Enemy.

'We have to close the rift, and if she is like them, when we do she'll—'

The bloody tissues in Mordred's hand blackened at the edges, curling in on themselves until the flames grew and chased the soft white fabric into black smoke.

'I just thought you should know,' Mordred said, each word clipped. 'I'm glad you're all right. And sorry again, Arthur. Will and I should go since you're not going to help.'

Merlin moved to block his way. 'No, wait. Arthur, can you leave?'

'Why?'

He saw the insecurity in his eyes, a reflection of what he'd seen Friday night. 'Arthur.'

'Fine.'

Merlin watched him glare once more at Mordred before he left and the door closed behind him. Where did he even begin? Mordred stared at him with a guarded expression. He could feel his magic, but only with close proximity. Whatever they had felt before his coma, before Nimueh's enchantment, had changed.

'Mordred,' he started and stepped closer.

'Don't.'

He pressed his lips together.

'You don't know what it took for me to come here. Seeing you again,' Mordred paused, his eyes fixed on him with a look of loss, anger, and something Merlin couldn't decipher. 'I swore to myself I wouldn't.'

'Why?'

'You know why,' he said, stopping as if the reason was too dark, heinous, to say aloud. He took a deep breath, staring down into Merlin's chest for a while before meeting his eyes again. His demeanour changed like the surface of a lake with a sudden gush of wind. 'Morgana hugged me, we danced together, we spoke just like you and I are now. How can she be anything like the things I hear screaming? I never saw her die, Merlin. I saw her run through and fall from a mountain, sure, but you've survived similar. Why couldn't she?'

He could think of several reasons. Seeing him so twisted up by it made it difficult to shut him down the way he would anyone else. Mordred was different. He was somehow more accessible as another person, not just as someone who had magic and a past life. It also made him more vulnerable. Or it showed the vulnerability that had always been there under layers of practiced lies and acting. He no longer buried that side of himself away. Merlin understood. Maybe that was why he'd begun feeling him again. He'd never felt so exposed and whittled down to the bone before in his life and here Mordred was. The same but different. Exposed, but not weakened by it the way Merlin was.

'I don't believe she's alive, but I do believe you when you say she's as real to you as I am. It's not like any of us know how this works. You know, Dorocha, magic,' he trailed off.

'You won't help me find her?'

'I'm going to close the rift before anything,' he said. It wasn't a complete answer, but he didn't have one. How could he? It was crazy to think she'd be alive. Of course his own soul or whatever was pushing him to kill himself. The pale clear blue-grey of Mordred's eyes studied him closely, and there was that unfamiliar tug of cool magic like a rush of adrenaline through his blood. It had him on edge, and had replaced the bloody coughing fits. The urge to confide in him was overwhelming. 'I also need to deal with the IPCC, my entire team losing their trust in me, and the resurgence of magic. My plate is kind of full.'

Mordred's guarded look faded. 'What did you do?'

He almost told him. 'Don't worry about me. I promise that I'll help you anyway I can once the rift is closed, and before that if it's an emergency.' The beer buzz was gone and he couldn't look away. 'So,' he began, 'you didn't come to the hospital because—'

'I was scared and angry at myself. I wanted to move on.'

'Move on,' Merlin repeated with a small smile. 'Don't we all?'

'I was wrong,' Mordred said. 'I think we need to evolve, not cut each other off. Will's helped a lot with figuring it out.'

Merlin nodded, processing the image of the two walking in together on a deeper level. 'Yeah, retroactively realising your school friend was also a past life friend is strange, but seeing you two together is stranger.'

Silence filled the space between them again.

'In a good way,' Merlin added. He wasn't sure if it was the truth or not. When Mordred looked away and made to step around him to the door Merlin hugged him. Chin over his shoulder, arms wrapped diagonally around his chest and shoulder, chests together. It took a second, but he felt Mordred hold him back. He was apprehensive at first, but the next moment the hug tightened and they settled into each other. Merlin breathed in the familiar smell of Mordred's hair, skin, the pulse of their magic with the contact.

Mordred held onto him, buried his face into his shoulder, and Merlin didn't want to let go. He had to, though. Always, always, he had to and needed to and what he wanted took second or third or tenth place in life. When he drew away Mordred mirrored his movements until they were right where they had been, little over a foot apart in silence.

'I missed you,' Merlin said.

