Burn it Down.

'Can't you just magic it away?' Gwaine asked, eyeing his shirt and the scar beneath it.

Merlin glared at him. 'What do you think I've been doing?'

'You wince with every step. Shouldn't it have done more by now? It's the 18th, mate, it's almost been a month.'

'I don't think it will ever heal completely,' he said and pulled on his coat. The proper clothing was a refreshing change to the hospital gowns and loungewear he'd worn during physical therapy. It made him feel capable again. It distanced him from the weakness, the 'victim' status he'd felt branded on his forehead whenever Gwen visited. 'Magic or no magic.'

'Woah, where'd the optimism go? Why not?'

'It should have killed me and the only reason it didn't was because of my magic. Mortal wounds and all that. You must have read or seen Lord of the Rings. Frodo and the morgul blade?'

'So you were stabbed with a morgul blade?' Gwaine asked, eyebrow arched up and arms folded as he watched him finish packing his things into the canvas duffel bag.

Merlin grinned at him. 'Basically.'

Gwaine stepped up and dropped in a pair of headphones before Merlin zipped up the bag. 'You know I'm quite touched.'

'Touched?'

'That you'd pick me to be your new flatmate,' he said and hooked the bag over his shoulder, ignoring Merlin's hands as they grabbed for it.

Merlin smiled. 'I'm surprised you said yes.'

'Why?'

'We weren't exactly on the best terms before I-'

'Mate,' Gwaine said and put a hand on his arm. 'Almost losing my best friend kind of put things in perspective.'

'Best friend?' Merlin couldn't stop the stupid grin spread. 'You've only known me a year.'

'And a lifetime, right? I would say Percy but you and I have what I feel is a deeper connection. Anyway, I've got a bet going that you'll stay out of all hospitals for the next month, at least. Don't disappoint.'

'You bet on that?'

'Elyan thought you'd be back in hospital within the next two weeks.'

'Harsh.'

'And Percy thought it would be in the next three.'

'Anything longer than a month?'

'I think Gwen put down a tenner that you'd be safe and sound for the next three months. Very devil-may-care of her if you ask me.'

'That's nice of her.'

'Yeah, but that also means you'll have to trip yourself down a flight of stairs or something come February so I win. Until then not even a scratch okay? You can't miss Christmas or New Years.'

'Yeah, no, I wouldn't want to miss them. Christmas is next week, isn't it?'

Merlin frowned when he realised.

'Monday. Figured you might want to spend it with me and the others? My parents want me to fly back to Dublin, but I don't want to leave you-'

'Gwaine, you've gone above and beyond for me already. Knowing I get to lounge around your bachelor pad is all I need for a good Christmas. You're going to spend it with your family who I doubt you see often as it is. I'll take you there myself if I have to,' Merlin said. 'Out of curiosity, that bet, how much total?'

Gwaine frowned a little, stuck his hand out and counted on his fingers, muttering names and numbers under his breath. 'The total is £715 at the moment.'

Merlin's mouth gaped open. 'Ouch, did everyone put money on it? That's way too much.'

'Everyone on the team, plus Lance, excluding Arthur,' he said. Arthur didn't bet on his safety, then. He wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or insult. The betting itself had him mildly entertained and offended as it stood. 'I may have started it off a bit steep with £400. No one really topped that.'

Merlin sighed and smiled at him. 'Gwaine.'

'I'm going to win, mate, so no harm no foul,' he stretched up out of the air. 'Are you ready?'

'I've just got to make a call.'

'I'll wait downstairs,' he paused. 'Or do you need help getting down there?'

'I can go myself, don't worry.'

He waited until Gwaine had closed the room's door, his duffel bag in tow, before he took out the mobile. Several missed calls, all from Arthur. It had been almost three weeks since he'd woken up and Arthur had explained their new dynamic to him.

Merlin couldn't bring himself to see or talk to him since then. He made sure he was alright through Gwaine, Gaius occasionally, but mostly Gwen. He breathed through the tightness in his chest and pressed the call button. It rang until the 'sorry the person you're trying to reach is unable to take your call' toned. He hung up, breathed deeply against the flutter in his stomach and called again. It was now or never.

'Hello?'

The voice was definitely not Arthur's. Higher-pitched, soft and a little thick with sleep. A woman's. Heat pushed up into his face and burned beneath his cheeks.

'Is Arthur there?' he asked, voice steady.

'He's in the shower, sorry. I can take a message if you like?'

