Nights 'Round the Table (12/14)
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen
Merlin had thought that knowing there was a conspiracy against him would make it easier to fight, but he was exhausted, and things were not getting better. He had tried defending himself in blogs, and had agreed to a couple of interviews, but he had been unable to make his case in any medium. In fact, he felt as though his attempts to fix things had only made the situation that much worse.
Business was beginning to suffer at Ambrosia as well. The protesters wouldn’t go away, and too few people were willing to cross a picket line when they wanted a quiet dinner. Even though the ratings for Wizard in the Kitchen continued to climb, it wasn’t enough to fill the restaurant’s tables.
The stress of it all meant that Merlin hid in his apartment whenever he wasn’t working. He canceled on band practice, and neither of the Wills had been successful in their attempts to drag him to a bar. He had tried calling Arthur several times, but it was obvious that Arthur wanted nothing to do with him. He had, however, begun to develop a friendship with Arthur’s assistant Leon, who promised he was delivering Merlin’s messages. By the end of the week, he’d stopped answering his phone entirely, whether to avoid everyone’s concern or to keep the line open in case Arthur called to apologize, he wasn’t certain.
On Thursday, he had a message from Taliesin Baird’s assistant informing him that Mr. Baird had seen Wizard in the Kitchen, and was enthusiastic about the prospect of Merlin joining his team. Merlin had to admit it was the high point of his week. There was a small part of him that wanted to celebrate that someone so important was interested in his career, but he didn’t know how to tell anyone. What should be a source of pride would only be divisive among his friends.
By Saturday, Merlin had decided he had wallowed long enough. He needed to get on with his life and forget about Blessed Cafe and Arthur, and he decided to do that by acting like a complete fool in a location that served alcohol.
It was then that he ran face first into the realization he couldn’t expect his friends to be at his beck and call while he worked out his drama. Gwen and Lance were apparently dating Morgana Pendragon (and it was just weird to realize he had seen all of them naked, although with Lance it was because Gwen had talked them both into going to Burning Man). He had even tried to call Gwaine for a hook-up, looking for fun yet meaningless sex to cheer him up, but Gwaine seemed to be smitten with someone, and Merlin did have to admit he would make a poor partner right now.
For the first time in years, Merlin had begun to wonder if perhaps there was more for him in life if he just put in the effort. He rarely challenged himself. Excluding his college career, every aspect of his life had been handed to him. Maybe it was finally time to see if he could make something of himself on his own. Taliesin Baird had offered him a job, not because he was on TV, or because his father was famous, but because he had eaten Merlin’s cooking and thought it was special. It could be the perfect opportunity to finally know if he could be as good as he wanted to be.
He knew he needed to talk to someone about this. It was too big to rush into, but he didn’t know who he could trust to give him an unbiased opinion. His mom and Gaius would tell him to stop worrying about them and to follow his heart. Gwen would become flustered trying to be concerned, proud, and helpful all at the same time. She would trip over her sentences trying to make it okay and convince him she wasn’t secretly disappointed in him. Gwaine would tell him he was sure he had slept with at least one other drummer so it would be fine. Will (either of them really) would yell at him for running away, and Freya would try to talk him into eloping so she could get her citizenship and a ticket to New York.
There was no one he could talk to who could tell him if he was ruining his life or crazy for not taking the chance without letting their own emotions toward him get in the way.
When he realized he did have someone like that in his life, he only just managed to stopped himself from banging his head into the wall while he pulled out his phone.
It had barely begun to ring when he heard the voice he wanted. “Tony here.”
“Hey, Dad. You got some time?”
“Merlin! I saw your show. Did you get the congratulatory case of champagne I sent you?”
“Yeah Dad, My friends got into it. I don’t know if Will had ever had the French stuff.”
“I’ll tell you son, it’s a nice thing to know you have a legacy. I might have opinions about some of the people at your network, but I’m damned proud of you for getting there on your own.”
“You? Opinionated? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“If you’re going to be a smart-mouth, I’ll have to come out there and remind you to respect your elders.”
“Mom would love it if you did.” Merlin paused, “What if I came to see you instead?”
“For a vacation?”
“No, things are kind of rough here, and Taliesin Baird wants me to start training to take over at the Crystal Cave.”
“Rough enough to give up your own restaurant?” His father sounded doubtful. “I know Gaius is going to retire as soon as he can get you to pay attention to the books.” he paused. “I certainly think you could be great at the Cave, but it’s a completely different environment, and while it has the ability to make any chef there famous, you’re already well on your way to finding your own fame. The best it could do for you is show that despite starting in the Bay, you’re good enough to survive in a New York kitchen. ”
“I know all of that. I really need your advice, Dad. You’re the only person I know who really understands all sides of the argument. You know me, and you know what it’s like to put everything on the line for a shot at what you love most.”
