An Impossible Job
Title: An Impossible Job
Fandom: Merlin
Verse: The Pendragon Syndicate
Warnings: Nongraphic death.
Word Count: 4300
Summary: Merlin has to go undercover and find some way to infiltrate the Pendragon family.
Status: Complete - Unbeta'd.
Disclaimer can be found on the Master Post.
-----
Merlin walked through the city with a mixture of anxiety and fascination. He'd grown up in a small village, and even the town he'd moved to when he became a cop was only a few neighborhoods and a business center. He never had a chance to see the city before, and he regretted that his first time was wasted on his job. Spending little time on sightseeing, despite how his heart longed for it, Merlin pushed his way through the lunch crowds to a large soaring cathedral where, rumor had it, Uther Pendragon held court.
The Pendragons were a family of businessmen people both feared and respected. They were suspected of hundreds of cases; everything from extortion to outright murder, but their charming smiles, and army of lawyers have kept justice at bay for generations. It didn't help now that except for his own projects Uther worked to keep the streets clean. The crime rate kept to a light 'terrible' instead of sinking straight into 'dreadful', so nobody seemed willing to say a word against the man. Thus entered Merlin.
One day, out of the blue, Merlin received a call from Detective Inspector Kilgharrah, urging him to take on a special undercover job to take down the crime lord. His logic was sound: Uther would know all the city cops, and Merlin lived far enough away to be outside his influence. He could slip in under the radar and as long as he kept his own mouth shut his secret would never be revealed.
Merlin slowed to a stop as he came upon the cathedral, aware of a low moaning before actually seeing the crowd. At the base of the steps an old woman knelt, sobbing, her face twisted in rage. As he mingled with the other curious witnesses nearby she drew in a shuddering breath and directed her anger upwards. "You will burn, Uther Pendragon! The Lord will take yours, as you have taken mine, and He will cast thee down to Hell to suffer my pain for all eternity!" She gathered her skirts while she climbed to her feet, and crossed herself. Finally she turned and fled down the street, as if she could no longer stand their staring.
As whispered rumors rose up around him, Merlin realized there had been a man standing at the top of the steps the whole time, watching the spectacle with cold indifference. He was dressed in what could be called Sunday Best, and flanked by two men that were unmistakeably bodyguards. He turned without a word to anyone and disappeared into the cathedral as if nothing had ever happened. Merlin swallowed, attempting to wet his suddenly dry throat. Even though he only saw Uther for a few seconds, he had no doubt this man would kill anyone who got in his way.
------
He didn't chicken out. Cops don't chicken out. Not even when they're up against deadly crime lords with eyes like the devil himself. Of course he didn't chicken out. He just temporarily retreated to think of a plan. How does one enter into the server of the mob anyway? Killing somebody was out. He definitely wanted to avoid that as long as possible. Blackmail was just childish and left an uneasy guilt in his stomach. He clearly shouldn't just walk up and ask, either. That might turn out well.
"Excuse me, good sir. May I join your death organization? It would ever so much make my day." Inner Merlin had a proper British accent.
No, he needed a real plan. Uther was untouchable, that much was obvious just by looking at him, but reports mentioned he had a young son. Perhaps he could befriend the kid. Yeah, and perhaps Uther wouldn't torture him for even saying hello to what was obviously modern royalty. This was starting to look hopeless.
Merlin secured his grip on his bag and turned to head back to the cathedral, telling himself he'd think of something when he got there. Normally in the movies it was a time like this when the perfect opportunity presented itself in a glorious rain of helpful coincidences. Unfortunately, in real life, this job was doomed the second he opened the side door and smacked a man who was about to pull it open from the other side in the face. He had about half a second to note that the man was attractive, and possibly think about apologizing, before his arm was twisted behind his back and he was propelled into the nearest wall. Stars floated around his head, tweeting obnoxiously.
The weight increased against his back, and then an angry voice hissed in his ear. "Watch where you're going!"
Merlin's irritation rose. It was an accident, and here he is being bullied for it! "I wasn't standing behind the door like a slack-jawed idiot, was I? You were practically asking for it," he quipped, attempting to push back against the hold. Instead he found himself writhing to relieve the pain as the man raised his arm further up his back.
"I would hold my tongue if I were you."
Another reason Merlin never became a city cop. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut when it was good for him. "Who are you, then, the Pope?"
He got the sense that the man smirked at the back of his head. "No, but my father could end you just as well as the Pope's Father if I were." Merlin probably would have planted his face right into the wall if he weren't soon manhandled back out the door. "I'm Arthur Pendragon, now get out."
Arthur dragged Merlin completely out of the cathedral and threw him at the stairs. It was only a tiny miracle that he caught himself before he could tumble down and into the street. The side door close with a note of finality as he regained his equilibrium. Great.