There definitely wasn't enough air in the room. 'Who are you?'

'Mithian. Who are you?'

A shiver strummed down his spine and curled around the nape of his neck. It couldn't be her. If it was Arthur must know. He must not care. 'You're a friend of Arthur's?'

'We're dating. If you want to give me your name I can let him know you called.'

Arthur wouldn't do this to him. He wouldn't. Not after what had happened, after everything they'd been through. He'd said it, though, hadn't he? Us can't happen right away. There wasn't a new beginning for them, but there was a second chance, wasn't there?

'Hello? Are you still there?'

Merlin pulled the mobile down into his lap and hung up. The shiver tingled through his whole body, made everything slightly numb, and pooled cool and hard in his stomach. The fluorescent lighting flickered then blinked out. He got to his feet, with a small spike of pain in his stomach where the knife had cut into him, and turned to watch the bars of daylight from the blinds grow weaker. They faded into an ugly grey, then disappeared entirely. His body shivered instinctively with the drop in temperature. He tried to keep his breaths calm. He'd dealt with this twice now. He could do it again.

Emrys.

Strangled, thin, and piercing its voice slipped around his neck, inched up with cold fingers around his face. He could hear his heart thud in the silence, the heat struggling against whatever cold now polluted the room's air.

Emrys another voice called out, husky and distorted as if underwater. Emrys.

Was the air thinner now too? He stepped back in the darkness, knocked against the chair, and fought the impulse to run out of the room.

'Do it,' he whispered. 'Whatever you are, whatever you're here for, just do it.'

His dulled senses sharpened and the cold ached under skin, behind his eyes. He could smell something earthy and wet, so strong it overwhelmed the disinfectant.

Emrys a chorus of voices called out, hissed almost. Female and male, some crackling with age, others like a child's. Emrys, Emrys, Emrys.

'Just do it!'

The mobile rang out and he jumped, the adrenaline shot through his body, and the room was normal again. He could hear the hospital staff outside, see the pale light stream in through the blinds, and then the phone rang again. Merlin ran a hand through his hair and looked to the screen. Arthur was calling. He pressed his lips together. His heart still raced, his breaths were unsteady, and his fingers still numb. On its third ring he declined the call.

Figures he'd have a mental breakdown. Another thing to add to his list of Deal with before it gets worse. Craziness wasn't conducive to police work or protecting the Once and Future Prick. Prat. King. Whatever. He shoved the mobile into his jean's pocket and turned around, dropped through seven floors and blinked through nine rooms and hallways until he stood next to Gwaine.

'Shit!' the Irishman squawked before he laughed the shock away. 'Mate, you gave me a heart attack.'

'If I wanted to give you a heart attack I'd be more honest about it.'

Gwaine eyed him. 'You're okay?'

'Yeah,' he said and tucked his hands into his peacoat's pockets. They were still too cold.

'Let's get you to your new home, then.' Gwaine smiled, the traces of a worried frown still set into his forehead, and linked an arm with him. 'I need to keep a better eye on you from now on I think. You always seem to get yourself into some sort of life threatening trouble.'

They made their way back to his flat in Shoreditch the normal Londoner way and arranged a black cab. Gwaine caught Merlin up on his house rules and what had happened in his absence. Merlin kept quiet and let Gwaine's story wash over him: Magic being used to murder, Morgana's disappearance and presumed death, Arthur's new 'fling' with Mithian Thomas. She was a barrister, gym rat, came from old money, and several other things Merlin hadn't wanted to pay attention to.

Gwaine had seen her pick Arthur up for dinner at the Yard and gave Merlin a detailed description when prompted, after which his thoughts made a swan dive into murky and unpleasant waters. Gwaine didn't prod his shut down. He just kept close to him as they headed up to his flat and showed him to his new room before heading back to work.

Merlin went out onto the balcony. Rooftops and bushy heads of evergreen trees struck up between the brick and concrete. A cold wind blew against him and through their leaves to fill the air with a soft rustle. He was going back to Scotland Yard tomorrow. He took in a breath of fresh morning air, headed back inside, and threw his coat over the arm of the leather sofa. Only a few months before they'd all been here, eating take-out and facing off Bayard. Everything was different and similar. The place had barely changed. Maybe it was a little neater. Merlin flopped down onto the other sofa, knees pulled up so his feet could nestle themselves against the cool fabric. He stared up at the white ceiling, with the gentle and bright spotlighting and cold air blowing in from the open balcony's sliding doors taking over his senses.

