FIC: Pull (4/4)
Sep. 19th, 2009 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corilannamTitle: Pull
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,577
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Elements of mind control within a consentual sexual encounter
Summary: Merlin has spent his life running from the Pendragons, but destiny has other plans.
Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3
Sometime later they had parted, though not by much. Arthur had cleared the shelves of their towels and linens with one flick of his fingers. "Egyptian cotton," he said with satisfaction, though Merlin couldn’t see why that was so important.
They lay on the pile of it after wiping off the worst of their mess. Merlin lay on his stomach and soon he felt fingers easing back into the place Arthur’s cock had only just left. He shifted and clenched around them. It felt good, the way Arthur’s fingers stroked inside his channel, now slippery with Arthur’s come, though he knew he must be rubbed raw and torn.
"That’s going to hurt soon," he mumbled into the towel under his face.
"No, it won’t," Arthur answered. Merlin felt the push settle in his brain, accepting it gratefully. "It won’t at all."
Arthur pulled his fingers out, bent to kiss one buttock almost reverently, then settled on his back next to Merlin. He left space between them, but every now and then Merlin felt a ghostly touch on his skin. It made him smile. Despite his upbringing, Arthur was turning out to be surprisingly tactile.
"What did you mean," Merlin said sleepily, "that Nimueh was the reason you lost your mother?"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably next to him. "I suppose there’s no reason you’d know. Nimueh is--or was, thanks to you--my father’s chief research scientist. She’s always looked for ways to make Division more powerful. My mother was one of her first subjects."
"But why? How would your father allow that?"
"She volunteered. My father was very proud. After she died, he held her up as a paragon of loyalty and dedication."
"How old were you?"
"Three."
Merlin frowned. "You’ve had this drug for that long?"
Arthur rolled his head toward Merlin with a strange look. "You really don’t know anything, do you? Didn’t you ever wonder why it was only Bleeders that came for you the last time?"
"Er. To kill me, I was assuming. Is that meant to be a trick question?"
Arthur was already rolling his eyes. "And did it never occur to you to wonder, even in your obviously limited intellectual capacity, why there have been no attempts on you since then? Not in over two years?"
Merlin gave a twitch of one bare shoulder. "I thought we were getting better at avoiding the lot of you. Or maybe that you’d finally figured out that for all my powers, none of them were developed enough to be of any use or threat to Division."
"Is that why you don’t use your powers?" Arthur’s gaze turned curious now, with a touch of pity Merlin didn’t want. "Trying to avoid our notice?"
He shrugged again. "My mother always told me not to let anyone know what I could do. After she died, I didn’t want any of it anyway. Never really needed it until you showed up."
"Merlin." Arthur sounded too gentle, and Merlin looked up at him sharply. "Despite all appearances, you are extraordinary, and we’ve known that almost since you were born. There was never any chance you would escape my father’s notice."
Merlin propped himself on his elbow to look at Arthur. "But I’m of no use to him. Why else would he stop looking for me?"
"I’ll admit, you’ve done a fine job of appearing useless up to this point. But my father doesn’t need you as a soldier."
"He’s you for that, I suppose. Then what?"
Arthur reached out and traced the inside of Merlin’s arm where the blue veins stood out against the pale skin. "Your blood."
It came together in a rush. As clear as a vision, he remembered lying on the pavement as the Bleeders’ shrieks pierced his head, blood trickling from his ears, through his fingers, dripping onto the ground.
He felt sicker now than he had then.
"He couldn’t catch you, wasn’t sure he could turn you if he did," Arthur went on. "But Nimueh promised that all she needed was a few drops of your blood and she could make a million of you, all under my father’s control."
Merlin struggled to speak. "The drug is made from my blood. From me."
Arthur smiled without humor. "You made me what I am, Merlin."
Slowly Merlin turned over onto his side, curling in on himself. His nakedness suddenly made him feel chilled and vulnerable. Arthur turned onto his side as well and moved closer. He didn’t touch Merlin except to rest his chin on the top of Merlin’s head.
"I’m sorry about your mother," he said.
Merlin nodded a little, and they lay in silence for a long time.
***
He didn’t remember the approach of sleep until he woke up with a towel crunched up under his face and a sheet draped decorously over his hips. He stirred and sat up. Arthur, already dressed, looked over at him from the door.
"He’s coming," he said, eyes blank and bleak.
Merlin rubbed his eyes before reaching for his clothes. "Who did he send? Is it someone you can reason with? Or at least clobber so we can run away?"
"It’s my father."
"Yes," Merlin said patiently as he pulled on his shirt. "I realize that your father can turn anyone--"
"No," Arthur said with considerably less patience. "I mean my father is coming personally to inform me of the error of my ways."
Merlin stopped in the middle of doing up his zip, a sensation of dread swamping his usual low grade unease. "Shit."
"Yes, well put." Arthur shifted with what Merlin could already identify as uncharacteristic nervousness. He started to say something else, but Merlin never heard it.