-----
The reports had missed a few things, he was dismayed to conclude. Like the fact the Uther’s son wasn’t all that young, and that he was capable of disarming a ninja. Not that Merlin was a ninja. No, if he hadn’t been caught by surprise he could have knocked that arrogant prat to the floor effortlessly. Cheered by that thought, he dug out a few artfully wrinkled bills and went to buy dinner: convenient store junk food. The attendant watched him warily, and he had to admit he looked just a tad suspicious. He wore faded and torn jeans that hadn’t been touched since high school (sad that they still fit him), a thrift store t-shirt with the words ‘Yes, this is a cult’ across the chest, a jacket that was two sizes too big and swamped his shoulders, tennis shoes with a hole in the left heel, and a bandana tied loosely around his neck to keep it warm. He already knew how thin he looked, his body refusing to build definition no matter what he did. All in all, he played a great urchin. The only part of this plan that’s actually working.
Surviving the convenience store, with his victory armload of unhealthy snacks, Merlin sat down on a curb to eat, totally not sulking at his imminent failure. He ate quickly, so as to not lose his nerve for round two, because he wasn’t going to let some blond stop him from doing this city a whole world of good. Even if he was remarkably good looking, and strong, and so what if his voice sent chills down his spine?
Nightfall found Merlin back at the cathedral. He slipped in the front with another group of late worshippers, so as to not accidentally attack anyone again, and crept up into a middle pew by himself. It afforded him a good look around, and hopefully kept him from being too noticeable.
He’d just completed his mental map, taking note of the various doors and trying to figure out, from the shape of the building, where Uther was most likely to carry out his evil doings, when he was forcibly reminded that his life right now hated him in every way possible, and was likely conspiring against him. Merlin hesitantly turned to look at the man who plopped down in the pew next to him, knowing who he would see before he could get a good look at him in the candlelight. After all, who else would pick THIS seat in the entire hall but Arthur?
Arthur was watching him, his expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low so as to not disturb the few other people praying. “Are you suicidal, or do you have some kind of mental disease?” Oh yes. So charming. It was obvious he was part of the Pendragon line.
“I am not diseased,” Merlin hissed back, debating getting up and moving. Surely he wouldn’t be followed, right? Best not to take the chance.
“Then why are you here?” Arthur didn’t seem phased by his tone.
Merlin hesitated, biting his lip. This was where the lie came in. He’d gone over it in his head several times a day before coming to the city, so that by now he’d have no trouble remembering it. “I have nowhere else to go.”
If past experience was correct, he expected a snide comment or insult, and another order to immediately vacate the premises. Instead Arthur just sighed, looked around the hall, and stood up. “I figured as much. Come with me.” At Merlin’s suspicious stare the man bristled. “I’m not an ogre, you moron, I’m going to show you where you can sleep tonight.”
Merlin wasn’t entirely reassured, but it seemed that maybe he had a chance after all, so he took up his bag and followed Arthur to a door at the back. Inside was a small, cramped hallway that twisted around the back of the building to an even smaller staircase leading up. The room it led to thankfully widened out into an attic room. It was dim at first, the only light peeping through a window looking out over the grand hall, but Arthur lit a couple candles sitting on a personal writing desk in a far corner. There was another short staircase leading to a door, but Arthur made no move to keep going. There was a pile of worn blankets folded to one side next to an old cot, but other than a few books under the desk it was pretty spartan.
“It’s not much,” Arthur was saying, turning away from the candles, “but it’ll be warm and private. Few people ever come up here.”
“What’s it for?” Merlin asked.
“the Father allows people to sleep here when the nights are too bitter, but most of the time it’s empty. I come up here to think sometimes.”
That didn’t really surprise him. Explained why Arthur was still here at this time of night. “So why are you helping me?” That’s what didn’t fit with his first impression. “You struck me as a bit of a wanker.”
Arthur’s reply was fast, as if he was expecting the jibe. “I’m holding on to the hope that your face won’t always make me want to break something.” There was no malice in his words, so Merlin took it as an apology for earlier. Thought he couldn’t let the insult go.
“By all means, break something if it’ll make you feel better. But not me, I wouldn’t want to deflate your ego by beating you.”
“You think so, huh?”
Merlin hadn’t wrestled in years, not since he moved out of Ealdor. He was a little rusty.
--------
Merlin had been expecting it, but short of running around the room in circles he couldn’t prevent Arthur from wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling him down to set his knuckles into his skull. After a few painful seconds trying to dislodge him, Merlin finally reached up to grip behind Arthur’s neck and sank to the ground. His dead weight dragged Arthur with him. Taking advantage, he rolled with the other man to sit on top of him, but it was an awkward angle. He couldn’t pin him properly before Arthur recovered.
Arthur had gripped his jacket tightly as they went down, so he didn’t lose his hold, and when they stopped rolling he shifted the opposite leg so he could wrap it, too, around Merlin. “You fight like a girl,” he grunted as one of Merlin’s bony elbows hit his ribs.
Giving up on pinning him, Merlin settled for reaching his free arm out towards the nearby pile of bedclothes and managed to find the thin pillow lying helpfully on the floor. The pillow soon found itself colliding with Arthur’s face, affording him the chance to escape when the man moved to defend his nose.
