The Only People Who Have Clients (are prostitutes and lawyers) 2/3
Summary: from kinkme_merlin prompt found here, Merlin is being trialed in court for murder. Arthur is his lawyer and falls for BAMF!Merlin while fighting Merlin's case.
Word Count: ~16,000
Notes: Hopefully I did the prompt justice. It was written for the meme's Spring Fever and reposted here just to I can keep my masterlist nice and tidy.
Warnings: Mentions of intoxication (drugs&alcohol), mentions of murder (plus descriptions), mentions of character death, violence, brief mention of prostitution, brief mention of rape, a thoroughly warped/corrupt justice/legal system, stillbirth. I also know nothing about law, so everything's just a fantasy in my mind.
The Only People Who Have Clients
(are prostitutes and lawyers)
Part Two
.
They met four times more before Arthur met Freya. Merlin had somewhat agreed to comply with trying to get a reduced sentence, though he refused to budge from the fact that he was guilty.
"I have to take an oath that says I won't lie," Merlin had reminded Arthur.
"You really think anyone tells the truth these days? Not a single person tells the truth in court now and you might want to remember that. I've found out the name of the lawyer who will be against us, Morgana LeFay, and she's like a dog with a bone." Arthur had replied (and he should know, he'd practically grown up with Morgana and while they were friends-of-sorts outside of work, she was as cut-throat as any lawyer and would love to rip into Arthur).
"Well, I'm not going to lie. I'll be an oddity then," Merlin had persisted, challenging Arthur as he lounged in the parlour room - Arthur hadn't been that successful when meeting Merlin and the man refused to leave his home for their meetings.
"I think," Arthur had said with an incredulous look, "You're the only person in the world who'll happily repeat that their guilty of murder and yet refuse to lie just because they have to swear an oath."
But Merlin had been told about the possibilities they could use in court, about how Arthur could talk to the police who had written the report and have them 'amend' the files to show that Merlin had in fact been intoxicated.
Even with all that going on, Arthur had mentioned that he needed to speak to the witness - Merlin's friend Freya. At first Merlin had objected violently (at their third meeting) and practically thrown Arthur from the house. He'd called the office later, apologising (and Arthur thought Hunith might be standing next to him, fixing her son with a glare) for his behaviour and stating that he'd discuss it with Freya and see what she thought.
Still, Merlin was icy in their conversation about Freya, tight lipped and unwilling to give Arthur a contact number. Unfortunately Freya hadn't given one to the police, or at least one hadn't been mentioned in the case file, and so Arthur was left to battle Merlin until the man gave a number up.
"I'm not letting you met here anywhere but on mutual ground," he'd said before telling Arthur to come back tomorrow, shutting the door in his face as soon as Arthur had rang the doorbell on his fifth visit to the Emrys house.
So Arthur returned the next day, a little earlier than the time they'd set before. Matthew let him in and he moved automatically towards the parlour room, expecting it empty. Which was why he started when a hand grasped his arm, Matthew shaking his head.
He was just about to ask what the problem was when he heard Merlin's voice, raised and angry (as it so often was).
"No, you don't get to decide that," floated from the room. "It's done, Freya. Done."
The door slammed open then and Arthur met Merlin's furious face. He glared at Arthur as he passed, storming upstairs with a cascade of door slams, before Arthur turned his attention back to the parlour room.
A pale woman sat there, wide eyed with a hand on her stomach. She was pregnant and showing quite well, which Arthur took to mean she was quite far in her pregnancy. He moved into the room, taking his usual seat.
"I'm Arthur Pendragon, Merlin probably mentioned me?" It was a stupid thing to say - of course Merlin had mentioned him! - but he hadn't been expecting this.
What he'd expected was someone uncaring, cold and, well, fierce. Merlin didn't exactly have the sweetest disposition and why would this woman, carrying a child, hang around with murderers?
She smiled, moving her hand from her stomach to the arm of the chair. "Yes, he did," she said. "I expect you probably have some questions? I mean I told the police what I could, but it seems that it's never really enough." She gave another fleeting smile, clearly nervous.
"I'm sorry," Arthur replied, and really he was. But he had to know what happened from her view, match it with Merlin's story and take it from there. "Would you be able to tell me what happened, so we can get it over with?"
She nodded quickly, eyes scanning the floor, desperately trying to stay away from Arthur. He couldn't blame her; it must be horrible to relive the events over and over, especially when she had a baby to protect.
Will made an obscene joke, waving his arms and falling back into a man carrying three pints. Someone in the group fumbled for their wallet as the man grit his jaw, dripping beer and anger. Freya had only come out thanks to Merlin and Will's insistence and had sat there most of the night, sipping at a glass of lemonade and laughing with her friends. Even though they kept to shady business from time to time, she loved all of them dearly, especially Merlin.
(Arthur wondered whether the baby was Merlin's - it would make sense as to why he'd been so protective of Freya, and the argument before. Maybe Freya was on Arthur's side, had tried to make Merlin see sense.)
Merlin had slipped out for air about ten minutes ago and Freya decided she needed some too. The pub was a non-smoking one, but it was still stuffy, hot and the stench of beer was beginning to sicken her. So she left, looking around for Merlin at the front of the pub.
A few men muttered that he'd walked off into one of the alleys and so Freya walked over to them, peering into the one a man had pointed at, standing under a dimly lit lamppost, looking into the darkness.
A gunshot sounded then and Freya had ducked to the side. The men outside the bar had flinched too, ducking down and peering out into the gloom with wide eyes.
When no other sounds came from the alley, Freya had run in and taken the gun from Merlin, stayed by his side until the police had arrived, held him as he stared down at the dead body. He'd confessed his guilt to the world when the police had taken hold of him and Freya had been left with nothing to do but explain what she'd seen.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You went in just like that? After someone fired a gun and you're pregnant?"
Freya straightened in her seat. "Of course I did," she said hurriedly, still averting her gaze. "Merlin's my closest friend, I needed to see if he was okay."
Sitting back in his chair, Arthur looked at her. While other women seemed to glow with pregnancy, Freya seemed diminished, grey and frail. The baby inside of her seemed as though it was taking the life from her, leaving her with dark circles under her eyes and jittery reactions. There was something here, something wrong.
