Paperlegends: Last Turn of the Spiral (Part Three)

[ficbyjane]

Gareth is grateful to Mordred, he really is. He watches the way Mordred struggles with his Shunt and his addiction every day, and he knows it could easily have been him, that he could have ended up as one of the spaced-out Nooners who are so fried by pops and lust by now that there’s no coming back.

He has a bed (well, a couch), friends and even protectors in an odd way.
Gareth wants to tell Mordred that he’s really not worth the effort, he’s just another fuck-up, another run away, but Mordred has opened up so much for him - his home; his whole life is pretty much upside down for a while for Gareth, and Gareth can’t bring himself to say anything except thank you.

Mordred introduces him to Cenred after the first night, when he goes back to replenish his pop, and tells him almost off-handedly that he’d stolen Gareth out from under Morgause’s nose.

The smile that forms slowly on Cenred’s face when he hears that is nothing short of predatory.

“Really,” he says in a slow drawl, looking Gareth up and down, even as he expertly administers a pop to Mordred’s Shunt.

“Back off Cenred, or you’ll scare him away,” Mordred says without opening his eyes. Gareth watches, then, as the pop takes effect and Mordred shifts in his seat, rolling his hips up against the air, restlessly looking for friction.

Cenred shrugs, but tosses a wink to Gareth before reaching out and hauling Mordred to his feet.

“Help yourself to - well, anything Gareth. I’m going to help Mordred here ride out the first wave of his pop.”

Gareth just nods as Cenred ushers Mordred towards the bedroom. He collapses back on Cenred’s sofa when he hears the door shut, and closes his eyes.

He’s … he’s okay. Safe, for now.Safer, anyway, than he would have been if Morgause hadn’t thrown Mordred in his path.

Gareth takes a very long breath and lets it out. Then another one.

Maybe now, he has a shot at actually finding his brother.

Gareth catches his thoughts on a long yawn, suddenly feeling more tired than he can ever remember. He jumps slightly when he catches sight of Cenred out of the corner of his eye, coming out of his room wearing nothing but ridiculously small pants and a smile.

“If you keep your mouth open like that, someone’s going to take it as an invitation,” Cenred says, making his way to the kitchen and taking two bottles out of the fridge.

“Here,” he says, tossing one to Gareth who catches it by luck more than anything.

“Uh, thanks. Um, Sorry, I mean - “

Cenred comes and sprawls on the sofa, kicking his legs up onto the small table in front of him.

“S’alright, kid. Mordred’s sleeping. You can wake him up in a couple of hours; meet Freya.”

Gareth twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink of ice-cold water, not knowing what to say.

“Um. Well. Thanks.”

Cenred shrugs, and then grins, the smile curving sharp and wide. “Hey, anything that pisses off Morgause is absolutely fine by me. You run into any trouble around here, kid, any trouble, you come and tell me, all right?”

Gareth finds himself flushing under Cenred’s sudden scrutiny, but he manages a nod, and a shy smile.

“I - uh. Thanks. I will.”

Cenred nods as he swallows half of his bottle of water in one long go, drawing Gareth to the motion of his adam’s apple, bobbing up and down. He flushes when he sees that Cenred has caught him looking and bites his lip, feeling suddenly young and awkward and too big.

Cenred snorts out a quiet laugh as he puts his empty bottle down on the table.

“You’ll do fine here, kid. Stick to Freya and Mordred, and I’ll keep an eye out for you - when I can be arsed. I’m going to check on Mordred. Stay put, yeah?”

Gareth nods, offering up another shy smile, and … it’s as easy as that. He meets Freya next, after Mordred wakes up, and she’s wary at first, but Gareth knows that’s more about how protective she is of Mordred than anything else, and he can understand that.

So he sets about quietly showing Freya that all he wants is to be Mordred’s friend; to help her take care of him, and go out with him when Mordred needs him.

He sees the moment Freya’s shoulders relax, when Gareth absently takes Mordred’s arm after a particularly rough punter and gently checks his Shunt, wiping away his tears and curling up with him because sometimes that’s the only way Mordred can sleep.

They talk, a lot; late into the nights that Mordred can’t sleep; wired from a pop and too many punters in a row. Gareth gets tired, but he doesn’t mind; he just wraps himself around Mordred and lets him talk, and talk.

He rambles over everything from his early foster families, to his spitting hatred for Morgause; to how much he loves Freya; to someone he calls, alternately, “pretty”, “magic man”, and “Merlin.”

Gareth figures that Merlin is one of Mordred’s punters, and wonders, as Mordred curls into Gareth’s side and rambles on, how he could have got under Mordred’s skin so fast.

As far as Gareth knows, Mordred’s only been with Merlin once, but there’s obviously something about him.

He strokes Mordred’s hair, because it’s the easiest and fastest way to get him to calm down, and asks him if he hopes Merlin will come back - or hopes that he won’t.

Mordred sighs, and turns his face into Gareth’s neck, just breathing for a moment.

“I dunno,” he says, his voice scratchy and low. “I - he was nice to me y’know? Real nice. And I’ve had nice punters before and all, but - “ Mordred sighs as he seems to run out of words and all Gareth can do is pull him in a bit tighter.

“I want to see him again, I really do, I think about him sometimes when I’m with a punter who’s just -” Mordred shifts against Gareth’s side, restless and Gareth rubs his back, not saying anything.

“S’why I try not to remember the nice ones,” Mordred says quietly, closing his eyes.

“Because it makes the other fuckers seem so much worse.”

There’s nothing Gareth can say to that; any words of comfort that might come to him would sound hollow and trite. He has no idea, not really, of what Mordred has gone through during the past three years, but he thinks, maybe, if there is a punter out there who thinks Mordred is worth something - worth more than what Mordred himself thinks - then that’s worth something.

Gareth has to believe that’s worth something.