Mordred lifted his hand to his cheek, brushed it with his thumb, the motion familiar and resonant with his memory, warm. The magic, cool and urgent, moved through him like a wet spring wind. Barely there, gone a second later, pushing but welcoming at the same time. His breaths drew out deeper and longer, and he watched Mordred's eyelids close slowly, the edge of his thumb trailing back down his skin like they had all the time in the world. They moved closer, his mind processing things faster than they were happening. It forced him to slow down, think less, forced him to truly feel the warmth of Mordred's palm on the side of his face, the way his dark lashes rested on his cheek, the impossible way his breath was warm, salty, and fresh like his body contained its own sea.

They weren't the same. Mordred's mouth on his was strange, wet, slow. The cool tug in his blood drove him closer, to let the sensation swallow him whole as he opened his mouth further. Part of his mind registered the water running in, down his throat, drowning him. The other only knew the heat of the kiss, the catharsis, the release of something hard he'd held in his chest for months. Unknotted, unfurled, and washed away.

Merlin inhaled sharply.

Mordred's hands pulled back and Merlin took his own back from where they'd laced their way into his hair, under his shirt.

'No,' Mordred said, his voice soft and breathless. 'We shouldn't have done that.'

'Maybe we needed to,' Merlin reasoned. He'd almost died. He'd lost Arthur. He'd thought it was better to distance himself from people, things, that he was probably never going to see again, move on from like Mordred had said. It was naive. Any time he had to be with the people he loved he would use and treasure. It felt like time was running out. 'Do you ever think, in another life, we could have worked?'

Mordred's stare was unblinking, pupils dilated, and dark. 'Every day. But you have Arthur and I have Will. I think we're better off. Don't you?'

Merlin let the last lungful of sea water go. God, it was strange, the way his lungs had burned, how he could feel himself falling into Mordred all over again. Only without enchantment. Without the strength of their magical connection. It was primal, natural, chemical. It made him forget and then miss Arthur. It made him want it all.

He opened the door. Together they left the room and their silence. Merlin tried to keep the panic over the moment contained, tried to understand the calmness that had settled inside like fallen Autumn leaves, and walked straight for more beer downstairs.

'We'll be going,' Mordred said.

'Fireworks are about to go off,' Lance told him. 'You might as well join us outside. Grab a drink if you want one.'

'Great idea, thanks,' Will said, the sound of his voice surreal. Merlin took in deep fridge-cooled breaths. Part of him had wanted more of a physical or magical reaction to seeing Mordred in the flesh. Something that might explain why he saw him, shared his breaths when he had been dying. Part of him wanted to cry with a sudden tightness in his chest. What could have been? They would have been happy. They could still be, as friends, maybe. He wanted to cry knowing that there was so much standing in the way before he could be sure Arthur was safe, that they could have that happiness. If it even existed. Life was never that easy. He took the beers out, opened two, and joined Arthur in the living room. The others had already filtered out.

'Here,' Merlin said and gave him one. 'Thanks.'

'For what?'

'Giving me time to talk to Mordred alone. I know that was hard for you. So, thank you,' he said. They'd kissed, it had been everything, it had closed a door. It was nothing compared to what he felt just being around Arthur. They couldn't even be compared. A sun and a moon. A world apart. He couldn't imagine ever losing that light. Losing him. The tightness was there in his chest again, squeezing with its claws. Arthur's expression was sombre. What Mordred had said would have hurt him a lot. He couldn't even start to understand how Arthur must have felt about losing Morgana. 'About Morgana—'

'I know,' he said. Gentle, and unwilling to push the subject further. They started to walk outside, grabbed their coats, and stepped into the cold air.

.

.

.

Arthur was slowing down for him. The morning air was unforgiving, refreshing, freezing, and his face had turned numb ten minutes ago. Dawn was blue, hazy, and cold. His breaths were more ragged than he was used to, his muscles straining harder than they should have been, and it was infuriating. Merlin sucked in another lungful and forced his body to move faster, to embrace each impact as he ran across the hard frosted grass in Hyde Park. Today was the day Kilgharrah would tell the team they'd killed Phoebe. Today was the day their careers ended.

'Come on, Merlin!' Arthur called, face pink and lips spread into a large smile. The bank holiday Monday had given them time to work on the double homicide, process Friday, and get more of his things shifted out of Gwaine's flat and into Arthur's.