Merlin didn’t bother getting to his feet, just his knees, as he fought to catch his breath between laughter. Arthur stared at him incredulously. “You DO fight like a girl!” He picked up the abandoned pillow.
Snorting, Merlin stuck out his chin, “Well...you fight like a wet noodle obviously. I think I got the better deal.” He had to dive back to the floor to dodge the pillow as it was pitched at his head with deadly accuracy.
Several minutes later he lay sprawled on his stomach, cheek pressed against the cool stone, his arm once more twisted behind his back. Arthur half lay across him, as winded by the struggle as he was, but there was a definite air of victory about him. After making sure he was down for good this time, Arthur moved to whisper in his ear. “Apparently you’ve just been beaten by a so-called wet noodle” He was whispering more out of breathlessness than the need to be quiet, and Merlin felt a thrill down his spine that killed any response he might have had.
Arthur rolled off of him, closing his eyes. Other than shifting his arm to the floor Merlin didn’t bother changing his own position. He was just starting to think the other man had fallen asleep, and was contemplating the same thing himself, when Arthur finally spoke again. “You know, I introduced myself,” another snort from Merlin, “but I never asked for your name.”
A beat of silence. “It’s Edwin.” It was too bad he didn’t meet Arthur outside of this job. It would have been nice to be himself.
He didn’t seem to notice the hesitation. “Nice to meet you, Edwin.”
“Nice to meet you too, Arthur.”
---------
Merlin awoke to sudden silence, which you wouldn’t think would be disturbing since he spent this last week in a church, but the cathedral was rarely ever silent. Even the lightest footfall echoed faintly around the hall. Add the constant murmur of whispered prayers to the comings and goings of hundreds of people and the building almost always had a comfortable thrum of life bouncing across its walls. Normally he wouldn’t be concerned about it. It did tend to be quiet at night when most people were at home in their beds, and it was often difficult to tell what time it was as afternoon light didn’t quite reach this little room, but Merlin had a bad feeling in his gut, and after years of honing this instinct he knew it was a bad idea to ignore it.
He felt his way in the dimness to the window and peered down at the hall, at first not sure what was wrong. He could see people bent in prayer all throughout the pews, bathed in gentle orange light. It took a few passes to realize that nobody was bent over anything. They were slumped! He could see people unconscious on the floor now that he was looking for them. Something was definitely wrong. Not needing to think about it, Merlin hurried down the stairs until he came to the hall, and went straight for the first victim. The boy thankfully wasn’t dead, only asleep. He checked three more before concluding that something had knocked them all out.
Cautious, he pulled his bandanna from around his neck and tied it securely around his nose and mouth. Few things could take out a whole room of people without raising an alarm. He looked around again, and noticed the door to the far right of the altar was ajar, leading deeper into the cathedral. Whoever did this had to still be here.
His cop mode was now activated, and Merlin wished he had some kind of weapon on him. Even a dog would have worked. Except he was completely unarmed, and likely didn’t have the time or luxury to call for backup with someone else’s phone. He was just going to have to figure something out when he got there. With that in mind, he toed off his tennis shoes and padded, barefoot, through the door. He’d never been back here before, but he could see two men unconscious at the far end of the room, before another open door, and didn’t have to think very hard about where he needed to go.
As he passed, he made sure to divest one of the bodyguards of his gun. Just in case.
His blood was singing as Merlin realized that he could hear voices ahead around the corner. They were too faint to pick out if any were familiar, but it told him he was getting close. He slowed to a stop before the turn and peered around.
Standing over the bodies of two more bodyguards was a woman dressed in a skirt suit. She had long black hair tied neatly into a bun on the back of her head. Hiding her face was a gas mask and that added to the controlled way she crouched in front of the door without making a sound told him that this was no ordinary person with too much time on their hands. He watched as she pulled a small canister from her handbag and cracked open the door to start spraying it into the room.
Merlin didn’t even wait for the voices inside to fade before he stepped around the corner, moving swiftly to close the distance between himself and the assailant. he heard a thud from inside as he set his stance, holding the gun two-handed. “Hands up,” he warned and she jumped in surprise, breaking a heel and dropping the canister of sleeping gas. There was a tense second of silence before she acted. Without warning she rolled into the room, throwing the door open with a bang, and Merlin pursued, creeping into the room low. He shouldn’t have bothered.
A quick glance of the small office showed Uther slumped at his desk, Arthur in an armchair next to him, and another man unconscious on the floor. The assailant was moving quickly around the desk toward Arthur while pulling a knife from her sleeve. Merlin still never hesitated, just lifted his arms and pulled the trigger. The retort came back to his ears like a small explosion, confined in the windowless space, and time seemed to freeze for several seconds as the woman toppled to the ground.