He finds himself taking care of Mordred, along with Freya and - to a lesser extent - Cenred. Gareth thinks it’s the absolute least that he can do after everything Mordred has done for him, but Mordred just shrugs him off, muttering something about not letting Gareth lose his worth.

It all becomes part of a new routine for all of them. Gareth finds himself settling into it very quickly, riding out the wave of gratitude he still feels as it morphs into something very like friendship - and family.

Freya and Mordred help, and he doesn’t …. mind the work that much. It helps that Mordred and Cenred find him some easy jobs to start with, men who pay well for a pretty mouth, but have gentle hands and quiet voices, who let him go easily afterwards.

It’s nowhere near perfect, but it’s better than where he would have ended up - a strungout, useless Shunter used up by Morgause and thrown out when his appeal had been used up and drained away.

He has nightmares about that, sometimes. About what terrible path his life was headed for. And about the things he endured when he ran away from his family’s home all those months ago; set on finding his brother, with no more clue than a vague memory that he’d gone to London.

He wonders about his brother - more now that he knows he’s not going to freeze or starve out on the streets with no one to remember him - wonders if maybe he actually has half a shot of finding him of maybe letting him know that ..

He’s fallen asleep on Mordred’s bed again, and he doesn’t mean to, but it just happens some nights after Mordred has finally talked himself to sleep and the sofa seems so very far away.

He’s jolted awake, suddenly, by a loud curse and a sharp kick to his leg.

Gareth’s eyes fly open when the sharp pain reaches his brain and he pushes up and ducks out from Mordred’s flailing limbs.

“Freya!” He shouts as loud as he can over Mordred’s constant stream of curses and Gareth’s never seen him like this.

He’s seen Mordred in the throes of bad dreams before, but whatever this is looks like it’s hurting him. He shouts for Freya again, unable to remember whether she’s working or not before he ducks in and grips Mordred’s upper arms as hard as he can, careful to avoid Mordred’s Shunt.

“Mordred, Mordred wake up; you’re having a nightmare, Mordred come on …” Gareth keeps his voice low, but his grip tight, with the way Mordred had been flailing around he’s in real danger of hurting himself.

Freya stumbles in then, rubbing her eyes and frowning in confusion.

“What - “

“He’s - I think he’s having a nightmare, but I can’t wake him up!” Gareth can feel the edge of panic in his voice and forces himself to take a deep breath.

Freya leans in closer and examines Mordred’s face. He’s pale, and there are deep purple shadows under his eyes.

“Look at his eyelids,” she says softly. “His eyes - they’re moving far too fast, for any kind of sleep. That’s not a nightmare, it’s Morgause.

“MORDRED! MORDRED OPEN YOUR EYES.”

Gareth flinches but doesn’t let go of Mordred as Freya’s voice thunders unexpectedly loud in the room.

“MORDRED, IT’S JUST US, IT’S ME AND GARETH. OPEN YOUR EYES, PLEASE OPEN YOUR EYES.”

Gareth watches as the muscles in Mordred’s jaw start jumping and he turns his head carefully towards Freya.

“Should I let him go?”

She shakes her head and bites her lip. “No, if you can, hold on to him. He’s liable to hurt himself, or try and pull out his Shunt like this and that would be - it wouldn’t be good.”

Gareth nods, and watches quietly as Freya steps carefully into Mordred’s personal space, even though his legs are still flailing around the bed.

“Mordred,” she says, right by his ear this time, “Please open your eyes. Please. For me. I know you can...”

Gareth breaths a sigh of relief when Mordred’s eyes start to flutter as his limbs start slowing with their frantic movements. He keeps his hands on Mordred’s arms, but lessens his grip so he’s just holding him lightly.

Mordred blinks his eyes open slowly, so slowly, turning his head to Freya first. “Frey? Are you all right? Did I h-hurt you?”

Freya shakes her head, her dark eyes shining with tears. “No, baby, you didn’t hurt me. Gareth got to you. Are you all right now?”

Mordred glances at Gareth before dropping his gaze and nodding.

“You can let me go, Gareth. I’m all right.”

Gareth releases Mordred’s arms, wincing when he sees the deep, red marks. “Oh - I’m - I’m sorry about that …”

Mordred scoots back from both of them, leaning back against his pillows. He won’t meet their eyes. He draws his knees up to his chin and rests his forehead on them, breathing heavily.

“Morgause,” he says bitterly when the silence has stretched out and become heavy. “Fucking Morgause. I should have known, I should have expected it, I was being careful, I swear I was - “ this last is directed at Freya who just nods as the tears spill down her cheeks.

“I know you were, babe, I know how hard you’ve been working it’s all right, I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m here....”

Gareth sits back on the bed and watches as Freya crawls right up to Mordred and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

Mordred doesn’t move except to lift his head so Freya can rest hers on his chest.

“Your heart is still beating too fast,” she says softly. “Just. Just sit and breathe for a few minutes, babe, okay?”

Gareth is lost; feeling like he’s walked in on the middle of a story that he has no hope of understanding.

What he does know is that his friends are hurting. He can’t fix that for them, right now, maybe he can never fix what this is, but he can do small things for them that will add up one day.

“I’ll … I’ll go and make some tea,” he says quietly, looking to Freya, who nods wordlessly. Mordred just tilts his head back against his pillow and closes his eyes. He has, however, Gareth notices, moved enough to wrap an arm around Freya’s waist.

He loses himself briefly in the small, quiet ritual of boiling water and steeping tea in a battered old teapot. It’s enough to soothe whatever’s left of his own shock at being woken up like that. He still wonders what’s going on, and what it has to do with Morgause, but he’s content to wait until Mordred feels ready and able to tell him.

He hands out the mugs quietly before resettling at the end of the bed, sitting cross-legged opposite Freya and Mordred who have disentangled long enough to take their tea.