Bring my son to me. Bring him, or I will not let you live.
When he could hear his own thoughts again, Merlin realized he was on his knees with his hands clutching his head. Arthur was watching him sadly.
"It’s time to go," he said. "If we try to hide, he’ll send you mad."
"Can we get out of the building?" Merlin pushed himself to his feet and staggered a couple steps. His brain felt like Uther had taken a shovel to it, even from afar.
"We can try," Arthur agreed.
Merlin hurried past him to examine the door. "What did you do to this? Never mind, I have it. Come on."
Arthur followed him out the door and down the corridor. Merlin stopped at the junction between shop and corridor. "Back way or out in the crowds?" he asked.
"Big a crowd as we can," Arthur answered mechanically.
Merlin had an urge to shake him. "Don’t give up before we’ve tried. Your father can’t just take you away. I’ve escaped him before."
"And you will again," Arthur said. "Move faster."
They slipped back out and into the crowd of oblivious shoppers. Merlin wound his fingers into Arthur’s shirt to keep up with him. They were nearly to the escalators when every warning instinct Merlin had began screaming.
A step later he collided with Arthur’s broad back as Arthur stopped dead.
"Hello, Arthur."
"Father."
Merlin stepped up to Arthur’s side, heart in his throat. Uther Pendragon looked larger than life, even standing there amongst the shoppers carrying off their tea cosies and underthings. Lancelot stood next to him, stern and ominous.
This moment had been the stuff of nightmares for most of Merlin’s life. It was hard to imagine how a man like Uther had produced the Arthur Merlin had gotten to know in the last several hours. Uther was capable of anything, and the urge to protect Arthur rapidly overcame Merlin’s terror, as well as his good sense.
"He can’t make you do anything." Merlin pitched his voice loud enough for Uther to hear, reminding himself that there was little Uther could do to them in such a busy public place. "You’re stronger than him now."
"Merlin, you idiot, shut up!" Arthur hissed.
Uther only smiled. "I am most pleased to hear of his strength, as that was the purpose of this ordeal. As for the rest, I have never forced my son to do anything. His own honor is what compels him."
He could see Arthur’s throat work and realized that as much as this was Merlin’s personal nightmare, it was just as much Arthur’s. Merlin touched his arm and concentrated on meeting Arthur’s thoughts. It was not a push, only a whisper into his mind. You’re brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.
Arthur’s eyes flicked to him in a moment of surprise. Merlin was surprised himself to realize how much he meant it.
Then Arthur’s jaw tightened and he took a single step towards his father. "It is my honor that compels me to stand against you for the things that you have done."
"Arthur," Uther said on a long sigh. His disappointment settled around them, an invisible but unmistakable presence. "I can see that this is going to be more difficult than I had hoped."
"Father, please--"
Uther ignored him. A stout ginger woman was hurrying past with an armful of bags. Uther looked at her. She stopped in her tracks.
"Leave this place at once," he said, sounding almost conversational except for the underlying menace.
She turned around immediately and got on the escalator, bags rustling as she hurried down the steps. She was lost to view as other shoppers crowded onto the escalator behind her. Some of them had bags; some were still holding their unpurchased items.
Cold fear crept over Merlin again. The entire store was emptying around them. Uther had not pushed just the one woman; he’d pushed everyone in the building.
A woman went by pushing an empty pram. Merlin looked around frantically until he spotted her forgotten toddler weaving precariously among the stampeding adult feet.
He dashed forward and scooped her up. She struggled in his arms, still gripped by the compulsion that had overwritten everything else in her small mind. For lack of any better option, Merlin shoved her into the arms of a grandfatherly man. He did his best to push an image of the pram woman into the man’s mind.
"Find her mum as soon as you get outside," Merlin told him before letting them go join the last of the departing masses.
"You should have taken her yourself," Arthur said in his ear as they watched the last people disappear.
As silence finally echoed around them, Merlin half wished that he could have. But this was his fight, too. He wasn’t sure he could leave Arthur now if he wanted, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
It seemed easier, somehow, to stand at Arthur’s shoulder as he faced his father. Far below them, the doors to the street slammed shut behind the last person and locked of their own accord.
"Will you come home, Arthur?" Uther spoke idly, as though resuming an interrupted conversation at a cocktail party.
"No." Arthur clenched his fists at his sides and watched Lancelot warily.
Merlin also looked at Lancelot, heavy, significant looks that tried to convey the message that this would be an excellent time for Lancelot to snap out of obedient soldier mode and go stand by his friend. He winked and waggled his eyebrows, but Lancelot remained stoic at Uther’s side.
"I had intended to spare your life as thanks for saving my son." Uther was looking at him, Merlin realized abruptly, like he was a particularly stubborn cockroach. "But I fear you will only continue to cause me trouble. Kill him, Lancelot."
Merlin tensed, expecting to get blasted off his feet yet again. He tensed further when Lancelot reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He leveled it at Merlin.