"How did you know Merlin was in the alley? The men outside the pub were probably quite drunk, so did you just trust what they said?" Arthur watched carefully.
"N-no. I mean I heard Mordred say 'Merlin', so why would I hesitate?" Her look was fierce now and Arthur wondered if his judgement earlier had been a little wrong. This woman was clearly as protective of the people she loved as Gwen or Morgana.
"Well thank you," Arthur said with a smile. "Do you know if I could have a quick word with Merlin? I forgot to ask him something at a meeting before."
Freya nodded slowly, giving directions (and yes, Arthur would need directions in this big, creepy house) on where Merlin would probably be.
Matthew let Freya out, but didn't even comment when Arthur walked to the staircase. Instead he nodded, telling Arthur to find him if he needed any help tracking down the wayward Emrys son.
As it happened, Freya's directions were well given and Merlin was sitting in a spacious room, probably once used for holding ladies afternoon tea in the 'old days'. Large French windows overlooked the front of the house, where Merlin was looking out as Freya walked down the driveway.
"I assume you got everything you needed from her," Merlin drawled, his voice ugly. The anger was still there, but it had simmered down now, resorting to the tone of distain and hatred he reserved just for Arthur.
"I did. She said the reason she went into the alley was because Mordred said your name," he began, watching Merlin.
He grunted, shifting up from his chair and turning away from the window. "He had a fixation with calling me Emrys." He frowned when he noticed Arthur's smile and the frown deepened as Arthur took a seat.
"We don't have a session today," Merlin said, eyeing Arthur with a slight guardedness. Oh what Arthur wouldn't give to get inside his head, take apart all the defences and know who the real Merlin was.
"No, but I just want you to know that I'll be expecting the truth soon. The story you two have - it's a solid, good story, but it's not what really happened." Arthur waited for a beat, meeting Merlin's steely gaze calmly. It was a risky detail to pick on, but Arthur had felt there was something wrong the whole time he'd been on the case. Freya mentioning that Mordred had called Merlin 'Merlin' and not Emrys, coupled with what Merlin had just said… it was good enough for Arthur to hound in on.
As Arthur made to leave, he caught a glimpse of the man beneath all the anger. Like a curtain falling down, Merlin's face relaxed, his expression changing. Arthur almost paused in his turn, almost stopped and went back, to find out why he looked so hurt, to find out what he could do…
… but that wasn't his job. He wasn't anything but a lawyer to Merlin. No matter how much Merlin intrigued him, all they'd ever be was client and lawyer. No matter what Arthur was beginning to think, all that was because of the mystery of the case. Nothing more. There were no affections between them and no delusions that Merlin might actually like him (as a friend, let alone anything else), so there was no reason for Arthur to feel like this.
No one else had presented so much of a puzzle before, that was all. Merlin was an oddity and Arthur had always liked oddities.
People began jumping as a new song sounded over the club, roaring along to the singer and laughing with their friends. The group Arthur was with responded much the same, someone grabbing his arm and pulling him to the beat. After a few lines of the song, Arthur moved away with a smile, heading to the bar.
It should be a relief, burning off steam from the past week, preparing for the weekend (not that he got an actual day off, but he didn't go into the office on weekends if he didn't absolutely have to) and simply getting drunk enough to find the nearest, decent bloke and take him home for a thoroughly good shag.
Tonight, though, Arthur didn't feel like it. Which was ridiculous, because when you went out with your mates and needed to come down from the week, Arthur always picked someone up. Or when he didn't, he at least got shitfaced enough that the morning left him debating whether he'd copped off in a loo or something and simply forgotten over breakfast.
He looked back at his friends and it was like a punch in the gut. They were fine without him, Gwen with Lancelot and even Morgana throwing her hair back with her arms around the neck of some guy. Gwaine and the other guys were guarding their drinks and still managing to have a good time, miming along to the song with overly large gestures, laughter surrounding them. It wasn't that they wouldn't miss him (and he knew he'd get a text or two in the morning asking if he'd broken his own record and snagged a guy already), but Arthur didn't want to be on the dance floor right now.
What he wanted, in all honesty, was Merlin. Not exactly in that way (though he was starting to think that wouldn't be too bad either), but he wanted to know what was going on behind his anger and his sneer.
But what Arthur wanted didn't really matter, did it? He'd always done what was expected of him, from primary school to university, in choosing jobs (part-time and full-time), in doing what he was supposed to, rather than perhaps what was right. The one thing Uther had never really dictated was who graced Arthur's bed, but then again as long as Arthur performed his best for Camelot, his father didn't really seem too bothered with his personal life.
He set down his empty cup on the bar and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to be here and so he left, not bothering to say goodbye to his friends. They'd assume he had found someone so why not let them?
Instead of hailing a cab (and there were plenty milling around), Arthur decided a walk would do him good. He'd walk the general direction home as it wasn't too far, and if he wanted to get a cab then he could at any point in the journey, such were the perks of having an apartment in a high rise end of the city, one off main roads all the way from the club areas.
The walk was nice and it helped Arthur to clear his head. There wasn't too much alcohol left in him - the evening had been young still, hardly pushing on 11.30, so he hadn't drunken much yet - but fresh air did wonders. After forty minutes of walking, it paid off as he rounded the corner of a street to see his building rising up alongside so many others, familiar and home.
There was a figure lingering on the street, head tilted towards something in their hands, and Arthur looked on cautiously. While it wasn't a rough neighbourhood, dodgy characters could lurk wherever they wanted and this was prime time really, past midnight on a Friday night (slash-Saturday-morning).
He was just about to walk past the figure when they turned, relief etched on her face.
"Freya?" Arthur asked incredulously. She was the last person Arthur would have ever expected, especially at his home. He gave her a once over, to check she hadn't been attacked or something, and when he noticed the baby bump, he knew they had to get inside, somewhere warm and private.
"Come on up," he invited, punching the door code in so they could get into the building and then stepping inside the lift, heading for the top floor.
When they were inside, he directed Freya to his lounge, leaving her pale and small against his large, leather sofas. He went for some water, brought back two pint glasses and offered one to her, sitting down on the same sofa, but the opposite end. She'd obviously come with a purpose, but he had no idea what kind of purpose.