They all drink in silence for a while, Gareth occasionally stealing a look at Mordred, who’s slowly regaining some colour in his face. Freya presses an expert hand against his neck after a few minutes and nods, satisfied.

“That’s much better. Your heart’s not going to jump out of your chest any more.”

Mordred smiles, before putting his mug down on the rickety table that serves as a nightstand. He mirrors Gareth’s cross-legged position and rests his chin on his hands.

“I suppose you want to know what all that was about.” It’s not a question.

Gareth turns his own mug around, draining the dregs before putting it on the floor.

“I do, but - only if you want to tell me. I mean - I don’t want to make whatever it was worse for you by making you relive it..”

Mordred stares off into the distance for a moment before sighing and looking down at the Shunt in his arm.

“No time like the present, right?”

It’s silent again, for a long moment, and Gareth doesn’t move, feels like he’s barely breathing even though he doesn’t understand the reason for the tension. He glances at Freya but her eyes are on Mordred’s face and she’s holding his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles that are clenched and white.

Gareth doesn’t think she realises she’s doing it and he feels his heart turn over a little bit, for Mordred - and for Freya a little bit, too.

“You know - I’m .. wired a little different? Up here,” Mordred says, tapping his forehead with his free hand.

Gareth frowns, but nods anyway. “The way, uh, Morgause can talk to you in your head? And the way you can read punters sometimes?”

Mordred nods, and drops his eyes to his and Freya’s joined hands, sighing.

“Yeah. There’s a bit more to it, but - sometimes, if I’m real tired, or I’m right at the end of a pop, she can …. get in. Get in my head, and I c-can’t block her out. I can, most of the time, when I’m, uh, working - “

Gareth winces at the bitterness in Mordred’s voice, and he wonders if Mordred even hears it

“ - but sometimes … I can’t, and she’s - she’s angry”.

Mordred’s face is still somewhat pale, and his eyes look huge in his face, and it’s ridiculous because they’re the same age, but Mordred looks and sounds so young all of a sudden. Gareth moves impulsively to Mordred’s other side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Because of me,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to Mordred’s curls and meeting Freya’s concerned gaze over the top of Mordred’s head.

“I - yeah, I guess, this time. Sometimes, if she knows I’m uh, open to it, she pokes around in there just because she can. It’s - it’s like a nightmare, but it’s so much worse, because I can’t wake up and so far Freya’s the only person who can - “

Mordred turns his head suddenly, burying it in Gareth’s neck and Gareth can’t do anything except rub at Mordred’s side when he feels the wetness on his neck.

“It’s all right, Mordred, it’s okay, it’s just us, shhh …” Gareth barely knows what he’s saying, soothing nonsense as he waits for the storm to pass and for Mordred to calm down.

“M all right,” he mumbles eventually, pulling his head back and scrubbing at his eyes with the hand that’s not still gripped in Freya’s.

Freya shifts so she can look Mordred in the eye, tilting his head and studying his face closely.

“I’m all right, Frey, I promise, I’m sorry …”

Freya shakes her head and suddenly launches herself at Mordred, wrapping as much of him as she can reach in a tight hug. Gareth draws his arm back and shuffles back on the bed, not wanting to intrude.

“Was that - was it just - “

Gareth frowns because Freya’s not making any sense but Mordred seems to know what she’s talking about and he buries his face in her hair, his breathing heavy.

“No. That wasn’t - there’s, there’s more. It’s - she - it’s …” Mordred’s voice fails him and Gareth can only watch as Freya soothes him this time, long strokes with her hand down his back until the shudders that had overtaken him stop.

Mordred pulls back, calmer and glances at Gareth before turning back to Freya.

“She … um. It’s - it’s Aredian.”

Gareth looks from one to the other as a heavy silence falls on the room again. He’s missing something major, judging by the look on Freya’s face and the way Mordred won’t meet her eyes.

“Mordred. Mordred, look at me. Please.” Freya doesn’t say anything else until Mordred lifts his eyes to meet her gaze.

“Mordred, you can’t. Aredian is insane, he nearly killed you, you can’t go back there!”

Gareth feels a jolt of shock go through him and he studies Mordred’s reaction. He knows that Mordred comes home sometimes with marks and bruises and occasionally limping which - Gareth frowns as he looks from Mordred to Freya, trying to puzzle everything out.

Mordred glances at him then, offering a small, watery smile.

“Sorry, Gareth. You must feel like you’re only getting half the story.”

Gareth scoots closer and puts a hand on the back of Mordred’s neck, gently scruffing his fingers through Mordred’s curls the way he knows he likes.

“Don’t worry about me. Just - who’s Aredian.”

Freya puffs out a sigh and looks away for a moment and Gareth notices that she’s blinking rapidly.

“He’s - he’s a punter, but he’s not - like. He’s not like other punters,” Mordred says quietly, leaning back into Gareth’s gentle touch.

“He’s insane,” Freya says, her voice sounding harsh and loud in the small bedroom.

“He gets Shunters, from Morgause and he - he thinks he can fix them, or cure them by, I don’t know, praying over them or, fucking it out of them, or beating them nearly senseless and - “

“And usually I can avoid him, because I’m not really one of Morgause’s Shunters, but if I make her really angry …”

“Which you did, because of me,” Gareth says quietly, a sick, heavy feeling settling into his gut.

“He - he managed to get b-back here,” Freya says, shuffling closer until Gareth wordlessly holds out his free arm until Freya curls into him, settling her slight weight against his chest.

“He looked - I thought, I thought you were d-dead.”

Mordred sighs and bites down on his lip. “I - I know, but if I don’t go … she’s just going to keep trying to get to me. And if not me, she might go for you, or for Gareth and I c-can’t, I can’t have that, Frey. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

They’re all silent after that and Gareth sighs, feeling something like inevitability settle behind his heart.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

Arthur’s distracted as he walks down the street, pacing out long strides. There’s a strategy meeting at his and Leon’s flat, but everyone had taken a break and Arthur took the chance to bodily drag Merlin outside for a walk.

