Nightmares.

Arthur breathed in the smoke. It was bitter and hot for second before he blew it out over the balcony and disappeared against the dark row of roofs and buildings backs. The wind ran against the left side of his face numbly, threw around his short hair, and he took another drag. The cold no longer made him shiver. His skin was stiff like it had been wrapped up in icy cling-film and had been left to freeze.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Mithian asked behind him. He could see her silhouette in the light that spilled out from the kitchen across the patio. It merged strangely with the rectangular blocks and angles of the table and chairs between them. Arthur stared forward and held the cigarette between his fingers as he leaned down on the railing.

'Not really,' he said, hoping she would go back inside. Instead he saw the silhouette grow bulbous and unrecognisable before it disappeared and she stepped up next to him. Her teeth chattered a little and she rubbed her arms under the blanket she'd pulled around her body.

'It's got you outside in the freezing cold with a cigarette when I've never seen you smoke,' she continued with a pointed look. Smoking was never his vice. The closest he'd come to addiction was endorphins released from exercise, maybe that one weekend in Amsterdam with his rugby team after graduation, but never smoking. It had been an occasional social thing until Merlin didn't wake up after a month. Arthur internally groaned at the realisation that the last year of his life he remembered in relation to a timeline made up entirely of Merlin. He turned to face her.

'It's the case I'm on,' he said and put the cigarette to his lips again, took in another lungful. 'No matter what I do I can't close it.'

Her long hair was pulled back into a french plait and her eyes had that brightness in them. The memory of her, of a Mithian maybe a year younger but no more with him in the woods wrapped up in the certainty of a royal wedding on the horizon, filled up her clear face.

She nodded and offered him a gentle smile. 'I thought your detective skills were invincible.'

'I'm good but not that good.'

'What is it really?'

'Drop it, okay? Please.'

'Drop what? I'm showing concern for the guy I'm dating. A relationship doesn't have to last for months before you do things like that. Arthur,' she said and ran her hand up his back, the other moving to hold his forearm. Her warmth pressed against him. All he could feel was Merlin pulling away from him. Stay the fuck away from me. He'd deserved that. Arthur looked back out at the rooftops and random pattern of lit windows. Merlin made him so angry, frustrated and irritated. He also thrilled him, turned him on, made him feel safe. Even something that felt similar to happiness, if 'happy' were to be run over and put back together again with surprising and unidentifiable objects. 'Hey. Talk to me.'

'I handled something badly,' he said. Beyond the ever present issue of Merlin there was also Phoebe. There had been those things. Things he'd seen before. 'That's all.'

'Okay. I'm going to sleep. I've got a new case so I probably won't see you much for the next week,' she said, pulled away, and moved out of sight. He heard her close the balcony door and stubbed out the cigarette on the rail, twisted the cinders and ash into the iron, then flicked the butt out into the shadows.

Moving his fingers up to his temple he felt the stitched-up cut from when Phoebe had snatched him backwards from Merlin and thrown him to the ground like nothing more than a rag doll. Backtrack six years and the thought of going to hospitals for anything other than sports injuries or freak accidents had never crossed his mind. Now it was practically a bi monthly habit.

Arthur stretched up into the air, let out a long and loud sigh, slapped his thoughts when they dove towards shapes like: I should go see Merlin. Is he okay? Did he recognise the ghosts as well? How are ghosts even a thing, this is twenty-first century London. What happened to all of that missing time? Why am I with Mithian? Merlin looked so heartbroken when I said those things so maybe I'm wrong.

Maybe having sex with me really did mean something to him. He's Merlin, how could it not? What if I'm making this all more complicated than it actually is? She doesn't make me feel the way he does. What did Merlin go through when I died? How can I exist if I already died? Is astrology real if magic and reincarnation are? Gwen would never believe me if I told her everything. What would Morgana do if she were here? What would my father say? Should I have my team, my friends, what happened last night?