“So, you want to know if I think you should take your shot at the big leagues.”
“Please don’t use baseball metaphors,” Merlin sighed.
“I’ll let you stay with me while you plan your next move on the condition that you tell me when you started to dislike metaphorical baseball.” His father’s voice was teasing.
“I suppose I can do that. You really don’t mind?” Merlin tried not to sound too desperate.
“Of course I don’t mind. I never see you, and if you stay long enough, your mom might visit.”
“So, you think I should do it?”
“I think you don’t sound happy, and if nothing else, you need a change of scenery. I might not know the whole story, but I do keep an eye on your press.” There was a note of pride in his father’s voice.
“I should have known you’d be a Google stalker. I’m going to call Taliesin, and then I’ll have to talk to Mom and Uncle Gaius and everyone else to let them know. This would be so much easier if I could just sneak off in the night and be done with it.” Merlin hoped he didn’t sound like he was whining.
“I know, but your mom will kill us both if you don’t at least tell her. Make sure Taliesin pops for first class.”
“Thanks Dad. I’ll let you know when to expect me.” Merlin disconnected the call, nervous about leaving, but feeling a little lighter than he had since everything had gone to shit.
Arthur picked up his phone, prepared to send it to voicemail like he’d done with half the calls he’d received over the past week. Merlin had called once a day, almost like clockwork, since filming ended. Arthur knew he’d need to talk to him eventually, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not when he wasn’t even sure whether or not he’d been hasty in his anger.
And then there was Morgana. At first, he’d thought it was mere happenstance the way every conversation they had seemed to turn to Ambrosia, but after a few calls (much more frequent than he was used to, actually, once he thought about it), he started to get suspicious. The faux offense she’d taken when he suggested that perhaps she was bringing it up on purpose had only confirmed his suspicions. He did not need his sister trying to meddle in his personal life.
Of course, he couldn’t ignore his sister entirely, but he could let her go to voicemail anytime she called his direct line. If she had something important to discuss with him, she could go through Leon like everyone else.
The number that popped up on his phone wasn’t Morgana, though, or Merlin. He recognized the prefix as coming from one of United Airlines’ in-flight phones. Perhaps his father had run into trouble flying back from Chicago? Although why he was calling Arthur instead of his PA, Arthur couldn’t imagine.
Oh, god. Unless there was some media hubbub that Uther had caught wind of. Arthur might have been avoiding the normal gossip channels just a bit, recently. Not because of Merlin, of course, but because he didn’t like being reminded that a project he was so closely involved in was under such media scrutiny. He got enough of that with The Snake.
It was with great trepidation, then, that he answered the call.
“Father,” he said, forcing himself to be calm, “is everything all right? Your plane wasn’t delayed, was it?”
There was soft laughter on the other side of the phone, and Arthur felt his stomach clench. This call definitely wasn’t from his father.
“Delayed for almost an hour,” Merlin said, “but we got off the ground all right finally. Never thought I’d see the day you’d confuse me with Uther, though.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, forcing himself to remain calm. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Obviously,” Merlin said, “since you picked up the phone.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “About that...”
“Don’t bother explaining,” Merlin interrupted. “It’s obvious enough. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m calling you. Probably has something to do with that fifth Jack and Coke. Did you know United gives free cocktails to first class passengers? I didn’t. Might just be because of the delay.”
Arthur wanted to tell Merlin to call back later. He needed to prepare for this conversation, dammit. And he certainly didn’t want to be having it while Merlin was drunk. But...
“Merlin, why are you on a plane?” he found himself asking.
Again, the soft laughter. “‘S too far to drive,” Merlin answered. “Don’t think my car’d make it, anyway. Need to get a new car. The shocks are shot, and I think the transmission’s starting to go.”
Arthur shook his head. He didn’t care about Merlin’s car. “Where is too far to drive?” he asked.
“New York.” Merlin said. “‘S why I called. Offered me a job.”
Arthur felt like the ground had just dropped out from under him. A job? In New York? That was the other side of the country! He wasn’t ready for Merlin to be on the other side of the country!
“What about Ambrosia?” he asked. “What about Gaius?” What about me? he wanted to ask, but he knew that wasn’t fair.
“They’ll be better off without me,” Merlin said. “This whole internet controversy thing, it’s about me. If I leave, the gossip will follow me, because I’m famous now.