"I'm sorry," she began, clutching the glass of water tightly. "I know we don't know each other, but you're the only person who won't look at me as if…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together before taking a sip of water.
"It's fine," Arthur assured her. While he could be a cold hearted bastard when needed, he could also be someone to talk to, someone nice and trustworthy.
"Usually I'd go to Merlin about these things, but…" she broke off again, looking away from Arthur and to the ground. "He's done so much for me, Merlin. I think that's his problem," she whispered, "He doesn't know when to stop."
Freya bit her lip, clutching at the glass again. Arthur wanted to offer her some form of comfort, but knew that she needed to be left alone, deep in her thoughts as she was.
"I've known him since I was little," she said, with a smile. "We went to primary school together and I told him he could marry me when I was older."
Arthur nodded a little stiffly; so the baby was Merlin's then?
"Of course I was heartbroken when he told me he'd rather marry our friend Will, but that I could live with them and have all the toys I wanted." Her smile widened and Arthur could see the woman she should be, beautiful and kind.
"Sadly enough, Merlin never went through with either proposal, not that I'd particularly want him to, nor would Will." She looked at Arthur then, meeting his gaze for the first time. "He thinks too much for other people and too little for himself."
She sipped the water again, leaving Arthur's eyes. "No matter what happens, just take care of him?"
It was an odd question, because in a way, Arthur was supposed to take care of Merlin. He was supposed to get him free of his charges, see him through the whole process, but there was more in Freya's tone. He couldn't ask about it though. Freya had more to say.
"These past few months he's been so angry, but when he was talking about you…" a finger slipped down the glass, stroking it as she rested it on her belly. "Despite all the spitting and snarling, Merlin likes you."
That surprised Arthur; firstly that Merlin would talk about him in any way that was positive and secondly that he liked him.
"Don't give me that look," Freya muttered, blushing slightly. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth."
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Freya announced she should leave. It was closing in on 1am now and Arthur shook his head, pointing her to his guest room.
"I could lend you an old t-shirt or something?" he said pathetically after convincing Freya to stay. She shook her head, gesturing to the bump with an odd look on her face.
"It's okay, this thing'll get in the way."
And even though there was no one beside him in his bed, having Freya and her words in the flat made his home seem less lonely than it had for weeks.
In the morning - after Arthur insisted on breakfast - Freya said that she was going to visit Merlin. When Arthur offered to drive, she smiled and shook her head. He'd already done so much, she said, and that she'd imposed too much already.
Twenty minutes later, Arthur was driving Freya to the Emrys' house, ignoring any protest she might have made. In truth, he liked her. She was kind and considerate, and though she didn't look at him often, when she said something to Arthur, he felt as though she meant it from the bottom of her heart.
He hadn't even thought of what she'd said the night before until he spoke into the intercom at Merlin's gate and pulled round the driveway. The door flung open - courtesy of Merlin, as per usual - and said man flew down the stairs, practically wrenching Arthur's car door off to get Freya out and in for a hug.
"Fuck Freya," Arthur heard Merlin say, pure worry in his voice, "I thought…"
It was then that Merlin looked into the car, noticing Arthur for the first time.
"Arthur let me stay at his place last night," Freya said, still half smothered by Merlin. She smiled back at Arthur. "And he offered to drive me around here this morning, even though I told him not to."
Merlin looked at Freya, as if inspecting that Arthur had been true to her word, before he looked into the car, a light frown on his brow.
The next words were grated out reluctantly, "Thank you."
Even as he drove back home, Arthur couldn't quite shake the curl of his lips (no, it was not a smile) off, probably looking like a madman the whole way.
Not that he cared. Maybe Freya had been right after all.
The day Merlin stepped into Arthur's office was the day everything changed. It wasn't because Merlin was actually in his office (that was down to Hunith bringing him), but because the court had finally set a date to begin the trial. While it was still a few weeks away, it brought reality to snap at their heels and Hunith left early, whispering that she expected Merlin to talk to Arthur before he came home.
They'd sat in silence, Arthur looking down at the letter he'd received. Merlin would get his shortly, if it hadn't arrived already of course.
"I'm guilty," Merlin repeated, leant forwards in his chair and fingers interlinked, elbows resting on his knees.
Arthur looked up sharply, "I think we established that the moment you first stepped in here, thank you very much."
Merlin looked at him, a frown on his brow (as usual), but none of his hatred.
"But I'm actually guilty. I mean, all of this, it's really real now." He clenched his jaw, looking down again.
"We've talked about this though," Arthur began, "I'm the best of the best and your mother's fuelling a lot of money into this. Either way, you're not going to get the sentence you would have got."
Merlin snorted at that. "Which is ridiculous. Why should I get special treatment just because my mother inherited buckets of money?" He was looking at Arthur again, eyes flashing with anger, not directed at the lawyer, but the world.
"It's the way the world works," Arthur said sadly, after a brief pause. It left Merlin with a bitter look on his face and Arthur a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I hate it," he confessed, watching Merlin's head snap round to meet his eyes. "But I can't change it. The whole legal system's corrupt, starting from the government and right down to the victims."
Merlin was silent for a moment. "Then why don't we change it? Do the proper thing and only present the facts of my case." Back was the defiant man, the one who for all the world wanted to be condemned.
"Why do you want this so badly?" Arthur asked, resting his elbows on the desk, meeting Merlin's eyes. "Why do you want to go to prison so much?"
Merlin's jaw clenched and it was how he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"There's something else isn't there. Something that you want to hide from me." He smiled, wanting the elation of victory he'd eventually get. "You can't keep secrets from me Merlin; you should know that by now."
Strangely, Arthur was only amused as the door slammed shut after Merlin rather than annoyed as he would be if any other client stormed out. In fact, it pleased him because it proved there was something Merlin was hiding.
Something that Arthur would find out soon.
Two days after the court date had been issued, Arthur came home to find Merlin sitting outside his front door, a book on his lap and a bored look on his face.
"About bloody time," he muttered, standing up with a groan. He'd evidently been there for a while and he looked at Arthur with meaning before saying, "Well the least you could do is let me in, considering I've been here for about five hours now."