The thoughts trickled through, uncontrollable, as he locked the doors, turned off the lights and climbed into the bed. Merlin hadn't shown up to work. They all knew something was wrong, but he'd chalked it up to the fact Merlin had almost died a few months earlier. He'd told them the magic involved had triggered something in Merlin and they had to give him space, that they'd have to throw the Welcome Back party later on.

He kept to the far side away from Mithian and closed his eyes against the pit in his stomach. The sickening mix of emotions and thoughts still twisted around with what had happened only four hours earlier, but he had to sleep. He had to shut off from it all.

.

.

.

'You seriously won't tell me?'

Will grinned at him as they walked back to his bike. 'Nope.'

The late night air felt fantastic against his warm showered skin with the blood still pumping from their boxing session. He'd spent his Wednesday being poked, prodded, and questioned by doctors at Guy's hospital, all to no avail. They had no idea what was happening to him. They'd wait to get some blood test results but nothing leapt out, not physically. He'd gotten a referral to see a psychiatrist, a concept he loathed, but if he wanted to keep his job he needed to be cleared. The evening session with Will was what had kept him sane.

'But we're partners, right?' he said. Being axed out of Kestrel was annoying but having Will run around doing something dangerous that he didn't get to know anything about was worse. 'Feels like I have a right to know.'

'Think it's unfair, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'Poor baby Mordred,' Will said and pouted at him.

Mordred smacked his arm. 'Will, this is-'

'Serious? They've already baited me, though, so there's no point getting your knickers in a twist about it.'

'All this because I had an off moment or two-'

Will scoffed. 'Your idea of serious seems to distort itself quite a bit. Spoken to Merlin yet?'

Mordred stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. 'No.'

'Why?'

He didn't want to talk about Merlin with Will. It felt rude, disrespectful, awkward. He wanted to forget about that part of himself, wanted Will to know the good parts of him not the unforgivable. 'It's all different. We kind of had this . . . spark. A connection. I don't feel it anymore.'

'Maybe because you haven't gone to see him. Called him?'

'We've got a lot of history,' he said and shrugged. Why did the only available parking space have to be four streets away from the gym? 'It makes things more difficult than you think they are. Parts of what we had definitely aren't there anymore.'

'Ugh, you've gone cryptic. Give the guy a break. He's been unconscious for three months with a life-threatening stab wound. That'll fuck with anyone's mojo.'

Mordred laughed at Will's language. They shared a look and the mood sank into something more serious.

'What are we gonna do about the traitor inside Trident?'

'Put them in the stocks for a few days, a good flogging, then a trial,' Will suggested. 'Need to know who it is first. Any guesses?'

Mordred shrugged.

'Helpful, as always,' he said. Mordred stepped out onto the road at the traffic lights, noticing the oncoming car a second too late. Will snatched at his jacket and tugged him back with enough force to make him trip and fall back. Hands supported and steadied him back on the pavement as the car raced past. 'Christ, Leir. Wait for the green man next time.'

'Shit, sorry,' he huffed and chuckled. The green man showed up on his cue and they crossed. Will's hand was still on his arm, wrapped around the crook of his elbow protectively, and Mordred's smile, flustered breath, stayed longer because of it. He shivered and looked to his left where a girl passed by, her dark hair blowing wildly with a sudden gust and lazy heat rolled through him.

'Where are you going?' Will asked when he followed her down a side street, forgetting about his bike and Will's hand on his arm.

'There's something about her,' he said. She had magic. The heat in his limbs told him that much, the symbiosis was obvious, the fundamental attraction strumming between them. He couldn't see her face but he could see her fitting black dress, the high-heels, the pattern of her tights that veiled the pale skin of her slim legs.

'Mordred, I don't want to offend you or anything but following a stranger into a club,' Will started but when she passed a bouncer and headed into an unmarked doorway Mordred didn't stop. Fishing out way too much cash he stuffed it into the broad man's hand. Enough for both of them, Will came in behind and Mordred saw her disappear down a turn in a stairwell to the side. The neon lights and music shook the concrete and brick as he headed down two floors.