Laid down like that he barely felt the wound but as he settled in to listen to the traffic and wind outside the cold from the hospital returned. Their voices, their calling, crawled back into his memory with an icy touch. He closed his eyes and thought about the squirrels in the trees, about all the busy lives that existed around him, about the sane, normal worlds that millions of people were currently living. He imagined what it might be like to have what they had.

.

.

.

'It doesn't feel right.'

Will swung his arms around and rolled his neck. 'Get over it.'

'I don't want to hurt you, Will.'

'Hurting me is the whole point, Mordred. Don't be shy about it,' he said, put his hands up, knees slightly bent, and stared him down. 'Why don't we settle on a safe word?'

Mordred tied the last strip of black tape over his knuckles and bit it off, throwing the roll over to their water bottles outside the ring. 'Fine.'

'How about Cinnamon?'

'Why Cinnamon?'

Will rolled his shoulders. 'Maybe you'll find out one day.'

'Okay,' Mordred said through a breathy chuckle. He came up to him in the centre of the sparring ring. The gym wasn't that busy so they only had a few sounds of heavy hits against bags or huffs from people on weights and cross-training. 'Count of three. One. Two. Th-'

Will struck out and he jerked out of the way. It gave Will the opportunity to duck under his arm, hook around his waist and throw him up into the air then onto his back. Mordred hit the ground with a small 'oof' before he jumped back up and they circled each other with fists up.

They sparred for a bit, Mordred pushing him to the other side of the square ring, then Will punching back until they circled again in the centre. Their breaths were deep and sweat beaded itself along Mordred's skin. The pace picked up. Mordred threw a hit out at Will's face which he ducked to ram a hand into his stomach. He put more space between them to catch his breath.

'Had enough?' Will huffed with a grin.

Mordred scoffed, blood pounding in his ears. 'Never.'

Before Will could dance out of the way Mordred avoided another hit and swung his leg out, swept it under Will's ankles and hopped away from the heavy landing. Will laughed and got back to his feet and dove in for another round, the heat leaving their skin flushed. A few of Mordred's bones and muscles ached from landed punches.

He was too caught up in the sweat running down Will's neck to realise he'd launched at him. Mordred struck his hands up but Will had jumped around to his back, legs up and locked around his waist, with his neck locked in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed. Shit fucking shit. Mordred tried to throw him off. The lack of oxygen made his entire face throb loudly, but when his attempts failed he settled on the last option and jumped back as hard as he could. Will's breath rushed out behind him when they landed with a crack and Mordred elbowed back at him to loosen his grip. The temptation to use magic was growing.

'Cin-' Mordred choked out. Will's legs had his hips in a vice-grip, elbow unrelenting on his closed off windpipe. Arsehole.

'What was that?' Will said through heavy breaths.

'Cinna-'

Will's grip loosened and Mordred coughed.

'Cinnamon, you bastard,' he wheezed. Will laughed, the vibrations running from his chest into Mordred's back. He rolled out of his grip onto the ground next to him and deepened his breathing to cool the burn in his throat.

'Visited him yet?'

Mordred took in three more long breaths and proper himself up onto his elbows. 'Not yet.'

'He's okay, though?'

Mordred concentrated on his racing heartbeat and stared up at the lights and brick ceiling. 'Yeah. From what I've heard.'

'Good.'

'Why don't you go see him?'

'He doesn't need any more complications.'

'Mordred,' Will said as if using his proper name could pluck the truth out of him, a confession of some sorts. 'You were friends, weren't you?'

'Kind of,' he said. They panted into the quiet sweat-salty air.

Will flipped back onto his feet with a burst of momentum. 'Well, we've got that meeting with Marten at 9 a.m. sharp. Come on, Cinnamon.'

Mordred grinned at him as they got up. Just like that the well of anxiety in his stomach was momentarily forgotten. He held the ropes open for Will to duck through and jump down.

'You like that, huh?' Will asked, eyebrow raised at his smile. 'You should see what I'm capable of in the sweet talk department.'

'Let's just shower.'

Will kept the ropes open when he climbed out. 'Strip and get wet? Be still my heart.'

'I swear I'm going to kill you one of these days.'

'If you're into that kind of thing, I'm game. On a serious note, don't go running into burning buildings without at least telling me first. We're partners, Mordred.'

'It wasn't burning when I ran into it.'