“You helped make me famous, Arthur,” he continued, “and other people recognize that I deserve it, even if you don’t. They put me in first class, Arthur. Not because of you, and not because of my father. Because of me. Because I’m that good, that valuable.”
“I know that, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed, feeling annoyed. “That’s why I wanted you on the show.” He made a snap decision, not giving himself time to second-guess it. “And that’s why I want you back for a second season. I don’t care about internet controversies. If anything, they’ll boost ratings.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Arthur could hear Merlin’s breathing, and behind it, the sounds of a flight attendant asking someone if they took cream and sugar with their coffee.
“You want me to come back?” Merlin asked, finally.
“Absolutely,” Arthur said. “Just tell me when to expect you and I’ll have a contract ready before you get off your plane.”
There was another long pause. Arthur realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to exhale.
“You want me back for the show,” Merlin said, after another long minute.
“Yes, of course,” Arthur answered. “I just said that.” And anything else, they could work out later, after he decided whether or not he’d forgiven Merlin for keeping things from him. Right now, he just needed to convince Merlin to get his ass back to California, where he belonged.
“No,” Merlin said.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no, Arthur,” Merlin said. “The show will have to go on without me.”
Arthur swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I see,” he said. “Well, have a good trip, then.”
“I plan on it. Goodbye, Arthur.”
“Goodbye,” Arthur whispered, but the line had already gone dead.
“Here’s the deal,” Elena said as soon as Gwaine opened the door. “I’ve brought a dozen different beers,” she continued, hefting the canvas bags she held in either hand, “and we’re going to sample all of them. I expect you to keep up and provide insightful commentary on the merits of each beer as well as engaging and witty conversation, or I’m afraid this thing between us just isn’t going to work out.”
Gwaine grinned. “Sounds like my kind of party,” he said, reaching to take one of the bags from her.
She felt something in her relax as she grinned back. She really had no idea what she was doing with Gwaine. Hook ups weren’t supposed to result in dates, no matter how good they were. Certainly not multiple dates. And still she kept finding herself back in Gwaine’s loft, and not just for sex, although there was plenty of that.
Eight beers and twelve attempts to resolve the current economic crisis later, Elena had the brilliant idea of flipping on the news.
“Obviously,” she said, turning up the volume, “we have to know what they’ve decided to break today if we’re going to have a chance of fixing it.”
Gwaine shook his head. “Won’t work. There are hundreds of them and only two of us.”
“True,” Elena admitted as she crawled back to the couch, remote in hand. “But we’re at least a couple hundred times as smart as anyone in Congress, so we’ve got the advantage.”
“In local news,” the somber blonde anchor was saying, “a section of Grand Avenue was blocked for nearly an hour this afternoon when a group of protesters mobbed a van carrying a church youth group that they mistakenly thought was a catering van. We go now to Owain Knight with the story.”
The scene cut to a sharply-dressed newscaster, standing on a street that looked vaguely familiar to Elena. She squinted, trying to focus enough in her drunken state that she could place it. Something on TV, maybe? Or a movie. She couldn’t remember.
“Seven members of the Trinity Lutheran Church youth group, along with their youth pastor, got more than they bargained for when they headed to the Grand Lake Theater this evening. When Reverend Johanna--”
“You’re right,” Elena said, muting the TV and sinking back into the couch. “We’ve got no hope. When crazies start attacking church kids just out trying to see a movie, your society’s completely beyond any hope of repair.”
Gwaine was shaking his head, frowning at the TV. “No, there’s something weird, here.”
“Well, of course it’s weird,” Elena said. “That’s what I’m saying! This is the end of civilization as we know it.”
“No,” Gwaine said. “I mean, that’s Ambrosia. And I think I recognize some of those crazies.”
“Oh,” Elena said, wilting. “It’s so sad, what’s happening to the restaurant. Arthur told me all about it. I think he feels bad for putting Merlin up to that interview, even if he won’t say so.”
Gwaine snorted. “Good. He should feel bad. I swear I know that redhead from somewhere. And those twins...”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on Arthur,” Elena told him. “He tries, you know. It’s just, with his family...”
“That’s it!” Gwaine said, turning toward her, excitement in his eyes.
“Arthur’s family?”
“No, no,” Gwaine said, shaking his head. “The redhead. And the twins. And I think maybe the girl with the pink streaks in the background, too. Elena, I’ve slept with all of them.”
Elena stared at him. “Oh. Um. Good for you?”
“No, don’t you see? Everyone I sleep with ends up either in a band or a cult, and I know exactly which cult those protesters are involved with.”