“Come on, Merlin, we’ve barely had a chance to talk these past few weeks.”

Merlin had grumbled, but followed Arthur anyway, letting his feelings out in a series of long-suffering sighs.

They’ve been walking for about 10 minutes, in companionable enough silence, but Arthur can feel all of the details of the upcoming mission crowding back into his brain.

“So, Merlin, tell me - “

He’s cut off just as he’s about to ask Merlin about his new … person by a loud shout.

“HELP ME, PLEASE.”

There are people on the streets, milling around and ‘scoots coming and going but none of them stop except for Merlin and Arthur who turn around to see a tall young man, his face distorted with something that looks like grief. In his arms, is another young man, apparently unconscious, but what gets Arthur’s attention is Merlin who stares for a second before moving very quickly towards the pair.

“Mordred, oh my god, what the - what happened?”

Arthur hangs back slightly as Merlin talks to the tall young man who’s holding on to - Mordred as though they’re both going to break if he drops him.

“His sh-shunt. Merlin, the bastard tried to pull out his sh-hunt and I g-got him out of there but I don’t know what to do, what do I do?”

Arthur sees the moment that Merlin’s training takes over. His face is still pale but his eyes are focused now and his jaw is set.

Merlin gently lifts Mordred’s arm and Arthur winces when he sees the mess of tubing and blood hanging from it.

“Arthur. I need you to count his pulse for me. In his neck. Count, count the beats.”

Arthur just nods and reaches for Mordred’s neck, finding the pulse easily. He closes his eyes and counts to himself, knowing from his PenCorp first aid training what to listen for.

“It’s … thready, Merlin. Going in and out a little. But it’s steady, I think.”

Merlin just nods as he carefully wraps his own shirt around Mordred’s arm.

“Gareth - we’re not far from Arthur’s flat. It’s that big building across the road over there. Top floor. Give Mordred to Arthur - you’re in shock. It’s all right, Gareth. Arthur will take care of him, come on …”

Arthur gently manages to extract Mordred from Gareth’s arms, cradling him easily.

He knows, from the few things Merlin has told him, that Mordred is 17, and that he’s been a Shunter for a while. He’s still lighter than Arthur expects and he holds him easily. Merlin quickly arranges his damaged arm so it’s sitting above Mordred’s heart in an effort to staunch the blood.

“Y-your shirt, you’ll get b-blood on your shirt.”

“Gareth is it?” Arthur waits until the young man nods, and he smiles while he starts moving towards his flat, vaguely aware of Merlin on the phone to Lance on his other side.

“Don’t worry about it. Believe me, I can always buy a new shirt. Or a new shirt company come to that. Come on, let’s get Mordred to my flat. Get him taken care of.”

Gareth pushes one bloody hand through his hair, nodding as they work their way through the people to the flat.

Arthur carries Mordred carefully, occasionally asking Gareth to check his pulse as they move.

“Lance and Gwen will meet us there. He says - he says that it sounds like it - might have to come out.”

Arthur nearly stops in shock and he feels Gareth exclaim beside him.

“The Shunt?”

Merlin nods as they enter the building and push the elevator button for the top floor.

“He’ll have - t-tears and, I don’t know what else and he’s got MedNanos but they’re targeted for STIs and I don’t know what - “

Arthur nudges Merlin gently with his shoulder. “Breathe, Merlin. Lance is the best surgeon I have ever met. If anyone can help him …”

Arthur trails off as the elevator opens to his floor. He lets his natural instincts take over (bossy, Merlin would say if he were in any shape to tease) and starts giving out instructions and explanations as soon as they’re inside the flat.

Leon is right there, and Arthur can breathe again finally. “Strip the bed in the spare room,” he says. Leon doesn’t say anything, just lets his glance flick across Arthur, Mordred, Merlin and Gareth before he nods and leads the way to the bedroom - and ad hoc surgery, Arthur reminds himself as he lays Mordred gently down on the now-bare mattress.

“Can we do anything?” he asks Merlin softly as he moves around the bed, arranging Mordred’s limbs, careful to keep his damaged arm folded up above his heart.

Merlin shakes his head, keeping his focus on Mordred, taking his pulse again.

“No - not until Lance gets here.”

Arthur nods and quietly tilts his head at Gareth.

“Come on, come with me. I know you’re worried about him, but we’re better off out of it for now...”

Merlin looks up and flashes Arthur a grateful look, before nodding at Gareth. “I’m not going anywhere, Gareth. Go with Arthur all right? You’re probably in shock. Give him uh, something to drink, Arthur, make sure he stays warm.”

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperated affection but doesn’t say anything before leading Gareth out of the bedroom and into the stupidly large kitchen where Leon already has steaming mugs of tea on the table.

“Sit,” Arthur says gently, pushing one of the cups towards Gareth, who wraps his fingers around it as he hunches down in a chair.

Leon puts another cup in front of Arthur and they both sit, Arthur opposite Gareth and Leon beside him, a constant, quiet presence.

Arthur raises his head when he hears the door, and smiles in relief when he sees Lance and Gwen. He points towards the guest room.

“In there. I - I don’t know how bad it is, or how much Merlin told you ..”

Lance just nods and they both disappear into the depths of the flat.

“Was that, was that - “

“That was Lance and Gwen. He’s a surgeon. One of the best, and Gwen, his wife. She’s a MedTech, like Merlin.”

Gareth just nods, distracted, looking up when he sees Merlin approaching. He collapses in a chair by Gareth and Arthur feels his heart go out to him.

“I - Lance said it - would be better if - it wasn’t me helping, because of, of our uh, personal connection.”

Arthur reaches a hand out silently, waiting until Merlin reaches back, gripping Arthur’s fingers tight enough to make them tingle with the sudden loss of blood.

“You would do the same thing, Merlin. You know you would.”

