people with magic are Morgana and Mordred, and neither are as strong as you. We need you,' Arthur argued, the shocked expression softening to one of sincerity. 'You matter more than you think you do.'

Merlin was certain. The colours pooling around Arthur definitely formed a crown on his head. Faint, but it still glimmered. He finished his latte in a few gulps, ignoring the look Arthur's glare, wanting some confirmation that his dissuasion had worked.

Arthur hailed the waitress, and Merlin turned to see a congregation of officers. 'Walking down the street will be impossible if they set up a road block.'

The girl took their crockery, balancing it all in her arms as if it were a mystical performance at a circus. Her eyes seemed to linger on Merlin before she left.

He'd been in the news too often. 'Time to go.'

They stepped onto the pavement, passing baskets of flowers set out and keeping their pace brisk. A bus drove towards them down the street, the stop only a few yards away.

'You can't hand yourself in,' Arthur urged him as they crossed the road, the uniforms ahead oblivious. 'It'll mean more attention from the press and if you need to use magic with Aredian-'

'Very bad exposure, mass panic and or disbelief,' Merlin cut in.

They had reached the double decker when Arthur turned to face him properly. 'You can't, Merlin.'

'Fine.'

'Good,' Arthur said and nodded, looking back around in time to see the officers spot him and start running. Merlin Vanished as people debarked from the bus.

You have your life to sort out. He tailored his trajectory to have him step back into solid matter in Cenred's hospital room. He'd told someone, that someone had gotten the press involved. Aredian was the likeliest, but he had to know for sure. The door's windows revealed the back of a generic guard, and the yells and chatter beyond the sentry suggested reporters wanted in.

Merlin rounded on the bed, keeping his breaths steady when he saw Cenred's figure. The Ambrosia was only a flash away in his mind. Months were nothing compared to centuries. The Ambrosia, a flash away. The attack on Camelot he'd tried to wage? It was like hearing the crackle of an old role of film projected onto the backs of his eyelids each time he blinked.

'Did you tell Aredian? Who was it?' Merlin asked, keeping his distance. No answer, no argument. He stepped closer and wore down the edge to his tone. 'Tell me who it was. I won't attack you, not again, I swear. Cenred?'

No answer or argument, and no breathing. Merlin moved forward, and the man's body remained motionless. He couldn't see the colours when last they'd seen each other, so his lack of any hadn't factored in. The hideous touch of nothingness sparked the sluggish cold of fear again. The void. Leaning closer the deep slice into the side of his throat went on to reveal a large stain of blood which had soaked into the mattress. His body still emanated heat. Cold horror blew over Merlin's skin. Aredian.

The door opened and a nurse walked in. She jumped at the sight of him and turned to call the guard in. He Vanished.

.

.

.

Mordred kept the bonds of his spell wound tightly around his body. Old Religion's defences did their best to break them, to reveal him, but his powers were greater, the enchantment more complicated. The shadows were darker with the day drawing to its end, and they helped his concealment spell completely hide his presence from all onlookers. Thankfully most members were hallucinating and experiencing other forms of drug induced states, or back at their varying homes. Nimueh was still re-casting her charms. His wounds had taken several minutes to heal once he'd been able to use magic again. Almost a day for the concealment charm.

He kept his pace fast, jumping away from anyone who'd have walked into him. Edwin's workroom was another level up, but Vanishing could risk losing the concealment so he climbed stairs and crept through corridors until he reached the familiar hallway. A few seconds later he came to the doorway and looked in. The self-proclaimed 'doctor' was nowhere to be seen.

Mordred slipped in to the room, pulling as many shadows to his side as possible. Any passersby would see a dark room only. He started the search, letting his magic guide him. Powders, herbs, animal bones, they filled jars and tubes and boxes. The explosive's powder shone red when he opened the crate's lid. It resonated with the explosion he'd been hit with yesterday. He filled two evidence bags with the clay-coloured explosive and took several pictures, using magic to give the images light within his phone. He sent them to Aglain, then the Commissioner, and finally Gaius.

'You never did follow the rules.'

Mordred froze. Shit. He pocketed the samples and his mobile, turning to face the scarred warlock. The concealment enchantment still held, but the opened crates gave him away. He tried to Vanish, but a terrible weight rammed into his chest. Perhaps Old Religion's defences weren't as futile as he'd supposed.

'Don't bother,' Edwin said, mimicking Mordred's words to the kids he'd faced at the tracks. He ran. The scarred warlock moved out of his way, throwing a handful of powder into his face. Mordred coughed, and his eyes stung, but he still made it out of Old Religion's boundaries before he could be stopped. The moment he crossed the threshold he felt their magic lift and he Vanished, landing ten yards away from Aglain's car which waited outside the Shelton. The streets were quieter, the air gripped by a chill which mocked Mordred's thin t-shirt. He started for the car when dizziness spun his head around and he stumbled to his knees, breaths laboured. Missing. A part of him was missing. During the jump?

'Mordred!'

Aglain, who'd been smoking by a tree next to his car, jogged over and helped him to the passenger side.

'I'm okay,' Mordred said, but the world still swam around him. He was led into the car and sat down. The door slammed shut and then Aglain climbed into the driver's seat, handing him a bottle of water from the glove compartment.

'I didn't see you, if I had I'd have helped sooner,' his supervisor assured him, hand on his shoulder as he gulped down a few mouthfuls of the water. It helped. He hoped it did anyway. Things seemed to wobble slightly, but other than that the world was stable again. Edwin and his fucking powders.

'I got it,' Mordred said and handed him one of the evidence bags.

'Saw the photos. Congratulations, Mordred,' Aglain said as he took it. The officer had a remarkable quality. His assurances were one of the few Mordred ever felt assured by. Perhaps it was because Aglain gave him hope that he was doing good. That he could be good. That was it. Aglain gave him hope. 'You just gained a small part in history.'

Mordred chuckled at that, the powder's delayed effects having worn off. 'It's really not that great an achievement.'

Aglain patted him on the back and then started ringing up all the relevant players in their investigation. Once he'd finished updating his own superior he hung up and gave Mordred a look of respect. 'We'll get this analysed and compared to the residue found at the crime scenes. Think we'll have a match? How about you go grab your things from the hotel? Your two weeks of exemplary policing are up.'

'It's over?' Mordred said, double checking with a touch of smile.

Aglain shared a smile of his own. 'It's over.'

.

Mordred stuffed the last ball of clothing into the duffel bag and charged down to the hotel's reception.

The woman leaned over an open magazine, jaw moving up and down as she extracted flavour from the gum. He put the key on the counter and slid it over to her, the slight scratching it made grabbing her attention.

She reached out and took it, bored eyes looking at him. 'Enjoyed your stay?'

'It was unforgettable,' he answered with a smile. She imitated it, closed lipped and fake, before she hooked the key up and dropped her head down to the articles and pictures splashed onto glossy pages.

Mordred left the Shelton with relief, stepping into the night to see Aglain sat on the car's bonnet, waiting for him. He headed over.

The light tore through the car's frame and heat quaked through the air.

Mordred threw himself to the ground as the fire fanned out, balling up and injecting a metallic screech in the wind. The side mirror shattered on it's landing a foot away from his head. Mordred got up onto shaking legs, smoke and heat folding him into a panicked stupor. Black and grey clouds were fed by a fire which crackled and hissed in warning. Its dark song beckoned the heavy sky to rest what seemed only two metres above his head. He stared wildly through the smog, the malicious veil, to see smoke strained out by the unnaturally contorted carcass of the car. Its bonnet was blown clean.