“Oh my god,” Elena said, horrified. “Gwaine, are you trying to tell me I could end up in a band? I’m not cut out for that kind of life! I can’t play any instruments. I can’t even sing!”
“That’s not important right now,” Gwaine said. “I’ll talk Merlin into teaching you to play the triangle or something. What’s important right now is that I think the protests are a setup.”
“A setup?” Elena immediately forgot her impending musicianship. This was like something out of a movie, or high school. “You mean, like, a conspiracy?”
“Exactly,” Gwaine said grimly. “Those women, they all take self-actualization classes at The Blessed Cafe. And I’m pretty sure the guy with the unibrow teaches yoga there.”
“That’s awful,” Elena said. “Gwaine, we have to stop them!”
“Yes,” Gwaine said, popping the top off another beer. “But how?”
“Well, obviously, we’re going to have to break into the cafe and find proof,” Elena said.
Gwaine choked on the beer. “Break in?”
“Of course. How else would you find proof that a major competitor is trying to sabotage your business?” She took in his wary expression and patted his hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”
“You have?”
“Of course,” she said. “Now, let’s finish this beer and see what you’ve got in the way of proper burglar wear.”
Gwaine, it turned out, had a lot of proper burglar wear, including two ninja masks he’d found at a thrift shop. “This way, if Lapin Tueur ever needs to make a music video, we’ve already got ninja costumes,” he explained. Elena was impressed with his foresight.
They were too intoxicated to drive, so they had to walk. Gwaine kept the masks inside his jacket to keep from arousing suspicion.
It was after midnight when they arrived at The Blessed Cafe, and the cafe and all its surrounding shops were completely dark. Elena pulled Gwaine into a nearby alley, and they slipped their masks on.
“We’ll go around back and see what kind of lock they’ve got on the rear door,” she told him. “The bars on the front will be impossible to get through.”
“What if they’ve got bars on the windows in the back?” Gwaine whispered back. “Do we scale the building?”
It was probably the stupidest question anyone had ever asked her during a break-in, but it was also a bit cute, so Elena just kissed him before slipping into the shadows and making her way around the back of the cafe.
The back door had three deadbolts. Not good. You couldn’t pick deadbolts, and breaking that many locks would cause one hell of a ruckus.
“Psst!” Gwaine whispered from off to her right. “Elena!”
Elena turned toward him with a finger to her lips, then tapped her temple with one finger to indicate that she was thinking and he should stop interrupting her.
Gwaine made a flailing motion that Elena thought might indicate that he needed to pee. Or really liked modern dance. Or something. She shook her head and turned back to the door. If the wood were thin enough, she might be able to get through it with her hacksaw, but then it would be obvious someone had broken in.
“Psst!” Gwaine said again.
Elena turned to look at him, and Gwaine gestured toward the building, and then pantomimed...dancing at a gay bar in the 90’s? Elena shrugged. She had no idea what he was trying to say.
Gwaine rolled his eyes, then reached over and pushed open the window he was standing next to.
Elena hopped off the landing she’d been standing on and threw her arms around him. “You’re brilliant,” she whispered in Gwaine’s ear. “I can’t believe they leave their windows unlocked.”
“It’s true,” Gwaine whispered back. “I am. Let me give you a lift up.”
Inside, the cafe was completely dark. Elena found herself having to switch on the Mini Maglite she’d brought with her, just to keep from tripping over anything, although she was careful to keep the light out of view of the windows. She thought she was quite clever for thinking of this, and Gwaine seemed to think so, too, since he stopped in the hallway to make out with her when she mentioned it.
Once they remembered what they were actually doing there, it didn’t take long to find the office. It was the only room in the building that wasn’t the main dining room or the storeroom or the kitchen, and it had a big brass sign on it that said “OFFICE” in black block letters.
“We’ll have to search the filing cabinets,” Elena whispered as she swung her flashlight about the room, examining its contents. “And you should see what you can find on the computer. It’s not likely that we’ll find proof of anything out in the--”
She stopped, suddenly, as her light came to rest on a dry-erase board hanging on the far wall.
“Or, maybe they really are that stupid,” she said as she examined what appeared to be a detailed plan for putting Ambrosia out of business.
“Or just that cocky,” Gwaine agreed, picking up a sheaf of papers from the bookshelf directly beneath the dry-erase board. Looking over his shoulder, Elena could see that they were printouts of information on Tony Balinor.
“Either way,” Elena said, “I think we’ve found our proof.”
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and started to snap pictures. She only hoped she had enough room on her memory card to get everything important.