Merlin nods, but he doesn’t look up from the table.

Arthur sits in silence, holding on to Merlin, and feeling Leon’s hand stroking over the back of his neck, anchoring him to the present.

“I um. I should let - uh Freya know,” Gareth says, his voice sounding slightly less blank than it had before.

“She’s our flatmate and she um, she’s a nurse, and she’ll want to know - “

“Here,” Leon says softly, sliding a miniScreen across the table. Gareth picks it up and stares at it, blinking, before he manages to navigate far enough to dial a number.

“F-Freya? It’s - it’s Gareth.”

Arthur hears a sharp question on the other side of the line and listens to a minute of Gareth’s fumbling answers before he holds out his free hand.

“Gareth. Finish your tea, all right? Let me talk to her.”

Gareth looks up, his face pale. He frowns, but hands the Screen over anyway, wrapping his hands back around his mug.

Arthur’s vaguely aware of Leon putting a mug in front of Merlin before he puts the mini to his ear.

“Freya is it? My name’s Arthur Pendragon. I’m a friend of Merlin’s. Mordred’s here at my flat. He’s being treated by a surgeon right now, and a MedTech - no, not Merlin, Gwen du Lac - yes of course you should come here. Go find a ‘scoot and I’ll send you the address for the Nav. No, we - don’t know anything yet. They’re still - in there. All right. We’ll see you soon.”

Arthur disconnects the call and types in his address quickly for Freya to programme into the ‘scoot.

He puts the Screen down and pushes his hand through his hair. Merlin is still gripping his hand across the table and it feels numb and tingly, as though he’s fallen asleep on it.

“Merlin. Merlin, look at me.” Arthur says it gently as he can, but he needs to see Merlin’s eyes, needs to see if he’s all right.

Merlin sighs but he lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s steady gaze. “I’m - I’m all right, Arthur, I am. I just - what do I do? What can I do? What if - “

“Hey. No. Merlin, don’t - don’t do that to yourself.” Leon’s voice is soft and kind, his eyes searching Merlin’s face. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll just end up - looping it. All right?”

Merlin nods and takes a deep breath, disentangling his fingers from Arthur’s and wincing. “Sorry, sorry about that.” He wraps his long fingers around his mug and takes a sip of the tea, even though it must be starting to go cold by now.

“It’s all right, Merlin.”

Arthur turns to look at Gareth, studying his face as he fidgets in his seat.

“Can you - do you feel up to telling us what happened? It’s all right if you don’t, but it might help to - talk?”

Arthur hears the uncertainty in his own voice and he frowns, hating it. He hates being on such shaky ground, not knowing what’s coming next. He’ plans everything - well, nearly everything he thinks, tilting a fond glance towards Leon.

Some things that you don’t plan, or look for turn out to be the best.

Or - as he looks at Gareth and Merlin again - the worst.

“I - it’s my fault. It’s all my fault and I’m so - I’m so sorry Merlin, I am, he likes you so much and he’ll n-never tell you but he does and I’m so sorry - “

Merlin reaches out, instinctively and runs a hand down Gareth’s back.

“Just - tell us what happened, if you can, all right? We can worry about - the rest - later.”

Gareth nods, takes a long drink of his tea, and studies his hands, flat on the table for a long moment before he starts talking, his voice wavery and quiet.

“It is my fault, though. That much I know. We - we were there because of me.”

“Where were you?” Leon’s voice is soft, easy-sounding and Arthur can see Gareth’s shoulders slump a little bit.

“On - a job. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but Freya - Freya s-said the guy had nearly killed Mordred the last time and - “

“What? I mean - sorry, carry on.”

Gareth turns to Merlin and gives him a small, sad smile before his gaze flickers over to the closed door of the room where Lance and Gwen are working on Mordred.

“That’s why I went with him. He - he felt he had to go, because of - of Morgause.” Gareth stops and rubs at his eyes and Arthur frowns.

“Do you mean Morgause Gorlois?”

Gareth blinks at Arthur, like he’s forgotten he’s there. “Uh, yes. I do. She’s - well, she’s -”

“She’s a parasite,” Arthur says grimly.

Gareth just nods and Arthur sighs a little. “I”m sorry. Go on.”

“Mordred can - he can kind of … see things? I don’t know how to describe it? He can kind of … speak inside your head?

“Anyway, Morgause can do the same thing, but on a bigger scale, I guess, and I’m telling this all backwards, I’m sorry - “

“It’s all right, Gareth. You’re doing fine.” Gareth gives Merlin a small, strained smile and sighs before he resumes talking.

“Anyway - I’d come to - to London to look for my older brother, he left our family h-home years ago, and when my father kicked me out a few months ago, all I could think was of trying to find G-Gwaine - “

“Wait - your brother’s name is Gwaine? What’s your last name?”

“Uh it’s Greene. With an E. Why?”

Arthur frowns and bites his lip, studying Gareth closely, almost missing a mutter from Merlin.

“Of course, I should have seen it myself -”

Arthur reaches out a hand to Merlin and says “Wait. Not now. Let Gareth finish his story.”

Gareth looks between them, his expression clearly confuse.

“I - do you know Gwaine? Could I see him?”

Arthur bites his lip and looks sideways at Leon.

“Finish telling us about Mordred, Gareth. Then we can talk about Gwaine.”

Gareth nods and frowns before starting again.

“Anyway it wasn’t long before I - ran into trouble. I was half-starving on the edges of the Flesh District when Morgause found me. She said she could help me, that I could have regular food and a bed, and I just had to do a few jobs for her.”

Gareth laughs and rubs a hand over his head.

“I wasn’t stupid, I knew what she meant but I wasn’t going to last much longer. So I went with her because at the time it was the difference between living and dying.