Merlin gritted his teeth, ignored the stitch, and managed to catch up with him. Living with him again, even if only for three nights, had been strange. They were doing it for safety, necessity, not explicitly because they loved each other or had reached that point in their relationship. Merlin had played with the idea that, in a way, they were the same thing. They did love each other. They had almost died together. Lost each other. Again. Maybe their relationship ran to a different beat than most. Most couples weren't detectives, hunted by the undead, or had been friends for years in a medieval and mythologised past life. Couples. It didn't fit what they were.

The dull hollow ache of exhaustion broke. Endorphins bubbled up in his chest and he laughed, ran even harder, remembered why he'd become so addicted to exercise before the coma. They'd come full circle, past the lake and the open fields of grass lined with benches, the wooded sections of giant trees, back to the maze-like cluster of hedges. His trainers thumped against the concrete path. Merlin grinned with the exhilaration and jogged, slowed until he stopped by the fountain. The intersection was quiet, a round space lined with benches and dark green hedges. It was private, with large evergreen tree tops filling the skyline. In the summer the flowers would bloom. He could see it now, remember the colours from the year before. All they needed was time. With it came longer days, sunlight, and care.

Cold splats on his head brought his mind back into focus. Rain. He was alone.

'Arthur?' he called and turned around to look back where he had run. Panic flooded him with a cold ache. At least thirty metres off he saw him. The fear rolled back and faded, but left behind a heavier heartbeat. Blond hair darker with sweat, his skin pale in stark contrast to the dark hoodie and tracksuit trousers. Merlin's heart thumped heavily, his mouth was dry, and his body hummed with energy. When Arthur caught up he gave him a crooked smile and small frown.

'I haven't seen you run like that, well, ever,' he said through laboured breaths. 'Surprised you could with how bony you are.'

Merlin couldn't stop the glare, or the way his mind latched onto bony with dark pleasure and a sharp rush.

'It's all said with love,' Arthur added with a wink before he squinted up into the grey slate of a sky. It was 8:05 a.m. and the sun was finally lightening the clouds. 'We should get inside. Half an hour to walk back, shower, change, taxi to work, and we'll be there by half nine latest.'

It sounded so normal. 'We better go then.'

They walked quickly, quietly, bought water, and made it back in twenty-five minutes. Once they'd showered and dressed they were in the taxi headed to their new headquarters. The rain had picked up in staccato starts and stops, every now and then clattering against the window panes with hail.

'This is it,' Arthur said, 'isn't it?'

Merlin watched the traffic pass them by. 'Probably.'

When the taxi pulled up to curb a wave of wet-cold moved through him. He dragged in a long breath but his heart still pumped out blood as if he were running, running away, for fitness, with Arthur, for his life, alone.

He climbed out behind Arthur and they walked up the steps towards the building. The ground was wet and reflected the grey sky, the angles and glass of the walls. Merlin spotted Gwaine before he did them. What he'd told them at the hospital danced through his head like a mocking ballet. Nix had possibly drugged him, tried to kill him, was definitely watching them, knew they were investigating him. Sometimes he hated how tangled life was.

'Gwaine!' Merlin called out and waved.

He followed the sound and flashed a grin but it disappeared too quickly and rushed up to them. 'There you two are.'

'Been waiting long?' Arthur asked just as his mobile started to ring.

'Pathologist's report came in on the Bedford Square victims. I couldn't get a hold of you even though your phone does apparently work,' Gwaine continued. 'One of you need to head over there since you're leading the case. DCI Kilgharrah's already left. They're being looked at in the Ian West suite.'

'Speaking?' Arthur said into his phone and then looked at Merlin with a frown. He held it out. 'It's for you. He tried calling but since your phone broke when, you know—'

'Who is it?' Merlin asked and took it.

Arthur's voice dropped to a low note when he said, 'DCS Agravaine.'

'Why don't you head over to mortuary?' he suggested, clocked the refusal about to leave Arthur's mouth, and added, 'We'll sort out everything else once we're all back in the incident room, okay?'

'You can give it back to me later,' Arthur added, nodding at the phone and then jogged down the steps to where Gwaine had parked his car.

He put the phone to his ear as Arthur left with Gwaine in tow.

'DS Emrys?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I need to see you in my office immediately.'

'What about?'

'Immediately, Sergeant. That's an order.'