'Leir, what the hell are we doing, we still have our gym kit and work tomorrow,' Will yelled into his ear. The music which grew louder when they stepped into huge hall-like room. It was stuffed full with people dancing, barely enough room to move, no real light beside the occasional coloured strobe lighting, glow-in-the-dark body paint, camera flashes and the DJ's platform lighting. Bass quaked through their bodies, the floor, and the girl stopped at the edge of the crowd. She turned around, half her face covered with a mask.

That's when Mordred noticed most of the people in the room had something covering their faces.

'A masquerade rave?' Will shouted at him incredulously. 'I guess if we're here we might as well party.'

He took their bags and headed over to a small cloakroom notch in the far corner and disappeared out of view. When Mordred looked back the girl was standing one foot from him, her bloody lips smiling. She took him by the arms and pulled him back into the mass and the darkness. He felt her magic and his interact through the movement, a shiver up his spine and a buzz in the air. She started dancing. The music was too loud, his ears were aching, he could feel the bass pulse in his teeth, and he started dancing with her too. Her lips spread apart into a smile and then her face was almost against his, her lips sticking a little against his.

Their legs brushed against each other, swaying, stepping, and she took his hands, moved them to hold her waist, up to her neck.

His head spun with the pressure of the magic, the music, the heat that crawled stickily down his spine. The song switched, calmer, softer, but the build up was fast. He knew her. She kissed him and he opened his mouth against the heat, the nauseating familiarity, the giddiness. Her hands ran down his shirt and he pulled back, adjusting his eyes to focus on her in the erratic lighting.

'Morgana,' he breathed. Her smile grew, uneven with the smudged red lipstick, and she carried on dancing against him. Will burst through and was pushed against them both by the jumping that coursed through the crowd with a drop in the beat. He frowned at Mordred, then she took Will's arm and encouraged him to dance as well, a hand stroking against his face which Will didn't pull away from. His skin was flushed with the heat and Mordred regretted not taking his jacket off. It couldn't be Morgana. What the hell was he thinking? When she pushed back against Will Mordred forced himself between the two of them. No way was he going to let some random magic user grind against Will. As if Morgana would ever grind.

When Will's hands ran up his sides Mordred took in a sharp breath. He thought that'd stop it, but instead Will started dancing with him. They were smushed too close together, pushed into each other by surrounding bodies, and Will leaned into him, smelled him, nose against his neck, and Mordred let himself feel the heat of Will's skin like when they sparred. This was different though. No tape, no mouth guards or gym kit to distract from the intimacy.

They danced until Will pressed his mouth against his ear and shouted, 'Let's go back to my place.'

That girl did something to Will with magic. Definitely magic. His heart raced and he looked back for her but she was leaving. He snatched her arm but his hand passed through and she looked back with a red smile, piercing eyes, dark and wild hair.

It's alright, Mordred. I'll come back soon.

Her voice was in his head, crystal clear, soft. Morgana's voice.

'Wait,' he said, voice drowned out by another bass drop. He couldn't get his next breath in. He'd watched her fall. He'd seen Nimueh drive that blade into her. He'd been to her gravestone at Kensal Green Cemetery. Mordred blacked out, stomach dropping with the falling sensation, and the next thing he knew Will was helping him out of the crowd, then somehow they were sat in his living room in Vauxhall and Will was holding a glass of water out to him.

'Hey, man. Mordred, you alright?'

Mordred blinked at the new surroundings, his jacket hung up on the back of the flat door, Will sinking down next to him on the sofa.

'Where's my bike?'

'Parked outside,' Will said, watching him with a deep frown. When he pushed the water to him again Mordred accepted and took a large gulp. 'I drove us both here since my place was closer. I think you were drugged. Can't be sure but since you don't remember that I'm more convinced.'

Mordred swallowed and put the glass down onto the coffee table. 'What about you? Are you okay?'

'Me? Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?'