“That’s how I met Mordred. He’d been a foster till he was 14 and ran across Morgause. She gave him the Shunt, turned him into an addict. He said - he didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. We - did a, uh, a job together and then he persuaded me to come with him. He - he saved me. If it weren’t for him, I’d be a Shunter for sure, and maybe even a Nooner by now. Mordred saved my life.”

“But Morgause was angry,” Arthur says, quietly as he can because he can hear the thread of steel running through his voice.

“Sh-she was. Mordred can block her out of his head sometimes, I think, but if he’s tired, or if he’s right at the end of a pop, he’s vulnerable. She sent - h-hallucinations. I don’t know what they were but he was sc-screaming, and she said the only way she’d stop is if he took this job with Aredian.”

“Who nearly killed him?”

Gareth nods, eyeing the table instead of meeting Merlin’s gaze. “It was - before I knew him. Freya said he was half beaten to death, she doesn’t know even now how he made his way back to the District.”

There’s a pause then, and a buzz from Arthur’s intercom. They all jump and Leon lets out a small laugh.

“That’ll be Freya, I suppose. I’ll let her in and hopefully soon we’ll know something, all right?”

Gareth nods, but Arthur notices that he won’t take his eyes off the table.

He hears a murmur of voices and then he’s aware of a small woman with dark hair hurtling straight at Gareth. Arthur thinks at first she’s going to slap him but she wraps her arms around him instead, holding on tight.

“Freya, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, Mordred wouldn’t even have been there if it weren’t for me - “

Freya just shakes her head, drawing back far enough to kiss Gareth on the cheek. “Don’t. Don’t blame yourself. If you hadn’t been there, if you hadn’t been there, Gareth, he’d be d- he’d be dead.”

Gareth wraps his arms around Freya, burying her face in his hair. “I’m so sorry, Frey.”

Arthur clears his throat after a minute and Freya turns her head, frowning.

“Sorry,” he says, feeling terrible for interrupting them. “Do you want - anything? Tea or anything while we wait?”

Freya shakes her head, and repositions herself so she’s sitting on Gareth’s lap, apparently unwilling to break contact.

“You said the MedTech was Gwen du Lac. Is the surgeon, who’s the surgeon - “

“It’s Lance, yes,” Arthur says quietly and Freya nods, absently tucking a strand of hair behind her head.

“I’ve watched him work before. Not - assisted, I’m not a surgical nurse, but we can sit in and observe surgeries sometimes. He’s - he’s the surgeon I would have chosen for Mordred.”

“You must be wondering why we didn’t take him to a hospital,” Arthur says. “The truth is, the nearest hospital - well, they wouldn’t have taken him, and beyond that -”

“It would have been too late.” Freya’s voice is low and thick with tears.

Arthur glances at Merlin who nods, silently, his glance going back to the closed door.

“I - thank you. For - bringing him into your home. I - thank you.”

“He’s important to Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, leaning back slightly as Leon places a hand on his neck, warm and still. “So he’s important to us.”

Freya nods, and wipes a hand over her face. Arthur thinks she’s about to say something else, when the bedroom door opens and Lance and Gwen come out.

The sudden tension in the room makes Arthur reflexively clench his teeth and he reaches out again, finding Merlin’s hand already across the table.

Lance looks tired,but he’s smiling quietly. Gwen is carrying a miniScreen, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“This - this is Gareth, and Freya,” Arthur says. “Friends of Mordred.”

Lance nods and accepts the mug of tea that Leon hands him, wrapping his hands around it as Gwen puts the Screen on the table in front of Merlin.

“The good news is,” Lance says, taking a sip of his tea, “Is that we successfully got the Shunt out, and Mordred’s sleeping.”

Arthur bites his lip as Merlin’s grip tightens on his own and he’s aware of Freya letting out a sob and burying her head in Gareth’s neck for a second.

“He’s young, which is on his side, and the STI-resistant ‘Nanos he’s got have served to keep him healthy.”

“What’s the bad news, Lance?” Merlin’s voice is quiet and a little shaky, and Arthur rubs his thumb over the back of Merlin’s hand out of long habit.

Lance takes a deep breath, and stares down into his tea.

“Well, he’s unconscious, and will be for quite some time. Because we had to remove the Shunt, we’re going to have to Withdraw him. The good thing is, we can keep him under while we do it, so he’ll wake up without the cravings, but - “

Lance turns to Gwen, who sighs. “I’m trying to formulate a new MedNano. Because it’s addiction, it needs to be designed specifically for Mordred.”

Gwen pauses and draws her finger up from the flat surface of the Screen on the table. Merlin leans forward, some of his concern shifting into professional curiosity. Murmuring, he trails the lines that are appearing with his finger.

“It’s good, Gwen. It should work -”

Gwen nods, and bites her lip, waiting. “Here,” Merlin says softly. “See there? There’s a strand missing …”

Gwen leans over his shoulder and nods, swearing softly.

“Can we uh, use your study Arthur? We can get this done tonight but it’ll be easier on our own.”

Arthur merely nods, giving Merlin a warm smile as he leans back into Leon’s touch.

“Would you come with us, Freya? You know Mordred best.”

“If it’s all right, I”ll go and sit with Mordred. I can monitor him and I’d - I’d just like to.”

“Of course,” Lance says. “I’ll feel better, actually, knowing you’re keeping an eye on him.”

Freya nods and slips off Gareth’s lap, heading towards Mordred’s room.

“You’re welcome to stay with us, Gareth,” Leon says. “We can talk about Gwaine, if you’re ready.”

Gareth watches as Freya leaves with Merlin and Gwen, Lance sitting down now in Merlin’s unoccupied chair.

“Yes - please. I’d - I’d like that.”

Mordred is dreaming. He’s dreaming in shattered-glass visions of colour and noise and there’s nothing he can do. There’s an icy-cold shade of pale blue coming towards him, and he knows that nothing lies within except madness and an eternal dependence.