Next
Merlin had thought that knowing there was a conspiracy against him would make it easier to fight, but he was exhausted, and things were not getting better. He had tried defending himself in blogs, and had agreed to a couple of interviews, but he had been unable to make his case in any medium. In fact, he felt as though his attempts to fix things had only made the situation that much worse.
Business was beginning to suffer at Ambrosia as well. The protesters wouldn’t go away, and too few people were willing to cross a picket line when they wanted a quiet dinner. Even though the ratings for Wizard in the Kitchen continued to climb, it wasn’t enough to fill the restaurant’s tables.
The stress of it all meant that Merlin hid in his apartment whenever he wasn’t working. He canceled on band practice, and neither of the Wills had been successful in their attempts to drag him to a bar. He had tried calling Arthur several times, but it was obvious that Arthur wanted nothing to do with him. He had, however, begun to develop a friendship with Arthur’s assistant Leon, who promised he was delivering Merlin’s messages. By the end of the week, he’d stopped answering his phone entirely, whether to avoid everyone’s concern or to keep the line open in case Arthur called to apologize, he wasn’t certain.
On Thursday, he had a message from Taliesin Baird’s assistant informing him that Mr. Baird had seen Wizard in the Kitchen, and was enthusiastic about the prospect of Merlin joining his team. Merlin had to admit it was the high point of his week. There was a small part of him that wanted to celebrate that someone so important was interested in his career, but he didn’t know how to tell anyone. What should be a source of pride would only be divisive among his friends.
By Saturday, Merlin had decided he had wallowed long enough. He needed to get on with his life and forget about Blessed Cafe and Arthur, and he decided to do that by acting like a complete fool in a location that served alcohol.
It was then that he ran face first into the realization he couldn’t expect his friends to be at his beck and call while he worked out his drama. Gwen and Lance were apparently dating Morgana Pendragon (and it was just weird to realize he had seen all of them naked, although with Lance it was because Gwen had talked them both into going to Burning Man). He had even tried to call Gwaine for a hook-up, looking for fun yet meaningless sex to cheer him up, but Gwaine seemed to be smitten with someone, and Merlin did have to admit he would make a poor partner right now.
For the first time in years, Merlin had begun to wonder if perhaps there was more for him in life if he just put in the effort. He rarely challenged himself. Excluding his college career, every aspect of his life had been handed to him. Maybe it was finally time to see if he could make something of himself on his own. Taliesin Baird had offered him a job, not because he was on TV, or because his father was famous, but because he had eaten Merlin’s cooking and thought it was special. It could be the perfect opportunity to finally know if he could be as good as he wanted to be.
He knew he needed to talk to someone about this. It was too big to rush into, but he didn’t know who he could trust to give him an unbiased opinion. His mom and Gaius would tell him to stop worrying about them and to follow his heart. Gwen would become flustered trying to be concerned, proud, and helpful all at the same time. She would trip over her sentences trying to make it okay and convince him she wasn’t secretly disappointed in him. Gwaine would tell him he was sure he had slept with at least one other drummer so it would be fine. Will (either of them really) would yell at him for running away, and Freya would try to talk him into eloping so she could get her citizenship and a ticket to New York.
There was no one he could talk to who could tell him if he was ruining his life or crazy for not taking the chance without letting their own emotions toward him get in the way.
When he realized he did have someone like that in his life, he only just managed to stopped himself from banging his head into the wall while he pulled out his phone.
It had barely begun to ring when he heard the voice he wanted. “Tony here.”
“Hey, Dad. You got some time?”
“Merlin! I saw your show. Did you get the congratulatory case of champagne I sent you?”
“Yeah Dad, My friends got into it. I don’t know if Will had ever had the French stuff.”
“I’ll tell you son, it’s a nice thing to know you have a legacy. I might have opinions about some of the people at your network, but I’m damned proud of you for getting there on your own.”
“You? Opinionated? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“If you’re going to be a smart-mouth, I’ll have to come out there and remind you to respect your elders.”
“Mom would love it if you did.” Merlin paused, “What if I came to see you instead?”
“For a vacation?”
“No, things are kind of rough here, and Taliesin Baird wants me to start training to take over at the Crystal Cave.”
“Rough enough to give up your own restaurant?” His father sounded doubtful. “I know Gaius is going to retire as soon as he can get you to pay attention to the books.” he paused. “I certainly think you could be great at the Cave, but it’s a completely different environment, and while it has the ability to make any chef there famous, you’re already well on your way to finding your own fame. The best it could do for you is show that despite starting in the Bay, you’re good enough to survive in a New York kitchen. ”
“I know all of that. I really need your advice, Dad. You’re the only person I know who really understands all sides of the argument. You know me, and you know what it’s like to put everything on the line for a shot at what you love most.”