Well, when he committed himself to something, Merlin was definitely one hundred per cent in at least. Which, considering his stand on his innocence probably wasn't too farfetched really. And Arthur would rather not know how he'd got past the security code, really.
"Do you want a drink?" Arthur asked, waving a hand in the direction of the lounge. He ended up bringing two beers into the room, setting one down in case Merlin changed his mind (he'd said he wasn't thirsty) before he sat down, taking a sip from the can and waiting for whatever it was Merlin had to say.
"I talked to Freya," Merlin said as he opened his can, taking a long sip of the beer. "Well, she talked to me." He didn't look particularly happy at this and wondered what exactly had passed between them. Another argument like the one he'd caught the tail end of?
"She… made me… see that maybe it's not a bad idea to work with you." He took another sip hurriedly, foam spilling out onto the top of the can. Merlin slurped it off before continuing. "Rather than against you. I mean you're only here to help and you've put up with me being a complete shit these past weeks. So…" He trailed off uncomfortably. "I kind of owe you I suppose."
That wasn't what Arthur had been expecting at all.
"So I'm willing to give whatever plan you've got a go," Merlin rushed on, looking down at the can between his hands. "Because you were right and it is the people who walk free that get the most 'fame'."
There was no meaning to the words and Arthur - trained to recognise even the tiniest slips - could see that there was something odd going on here. Did Merlin actually want to go to prison? Was that why he'd been so against Arthur actually wanting to help him?
No, that wasn't it. Why? Because that would have been too easy, too simple a reason. While it looked as though his claims were genuine, the little details slipped between him and Freya and that was what Arthur had been trained to pick up on.
Granted he hadn't used it on his own clients until now, but it was still something he could do, almost naturally. The differences between Merlin's account and Freya's could have been nothing to anyone else (and probably would have been overlooked, after all, what's in a name, be it a first- or sur-name), but it was the tiniest something, the only something, that Arthur had to work with in figuring Merlin out.
"When we go to court, they'll want your recount of what happened. They'll also call in the police that were on the scene, probably want to get a hold of the pub to confirm you were there and left, something like that, and they'll want to talk to Freya too." Despite the formality of his words, the atmosphere was relaxed, could even just be two friends sipping beer.
"They want Freya?" Merlin asked casually, glancing up at Arthur.
"Well, yeah. She's the only witness they have and so she'd be a sure fire way to lock you up." He set his beer on the coffee table, using his other hand to unknot his tie, slipping it from his neck and throwing it over the arm of the sofa.
"Isn't there a way to keep her out of all of this?" Merlin asked again, tapping his fingers against his can.
Arthur frowned, fiddling with the stiff button of his shirt. "Not really. She was named witness and said she would come to court if called upon." The button opened and he looked back at Merlin. "I know you're protective of her, but some things just can't be avoided."
His words didn't sooth Merlin any and Arthur watched as he took a vicious swig of his beer, frowning again.
"But she's…" Merlin broke off. "I don't want to talk about any of it." The subject changed suddenly, Merlin looking to Arthur and asking, "So, why a lawyer anyway?"
Never once had a client asked Arthur that. They never really asked anything to do with him really, unless it was related to them ('oh, you'll get me off right?' or 'you're working on my case now, yeah?'). He thought for a moment, wondering how sincere Merlin was in his question or if he just wanted to dodge the case.
Either way, really, it didn't matter by Arthur. He couldn't remember the last time someone had just asked about him. The people at work - his friends - just assumed he was well and happy because he did well at his job and had a lot of money. Only Gwen thought otherwise, but she'd never interfere in something like that.
"My father's the head of Camelot Legal. He's pretty much raised me up to be a lawyer." Arthur sipped his beer, settling back on the sofa. "I don't mind, I mean I enjoy the work." Merlin nodded, looking at him with curiosity. "But sometimes I wonder if I only enjoy it because I've always been prodded in that direction, you know?"
Merlin nodded.
"So, how about you?" Arthur said, half-turning so that his knee rested on the sofa and he was looking at Merlin.
"Me?" Merlin repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, what do you do when you're not blowing people's brains out in dark alleyways." Merlin looked at him incredulously for a moment, as if he couldn't believe Arthur had actually said it, but then he laughed, his face changing with his smile.
If Arthur had been interested before, seeing Merlin smile was like Christmas and his birthday both come early. It changed the whole air around him, beaming out Merlin's joy, and Arthur made it a new goal to see how much he could make Merlin smile from now on.
"Well… nothing really. I used to help at my uncle's business, but he retired last year and I hadn't found anything to do before all this." Merlin snorted, "And I doubt my career prospects will exactly be lining up right now."
The conversation flowed easily in a way Arthur never would have expected a week ago, a day ago really. Merlin was genuinely nice, interested in what he had to say and asked Arthur questions no one else had. Like, for example, what his relationship with his family was like.
"I get on well with Morgana," he said, breaking into his second beer. "But I don't see much of my father really. It's better that way. We don't exactly see eye to eye on most things anymore and we're both too busy to really try and get on."
And Arthur asked back too, asking how it was that Hunith had acquired so much money.
"Well we had a relative on my dad's side and when he died it just got left to us. I don't think anyone realised he hadn't been with my mum for years before he died - probably didn't even know about me - but we got the money and the house." Merlin looked down at his can. "I like the house. It's… quiet, but it's got history and I can imagine all the people who've ever been there. You can't really do that here," he quipped, smirking at Arthur.
Eventually, as with all good things, Merlin had to leave.
"My mum will be expecting me." He rolled his eyes, "Yeah it's sad, a man my age living with his mum, but I can go for days without even hearing her. That house is bloody big enough."
Arthur gave a huff of laughter, leading Merlin to the door with a smile. He'd enjoyed himself, having an evening talking about anything but work (sure it had factored into it, but Merlin didn't care about files or whether Arthur had formatted his paperwork properly, and that was nice).
Merlin opened the door, smiling back at Arthur.
"I did have a good time. Freya was right, you're not half bad." And before anything could be said, Merlin moved closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to Arthur's cheek before turning. Stunned, Arthur watched him walk down the corridor, smirking as he half-turned and waved back.
Arthur wasn't sure how long he stayed at his door after that, but he got a strange look from his neighbour opposite as they exited their house. And, just maybe, he stayed there for a little bit after they'd gone, but he'd never admit that to anyone. Ever.