He wills his hand into a fist and smashes forward, as hard as he can, shattering it around him, screaming soundlessly at the noise. It falls in a seemingly endless shower, and Mordred knows he should move, try to run, but he’s glued to the spot.

He closes his eyes, and hopes that it doesn’t shred him to pieces.

Mordred is dreaming, and the next thing he sees is yet another shade of blue. This one, though, is warmer; deeper and it’s shot through with lines of gold. He reaches out to that shade, needing to be close, needing to somehow wrap it around himself, because that blue is Mordred’s safety.

He wrenches his feet, sobbing in the dream until they start moving again. He crunches the pale-blue shattered glass as he goes, heedless of the hissing sound that’s now following in his wake.

Merlin double-checks his work again, tracing the paths of the MedNano on the 3D holoScreen in front of him. He whispers a couple of soft words in an ancient and dead language and smiles as his magic surges under his pulse, enhancing his own instinct.

He tweaks the strand he’s created, finally nodding in satisfaction.

Gwen sits beside him quietly, her eyes tracing the pattern over and over. She finally nods, as her deft fingers run the command for a human simulation to run. They both trace the ‘Nano’s path carefully before Gwen lets out a long breath.

“Good, yeah. That’s it.”

Merlin nods and pushes back from the table.

“I’m … going to go and see how he is.”

Gwen smiles up at him, her expression fond. “Of course. I’ll be in soon with the ‘Nano.”

Merlin nods and ducks down to give Gwen a tight half-hug before leaving.

He knocks softly on the closed door, saying “It’s me, Merlin,” quietly and waiting until Freya tells him to come in before pressing down on the door handle.

He glances at Mordred’s still figure, noting how pale he looks, despite knowing Gwen would have synthed more than enough plasma to compensate for the blood loss.

He smiles at Freya, sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. She pushes her hair back, glancing at the ‘Screen on the nightstand that’s been set up to monitor Mordred’s progress.

“His vitals are stable,” she says, glancing up at Merlin before turning her gaze back to the ‘Screen.

“That’s good,” Merlin says quietly, his eye drawn to the ugly scar on Mordred’s arm. Lance has done his best with relatively limited equipment and it’s neatly closed but it’s raised and red.

“It looks - painful,” he says, nodding towards the scar before awkwardly perching on the very edge of the bed, careful not to disturb anything.

“Mmm. It’s not infected, thankfully. The skin was badly irritated when the - Shunt was pulled out. It should fade, over time.”

Merlin just nods. His fingers twitch with the need to reach out, touch Mordred’s skin for himself, feel his pulse under his skin, but he merely looks on.

“He likes you, you know. He likes you a lot. He - talks about you sometimes. Mostly with Gareth, I think, but - he likes you. It - doesn’t happen often.”

Merlin smiles at Freya, taking the small comfort for what it is. Cautiously, he inches a little closer to Mordred on the bed, and runs his thumb over the back of Mordred’s hand. He’s warmer than Merlin expects and it helps to release a knot of tension in his gut he’s been aware of since Gareth shouted for help.

There’s a light knock at the door, and Gwen is there with the finished MedNano. She goes and gets Lance, and both Freya and Merlin watch closely as Gwen makes a new incision on the opposite side of Mordred’s neck to the other ‘Nano and slides it in place.

They all watch the MonitorScreen in silence, waiting for the ‘Nano to find its pathways and to track down Mordred’s addiction. There’s a small murmur of satisfaction as the lines of it light up the ‘Screen and Merlin breathes in relief.

Whatever happens next, Mordred is going to be all right.

Merlin quietly offers to sit with Mordred for a while, and Freya nods, quietly leaving the room with Lance and Gwen.

Merlin is vaguely aware of some kind of commotion out in the living room, and he can hear Gwaine’s voice booming out over the rest, before someone quiets him down. Merlin shakes it off as Gwen closes the door, cutting the noise down to nothing.

He settles in the chair that Freya had vacated and checks Mordred’s MedScreen out of habit. His vitals are still good and the new MedNano is tracking the way it should.

Mordred’s hand twitches on the covers suddenly and Merlin glances quickly at the screen, noting that Mordred is having some kind of a dream. By the ‘wave activity, it looks like a pretty intense nightmare.

He won’t wake Mordred up without Lance’s permission, and his level of distress looks unpleasant but manageable, so Merlin does the only other thing he can think of - he reaches out, takes Mordred’s hand and begins talking softly.

He doesn’t say anything important, really, just talks quietly about meeting Mordred, about how they’re preparing for the trip in a few weeks; about the fact that he’s pretty sure Gareth and Gwaine have been reunited.

“Just think,” Merlin says, rubbing his thumb over Mordred’s knuckles, while checking his ‘wave activity that finally seems to be calming down, “If I hadn’t met you, if I’d talked myself out of going to the Flesh District that night, that wouldn’t have happened. It’s … kind of amazing, I think, you know? We live in this strange, and overcrowded world, and we’re all trying to make connections and all it took for that to happen was for me to - well. To come and find you.”

He feels Mordred’s fingers tighten around his own, and he checks the ‘Screen again, but there’s no real change in Mordred’s wave activity.

“Just a reflex, then,” Merlin says softly. “Or another part of the same dream.”

Mordred is dreaming. He’s running, he thinks, towards the gold-shot blue, but no matter how much he wills himself to go faster, it feels like he’s running through syrup. He turns his head and sees the cold, ice-cold pale blue still behind him, still following him, and no, it can’t have him, he hasn’t fought all this way to be submerged again. He lets out a mighty roar, that’s immediately swallowed into silence; and another, and another until his voice starts having some impact on the air around him.

He turns around, and there - the dark blue with the gold is closer - Mordred has no idea whether it’s come to him, or he’s going towards it, but it doesn’t matter because suddenly he’s falling, and suddenly, he can breathe freely.

Mordred is dreaming, and he lets himself fall.