Will glared at him.

'I'll tell you first next time.'

'Thanks.'

.

Mordred watched Commander Marten calmly, his body still buzzing from the workout. His office was too boring, too plain, for someone who had his eyes and ears in so many dangerous places. Will seemed a little more on edge in the seat next to him as his knee bobbed up and down.

'There have been rumours about this Katja figure and we've just had a major leak of information from one of the dirtier circles of trade.'

'A trap?' Will said and Marten nodded.

'Probably. You'll still be following it through, though.'

'Expected as much,' he said and shot Mordred an entertained look. 'You like using me as bait.'

Marten gave a him a smooth, slow smile. 'Only because you have the experience, wits and skill set. It's a compliment. As for you DC Leir-'

'What's the leak?' Mordred asked.

'I don't want you working on this.'

His calmness grew several uncomfortable spikes and he sat up straighter in the chair.

'Why?'

'Several officers have raised concerns about your wellbeing.'

He scoffed. 'My wellbeing?'

'First at the raid, then at the attempted arrest of Mr Alexander Denton which I did not approve, and again during a stake out last week. Collapsing in pain is not to be taken lightly.'

'I'm fine, Commander.'

'I disagree. I'm honestly surprised it took so long for your colleagues to bring it up. You've garnered a lot of favour in the last few months and if you want to keep it you will report to Guy's Hospital for a check up tomorrow at 2 p.m. Understood?'

'Can the Met book doctor's appointments? Shouldn't I just go to my GP-'

'You apparently don't have one. We looked into that first,' Commander Marten flat-lined. 'No exceptions, DC Leir. Until you've been given a clear bill of health you're on desk duty.'

'You can't be serious,' he said, the buzz very much obliterated. He looked to Will to back him up. 'I've spent months on this case.'

Will saw his look and returned it with something like sympathy, or maybe pity. It was alien and not okay. 'Hey, maybe it's a good idea.'

'You beat the shit out of me this morning and I'm fine.'

'Come on, man.'

Mordred stopped. He wasn't a petulant child. He wasn't about to throw a tantrum in front of his superior and partner.

'Fine,' he said.

Marten watched him with narrowed eyes for a second before he nodded. 'Now that that's settled, if you could excuse us, detective?'

Mordred stood up and grabbed his bag. 'Right. See you later, Will.'

'Yeah. It's for the best, Mordred. You know it is.'

'Yeah,' he said and closed the office door. The corridor was bland with smartly dressed officers, secretaries, detectives crossing through it with varying expressions. Mordred stepped into the movement and let it take him to the lift, take him down, take him outside onto the street. He walked up to his Yamaha YBR125 parked in a motorcycle bay at the end of the road. The gunfire, the twisted magic that had pulsed through the flat weeks ago, it had all seared itself into his memory like everything else. Every detail, every impossible, inhumane scream, coiled up the back of his head with sticky hot fingers. They were right. Something was wrong with him. It wasn't something a doctor could figure out though and that made him squirm. He wanted to ask Merlin, he wanted to have Morgana with him, someone who could understand. She was dead. And Merlin wasn't— Merlin wasn't someone he could let back into his life no matter how much he wanted to.

Mordred groaned and secured his backpack around his arms, pulled on the helmet, and ignited the engine with magic. It felt good to use it, to let the mechanical merge with the magical, to fuse them together in his mind. He kicked up the stand and pulled into the traffic. He'd drive until someone called him back. He'd drive until he could forget for a moment. He'd drive until he didn't want to beat his knuckles bloody against a punching bag.

.

.

.

Gwen gawked at him when he came out of Kilgharrah's office. 'You tried to be reassigned?'

'He did what?' Gwaine asked through a mouthful of banana. He'd apparently gone on a health kick after Merlin moved in, not that he needed it.

Merlin knew that people talked but the knowledge that he'd had a transferral declined by the head Commissioner was new. He'd put it in for his return a week after waking up and his first day back just had to be when he found out. Kilgharrah had also waited until today to give him the details of the harsh reality they faced, the fact that Arthur's team was dealing with magical murders he had to try and solve while simultaneously covering it's true nature up from the rest of the Met.

'It doesn't matter,' Merlin said and walked over to his old desk. His mind was trying to process everything and it helped that nothing had been touched. There was the addition of the Get-Well-Soon teddy bear Gwen had bought at Arthur's request, the bear Merlin had refused to take when he was drugged up heavily on something. She'd left it next to his computer screen for when he came back. Merlin looked back up to Gwaine. 'Kilgharrah doesn't have the authority to sign off on it this time.'