'Could have sworn you were acting,' he paused, remembered the exploring hands. 'Differently.'

Will watched him with a small frown. There was concern in his eyes, it made them softer, darker, made Mordred feel like they could see more. 'How?'

Mordred bit his tongue. Will was going make him say it. He probably had been drugged. That'd be the only explanation for what he thought he saw and heard. Then again the verdict on his mental health was still out on an extended holiday. It had been since his early teens.

'Your dancing,' he started, waited to see if Will would pick it up and when he didn't added, 'With me.'

'Just blending in, Leir.'

He frowned. 'Oh.'

'It's getting late—'

'You sniffed me,' Mordred realised.

'What?'

'Did you have to smell me to blend in?'

'You noticed that? Admittedly that was more because I wanted to check if it was you. It was pretty dark,' Will said, confident as ever, glint in his eyes. 'Your cologne, it smells really good. I didn't know if it was you or not, so I—'

'Smelled me?'

'You don't have to put it like that, make it sound weird.'

Mordred smiled at him until he grinned back.

Will's smile stuck and got impossibly wider. 'Mind if I kiss you?'

'Wouldn't that ruin our dynamic?' Mordred asked before he'd fully processed the question. He swallowed thickly through his suddenly dry throat. He'd heard him correctly, hadn't he?

'It could,' Will said and shifted closer, their legs against each other and Will's one arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa. 'Can I?'

Mordred said 'Yeah' before his thoughts could even clarify and then Will pushed his lips against his. It was soft, non-invasive, and then he pulled back, their noses touching. He breathed in the warm air Will exhaled. It was warm, hot, perfect.

'Sorry, need to check something,' Will whispered and pushed Mordred onto his back, crawled over him and kissed him again. This time Mordred's adrenaline spiked when he felt Will's tongue push out, swipe across his bottom lip, and he smiled at the sensation, the way the heat burned just right.

'Check what?' he mumbled awkwardly through their lips.

Will didn't pull back when he answered, 'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

Then he was kissing him again, very French, hot and wet. It was ridiculous. Completely physical, no magic, no weird guilt, no past life flashes, just Will's mouth and face and closed eyes and hot breath. Mordred melted into it, ran his hands through Will's hair, down his back, hips, and when he couldn't breathe anymore broke the kiss.

'Try me,' he huffed.

Will smiled and rested down onto him more, their bodies in a slightly uncomfortable position on the sofa. Mordred's hips were at an odd angle and he didn't know where to put his legs but Will didn't seem to care.

'I've noticed that whenever I get close to you my stomach does this unpleasant thing. It's horrible and it's officially your fault, Leir. Just had to double check before I put the blame on you.'

Mordred laughed. 'Thanks.'

'Well, I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Yeah,' he said, elated mood dampened by the thought of going. He checked his phone. 2:37 a.m. 'It is getting late.'

Will climbed back off him and helped him sit up with a warm hand. 'It is, yeah. You're feeling okay? Sorry, shouldn't ask that. You must be after making out with me. Still, want me to go back with you to your place?'

'No, I'll be okay.'

'Text me when you get home. Just so I don't have to waste my time worrying over you needlessly.'

'If you want me to, sure,' Mordred said, smiling at the care, and stood up. He straightened his clothes a little and headed to the door where he looked back at Will. 'Yeah. Bye.'

'Mordred.'

'Yeah?'

Will's smile faltered. 'The doctors said you were okay?'

'Not completely,' he admitted and pulled on the leather jacket to distract himself from Will's frown.

'What's wrong?'

'They don't know. It might be nothing. We'll find out, I guess.'

'Keep me updated.'

'I will.'

'We should do this again,' Will said and scratched the back of his head. 'If you want to.'

'Definitely.'