Merlin’s is the first face he sees, when he manages to push through the dream, and wake up. He blinks in confusion and licks his lips. His throat feels like sand, and he’s so very tired.

“Mer-Merlin? What -”

Merlin leans over and smiles, before glancing at something to the side. “Don’t try and talk yet. Here - drink this - “ Mordred takes the glass and nearly moans at the feel of ice-cold water sliding down his throat. “I need to get Lance - he’s the surgeon who worked on you - and Freya and Gareth are here, too and thank god you’re all right!”

“What - what happ-” Mordred takes another drink of water, wetting his dry mouth and throat. “What happened?”

Merlin bites his lip and then looks again at what Mordred now realises is a MedScreen, then back to Mordred. “Let me get Lance first, okay? Then we’ll answer all of your questions.”

Mordred sighs and resists the urge to shake his head; he feels as though the dream is weighing him down and making his head feel too heavy.

“Okay,” he says when he realises Merlin is waiting for an answer.

“I’m … I’m glad you’re all right, Mordred. I don’t know what I - I’m glad you’re all right.”

Mordred manages a small smile and watches as Merlin leaves, coming back with Freya, Gareth and a man he doesn’t recognise.

“Frey. Frey, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry - “

Freya cuts him off then, climbing on to the bed and wrapping her arm around his shoulders carefully as Lance studies the ‘Screen and examines the site of Mordred’s surgery.

Gareth has seated himself on the end of the bed, and there’s another man standing behind him, who’s shorter than Gareth and stockier, but they look so much alike that Mordred knows it must be Gareth’s brother.

Gareth smiles and tips his head in a nod, biting his lip. Mordred smiles back, happy for his friend.

“Well, Mordred, everything looks good. Now - “

Mordred turns his head and says, realising he’s interrupting Lance, but he can’t do this, he’s terrified. “Merlin?”

“I’m here, you’re all right,” Merlin says, carefully positioning himself on the bed, so Mordred’s flanked by Merlin and Freya.

Mordred reaches out, feeling shy for the first time, which is ridiculous, he thinks, but this is the first time he’s seen Merlin when he’s been -

“Doc? I’m sorry for um. Interrupting. But. I don’t feel, I don’t - “ Mordred frowns and tightens his grip on Merlin’s hand. Merlin merely squeezes back, offering silent support.

“Well - your last … client, Aredian?”

Mordred closes his eyes as his heart rate elevates and oh god now he remembers everything. He nods and forces himself to open his eyes and meet Lance’s gaze.

“He tried to tear out your Shunt. You were lucky that Gareth was with you, he got you out of there, and as I understand it, almost literally bumped into Merlin and Arthur. I had to take out the Shunt, and Merlin and Gwen created a new MedNano, to combat withdrawal. You’re … fine. You’re, well, free, I suppose.”

“Free,” Mordred echoes blankly, as Freya tightens her arm around his shoulder again. He feels Merlin’s fingers laced with his own. He stares at his arm, where a flat, long scar now mars the skin.

“When - or if - you’re ready later, I can remove the scarring for you. My priority today was saving your life.”

Mordred nods, without taking his eyes off the scar.

“Mordred. Mordred?”

Mordred blinks at looks up at Gareth, who’s still sitting on the end of the bed, the man behind him - Gwaine, Mordred remembers - resting one hand on Gareth’s shoulder.

“Yeah, mate, sorry. What is it.”

“I um. I’m glad. You’re okay. Really glad. And um. I. While you were sleeping, I … called Cenred.”

Mordred frowns at that. “Okay but - why?”

“Well, first to tell him about you being hurt … and I uh, might have let slip who was responsible for it.”

Gareth bites his lip and glances at Freya before looking back to Mordred. “He said. He said to tell you not to worry. That he would take care of it, and to tell you … he hopes he never sees you again.”

Mordred chokes out a laugh at that, which turns into coughing, before Merlin hands him the glass of water again, and Lance gently but firmly herds everyone out.

“One of you can stay, but Mordred needs to rest. Out, out out.”

Freya meets Merlin’s eyes and she smiles in understanding. She gives Mordred another careful hug and kisses him on the cheek.

“I love you,” she says, “And I’m glad you’re all right. Never, ever do that to me again.”

“I love you too,” he says quietly. “And I promise.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything as the others file out, but he gives Gwaine a big grin, and is rewarded by the biggest, brightest smile that Merlin has ever seen. He hovers close to Gareth as they all file out, apparently determined to not let his brother out of his sight again.

Mordred sighs and settles back against the pillows, half sitting up. He’s still got hold of Merlin’s hand, but Merlin doesn’t feel like mentioning that right now. He’s perfectly happy to sit here, holding Mordred’s hand forever, if he’s honest with himself.

“So, how are you feeling?” Merlin asks quietly, shifting on the bed and settling back beside Mordred.

“I don’t - I don’t really know yet. I feel like - I have a lot to process? I mean, I’ve been a - a Shunter, and a hooker for - three years, you know? I never even thought of coming off of it, I figured I’d die like that - either as a Nooner, or at the hand of some psycho punter. And now - now I don’t know.

“I’m tired, that’s about all I know for now.”

Merlin makes a small noise like a hum, and sighs. “Well, that does makes sense. I - uh, I should go. Let you rest. Let you start getting your head around whatever’s next. Do you um. Need anything? Should I send Freya back in?”

Mordred sighs as Merlin disentangles their fingers and slides off the bed. He doesn’t feel any level of pain at all, which he knows is due to Lance’s skill as a surgeon, but he’s exhausted and he feels … he feels empty.

“No, that’s all right. I’m pretty sure she’ll come back in on her own, sooner or later anyway. I”m just - I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

He’s vaguely aware, as he drifts off, of Merlin’s lips on his forehead and a whisper of a word he doesn’t understand, but it reminds him of his dream somehow; of the dark blue shot with gold, and he lets sleep pull him under with a smile on his face.

Part Four