Then there was movement around him, the sound having woken the victims up from their light sleep, and the man from the floor was jerking the gun out of his hands. He couldn’t hear, just turned to watch as the man checked the bodyguards in the hall, watching him in the same movement. Merlin turned to see Uther shouting something and for a few moments he wasn’t sure what to do. He just saved their lives. It probably would have been easier in the long run to let them die, but that wasn’t the kind of person he was, and besides, Arthur wasn’t too bad to talk to when he wasn’t being an arse.
His hearing was just starting to come back when he saw the woman move again. Instincts running on autopilot, he pushed away from the man who had been trying unsuccessfully to question him, and was shoving Arthur to the floor before he could register what was even happening. Hot pain flared in his side and he looked down to see the small knife jutting out right above his hip. Adrenaline kept him moving long enough to make sure he was between Arthur and the assassin, but when he saw that the attack had been with the very last of her strength, and she finally lay dead on the carpet, he found that the ground was very willing to jump up towards his face.
-------
There wasn’t a lot to do for a small time cop than write a few speeding tickets, and supervising drunk revelers. The crime rate was so low in Ealdor that most of the police have never so much as drawn their gun outside of the firing range.
I’ve never killed anyone before,” Merlin mumbled, staring at the far wall. He hadn’t been out for long. In fact he’s woken up in the office with Arthur pressing is hands against the knife wound. From there it was a sightly blurry trip trough the cathedral, and it wasn’t until they reached the top of the stairs that Merlin even recognized the attic room. Arthur had to half carry him across and through the opposite door before gently maneuvering him onto a thin table. For the next several minutes Merlin had studied the room with a detached curiosity. It kind of looked like a medieval doctor’s office, if said office had the benefits of modern furniture. Arthur kept pressure on the wound with Merlin’s bandanna until a wizened old man joined them.
Now Gaius was wrapping gauze around Merlin’s middle, having stitched him up without asking a single question. Pleasantly floating on painkillers, Merlin found himself adding Gaius to Uther’s payroll, and wondering just what kind of man he was. His words had slipped out almost at random, following thoughts that were running to fast for his attention. He didn’t expect an answer, and almost didn’t get one, but finally Gaius sighed in a fatherly way, clipping on the last of the gauze.
“I have.” Merlin looked at him, his train of thought running into the ground. “I used to be a certified doctor,” he explained a few seconds later, “and sometimes doctors make mistakes. It’s never pleasant, and it never gets any easier. I rarely look after the living now.” Except for Uther, but no one needed to point that out. There was clear regret in the man’s face, and Merlin didn’t have the courage to ask further. “The point is,” Gaius continued, “You did what you to do, and there is little shame in that.”
“You’re quite right.” All three looked to the door where Uther had just walked in. From the corner of his eyes, Merlin could see Arthur straighten his posture. “You have saved me and my son from what would have been an untimely death. You will be rewarded.”
Arthur pushed away from the wall. “Father, you can’t be serious. He’s homeless and likely an idiot, he could have easily killed us with a wild shot! Besides, he would just squander our money.”
“I don’t-” Merlin started to object, offended, but Uther spoke over him.
“You’re right. But he can be educated. Young man, you have shown a remarkable bravery that people in your...situation do not often express. I cannot thank you enough, and so I will offer you an opportunity I do not hand out lightly. How would you like to work for one of the most influential men in the city?”
In his haze, Merlin didn’t even think about it, just automatically opened his mouth to say, “I’d like that.” It was what he wanted, needed, after all, to do his job. It seemed a stroke of luck that in his very first week he stumbled upon the perfect opportunity to get close enough to find information. Sure, he got hurt in the process, and he knew that he would hate life until the wound finished healing, but he got in.
“Wonderful. Go with Arthur, he will find you a place to live and I’ll speak with my people to find you something to do. You will not want for anything ever again.” His generosity faded in an instant as he stepped closer, and Merlin reigned in his thoughts as the sudden feeling of being a deer caught in headlights overtook him. “If you ever turn on me I will personally make sure you never see the light of day again.”
Merlin nodded meekly, shrinking back from the clear threat, and then Uther was sweeping out of the room, already dialing on his cell phone. Gaius clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, my boy. You will need it.” The old man nodded towards Arthur and collected his things before following Uther back downstairs.
Several minutes of silence followed after the door swung shut, and Merlin found his thoughts straying more and more often. Arthur stood with pursed lips, and crossed arms. Merlin vaguely thought he looked angry, but by what he couldn’t ask.
He took a long blink and Arthur was standing in front of him, staring at him with a critical, pitying?, glance. Merlin shook his head in a failed attempt clear it and then Arthur was half carrying him again back into the main room.
“-ome rest, you idiot.” Merlin tuned in finally, shaking himself back awake only when he was dumped onto the cot. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
That sounded like a plan, and he would have said so, except the next time he opened his eyes Arthur was no longer in the room. His head a little more clear, he stared at the ceiling for awhile, thinking about where he stood. Only two facts stood out as important: One, he was right where he needed to be, and two he was going to be around one of the few people who could end him with just a look.
He was starting to wonder why he took this job.