“So, you want to know if I think you should take your shot at the big leagues.”
“Please don’t use baseball metaphors,” Merlin sighed.
“I’ll let you stay with me while you plan your next move on the condition that you tell me when you started to dislike metaphorical baseball.” His father’s voice was teasing.
“I suppose I can do that. You really don’t mind?” Merlin tried not to sound too desperate.
“Of course I don’t mind. I never see you, and if you stay long enough, your mom might visit.”
“So, you think I should do it?”
“I think you don’t sound happy, and if nothing else, you need a change of scenery. I might not know the whole story, but I do keep an eye on your press.” There was a note of pride in his father’s voice.
“I should have known you’d be a Google stalker. I’m going to call Taliesin, and then I’ll have to talk to Mom and Uncle Gaius and everyone else to let them know. This would be so much easier if I could just sneak off in the night and be done with it.” Merlin hoped he didn’t sound like he was whining.
“I know, but your mom will kill us both if you don’t at least tell her. Make sure Taliesin pops for first class.”
“Thanks Dad. I’ll let you know when to expect me.” Merlin disconnected the call, nervous about leaving, but feeling a little lighter than he had since everything had gone to shit.
Arthur picked up his phone, prepared to send it to voicemail like he’d done with half the calls he’d received over the past week. Merlin had called once a day, almost like clockwork, since filming ended. Arthur knew he’d need to talk to him eventually, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not when he wasn’t even sure whether or not he’d been hasty in his anger.
And then there was Morgana. At first, he’d thought it was mere happenstance the way every conversation they had seemed to turn to Ambrosia, but after a few calls (much more frequent than he was used to, actually, once he thought about it), he started to get suspicious. The faux offense she’d taken when he suggested that perhaps she was bringing it up on purpose had only confirmed his suspicions. He did not need his sister trying to meddle in his personal life.
Of course, he couldn’t ignore his sister entirely, but he could let her go to voicemail anytime she called his direct line. If she had something important to discuss with him, she could go through Leon like everyone else.
The number that popped up on his phone wasn’t Morgana, though, or Merlin. He recognized the prefix as coming from one of United Airlines’ in-flight phones. Perhaps his father had run into trouble flying back from Chicago? Although why he was calling Arthur instead of his PA, Arthur couldn’t imagine.
Oh, god. Unless there was some media hubbub that Uther had caught wind of. Arthur might have been avoiding the normal gossip channels just a bit, recently. Not because of Merlin, of course, but because he didn’t like being reminded that a project he was so closely involved in was under such media scrutiny. He got enough of that with The Snake.
It was with great trepidation, then, that he answered the call.
“Father,” he said, forcing himself to be calm, “is everything all right? Your plane wasn’t delayed, was it?”
There was soft laughter on the other side of the phone, and Arthur felt his stomach clench. This call definitely wasn’t from his father.
“Delayed for almost an hour,” Merlin said, “but we got off the ground all right finally. Never thought I’d see the day you’d confuse me with Uther, though.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, forcing himself to remain calm. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Obviously,” Merlin said, “since you picked up the phone.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “About that...”
“Don’t bother explaining,” Merlin interrupted. “It’s obvious enough. Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m calling you. Probably has something to do with that fifth Jack and Coke. Did you know United gives free cocktails to first class passengers? I didn’t. Might just be because of the delay.”
Arthur wanted to tell Merlin to call back later. He needed to prepare for this conversation, dammit. And he certainly didn’t want to be having it while Merlin was drunk. But...
“Merlin, why are you on a plane?” he found himself asking.
Again, the soft laughter. “‘S too far to drive,” Merlin answered. “Don’t think my car’d make it, anyway. Need to get a new car. The shocks are shot, and I think the transmission’s starting to go.”
Arthur shook his head. He didn’t care about Merlin’s car. “Where is too far to drive?” he asked.
“New York.” Merlin said. “‘S why I called. Offered me a job.”
Arthur felt like the ground had just dropped out from under him. A job? In New York? That was the other side of the country! He wasn’t ready for Merlin to be on the other side of the country!
“What about Ambrosia?” he asked. “What about Gaius?” What about me? he wanted to ask, but he knew that wasn’t fair.
“They’ll be better off without me,” Merlin said. “This whole internet controversy thing, it’s about me. If I leave, the gossip will follow me, because I’m famous now.