They smiled at each other, clothes ruffled and a little breathless, and then Mordred left. Will gave him a little wave, a sheepish grin, and he headed down the staircase to the front door. Sure enough his Yamaha was parked across from the house and he started the engine with a low roar in the quiet morning air. Mordred pulled on his helmet, kicked up the stand, and pulled out into the road. Confusing was an understatement for what his life had become but he grinned to himself until his cheeks hurt. He had made out with Will. Morgana might not be dead. Morgana had kissed him. He might be hallucinating. He couldn't help but feel on top of the world.

.

.

.

Arthur typed up the last paragraph of his latest report on the Old Religion surveillance and the two new names they'd managed to tie to the operation. The network was larger than they'd expected and remarkably careful. Percy and Elyan were working around the clock, Leon and Gwaine swapping in every now and then to talk to sources and accompany the surveillance crew.

It was well past nine and the office was almost entirely empty. On Fridays most were gone by five. Only Gwaine had stayed behind while the others went out to get a drink and Kilgharrah disappeared to wherever he always went. Arthur had trouble picturing him with a home. He didn't even know if he was married or had children, grandchildren. It was too weird. How would that even work?

A hand waved violently in front of his face. 'Hey, earth to King Arthur!'

He glared up at Gwaine. 'Don't call me that. Wait. What?'

Arthur stood up at face him. He'd said King Arthur. That hadn't been in his imagination. It couldn't be a coincidence. Gwaine was Merlin's best friend. They'd gotten into enough trouble back in Camelot. Had he shown Gwaine too? Did Gwaine find out before or after he had?

'What did you just call me?'

Gwaine frowned. It was too overtly confused and blasé.

'Me? Nothing, I was just trying to get your attention. I know you wanted to go to that party with Gwen but I think I'd be a better fit. That's all.'

'You said King Arthur. Why?'

'Because,' he drawled out. 'You've been acting like an overlording douche a lot of the time lately. Ever since that stuff with Aredian ended in the summer.'

Arthur narrowed his eyes. 'You wouldn't be lying to me, would you Gwaine? I am your superior and we've been friends for three years. Three years, Gwaine.'

'I'll tell you the truth if you let me go with you to the party instead of Gwen.'

'Why do you even want to go? She's just as good as you if not better and aren't you flying out to spend Christmas with your family?'

Gwaine folded his arms. 'Honestly?'

'Please.'

'Merlin's my best friend and I'm not leaving him alone with the state he's in but as much as I love him I can't reach him. He's been holed up in his room since he came back on Tuesday. At least I think he is since the door is constantly locked, which itself is a stumper cause the door doesn't even have a lock on it, and with his disappearing-reappearing magic act he could be in Tokyo or Sydney or New York for all I know,' he said.

Arthur nodded as he caught up with the topic shift, trying to put two and two together. Merlin had extended his leave for the rest of the week after what happened on Tuesday night. No one was going to say no, Agravaine was elated (the prick), and Arthur hadn't managed to tell anyone about what had happened or call Merlin to talk about it. They'd all asked about Tuesday, and Arthur told them about the Vanishing, the time-loss, losing Phoebe. Just not that they lost Phoebe in the presence of spirits and that Merlin had killed her saving his life. They'd just lost track of her during a chase as far they knew.

'Going to a magic drug-ring party would be great fun and the perfect distraction.'

'Have you asked Gwen?'

'No.'

'Ask her. If she says yes I'll let you come instead. Only if you tell me the real reason you called me King Arthur.'

Gwaine laughed. 'Talk about narcissistic, mate. Maybe I should call you peasant boy instead and give you some humility.'

'Gwaine.'

'I've told you the truth. You're a dick. Can't be more honest than that.'

'Gwaine,' he repeated, softer, looking him in the eyes.

'Narcissistic dick. There,' Gwaine said and held his hands up in the air. 'Cards are all on the table.'

'Fine. I'll update Gwen on the change of plans. I'm sure she'd appreciate spending Christmas Eve with Lancelot,' Arthur said.

Gwaine scrunched up his face. 'Mate, last time I checked it was just Lance.'

'You're sure?' he asked, covering up for his slip with a new point of attack.