.
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three |
Word Count: ~16,000
Notes: Hopefully I did the prompt justice. It was written for the meme's Spring Fever and reposted here just to I can keep my masterlist nice and tidy.
Warnings: Mentions of intoxication (drugs&alcohol), mentions of murder (plus descriptions), mentions of character death, violence, brief mention of prostitution, brief mention of rape, a thoroughly warped/corrupt justice/legal system, stillbirth. I also know nothing about law, so everything's just a fantasy in my mind.
The Only People Who Have Clients
(are prostitutes and lawyers)
Part Two
.
They met four times more before Arthur met Freya. Merlin had somewhat agreed to comply with trying to get a reduced sentence, though he refused to budge from the fact that he was guilty.
"I have to take an oath that says I won't lie," Merlin had reminded Arthur.
"You really think anyone tells the truth these days? Not a single person tells the truth in court now and you might want to remember that. I've found out the name of the lawyer who will be against us, Morgana LeFay, and she's like a dog with a bone." Arthur had replied (and he should know, he'd practically grown up with Morgana and while they were friends-of-sorts outside of work, she was as cut-throat as any lawyer and would love to rip into Arthur).
"Well, I'm not going to lie. I'll be an oddity then," Merlin had persisted, challenging Arthur as he lounged in the parlour room - Arthur hadn't been that successful when meeting Merlin and the man refused to leave his home for their meetings.
"I think," Arthur had said with an incredulous look, "You're the only person in the world who'll happily repeat that their guilty of murder and yet refuse to lie just because they have to swear an oath."
But Merlin had been told about the possibilities they could use in court, about how Arthur could talk to the police who had written the report and have them 'amend' the files to show that Merlin had in fact been intoxicated.
Even with all that going on, Arthur had mentioned that he needed to speak to the witness - Merlin's friend Freya. At first Merlin had objected violently (at their third meeting) and practically thrown Arthur from the house. He'd called the office later, apologising (and Arthur thought Hunith might be standing next to him, fixing her son with a glare) for his behaviour and stating that he'd discuss it with Freya and see what she thought.
Still, Merlin was icy in their conversation about Freya, tight lipped and unwilling to give Arthur a contact number. Unfortunately Freya hadn't given one to the police, or at least one hadn't been mentioned in the case file, and so Arthur was left to battle Merlin until the man gave a number up.
"I'm not letting you met here anywhere but on mutual ground," he'd said before telling Arthur to come back tomorrow, shutting the door in his face as soon as Arthur had rang the doorbell on his fifth visit to the Emrys house.
So Arthur returned the next day, a little earlier than the time they'd set before. Matthew let him in and he moved automatically towards the parlour room, expecting it empty. Which was why he started when a hand grasped his arm, Matthew shaking his head.
He was just about to ask what the problem was when he heard Merlin's voice, raised and angry (as it so often was).
"No, you don't get to decide that," floated from the room. "It's done, Freya. Done."
The door slammed open then and Arthur met Merlin's furious face. He glared at Arthur as he passed, storming upstairs with a cascade of door slams, before Arthur turned his attention back to the parlour room.
A pale woman sat there, wide eyed with a hand on her stomach. She was pregnant and showing quite well, which Arthur took to mean she was quite far in her pregnancy. He moved into the room, taking his usual seat.
"I'm Arthur Pendragon, Merlin probably mentioned me?" It was a stupid thing to say - of course Merlin had mentioned him! - but he hadn't been expecting this.
What he'd expected was someone uncaring, cold and, well, fierce. Merlin didn't exactly have the sweetest disposition and why would this woman, carrying a child, hang around with murderers?
She smiled, moving her hand from her stomach to the arm of the chair. "Yes, he did," she said. "I expect you probably have some questions? I mean I told the police what I could, but it seems that it's never really enough." She gave another fleeting smile, clearly nervous.
"I'm sorry," Arthur replied, and really he was. But he had to know what happened from her view, match it with Merlin's story and take it from there. "Would you be able to tell me what happened, so we can get it over with?"
She nodded quickly, eyes scanning the floor, desperately trying to stay away from Arthur. He couldn't blame her; it must be horrible to relive the events over and over, especially when she had a baby to protect.
Will made an obscene joke, waving his arms and falling back into a man carrying three pints. Someone in the group fumbled for their wallet as the man grit his jaw, dripping beer and anger. Freya had only come out thanks to Merlin and Will's insistence and had sat there most of the night, sipping at a glass of lemonade and laughing with her friends. Even though they kept to shady business from time to time, she loved all of them dearly, especially Merlin.
(Arthur wondered whether the baby was Merlin's - it would make sense as to why he'd been so protective of Freya, and the argument before. Maybe Freya was on Arthur's side, had tried to make Merlin see sense.)
Merlin had slipped out for air about ten minutes ago and Freya decided she needed some too. The pub was a non-smoking one, but it was still stuffy, hot and the stench of beer was beginning to sicken her. So she left, looking around for Merlin at the front of the pub.
A few men muttered that he'd walked off into one of the alleys and so Freya walked over to them, peering into the one a man had pointed at, standing under a dimly lit lamppost, looking into the darkness.
A gunshot sounded then and Freya had ducked to the side. The men outside the bar had flinched too, ducking down and peering out into the gloom with wide eyes.
When no other sounds came from the alley, Freya had run in and taken the gun from Merlin, stayed by his side until the police had arrived, held him as he stared down at the dead body. He'd confessed his guilt to the world when the police had taken hold of him and Freya had been left with nothing to do but explain what she'd seen.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You went in just like that? After someone fired a gun and you're pregnant?"
Freya straightened in her seat. "Of course I did," she said hurriedly, still averting her gaze. "Merlin's my closest friend, I needed to see if he was okay."
Sitting back in his chair, Arthur looked at her. While other women seemed to glow with pregnancy, Freya seemed diminished, grey and frail. The baby inside of her seemed as though it was taking the life from her, leaving her with dark circles under her eyes and jittery reactions. There was something here, something wrong.
"How did you know Merlin was in the alley? The men outside the pub were probably quite drunk, so did you just trust what they said?" Arthur watched carefully.