“You helped make me famous, Arthur,” he continued, “and other people recognize that I deserve it, even if you don’t. They put me in first class, Arthur. Not because of you, and not because of my father. Because of me. Because I’m that good, that valuable.”
“I know that, Merlin,” Arthur scoffed, feeling annoyed. “That’s why I wanted you on the show.” He made a snap decision, not giving himself time to second-guess it. “And that’s why I want you back for a second season. I don’t care about internet controversies. If anything, they’ll boost ratings.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Arthur could hear Merlin’s breathing, and behind it, the sounds of a flight attendant asking someone if they took cream and sugar with their coffee.
“You want me to come back?” Merlin asked, finally.
“Absolutely,” Arthur said. “Just tell me when to expect you and I’ll have a contract ready before you get off your plane.”
There was another long pause. Arthur realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to exhale.
“You want me back for the show,” Merlin said, after another long minute.
“Yes, of course,” Arthur answered. “I just said that.” And anything else, they could work out later, after he decided whether or not he’d forgiven Merlin for keeping things from him. Right now, he just needed to convince Merlin to get his ass back to California, where he belonged.
“No,” Merlin said.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no, Arthur,” Merlin said. “The show will have to go on without me.”
Arthur swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I see,” he said. “Well, have a good trip, then.”
“I plan on it. Goodbye, Arthur.”
“Goodbye,” Arthur whispered, but the line had already gone dead.
“Here’s the deal,” Elena said as soon as Gwaine opened the door. “I’ve brought a dozen different beers,” she continued, hefting the canvas bags she held in either hand, “and we’re going to sample all of them. I expect you to keep up and provide insightful commentary on the merits of each beer as well as engaging and witty conversation, or I’m afraid this thing between us just isn’t going to work out.”
Gwaine grinned. “Sounds like my kind of party,” he said, reaching to take one of the bags from her.
She felt something in her relax as she grinned back. She really had no idea what she was doing with Gwaine. Hook ups weren’t supposed to result in dates, no matter how good they were. Certainly not multiple dates. And still she kept finding herself back in Gwaine’s loft, and not just for sex, although there was plenty of that.
Eight beers and twelve attempts to resolve the current economic crisis later, Elena had the brilliant idea of flipping on the news.
“Obviously,” she said, turning up the volume, “we have to know what they’ve decided to break today if we’re going to have a chance of fixing it.”
Gwaine shook his head. “Won’t work. There are hundreds of them and only two of us.”
“True,” Elena admitted as she crawled back to the couch, remote in hand. “But we’re at least a couple hundred times as smart as anyone in Congress, so we’ve got the advantage.”
“In local news,” the somber blonde anchor was saying, “a section of Grand Avenue was blocked for nearly an hour this afternoon when a group of protesters mobbed a van carrying a church youth group that they mistakenly thought was a catering van. We go now to Owain Knight with the story.”
The scene cut to a sharply-dressed newscaster, standing on a street that looked vaguely familiar to Elena. She squinted, trying to focus enough in her drunken state that she could place it. Something on TV, maybe? Or a movie. She couldn’t remember.
“Seven members of the Trinity Lutheran Church youth group, along with their youth pastor, got more than they bargained for when they headed to the Grand Lake Theater this evening. When Reverend Johanna--”
“You’re right,” Elena said, muting the TV and sinking back into the couch. “We’ve got no hope. When crazies start attacking church kids just out trying to see a movie, your society’s completely beyond any hope of repair.”
Gwaine was shaking his head, frowning at the TV. “No, there’s something weird, here.”
“Well, of course it’s weird,” Elena said. “That’s what I’m saying! This is the end of civilization as we know it.”
“No,” Gwaine said. “I mean, that’s Ambrosia. And I think I recognize some of those crazies.”
“Oh,” Elena said, wilting. “It’s so sad, what’s happening to the restaurant. Arthur told me all about it. I think he feels bad for putting Merlin up to that interview, even if he won’t say so.”
Gwaine snorted. “Good. He should feel bad. I swear I know that redhead from somewhere. And those twins...”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on Arthur,” Elena told him. “He tries, you know. It’s just, with his family...”
“That’s it!” Gwaine said, turning toward her, excitement in his eyes.
“Arthur’s family?”
“No, no,” Gwaine said, shaking his head. “The redhead. And the twins. And I think maybe the girl with the pink streaks in the background, too. Elena, I’ve slept with all of them.”
Elena stared at him. “Oh. Um. Good for you?”
“No, don’t you see? Everyone I sleep with ends up either in a band or a cult, and I know exactly which cult those protesters are involved with.”