Fin~
Fandom: Merlin
Verse: The Pendragon Syndicate
Warnings: Nongraphic death.
Word Count: 4300
Summary: Merlin has to go undercover and find some way to infiltrate the Pendragon family.
Status: Complete - Unbeta'd.
Disclaimer can be found on the Master Post.
-----
Merlin walked through the city with a mixture of anxiety and fascination. He'd grown up in a small village, and even the town he'd moved to when he became a cop was only a few neighborhoods and a business center. He never had a chance to see the city before, and he regretted that his first time was wasted on his job. Spending little time on sightseeing, despite how his heart longed for it, Merlin pushed his way through the lunch crowds to a large soaring cathedral where, rumor had it, Uther Pendragon held court.
The Pendragons were a family of businessmen people both feared and respected. They were suspected of hundreds of cases; everything from extortion to outright murder, but their charming smiles, and army of lawyers have kept justice at bay for generations. It didn't help now that except for his own projects Uther worked to keep the streets clean. The crime rate kept to a light 'terrible' instead of sinking straight into 'dreadful', so nobody seemed willing to say a word against the man. Thus entered Merlin.
One day, out of the blue, Merlin received a call from Detective Inspector Kilgharrah, urging him to take on a special undercover job to take down the crime lord. His logic was sound: Uther would know all the city cops, and Merlin lived far enough away to be outside his influence. He could slip in under the radar and as long as he kept his own mouth shut his secret would never be revealed.
Merlin slowed to a stop as he came upon the cathedral, aware of a low moaning before actually seeing the crowd. At the base of the steps an old woman knelt, sobbing, her face twisted in rage. As he mingled with the other curious witnesses nearby she drew in a shuddering breath and directed her anger upwards. "You will burn, Uther Pendragon! The Lord will take yours, as you have taken mine, and He will cast thee down to Hell to suffer my pain for all eternity!" She gathered her skirts while she climbed to her feet, and crossed herself. Finally she turned and fled down the street, as if she could no longer stand their staring.
As whispered rumors rose up around him, Merlin realized there had been a man standing at the top of the steps the whole time, watching the spectacle with cold indifference. He was dressed in what could be called Sunday Best, and flanked by two men that were unmistakeably bodyguards. He turned without a word to anyone and disappeared into the cathedral as if nothing had ever happened. Merlin swallowed, attempting to wet his suddenly dry throat. Even though he only saw Uther for a few seconds, he had no doubt this man would kill anyone who got in his way.
------
He didn't chicken out. Cops don't chicken out. Not even when they're up against deadly crime lords with eyes like the devil himself. Of course he didn't chicken out. He just temporarily retreated to think of a plan. How does one enter into the server of the mob anyway? Killing somebody was out. He definitely wanted to avoid that as long as possible. Blackmail was just childish and left an uneasy guilt in his stomach. He clearly shouldn't just walk up and ask, either. That might turn out well.
"Excuse me, good sir. May I join your death organization? It would ever so much make my day." Inner Merlin had a proper British accent.
No, he needed a real plan. Uther was untouchable, that much was obvious just by looking at him, but reports mentioned he had a young son. Perhaps he could befriend the kid. Yeah, and perhaps Uther wouldn't torture him for even saying hello to what was obviously modern royalty. This was starting to look hopeless.
Merlin secured his grip on his bag and turned to head back to the cathedral, telling himself he'd think of something when he got there. Normally in the movies it was a time like this when the perfect opportunity presented itself in a glorious rain of helpful coincidences. Unfortunately, in real life, this job was doomed the second he opened the side door and smacked a man who was about to pull it open from the other side in the face. He had about half a second to note that the man was attractive, and possibly think about apologizing, before his arm was twisted behind his back and he was propelled into the nearest wall. Stars floated around his head, tweeting obnoxiously.
The weight increased against his back, and then an angry voice hissed in his ear. "Watch where you're going!"
Merlin's irritation rose. It was an accident, and here he is being bullied for it! "I wasn't standing behind the door like a slack-jawed idiot, was I? You were practically asking for it," he quipped, attempting to push back against the hold. Instead he found himself writhing to relieve the pain as the man raised his arm further up his back.
"I would hold my tongue if I were you."
Another reason Merlin never became a city cop. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut when it was good for him. "Who are you, then, the Pope?"
He got the sense that the man smirked at the back of his head. "No, but my father could end you just as well as the Pope's Father if I were." Merlin probably would have planted his face right into the wall if he weren't soon manhandled back out the door. "I'm Arthur Pendragon, now get out."
Arthur dragged Merlin completely out of the cathedral and threw him at the stairs. It was only a tiny miracle that he caught himself before he could tumble down and into the street. The side door close with a note of finality as he regained his equilibrium. Great.