"N-no. I mean I heard Mordred say 'Merlin', so why would I hesitate?" Her look was fierce now and Arthur wondered if his judgement earlier had been a little wrong. This woman was clearly as protective of the people she loved as Gwen or Morgana.
"Well thank you," Arthur said with a smile. "Do you know if I could have a quick word with Merlin? I forgot to ask him something at a meeting before."
Freya nodded slowly, giving directions (and yes, Arthur would need directions in this big, creepy house) on where Merlin would probably be.
Matthew let Freya out, but didn't even comment when Arthur walked to the staircase. Instead he nodded, telling Arthur to find him if he needed any help tracking down the wayward Emrys son.
As it happened, Freya's directions were well given and Merlin was sitting in a spacious room, probably once used for holding ladies afternoon tea in the 'old days'. Large French windows overlooked the front of the house, where Merlin was looking out as Freya walked down the driveway.
"I assume you got everything you needed from her," Merlin drawled, his voice ugly. The anger was still there, but it had simmered down now, resorting to the tone of distain and hatred he reserved just for Arthur.
"I did. She said the reason she went into the alley was because Mordred said your name," he began, watching Merlin.
He grunted, shifting up from his chair and turning away from the window. "He had a fixation with calling me Emrys." He frowned when he noticed Arthur's smile and the frown deepened as Arthur took a seat.
"We don't have a session today," Merlin said, eyeing Arthur with a slight guardedness. Oh what Arthur wouldn't give to get inside his head, take apart all the defences and know who the real Merlin was.
"No, but I just want you to know that I'll be expecting the truth soon. The story you two have - it's a solid, good story, but it's not what really happened." Arthur waited for a beat, meeting Merlin's steely gaze calmly. It was a risky detail to pick on, but Arthur had felt there was something wrong the whole time he'd been on the case. Freya mentioning that Mordred had called Merlin 'Merlin' and not Emrys, coupled with what Merlin had just said… it was good enough for Arthur to hound in on.
As Arthur made to leave, he caught a glimpse of the man beneath all the anger. Like a curtain falling down, Merlin's face relaxed, his expression changing. Arthur almost paused in his turn, almost stopped and went back, to find out why he looked so hurt, to find out what he could do…
… but that wasn't his job. He wasn't anything but a lawyer to Merlin. No matter how much Merlin intrigued him, all they'd ever be was client and lawyer. No matter what Arthur was beginning to think, all that was because of the mystery of the case. Nothing more. There were no affections between them and no delusions that Merlin might actually like him (as a friend, let alone anything else), so there was no reason for Arthur to feel like this.
No one else had presented so much of a puzzle before, that was all. Merlin was an oddity and Arthur had always liked oddities.
People began jumping as a new song sounded over the club, roaring along to the singer and laughing with their friends. The group Arthur was with responded much the same, someone grabbing his arm and pulling him to the beat. After a few lines of the song, Arthur moved away with a smile, heading to the bar.
It should be a relief, burning off steam from the past week, preparing for the weekend (not that he got an actual day off, but he didn't go into the office on weekends if he didn't absolutely have to) and simply getting drunk enough to find the nearest, decent bloke and take him home for a thoroughly good shag.
Tonight, though, Arthur didn't feel like it. Which was ridiculous, because when you went out with your mates and needed to come down from the week, Arthur always picked someone up. Or when he didn't, he at least got shitfaced enough that the morning left him debating whether he'd copped off in a loo or something and simply forgotten over breakfast.
He looked back at his friends and it was like a punch in the gut. They were fine without him, Gwen with Lancelot and even Morgana throwing her hair back with her arms around the neck of some guy. Gwaine and the other guys were guarding their drinks and still managing to have a good time, miming along to the song with overly large gestures, laughter surrounding them. It wasn't that they wouldn't miss him (and he knew he'd get a text or two in the morning asking if he'd broken his own record and snagged a guy already), but Arthur didn't want to be on the dance floor right now.
What he wanted, in all honesty, was Merlin. Not exactly in that way (though he was starting to think that wouldn't be too bad either), but he wanted to know what was going on behind his anger and his sneer.
But what Arthur wanted didn't really matter, did it? He'd always done what was expected of him, from primary school to university, in choosing jobs (part-time and full-time), in doing what he was supposed to, rather than perhaps what was right. The one thing Uther had never really dictated was who graced Arthur's bed, but then again as long as Arthur performed his best for Camelot, his father didn't really seem too bothered with his personal life.
He set down his empty cup on the bar and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't want to be here and so he left, not bothering to say goodbye to his friends. They'd assume he had found someone so why not let them?
Instead of hailing a cab (and there were plenty milling around), Arthur decided a walk would do him good. He'd walk the general direction home as it wasn't too far, and if he wanted to get a cab then he could at any point in the journey, such were the perks of having an apartment in a high rise end of the city, one off main roads all the way from the club areas.
The walk was nice and it helped Arthur to clear his head. There wasn't too much alcohol left in him - the evening had been young still, hardly pushing on 11.30, so he hadn't drunken much yet - but fresh air did wonders. After forty minutes of walking, it paid off as he rounded the corner of a street to see his building rising up alongside so many others, familiar and home.
There was a figure lingering on the street, head tilted towards something in their hands, and Arthur looked on cautiously. While it wasn't a rough neighbourhood, dodgy characters could lurk wherever they wanted and this was prime time really, past midnight on a Friday night (slash-Saturday-morning).
He was just about to walk past the figure when they turned, relief etched on her face.
"Freya?" Arthur asked incredulously. She was the last person Arthur would have ever expected, especially at his home. He gave her a once over, to check she hadn't been attacked or something, and when he noticed the baby bump, he knew they had to get inside, somewhere warm and private.
"Come on up," he invited, punching the door code in so they could get into the building and then stepping inside the lift, heading for the top floor.
When they were inside, he directed Freya to his lounge, leaving her pale and small against his large, leather sofas. He went for some water, brought back two pint glasses and offered one to her, sitting down on the same sofa, but the opposite end. She'd obviously come with a purpose, but he had no idea what kind of purpose.
"I'm sorry," she began, clutching the glass of water tightly. "I know we don't know each other, but you're the only person who won't look at me as if…" she trailed off, pressing her lips together before taking a sip of water.