'This time? There's been more than one attempt? Why would you want to leave?' he continued. Arthur hadn't said anything, but he watched them from his desk opposite Merlin's. They hadn't spoken over the phone or even said hello since their second-chances conversation.

'I think we all need space.'

'Space? You were in a coma for three months, mate.'

'I just thought it would makes things easier.'

Arthur pushed his chair back and stood. 'For who?'

Merlin looked at him. There was anger in his eyes.

'You,' he said. The weight in the air was insufferable. He forced a small laugh. 'I'm making something out of nothing, aren't I? We're adults. Anyway, I made the request before I knew about the unique nature of the cases you've been dealing with. Before I knew Old Religion was involved.'

'When did you make it?' Arthur asked.

'Does it matter?'

'I guess not.'

Gwaine dropped the banana peel in the bin. 'I actually missed this.'

Merlin frowned at him. 'What?'

'The intense atmosphere, stares, drama, all the stuff you only get when you put DS Emrys and Pendragon in the same office together. Obviously.'

'I didn't,' Leon muttered when he came over and dropped an evidence bag on Arthur's desk. Arthur looked at him with expectation. 'The surveillance paid off.'

'Surveillance?' Merlin asked.

Leon nodded. 'Mordred helped us track down a magic user. One who was taking advantage of Old Religion's new services.'

'Drugs,' Merlin filled in.

'We've had eyes on her the last ten days or so and now we have a chance to see the boss of the whole operation,' Leon explained.

Arthur folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. 'Explain.'

'A Christmas party. As far as we can tell it's a networking thing. New and old customers, and patrons, will be celebrating on the 24th.'

'Christmas Eve.'

'This Sunday, yeah. It's at a flat near the Barbican.'

Merlin watched them run through the information. 'What makes you think the leader will be there?'

Leon shrugged. 'It's all we've got.'

'We can't raid it. It's too dangerous,' Arthur said as his stare drove into the evidence bag. 'Is it invite only?'

'Sort of. Percy?'

'When Leon says we've had eyes on her, he means I've been digging deep for my inner stalker the last two weeks.'

'Not too hard for you, then?' Gwaine cut in with a grin.

Percy smiled at him for a second before he composed himself and addressed Arthur. 'It's invite only in one sense. You need to perform magic to get in the door.'

'I can go,' Merlin said.

Arthur shook his head. 'It's too soon. You've been in a coma, Merlin.'

'I'm aware,' he drawled. The stared didn't abate, if anything it grew more defiant. Arthur had apparently rediscovered his old trait of bossiness. It was comforting and annoying. 'Alternatively, I can make it look like one of you have magic. A delayed effect where I give a spell a trigger that you can pull at the door.'

'You can do that?'

He shrugged. 'I can try to. It'd be better if I went in.'

'No,' Arthur said.

'I've been cleared for duty.'

'I'm the SIO on this case, Merlin,' he snapped. It was Merlin's turn to glare now. 'You're invaluable but I can't let you into the field yet.'

'When can you?'

'Whenever I think you're ready.'

'Yes, sire,' he huffed as he sat down on his old desk chair. Arthur's mouth opened again and Gwaine's eyebrows had shot up when Kilgharrah came up to them.

'Pendragon.'

Arthur gave him a sharp look before he faced the DCI. 'Sir.'

'There's been another murder. A boy's body was found in a waiting room at St Pancras.'

Anger flashed across his face. He stood and pulled on his coat. 'Merlin?'

'Yeah?'

Arthur headed for the lift. 'Are you coming or not? Percival, keep up your surveillance.'

'Uh, sure,' he said. Merlin caught Percy's perplexed look and Gwen's mouthing Percival at him in similar confusion. Arthur had already turned around to face the lift, though, and missed his slip up. Merlin chased after him as the lift doors began to close.

.

Everything in the car smelled like Arthur. Merlin's senses were bombarded with it over and over again. When they turned onto John Street Arthur broke the fifteen minute silence he'd managed to maintain with monosyllabic responses.

'You're staying with Gwaine?'

Merlin watched the parked cars and houses pass them through the rain. 'I am.'

'Your old flat?'