The call ended and Merlin found himself unwilling to move. Agravaine, in this life and the last, had it out for him. He'd been obsessed with Morgana and Merlin knew he hated him even more because of what happened the year before. Morgana's arrest, her ruined reputation, then her going 'missing'. If he knew she were dead? Or at least that she was supposed to be dead. Christ, he just wanted to put that part of his life to rest once for all.

Merlin slipped Arthur's phone into his jean's pocket and went inside. Plain clothes and uniformed officers passed, milled, and talked around him none the wiser as he steadily progressed to Agravaine's office. Kilgharrah's incident room, their reasonably secure and private pocket of CID operations, was a floor above where Agravaine had been moved as an attachment to another missing person's enquiry. He hadn't been directly involved in any of their cases as far as Merlin was aware. Of course he'd been mildly distracted from usual operations, with repeatedly almost dying, magic, etc.

When Merlin stepped out of the lift and crossed into the room a clerk had direct him to he was affronted by a mess of words, file stacks, coffee cups, empty take-away boxes and at least ten detectives in varying degrees of exhaustion, coffee-highs, or absorption. Several pictures were pinned up on a board on the far right. Five people, their life details written alongside their stolen and time-frozen faces.

DCS AGRAVAINE glared at him from the name plaque on a light wood door to the left. The blinds of the window that faced into the room were drawn closed. No one paid him any attention as he wove his way through the chaos and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' a low voice called. Fear and anxiety had knotted their way into his chest, pulling and cutting at his composure. Taking a moment to breathe, to remind himself that there were more important things in the grand scheme of life than his career, income, his childhood dream of being a detective—

Inside the room he closed the door behind himself and Agravaine directed him to the chair in front of the desk. The tension was strange, not hard or overtly detectable. If anything it was soft, like the way an occasional string played in the background of an old horror movie.

'Sergeant Emrys,' Agravaine began once he had sat down.

'Superintendent,' Merlin said, mirroring the declaration of rank like an accusation.

Agravaine pursed his lips, then leaned forward with he elbows on the desk. 'This is a courtesy meeting.'

Merlin waited. His heart was hammering away at him as if it could help somehow. Beat a little faster, a little harder, and you'll survive. Prat. He blinked at the word he'd used. Arthur was usually the prat. Had he just referred to his heart the same way as Arthur?

'An informal investigation into you has been launched.'

Agravaine's words plunged through his focus. His heartbeat actually slowed. What he'd feared was happening. At least there was no more wondering on that front.

'Haven't we been through this before? I'm not corrupt and I have never miscarried justice,' he said, surprised by the conviction in his voice. 'Sir.'

'So you say.'

'It's the truth.'

Again, it sounded like he meant it. It scared him a little. He'd never been good at telling lies but somewhere in the last year he'd become an expert.

Agravaine glared at him. 'Then explain the presence of Nix at the murder scene in Bloomsbury Friday night. Explain your disappearance after attending a party held at his flat in the City.'

'I didn't disappear. I went home—'

'To Sergeant Pendragon's flat?'

There it was. Judgement. Controlled and contained but clear in the way his eyebrow arched, the subtle flare of his nostrils, the flicker of a cruel and mocking smile. If he hadn't been trained and experienced in spotting the signs he'd never have seen the homophobia.

'We're friends,' he half-lied again. 'We all are.'

'Then where were you in the three following days?'

'Ill,' he said. There was no hesitation or fumbling now. He barely even registered the discomfort he felt at lying. Something buried it deep beneath a false memory of himself coughing with a high fever in his bed.

'That doesn't explain your lack of response during an ongoing enquiry, let alone the fact that you are one of its leading detectives. Your behaviour has been highly unprofessional and your skirting the edge of making serious breaches in procedure and discipline.'

'Is this some kind of tribunal?'

'Not yet. Like I said, this is simply a courtesy, but rest assured this is a serious matter and is being dealt with accordingly,' he continued.

'And you're one of the officers investigating me?'

'Merlin, the least you can do is explain yourself. If you have nothing to hide I don't see why you wouldn't be up front.'

He was giving him the kind of look that would have pushed him into an anxiety attack six years before. Agravaine had nothing on staring down a Dorocha. It was close to funny in comparison.

'Nix showed up at the crime scene on Friday because he's clever. He knows he's a suspect and he wanted to threaten me. I have no control over that.'