-----
The reports had missed a few things, he was dismayed to conclude. Like the fact the Uther’s son wasn’t all that young, and that he was capable of disarming a ninja. Not that Merlin was a ninja. No, if he hadn’t been caught by surprise he could have knocked that arrogant prat to the floor effortlessly. Cheered by that thought, he dug out a few artfully wrinkled bills and went to buy dinner: convenient store junk food. The attendant watched him warily, and he had to admit he looked just a tad suspicious. He wore faded and torn jeans that hadn’t been touched since high school (sad that they still fit him), a thrift store t-shirt with the words ‘Yes, this is a cult’ across the chest, a jacket that was two sizes too big and swamped his shoulders, tennis shoes with a hole in the left heel, and a bandana tied loosely around his neck to keep it warm. He already knew how thin he looked, his body refusing to build definition no matter what he did. All in all, he played a great urchin. The only part of this plan that’s actually working.
Surviving the convenience store, with his victory armload of unhealthy snacks, Merlin sat down on a curb to eat, totally not sulking at his imminent failure. He ate quickly, so as to not lose his nerve for round two, because he wasn’t going to let some blond stop him from doing this city a whole world of good. Even if he was remarkably good looking, and strong, and so what if his voice sent chills down his spine?
Nightfall found Merlin back at the cathedral. He slipped in the front with another group of late worshippers, so as to not accidentally attack anyone again, and crept up into a middle pew by himself. It afforded him a good look around, and hopefully kept him from being too noticeable.
He’d just completed his mental map, taking note of the various doors and trying to figure out, from the shape of the building, where Uther was most likely to carry out his evil doings, when he was forcibly reminded that his life right now hated him in every way possible, and was likely conspiring against him. Merlin hesitantly turned to look at the man who plopped down in the pew next to him, knowing who he would see before he could get a good look at him in the candlelight. After all, who else would pick THIS seat in the entire hall but Arthur?
Arthur was watching him, his expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low so as to not disturb the few other people praying. “Are you suicidal, or do you have some kind of mental disease?” Oh yes. So charming. It was obvious he was part of the Pendragon line.
“I am not diseased,” Merlin hissed back, debating getting up and moving. Surely he wouldn’t be followed, right? Best not to take the chance.
“Then why are you here?” Arthur didn’t seem phased by his tone.
Merlin hesitated, biting his lip. This was where the lie came in. He’d gone over it in his head several times a day before coming to the city, so that by now he’d have no trouble remembering it. “I have nowhere else to go.”
If past experience was correct, he expected a snide comment or insult, and another order to immediately vacate the premises. Instead Arthur just sighed, looked around the hall, and stood up. “I figured as much. Come with me.” At Merlin’s suspicious stare the man bristled. “I’m not an ogre, you moron, I’m going to show you where you can sleep tonight.”
Merlin wasn’t entirely reassured, but it seemed that maybe he had a chance after all, so he took up his bag and followed Arthur to a door at the back. Inside was a small, cramped hallway that twisted around the back of the building to an even smaller staircase leading up. The room it led to thankfully widened out into an attic room. It was dim at first, the only light peeping through a window looking out over the grand hall, but Arthur lit a couple candles sitting on a personal writing desk in a far corner. There was another short staircase leading to a door, but Arthur made no move to keep going. There was a pile of worn blankets folded to one side next to an old cot, but other than a few books under the desk it was pretty spartan.
“It’s not much,” Arthur was saying, turning away from the candles, “but it’ll be warm and private. Few people ever come up here.”
“What’s it for?” Merlin asked.
“the Father allows people to sleep here when the nights are too bitter, but most of the time it’s empty. I come up here to think sometimes.”
That didn’t really surprise him. Explained why Arthur was still here at this time of night. “So why are you helping me?” That’s what didn’t fit with his first impression. “You struck me as a bit of a wanker.”
Arthur’s reply was fast, as if he was expecting the jibe. “I’m holding on to the hope that your face won’t always make me want to break something.” There was no malice in his words, so Merlin took it as an apology for earlier. Thought he couldn’t let the insult go.
“By all means, break something if it’ll make you feel better. But not me, I wouldn’t want to deflate your ego by beating you.”
“You think so, huh?”
Merlin hadn’t wrestled in years, not since he moved out of Ealdor. He was a little rusty.
--------
Merlin had been expecting it, but short of running around the room in circles he couldn’t prevent Arthur from wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling him down to set his knuckles into his skull. After a few painful seconds trying to dislodge him, Merlin finally reached up to grip behind Arthur’s neck and sank to the ground. His dead weight dragged Arthur with him. Taking advantage, he rolled with the other man to sit on top of him, but it was an awkward angle. He couldn’t pin him properly before Arthur recovered.
Arthur had gripped his jacket tightly as they went down, so he didn’t lose his hold, and when they stopped rolling he shifted the opposite leg so he could wrap it, too, around Merlin. “You fight like a girl,” he grunted as one of Merlin’s bony elbows hit his ribs.
Giving up on pinning him, Merlin settled for reaching his free arm out towards the nearby pile of bedclothes and managed to find the thin pillow lying helpfully on the floor. The pillow soon found itself colliding with Arthur’s face, affording him the chance to escape when the man moved to defend his nose.