"It's fine," Arthur assured her. While he could be a cold hearted bastard when needed, he could also be someone to talk to, someone nice and trustworthy.
"Usually I'd go to Merlin about these things, but…" she broke off again, looking away from Arthur and to the ground. "He's done so much for me, Merlin. I think that's his problem," she whispered, "He doesn't know when to stop."
Freya bit her lip, clutching at the glass again. Arthur wanted to offer her some form of comfort, but knew that she needed to be left alone, deep in her thoughts as she was.
"I've known him since I was little," she said, with a smile. "We went to primary school together and I told him he could marry me when I was older."
Arthur nodded a little stiffly; so the baby was Merlin's then?
"Of course I was heartbroken when he told me he'd rather marry our friend Will, but that I could live with them and have all the toys I wanted." Her smile widened and Arthur could see the woman she should be, beautiful and kind.
"Sadly enough, Merlin never went through with either proposal, not that I'd particularly want him to, nor would Will." She looked at Arthur then, meeting his gaze for the first time. "He thinks too much for other people and too little for himself."
She sipped the water again, leaving Arthur's eyes. "No matter what happens, just take care of him?"
It was an odd question, because in a way, Arthur was supposed to take care of Merlin. He was supposed to get him free of his charges, see him through the whole process, but there was more in Freya's tone. He couldn't ask about it though. Freya had more to say.
"These past few months he's been so angry, but when he was talking about you…" a finger slipped down the glass, stroking it as she rested it on her belly. "Despite all the spitting and snarling, Merlin likes you."
That surprised Arthur; firstly that Merlin would talk about him in any way that was positive and secondly that he liked him.
"Don't give me that look," Freya muttered, blushing slightly. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth."
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Freya announced she should leave. It was closing in on 1am now and Arthur shook his head, pointing her to his guest room.
"I could lend you an old t-shirt or something?" he said pathetically after convincing Freya to stay. She shook her head, gesturing to the bump with an odd look on her face.
"It's okay, this thing'll get in the way."
And even though there was no one beside him in his bed, having Freya and her words in the flat made his home seem less lonely than it had for weeks.
In the morning - after Arthur insisted on breakfast - Freya said that she was going to visit Merlin. When Arthur offered to drive, she smiled and shook her head. He'd already done so much, she said, and that she'd imposed too much already.
Twenty minutes later, Arthur was driving Freya to the Emrys' house, ignoring any protest she might have made. In truth, he liked her. She was kind and considerate, and though she didn't look at him often, when she said something to Arthur, he felt as though she meant it from the bottom of her heart.
He hadn't even thought of what she'd said the night before until he spoke into the intercom at Merlin's gate and pulled round the driveway. The door flung open - courtesy of Merlin, as per usual - and said man flew down the stairs, practically wrenching Arthur's car door off to get Freya out and in for a hug.
"Fuck Freya," Arthur heard Merlin say, pure worry in his voice, "I thought…"
It was then that Merlin looked into the car, noticing Arthur for the first time.
"Arthur let me stay at his place last night," Freya said, still half smothered by Merlin. She smiled back at Arthur. "And he offered to drive me around here this morning, even though I told him not to."
Merlin looked at Freya, as if inspecting that Arthur had been true to her word, before he looked into the car, a light frown on his brow.
The next words were grated out reluctantly, "Thank you."
Even as he drove back home, Arthur couldn't quite shake the curl of his lips (no, it was not a smile) off, probably looking like a madman the whole way.
Not that he cared. Maybe Freya had been right after all.
The day Merlin stepped into Arthur's office was the day everything changed. It wasn't because Merlin was actually in his office (that was down to Hunith bringing him), but because the court had finally set a date to begin the trial. While it was still a few weeks away, it brought reality to snap at their heels and Hunith left early, whispering that she expected Merlin to talk to Arthur before he came home.
They'd sat in silence, Arthur looking down at the letter he'd received. Merlin would get his shortly, if it hadn't arrived already of course.
"I'm guilty," Merlin repeated, leant forwards in his chair and fingers interlinked, elbows resting on his knees.
Arthur looked up sharply, "I think we established that the moment you first stepped in here, thank you very much."
Merlin looked at him, a frown on his brow (as usual), but none of his hatred.
"But I'm actually guilty. I mean, all of this, it's really real now." He clenched his jaw, looking down again.
"We've talked about this though," Arthur began, "I'm the best of the best and your mother's fuelling a lot of money into this. Either way, you're not going to get the sentence you would have got."
Merlin snorted at that. "Which is ridiculous. Why should I get special treatment just because my mother inherited buckets of money?" He was looking at Arthur again, eyes flashing with anger, not directed at the lawyer, but the world.
"It's the way the world works," Arthur said sadly, after a brief pause. It left Merlin with a bitter look on his face and Arthur a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I hate it," he confessed, watching Merlin's head snap round to meet his eyes. "But I can't change it. The whole legal system's corrupt, starting from the government and right down to the victims."
Merlin was silent for a moment. "Then why don't we change it? Do the proper thing and only present the facts of my case." Back was the defiant man, the one who for all the world wanted to be condemned.
"Why do you want this so badly?" Arthur asked, resting his elbows on the desk, meeting Merlin's eyes. "Why do you want to go to prison so much?"
Merlin's jaw clenched and it was how he knew he'd hit a nerve.
"There's something else isn't there. Something that you want to hide from me." He smiled, wanting the elation of victory he'd eventually get. "You can't keep secrets from me Merlin; you should know that by now."
Strangely, Arthur was only amused as the door slammed shut after Merlin rather than annoyed as he would be if any other client stormed out. In fact, it pleased him because it proved there was something Merlin was hiding.
Something that Arthur would find out soon.
Two days after the court date had been issued, Arthur came home to find Merlin sitting outside his front door, a book on his lap and a bored look on his face.
"About bloody time," he muttered, standing up with a groan. He'd evidently been there for a while and he looked at Arthur with meaning before saying, "Well the least you could do is let me in, considering I've been here for about five hours now."
Well, when he committed himself to something, Merlin was definitely one hundred per cent in at least. Which, considering his stand on his innocence probably wasn't too farfetched really. And Arthur would rather not know how he'd got past the security code, really.