Agravaine considered it and sat up straight. 'You certainly have a habit of becoming personally involved with your suspects. Don't think I've forgotten about what happened with Cenred. Bayard may not have found the evidence, and Aredian may well have been the one to cut the sod's throat, but I don't doubt for a moment you put him in hospital. I also find it wholly convenient he was murdered before he could tell anyone what happened in that interview room, the recordings for which were mysteriously corrupted. Then Aredian Carr himself and how he also died outside our old headquarters, supposedly of natural causes although I doubt that too. And now Nix. I'm beginning to wonder if murder is not just something you investigate but instigate. Someone should warn the man.'

'Three cases out of over twenty. That's not a habit, Superintendent, it's part of the job.'

'You're walking on thin ice, Sergeant.'

'And you've had a vendetta against me from the start.'

'Now that is a serious accusation.'

'Like you said, it's a serious matter.'

'The way DCI Kilgharrah runs your Team is already suspect. Letting yourself and Sergeant Pendragon act as de facto SIOs on murder enquiries is not protocol. The Central Command Unit relies heavily on each of its teams and if you are found to be officially in breach of any procedures you will face a tribunal. Not only will you lose your job with the Met,' he paused as the shadows in his face darkened, 'but you will face criminal charges. If my suspicions are correct.'

'Your suspicions?'

'Do you understand what I'm saying, Sergeant?'

Merlin bit his tongue. He could say so much. Call him out on being the vengeful little bastard he was, whether or not his suspicions were correct.

'Yes, sir.'

'Excellent. Get out.'

'What suspicions?'

'You really want to know?'

'Enlighten me.'

'Tough luck. Leave before I suspend you.'

Merlin stood up. Snatching his coat from the back of the chair he left Agravaine's office and headed up a floor to their incident room.

No one was there. Arthur, Gwaine and Kilgharrah were at the morgue, he knew that. Where the others were stumped him. Everyone had already settled in and claimed their desks. He could tell whose was whose just by the arrangements and decorations.

Arthur's was joint with Gwen's, his side as immaculate as hers. She had a picture of Lance smiling with her in his arms taped onto the bottom of the computer screen. Arthur's had a stack of files piled up on one side and an empty coffee mug on the other. Gwaine's was messier with crumpled pieces of paper, a mess he'd only have had the chance to make that same morning. His own desk, as of yet a place he hadn't made his own, faced Gwaine's. It was empty. Untouched.

Leon shared the one corner of the room with the file cabinets and then Percy and Elyan's desks had notes strewn between them, with two small cacti and coffee cups from Starbucks sat dubiously close to their keyboards.

Merlin moved in and sat down at his empty desk. They had two boards. One with photos of the magically-murdered victims, the smiling pictures alongside images of their dead bodies. The other with the Bedford Square victims, again with the real and happy light still in their eyes stuck up in line with shots from the park. Beside's Isabella Hemming's name was 'Bella' written in brackets. She was engaged to Jack Emsdon for two months. Aaron Ward was single and had planned on moving to Seattle, USA, at the end of the year.

Several bullet points followed with information about possible motives for someone to kill them, but the most sinister thing up there was a ex-lover's feud for Aaron who'd broken off a long-term relationship with his university girlfriend, Jane Rogers. Also the possibility than Aaron and Bella were involved, in which case Jack Emsdon was a suspect. All circumstantial. Not a shred of evidence. They had to interview the fiancee, Rogers, search their flats, clarify the timelines they had for the night and morning leading up to their murders—

He felt stretched. Thinned out and strained through their dead bodies, their blood, the way time kept running out for normal people and his own life. Maybe he should buy an hourglass as the first decoration for his desk. A nice metaphor for their work and an ironic nod to his fucked up magic and the fate of the living world.

Where was everyone? Merlin took out Arthur's phone and called Gwaine. It rang several times before the Irishman answered.

'So?' he asked.

'Just finishing up the post mortem on Bella. Stab wounds match to your average kitchen knife, although her attacker was most likely male and either strong or skilled.'

'Skilled as in a hired killer?'

'Maybe, or he was strong, or both.'

'Any fibres or prints or? I know prelim forensics—'

'Nothing yet. The lab needs another day but I've pushed them to get it done by tomorrow morning latest.'

'Done Ward yet?'

'No.'

'Where is everyone?'

'Sorry, mate, should have told you. Gwen's gone with Elyan to interview Jane Rogers. Percy's talking to the fiancee and Leon went to take another look at the park.'

'Why wasn't I informed sooner?'