Merlin didn’t bother getting to his feet, just his knees, as he fought to catch his breath between laughter. Arthur stared at him incredulously. “You DO fight like a girl!” He picked up the abandoned pillow.
Snorting, Merlin stuck out his chin, “Well...you fight like a wet noodle obviously. I think I got the better deal.” He had to dive back to the floor to dodge the pillow as it was pitched at his head with deadly accuracy.
Several minutes later he lay sprawled on his stomach, cheek pressed against the cool stone, his arm once more twisted behind his back. Arthur half lay across him, as winded by the struggle as he was, but there was a definite air of victory about him. After making sure he was down for good this time, Arthur moved to whisper in his ear. “Apparently you’ve just been beaten by a so-called wet noodle” He was whispering more out of breathlessness than the need to be quiet, and Merlin felt a thrill down his spine that killed any response he might have had.
Arthur rolled off of him, closing his eyes. Other than shifting his arm to the floor Merlin didn’t bother changing his own position. He was just starting to think the other man had fallen asleep, and was contemplating the same thing himself, when Arthur finally spoke again. “You know, I introduced myself,” another snort from Merlin, “but I never asked for your name.”
A beat of silence. “It’s Edwin.” It was too bad he didn’t meet Arthur outside of this job. It would have been nice to be himself.
He didn’t seem to notice the hesitation. “Nice to meet you, Edwin.”
“Nice to meet you too, Arthur.”
---------
Merlin awoke to sudden silence, which you wouldn’t think would be disturbing since he spent this last week in a church, but the cathedral was rarely ever silent. Even the lightest footfall echoed faintly around the hall. Add the constant murmur of whispered prayers to the comings and goings of hundreds of people and the building almost always had a comfortable thrum of life bouncing across its walls. Normally he wouldn’t be concerned about it. It did tend to be quiet at night when most people were at home in their beds, and it was often difficult to tell what time it was as afternoon light didn’t quite reach this little room, but Merlin had a bad feeling in his gut, and after years of honing this instinct he knew it was a bad idea to ignore it.
He felt his way in the dimness to the window and peered down at the hall, at first not sure what was wrong. He could see people bent in prayer all throughout the pews, bathed in gentle orange light. It took a few passes to realize that nobody was bent over anything. They were slumped! He could see people unconscious on the floor now that he was looking for them. Something was definitely wrong. Not needing to think about it, Merlin hurried down the stairs until he came to the hall, and went straight for the first victim. The boy thankfully wasn’t dead, only asleep. He checked three more before concluding that something had knocked them all out.
Cautious, he pulled his bandanna from around his neck and tied it securely around his nose and mouth. Few things could take out a whole room of people without raising an alarm. He looked around again, and noticed the door to the far right of the altar was ajar, leading deeper into the cathedral. Whoever did this had to still be here.
His cop mode was now activated, and Merlin wished he had some kind of weapon on him. Even a dog would have worked. Except he was completely unarmed, and likely didn’t have the time or luxury to call for backup with someone else’s phone. He was just going to have to figure something out when he got there. With that in mind, he toed off his tennis shoes and padded, barefoot, through the door. He’d never been back here before, but he could see two men unconscious at the far end of the room, before another open door, and didn’t have to think very hard about where he needed to go.
As he passed, he made sure to divest one of the bodyguards of his gun. Just in case.
His blood was singing as Merlin realized that he could hear voices ahead around the corner. They were too faint to pick out if any were familiar, but it told him he was getting close. He slowed to a stop before the turn and peered around.
Standing over the bodies of two more bodyguards was a woman dressed in a skirt suit. She had long black hair tied neatly into a bun on the back of her head. Hiding her face was a gas mask and that added to the controlled way she crouched in front of the door without making a sound told him that this was no ordinary person with too much time on their hands. He watched as she pulled a small canister from her handbag and cracked open the door to start spraying it into the room.
Merlin didn’t even wait for the voices inside to fade before he stepped around the corner, moving swiftly to close the distance between himself and the assailant. he heard a thud from inside as he set his stance, holding the gun two-handed. “Hands up,” he warned and she jumped in surprise, breaking a heel and dropping the canister of sleeping gas. There was a tense second of silence before she acted. Without warning she rolled into the room, throwing the door open with a bang, and Merlin pursued, creeping into the room low. He shouldn’t have bothered.
A quick glance of the small office showed Uther slumped at his desk, Arthur in an armchair next to him, and another man unconscious on the floor. The assailant was moving quickly around the desk toward Arthur while pulling a knife from her sleeve. Merlin still never hesitated, just lifted his arms and pulled the trigger. The retort came back to his ears like a small explosion, confined in the windowless space, and time seemed to freeze for several seconds as the woman toppled to the ground.