"Do you want a drink?" Arthur asked, waving a hand in the direction of the lounge. He ended up bringing two beers into the room, setting one down in case Merlin changed his mind (he'd said he wasn't thirsty) before he sat down, taking a sip from the can and waiting for whatever it was Merlin had to say.
"I talked to Freya," Merlin said as he opened his can, taking a long sip of the beer. "Well, she talked to me." He didn't look particularly happy at this and wondered what exactly had passed between them. Another argument like the one he'd caught the tail end of?
"She… made me… see that maybe it's not a bad idea to work with you." He took another sip hurriedly, foam spilling out onto the top of the can. Merlin slurped it off before continuing. "Rather than against you. I mean you're only here to help and you've put up with me being a complete shit these past weeks. So…" He trailed off uncomfortably. "I kind of owe you I suppose."
That wasn't what Arthur had been expecting at all.
"So I'm willing to give whatever plan you've got a go," Merlin rushed on, looking down at the can between his hands. "Because you were right and it is the people who walk free that get the most 'fame'."
There was no meaning to the words and Arthur - trained to recognise even the tiniest slips - could see that there was something odd going on here. Did Merlin actually want to go to prison? Was that why he'd been so against Arthur actually wanting to help him?
No, that wasn't it. Why? Because that would have been too easy, too simple a reason. While it looked as though his claims were genuine, the little details slipped between him and Freya and that was what Arthur had been trained to pick up on.
Granted he hadn't used it on his own clients until now, but it was still something he could do, almost naturally. The differences between Merlin's account and Freya's could have been nothing to anyone else (and probably would have been overlooked, after all, what's in a name, be it a first- or sur-name), but it was the tiniest something, the only something, that Arthur had to work with in figuring Merlin out.
"When we go to court, they'll want your recount of what happened. They'll also call in the police that were on the scene, probably want to get a hold of the pub to confirm you were there and left, something like that, and they'll want to talk to Freya too." Despite the formality of his words, the atmosphere was relaxed, could even just be two friends sipping beer.
"They want Freya?" Merlin asked casually, glancing up at Arthur.
"Well, yeah. She's the only witness they have and so she'd be a sure fire way to lock you up." He set his beer on the coffee table, using his other hand to unknot his tie, slipping it from his neck and throwing it over the arm of the sofa.
"Isn't there a way to keep her out of all of this?" Merlin asked again, tapping his fingers against his can.
Arthur frowned, fiddling with the stiff button of his shirt. "Not really. She was named witness and said she would come to court if called upon." The button opened and he looked back at Merlin. "I know you're protective of her, but some things just can't be avoided."
His words didn't sooth Merlin any and Arthur watched as he took a vicious swig of his beer, frowning again.
"But she's…" Merlin broke off. "I don't want to talk about any of it." The subject changed suddenly, Merlin looking to Arthur and asking, "So, why a lawyer anyway?"
Never once had a client asked Arthur that. They never really asked anything to do with him really, unless it was related to them ('oh, you'll get me off right?' or 'you're working on my case now, yeah?'). He thought for a moment, wondering how sincere Merlin was in his question or if he just wanted to dodge the case.
Either way, really, it didn't matter by Arthur. He couldn't remember the last time someone had just asked about him. The people at work - his friends - just assumed he was well and happy because he did well at his job and had a lot of money. Only Gwen thought otherwise, but she'd never interfere in something like that.
"My father's the head of Camelot Legal. He's pretty much raised me up to be a lawyer." Arthur sipped his beer, settling back on the sofa. "I don't mind, I mean I enjoy the work." Merlin nodded, looking at him with curiosity. "But sometimes I wonder if I only enjoy it because I've always been prodded in that direction, you know?"
Merlin nodded.
"So, how about you?" Arthur said, half-turning so that his knee rested on the sofa and he was looking at Merlin.
"Me?" Merlin repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, what do you do when you're not blowing people's brains out in dark alleyways." Merlin looked at him incredulously for a moment, as if he couldn't believe Arthur had actually said it, but then he laughed, his face changing with his smile.
If Arthur had been interested before, seeing Merlin smile was like Christmas and his birthday both come early. It changed the whole air around him, beaming out Merlin's joy, and Arthur made it a new goal to see how much he could make Merlin smile from now on.
"Well… nothing really. I used to help at my uncle's business, but he retired last year and I hadn't found anything to do before all this." Merlin snorted, "And I doubt my career prospects will exactly be lining up right now."
The conversation flowed easily in a way Arthur never would have expected a week ago, a day ago really. Merlin was genuinely nice, interested in what he had to say and asked Arthur questions no one else had. Like, for example, what his relationship with his family was like.
"I get on well with Morgana," he said, breaking into his second beer. "But I don't see much of my father really. It's better that way. We don't exactly see eye to eye on most things anymore and we're both too busy to really try and get on."
And Arthur asked back too, asking how it was that Hunith had acquired so much money.
"Well we had a relative on my dad's side and when he died it just got left to us. I don't think anyone realised he hadn't been with my mum for years before he died - probably didn't even know about me - but we got the money and the house." Merlin looked down at his can. "I like the house. It's… quiet, but it's got history and I can imagine all the people who've ever been there. You can't really do that here," he quipped, smirking at Arthur.
Eventually, as with all good things, Merlin had to leave.
"My mum will be expecting me." He rolled his eyes, "Yeah it's sad, a man my age living with his mum, but I can go for days without even hearing her. That house is bloody big enough."
Arthur gave a huff of laughter, leading Merlin to the door with a smile. He'd enjoyed himself, having an evening talking about anything but work (sure it had factored into it, but Merlin didn't care about files or whether Arthur had formatted his paperwork properly, and that was nice).
Merlin opened the door, smiling back at Arthur.
"I did have a good time. Freya was right, you're not half bad." And before anything could be said, Merlin moved closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to Arthur's cheek before turning. Stunned, Arthur watched him walk down the corridor, smirking as he half-turned and waved back.
Arthur wasn't sure how long he stayed at his door after that, but he got a strange look from his neighbour opposite as they exited their house. And, just maybe, he stayed there for a little bit after they'd gone, but he'd never admit that to anyone. Ever.
.
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three |