'I was a bit distracted with Kilgharrah breathing down my neck about grabbing one of you and getting you to the mortuary—'

'I'm the SIO on this case, Gwaine. Interviewing key suspects needs to be run through me first—'

'Woah, hold on, Merlin. It's never been an issue before and no offence but you're MIA a lot of the time. If we waited for your okay whenever we found or did something for our cases we'd lose half our year. Kilgharrah's the Inspector and he—'

Merlin sighed loudly. 'Sure. That's true. It's just not protocol, but then again I don't exactly follow it myself.'

'You all right?'

'You're a good detective, you know.'

'Okay.'

'You'll be fine.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing.'

'Bollocks.'

'Tell me what you find with Bella,' he said and hung up. When the thought struck him he shoved it away as disjointed, twisted, insane. There was a tug and he reeled it back. It was so simple. So glaringly obvious. It explained why he'd had that urge to hurt himself. It was more than feeling worthless, like a burden, an ugly excuse for a person, a monster. Like Kilgharrah had said, he wanted to live. He did. Being with Arthur, breathing air, feeling happy or confused or scared, he wanted it all. But he should have died, and when he didn't his magic tore the veil so he could come back.

Merlin listed the options out in his head: 1) Diminish aka die. 2) Let part of himself die with unknown effects. 3) Resist and not let anything die or leave him which will either fix everything or kill him.

One wasn't an option, not really. It was two and three that hung in the balance and would only become relevant when he tried it. It was a crazy, far-fetched, and suicidal thought that also made the most sense of it all. Finding the rift in the living world could take them years, decades, if it wasn't in London and by then Dorocha and the Cailleach would have destroyed everything if magic users hadn't.

Two birds with one scary stone. Sort the Dorocha and whatever was going on in his head. He had to go back to where it started. He had to go back to whatever his mind had made him forget. He had to almost die. Not like when he jumped from the balcony, and not like when the Dorocha attacked. He resisted it both times and they were both too fatal and quick.

If he got back to that place he could undo whatever he did.

'Shit,' he said. Merlin shivered even though it wasn't cold at all. Any anger, anxiety, over Agravaine's warning slipped away. The calm that filled him was unsettling and comforting at the same time. The running order came to him step by step. Replicate what happened as best as he could, keep his magic at bay if it bothered to help in the first place, and see what happens. 'Shit. Shit, shit, shit.'

He ran his hands over his face, mildly alarmed at how cold they were, and got up. He had to tell Arthur. He'd hate it, tell him no, but if he did Merlin would make it clear that he'd go ahead with it with or without his blessing.

He needed Arthur to understand. To tell him it made sense. Merlin made his way back out onto the street. It was terrifying. There was a cold scrape at the back of his head. Maybe this was just a new way for the part of him to manipulate him. His own mind was the enemy. Fucking always. His stomach growled, low, and he felt that hollow ache in his throat. Merlin had made it a five minute walk towards the mortuary when Arthur's phone rang. Gwaine was calling back. He frowned. A post mortem usually took close to an hour if not longer. How could they be done already? When he saw the time his stomach dipped. 10:43 a.m. How had so much time gone by?

'It's bad,' Gwaine said the second he swiped answer.

'Explain.'

'Aaron Ward was killed by someone shorter than himself judging by the angle of the stab wounds. Same weapon, but very different amount of force. They're shallow in comparison to Bella's. The pathologist found tissue under Bella's fingernails and has sent it to forensics which will take a few days, but Merlin,' he stopped and let out a breath, 'Arthur and I have the same idea. Kilgharrah wants to wait for the tissue sample to confirm DNA—'

'Same weapon, but the attacker was different. Shorter, couldn't overpower him as much as Bella evidently was, so there's a high chance they were female or an adolescent male. Two killers, most likely one male and one female. Most likely,' Merlin said. 'Only there are no witnesses, and as far as we know they were the only ones in the park. No weapon left at the scene, no sign of someone having fled—'

'It's too soon to tell. Either there are two killers who took the weapon with them, an escape which would have been impossible without being seen unless they used, you know.'

'Or the two killers never left the park in the first place. Only the weapon did.'

'Which is fucking disturbing because Aaron apparently died before Bella did. So he'd have been dead when he tried to kill her, if they killed each other. It's twisted either way.'

He heard a shuffle on the other side and then Arthur's voice came through, 'Nix might have been there for more than threats, Merlin.'