“Oh my god,” Elena said, horrified. “Gwaine, are you trying to tell me I could end up in a band? I’m not cut out for that kind of life! I can’t play any instruments. I can’t even sing!”
“That’s not important right now,” Gwaine said. “I’ll talk Merlin into teaching you to play the triangle or something. What’s important right now is that I think the protests are a setup.”
“A setup?” Elena immediately forgot her impending musicianship. This was like something out of a movie, or high school. “You mean, like, a conspiracy?”
“Exactly,” Gwaine said grimly. “Those women, they all take self-actualization classes at The Blessed Cafe. And I’m pretty sure the guy with the unibrow teaches yoga there.”
“That’s awful,” Elena said. “Gwaine, we have to stop them!”
“Yes,” Gwaine said, popping the top off another beer. “But how?”
“Well, obviously, we’re going to have to break into the cafe and find proof,” Elena said.
Gwaine choked on the beer. “Break in?”
“Of course. How else would you find proof that a major competitor is trying to sabotage your business?” She took in his wary expression and patted his hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”
“You have?”
“Of course,” she said. “Now, let’s finish this beer and see what you’ve got in the way of proper burglar wear.”
Gwaine, it turned out, had a lot of proper burglar wear, including two ninja masks he’d found at a thrift shop. “This way, if Lapin Tueur ever needs to make a music video, we’ve already got ninja costumes,” he explained. Elena was impressed with his foresight.
They were too intoxicated to drive, so they had to walk. Gwaine kept the masks inside his jacket to keep from arousing suspicion.
It was after midnight when they arrived at The Blessed Cafe, and the cafe and all its surrounding shops were completely dark. Elena pulled Gwaine into a nearby alley, and they slipped their masks on.
“We’ll go around back and see what kind of lock they’ve got on the rear door,” she told him. “The bars on the front will be impossible to get through.”
“What if they’ve got bars on the windows in the back?” Gwaine whispered back. “Do we scale the building?”
It was probably the stupidest question anyone had ever asked her during a break-in, but it was also a bit cute, so Elena just kissed him before slipping into the shadows and making her way around the back of the cafe.
The back door had three deadbolts. Not good. You couldn’t pick deadbolts, and breaking that many locks would cause one hell of a ruckus.
“Psst!” Gwaine whispered from off to her right. “Elena!”
Elena turned toward him with a finger to her lips, then tapped her temple with one finger to indicate that she was thinking and he should stop interrupting her.
Gwaine made a flailing motion that Elena thought might indicate that he needed to pee. Or really liked modern dance. Or something. She shook her head and turned back to the door. If the wood were thin enough, she might be able to get through it with her hacksaw, but then it would be obvious someone had broken in.
“Psst!” Gwaine said again.
Elena turned to look at him, and Gwaine gestured toward the building, and then pantomimed...dancing at a gay bar in the 90’s? Elena shrugged. She had no idea what he was trying to say.
Gwaine rolled his eyes, then reached over and pushed open the window he was standing next to.
Elena hopped off the landing she’d been standing on and threw her arms around him. “You’re brilliant,” she whispered in Gwaine’s ear. “I can’t believe they leave their windows unlocked.”
“It’s true,” Gwaine whispered back. “I am. Let me give you a lift up.”
Inside, the cafe was completely dark. Elena found herself having to switch on the Mini Maglite she’d brought with her, just to keep from tripping over anything, although she was careful to keep the light out of view of the windows. She thought she was quite clever for thinking of this, and Gwaine seemed to think so, too, since he stopped in the hallway to make out with her when she mentioned it.
Once they remembered what they were actually doing there, it didn’t take long to find the office. It was the only room in the building that wasn’t the main dining room or the storeroom or the kitchen, and it had a big brass sign on it that said “OFFICE” in black block letters.
“We’ll have to search the filing cabinets,” Elena whispered as she swung her flashlight about the room, examining its contents. “And you should see what you can find on the computer. It’s not likely that we’ll find proof of anything out in the--”
She stopped, suddenly, as her light came to rest on a dry-erase board hanging on the far wall.
“Or, maybe they really are that stupid,” she said as she examined what appeared to be a detailed plan for putting Ambrosia out of business.
“Or just that cocky,” Gwaine agreed, picking up a sheaf of papers from the bookshelf directly beneath the dry-erase board. Looking over his shoulder, Elena could see that they were printouts of information on Tony Balinor.
“Either way,” Elena said, “I think we’ve found our proof.”
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and started to snap pictures. She only hoped she had enough room on her memory card to get everything important.
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