'Yeah.'

Gwaine wasn't going to tell him the truth which was a testament to his loyalty to Merlin. Either that or he was reading something into nothing.

'You'll regret calling me a narcissistic dick later.'

'I'm okay with that.'

Arthur smiled at him and packed up his things. 'You haven't seen Merlin at all?'

'Like I said, just the once when he came out of the bathroom Tuesday night. He looked weird.'

He pulled on his coat. His casual approach to the topic dropped quickly and he zoned in on Gwaine's face a bit too intensely. 'Weird how?'

'Mate, I don't want to breach flat mate or best friend confidentiality.'

'You know how much I care about him,' Arthur said. Gwaine considered it and nodded as they headed towards the lift.

'He looked sort of dead.'

'Dead?'

'More than just tired,' he explained as they stepped into the lift. 'And it looked like he'd been crying. His eyes were all red. I think he just needed the extra time off. It's a lot to go through, you know?'

Merlin had been crying. Arthur pressed his lips together. Fuck. It took a lot to make someone like Merlin cry. Someone who'd been through so much, could do so much, someone so strong. He'd made Merlin cry.

'Keep trying to talk to him. I'll call him,' Arthur said. They had to talk. The staying away from each other tactic wouldn't last and he knew it. The small daily tugs, the unease in his stomach, the anger. His nightmares. They'd gotten worse. Arthur's chest tightened and he swallowed thickly. That night with Mithian afterwards, that had been one of the worst yet. Merlin had been saying it, stay the fuck away from me, and then the ground had fallen away. It fell, the air rushed up, and he tried to reach out him and when they hit the ground he was fine. Camelot's castle stretched up around him. He was in the courtyard, empty, dark, just the wind whistling through the stone archways and cracks and Merlin bloody body on the ground. He was dying. Arthur had rushed to him, held, him, screamed for help until his throat was croaked out raw, but it wasn't enough. The skin around Merlin's face tightened, paled, rotted away into something blue and dead and his eyes had faded away, his lips had turned black, broken, and the blood.

'You should. I know it's not my business, but you two need to work it out sooner rather than later.'

Arthur took in a sharp breath, the panic still small enough to control, the heat behind his eyes prickling. He quickly wiped his eyes as if he were tired and cleared his throat. It had been a dream. He just wished he could see him, know that Merlin was still Merlin. That he was okay. Maybe talking over the phone would be easier than being stuck in a car or after having committed murder while investigating another murder. Calling would be easier.

Arthur wasted no time in escaping the lift and headed for the car park. 'Don't be late for the party.'

'As long as we show two hours after the start time,' Gwaine said. 'Any earlier and they'll sniff us out in an instant.'

'So nine?'

'Nine,' Gwaine said with one of his charm-your-socks-off grins and headed off into the Friday night crowds. Arthur couldn't help but picture Merlin alone in his room and felt guilty as he climbed into his car. Mithian had suggested they spend Saturday together since she was spending Christmas was her family back in Dorset, but it had become almost unbearable. Not just because he dreamed of Merlin every week, dreams that made her wake him up to stop him from yelling out, but because he had to lie to her. He told her it was from work, it came with the territory. Maybe it was partly true, but it was a lot more.

Whenever he was with her his mind kept running off to thoughts about Camelot, about Merlin. He just wanted to be happy. He wanted to fall in love, to help people, eat good food, lounge around for days, to have sex, to have a successful career, to explore the world. Merlin always showed up in thoughts about all of those things and it drove him crazy. Like right then. He was thinking about Merlin. Arthur groaned and drove a little too fast back to his flat.

(Playlist for Nightmares:

Your Design by Grace Mitchell

Heartbreak Hi by Avec Sans

The Woods by Hollow Coves

Lights by The Prototypes

Reckless - Aquadrop Remix by Sunstars

More Than You Know by Axwell / \ Ingrosso

The Weight of Us by Sanders Bohlke

Feel Something by Jaymes Young)