'Gave my notice. Gaius pointed out that living alone might not be the best thing for me,' he said and dared a side glance at Arthur. His eyes were trained on the road ahead and he turned the wheel smoothly. 'Thanks for paying the rent while I was out. I'll pay you back when I have the funds.'

'Don't worry about it.'

'Arthur, we're talking at least £5,000,' he said. The numbers terrified him and a big part of him knew that without Arthur his life would a bigger mess. A bigger, modern, financial mess. With Arthur came the emotional and psychological mess, though. His conscience and morals made him feel a little queasy that he owed so much to him. Owing anyone made him uncomfortable. His aunt had brought him up to believe in making your own way, no spoon-fed nonsense, and Hunith had done the same in Ealdor. Just because they were dead didn't mean he couldn't live up to their memories. 'And that's not counting the hospital bills. The NHS could only have covered so much and I'm pretty sure I don't have any insurance.'

Arthur flicked on the indicator and they made a left turn. 'Money isn't a problem for me. Why didn't you call me back?'

Merlin couldn't catch his eyes and the subject change caught him off-guard. 'Who's Mithian?'

'How—'

'She answered when I called you back yesterday. You were in the shower, apparently,' he said, cheeks heating up a little with embarrassment, shame, anger. He could have sworn he'd gotten an emotional revamp since waking up. Everything felt more intense like it had when he was an eighteen year old with raging hormones. 'Gwaine filled me in on the rest.'

'Merlin-'

'It's alright.'

'No, it's not,' he said and threw him a strange look. They turned left onto Gray's Inn Road and into heavier traffic. 'Mithian, she's . . . I know her from the past-life. Don't you remember?'

Merlin turned back to the rain, the cars and strangers. 'How could I forget?'

'It's a comfort thing. A safe thing. I haven't been with anyone since you-' Arthur paused. Merlin's heart beat was heavier. He studied the cars waiting at the intersection as they passed. 'Since that night, I haven't been able to even think about being with someone else. Then you woke up and we talked and then she was my blind date. Seeing her is helping me figure things out.'

Merlin swallowed as the tightness in his chest spread. The question hurt but he had it and he had to know. 'Are you sleeping with her?'

The air was thicker, colder and hotter. Too little and too much. His ears burned with the silence and he didn't dare look at Arthur.

'Merlin, it's not like you're faultless, with whatever you and Mordred—'

'Don't,' he said. Mordred hadn't spoken to or visited him. Not once. He didn't even feel their connection anymore. He'd never felt so alone. Now all he could see was the Princess with the Prince in his head. The Barrister with the Detective. It made something bitter, something vile, rise in his thoughts. 'You and I, we're not a couple. We never really were. I just thought your problem with me was our past-life but if you can date Mithian, if that's comfortable and safe for you, it's clearly something else. Your first reaction to the truth was leaving me. That's what proved whether we could work. You never saw it in Camelot, you never— We never— I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that neither of us deserve this drama, this— Whatever it is. Not when people are dying and we can stop it. Fate says we're bound together forever. It never said we had to sleep together.'

He was a little short of breath when he finished and the stab wound ached in his stomach. He moved his hand down to it, pushed against it, felt the deep branch of pain and closed his eyes. The rain hammered down on the car roof and they rounded onto the main intersection of King's Cross. He pressed his lips together, clenched his teeth together harder, then curled his cold fingers in against his palm until the nails dug too far into his skin. He looked out the window. The windscreen wipers clicked across and back again in the silence.

'No matter what happens I will protect you-'

'That's just it, Merlin,' Arthur snapped. 'That's what's so confusing. You should hate me. Part of me— Part of me wishes I had never met you. And still you're willing to die to save me.'

Merlin closed his eyes when he said that. Like hell was he going to cry in Arthur's car on their way to a murder scene. This was too high school, too soap opera, too real. It was real. This was happening.

'It's not that hard to understand,' he said quietly, opened his eyes and saw the redbrick spired building loom up ahead through the dark rain. The heat welled behind his eyes but he reigned it in and snuffed out the pain as best he could. 'Find somewhere to park. I'll meet you inside.'

He trained his thoughts on blue and white police tape, the cold air that accompanied all the murders, and Vanished.

(Playlist for Burn it Down:

-Into Waves by A Little Nothing
-Burn it Down by Daughter

-Collider by X Ambassadors, Tom Morello
-The Fool by Ryn Weavers
-The Woods by Hollow Coves
-Mercy by IAMX

-Funn by Cash+David
-Unworthy by Vancouver Sleep Clinic)