'We have to wait for the forensics and find that weapon, if we can, before we make any assumptions.'

'Bloody hell. Are you still at the Yard?'

'I was heading to you, but if you've finished up—'

'Kilgharrah's organised a meet at 5 this afternoon. Inner circle only.'

'Great. I need to talk to you.'

'You are.'

'In person. It's important. The sooner it happens the better. Lower body count and all.'

'Stay where you are. We're going back now. Gwen and Elyan should have finished up with the Roger's girl by now too.'

'See you in a bit,' Merlin said.

'Yeah. Love yo u.'

The call ended before he could say anything else. Merlin smiled to himself. He knew it was a slip of the tongue at the end of a phone conversation with someone you care about, but it made him warm all over. It was perfect and natural. Arthur was going to hate him when he told him his idea. Ice washed away his warmth and he put the phone away. The implications if they killed each other weren't good. Nix's involvement made it worse. He turn back down the street, Parliament rising and diving on his right side in its grand structure, Big Ben locked up and hidden away for the renovation works. Tourists and locals moved around him in throngs.

'You look even worse than you did Friday, darling.'

Merlin jumped when Nix stepped up alongside him as he crossed the road. 'How the fuck did you find me here?'

Nix wiggled his fingers. 'Magic.'

Merlin walked faster and ground his teeth together. Anger. He was beginning to go into fight or flight mode with all the obstacles, threats, in every part of his life. The urge to break something, to make himself feel the burn, welled up in his chest.

'More warnings?' he asked, aware of how close they were getting to the headquarters.

'Brunch.'

He bit out a laugh. 'No.'

'Why not?'

'You're a murderer,' he said with a smile of disbelief. Brunch?

'Aren't we all killers?' Nix replied, a quirk to the corner of his mouth and his eyes seemed to scan over Merlin completely, invasively.

'Piss off.'

'I just want to help you.'

'You're disturbed.'

'And so are you.'

'Brunch?' Merlin repeated, slowing down now to come to a full stop two buildings before New Scotland Yard. The stones around them were old, washed clean and crisp with rain and snow, and almost seemed as alive with the past as the leafless trees landing the street did with nature.

'A quick bite and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day.'

'I can't.'

'Why?'

He appeared genuinely concerned and interested. 'I'm under investigation.'

'For murder?'

'Misconduct.'

'Naughty boy.'

Merlin had to actively keep himself from hitting Nix. 'Did you do it?'

'Do what?'

'Kill them. Make them kill each other. It can't have been a coincidence you appeared on Friday at that exact crime scene. Sink your drug-addled claws into them?'

'Your out of luck there, darling.'

'You weren't involved, then?'

'You like it,' Nix drawled out, voice soft with awe and realisation. Merlin measured out his breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth, to calm down. 'I can see it. You like suffering. Not in a masochistic way, no. You like it because you don't know any better. You thrive off it. Danger, murder, secrets, it's what keeps you strong and trained up.'

'Avoiding the question.'

'I want you.'

'I'm not interested.'

'Not like that, not sexually or otherwise. I want you, Merlin. Who you are. What you could be. I want to show you—'

'Never,' he bit out, 'Going. To. Happen.'

Nix sighed. 'It's that blonde you run around with, isn't it? I can spot a misguided influence a mile away. He's got you wrapped around his little finger.'

'I am sick of people like you. This is it. I see you again and I'm not arresting you—'

Nix lifted his eyebrow with a small smile. 'No?'

'I'm sending you to some nameless, timeless hell and you can find your own bloody way out.'

When Nix's stare shifted over Merlin's shoulder his body ran cold. He wanted to turn around and check, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

'He's attractive and protective. I'll give you that,' Nix said. 'But he'll never be enough for you.'

Merlin blinked and Nix was gone, the faintest trail of a dark grey vapour in the air. It twisted up and coiled, tapering out thin and barely visible. A gust of wind severed it into several wisps to be dragged away with the breeze.

(Playlist for Enemy:

Scars by IAMX

We Must Be Killers by Mikky Ekko

E.S.T. by White Lies

Depraved by Mammals

...

Love Runs Out by OneRepublic

Visions of a Life by Wolf Alice

Virgin by Manchester Orchestra

Rival by Ruelle

Help Yourself by Bryde

Contagious by Night Riots

I Am Terrified by IAMX

Dangerous Game by Klergy, BEGINNERS)