Then there was movement around him, the sound having woken the victims up from their light sleep, and the man from the floor was jerking the gun out of his hands. He couldn’t hear, just turned to watch as the man checked the bodyguards in the hall, watching him in the same movement. Merlin turned to see Uther shouting something and for a few moments he wasn’t sure what to do. He just saved their lives. It probably would have been easier in the long run to let them die, but that wasn’t the kind of person he was, and besides, Arthur wasn’t too bad to talk to when he wasn’t being an arse.
His hearing was just starting to come back when he saw the woman move again. Instincts running on autopilot, he pushed away from the man who had been trying unsuccessfully to question him, and was shoving Arthur to the floor before he could register what was even happening. Hot pain flared in his side and he looked down to see the small knife jutting out right above his hip. Adrenaline kept him moving long enough to make sure he was between Arthur and the assassin, but when he saw that the attack had been with the very last of her strength, and she finally lay dead on the carpet, he found that the ground was very willing to jump up towards his face.
-------
There wasn’t a lot to do for a small time cop than write a few speeding tickets, and supervising drunk revelers. The crime rate was so low in Ealdor that most of the police have never so much as drawn their gun outside of the firing range.
I’ve never killed anyone before,” Merlin mumbled, staring at the far wall. He hadn’t been out for long. In fact he’s woken up in the office with Arthur pressing is hands against the knife wound. From there it was a sightly blurry trip trough the cathedral, and it wasn’t until they reached the top of the stairs that Merlin even recognized the attic room. Arthur had to half carry him across and through the opposite door before gently maneuvering him onto a thin table. For the next several minutes Merlin had studied the room with a detached curiosity. It kind of looked like a medieval doctor’s office, if said office had the benefits of modern furniture. Arthur kept pressure on the wound with Merlin’s bandanna until a wizened old man joined them.
Now Gaius was wrapping gauze around Merlin’s middle, having stitched him up without asking a single question. Pleasantly floating on painkillers, Merlin found himself adding Gaius to Uther’s payroll, and wondering just what kind of man he was. His words had slipped out almost at random, following thoughts that were running to fast for his attention. He didn’t expect an answer, and almost didn’t get one, but finally Gaius sighed in a fatherly way, clipping on the last of the gauze.
“I have.” Merlin looked at him, his train of thought running into the ground. “I used to be a certified doctor,” he explained a few seconds later, “and sometimes doctors make mistakes. It’s never pleasant, and it never gets any easier. I rarely look after the living now.” Except for Uther, but no one needed to point that out. There was clear regret in the man’s face, and Merlin didn’t have the courage to ask further. “The point is,” Gaius continued, “You did what you to do, and there is little shame in that.”
“You’re quite right.” All three looked to the door where Uther had just walked in. From the corner of his eyes, Merlin could see Arthur straighten his posture. “You have saved me and my son from what would have been an untimely death. You will be rewarded.”
Arthur pushed away from the wall. “Father, you can’t be serious. He’s homeless and likely an idiot, he could have easily killed us with a wild shot! Besides, he would just squander our money.”
“I don’t-” Merlin started to object, offended, but Uther spoke over him.
“You’re right. But he can be educated. Young man, you have shown a remarkable bravery that people in your...situation do not often express. I cannot thank you enough, and so I will offer you an opportunity I do not hand out lightly. How would you like to work for one of the most influential men in the city?”
In his haze, Merlin didn’t even think about it, just automatically opened his mouth to say, “I’d like that.” It was what he wanted, needed, after all, to do his job. It seemed a stroke of luck that in his very first week he stumbled upon the perfect opportunity to get close enough to find information. Sure, he got hurt in the process, and he knew that he would hate life until the wound finished healing, but he got in.
“Wonderful. Go with Arthur, he will find you a place to live and I’ll speak with my people to find you something to do. You will not want for anything ever again.” His generosity faded in an instant as he stepped closer, and Merlin reigned in his thoughts as the sudden feeling of being a deer caught in headlights overtook him. “If you ever turn on me I will personally make sure you never see the light of day again.”
Merlin nodded meekly, shrinking back from the clear threat, and then Uther was sweeping out of the room, already dialing on his cell phone. Gaius clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, my boy. You will need it.” The old man nodded towards Arthur and collected his things before following Uther back downstairs.
Several minutes of silence followed after the door swung shut, and Merlin found his thoughts straying more and more often. Arthur stood with pursed lips, and crossed arms. Merlin vaguely thought he looked angry, but by what he couldn’t ask.
He took a long blink and Arthur was standing in front of him, staring at him with a critical, pitying?, glance. Merlin shook his head in a failed attempt clear it and then Arthur was half carrying him again back into the main room.
“-ome rest, you idiot.” Merlin tuned in finally, shaking himself back awake only when he was dumped onto the cot. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
That sounded like a plan, and he would have said so, except the next time he opened his eyes Arthur was no longer in the room. His head a little more clear, he stared at the ceiling for awhile, thinking about where he stood. Only two facts stood out as important: One, he was right where he needed to be, and two he was going to be around one of the few people who could end him with just a look.
He was starting to wonder why he took this job.
Fin~