Instantly, Arthur leapt in front of Merlin, hands out in defensive posture. Lancelot did not pause as he brought the gun up higher over his head.
He let go of it. The gun kept rising until it had an angle on Merlin over Arthur’s head. Arthur managed to get his hand up just as bullets rained down on them. Merlin added his power to Arthur’s to create a thicker shield.
"Run," Arthur ground out. "You idiot, get the fuck out of here. Please."
"I can defend myself." Running had always been his specialty, but Arthur wasn’t the only one who had changed his ways today. He couldn’t move the gun, not when Lancelot’s power held it fast, but bullets he could handle.
"Not against Lancelot. Not when he’s like this. Trust me." Arthur spared a glance at Lancelot, who was reaching into his jacket again. "Damn. Hold off this one."
"This what?" Merlin asked, but suddenly the bullets were his sole responsibility.
Arthur was striding toward Lancelot. A flick of his wrist and the second gun Lancelot had been drawing flew to Arthur’s hand.
Lancelot dived just as Arthur fired. The gun over Merlin’s head snapped back into Lancelot’s hand. He returned fire on Arthur as he slid across the floor.
Arthur took a dive of his own, and a second later one of the high chandeliers crashed down where he had been standing. Merlin grabbed it and sent it flying at Lancelot. He didn’t want to hurt the man, just slow him down until they could find a way to immobilize him.
Lancelot was concentrating on Arthur. The chandelier took him by surprise and sent him head first into a display of fine china. Arthur followed up by hurling three large cabinets to bury Lancelot under a heap of shattered glass and splintered wood.
The whole mess exploded outward a second later. Merlin barely shielded himself in time to deflect the deadly rain of splinters and shards.
When he looked up, Lancelot had risen from the wreckage, bleeding from cuts over his face and hands. He looked angry.
Suddenly Arthur flew backwards until he was pinned at the juncture of wall and ceiling, clutching at his throat. He had lost his gun and was rapidly losing his strength. Between the illness, Nimueh, and the sex, Arthur had no more reserves to call on. Except Merlin.
"Lancelot!" Merlin searched the floor until he spotted Arthur’s lost gun. "You don’t want to do this. Arthur is your friend. You’ll hate yourself if you hurt him."
Lancelot ignored him. With a deep reluctance, Merlin made the gun rise up and turn towards Lancelot. It wobbled in the air. Merlin didn’t have much energy left himself, and his newfound control was suffering for it.
"Please, Lancelot, you’re a better man than this," Merlin pleaded. He brought the gun right in front of Lancelot’s face to make sure he didn’t miss it. "Stop this."
"Why don’t you stop it?"
Merlin’s head jerked toward the voice to find Uther standing next to him. Uther lay one black-gloved hand kindly on Merlin’s shoulder.
"Why don’t you stop it?" he said again. "It’s very simple, my boy. Just let Lancelot kill you and all of this unpleasantness will be over."
And suddenly Merlin understood everything. Enormous relief swept over him. All he had to do was walk over to Lancelot, let him put the gun to Merlin’s head and shoot him. Then Arthur would be safe.
He smiled gratefully at Uther, who gave him another kindly pat on the shoulder. Filled with peace, Merlin turned and walked toward Lancelot.
"Merlin, no!" At the other end of the room, Arthur slid down the wall to the floor. Safe, just as Uther had promised. "Father, stop!"
But why would they stop? It all made such perfect sense.
Lancelot had plucked his gun from the air and stood waiting. Merlin stopped in front of him and beamed. "Thanks, mate."
The other man inclined his head graciously. "Of course," he said and raised the gun to Merlin’s head.
Distantly, Merlin heard Arthur shouting again. "Stop! Let him live and I’ll go with you."
"You’ll go anyway," Uther replied.
Lancelot cocked the gun next to Merlin’s ear.
"If you kill him, I’ll fight you every day until one of us is dead. Let him go, and I’ll be your perfect, obedient soldier. Everything you ever wanted in a son. And I’ll help you make a thousand more of me--I know how to save people from the drug now."
Uther lifted his hand. Lancelot paused with his finger on the trigger.
"I swear it, Father. On my life."
"It is his life on which you are swearing."
"Yes, I know."
Merlin waited peaceably to see what would happen. Finally, Uther sighed.
"I should not have to strike bargains with my own son. However, in the interests of efficiency, your terms are acceptable. Drop the gun, Lancelot."
The gun clattered to the floor next to Merlin’s foot. He felt a vague sense of disappointment. He had been so close to ensuring Arthur’s safety forever.
As Uther swept past toward the lifts, his voice slipped into Merlin’s mind reassuringly. You still can. When we are gone, pick up the gun and shoot yourself. All will be well.
Merlin smiled happily. And all would have been well, except that Arthur touched his shoulder as he passed to join his father and Lancelot in the lift.
Arthur did not have the power to overwhelm or erase his father’s brainwashing. But not so long ago, he had been welcome in Merlin’s mind and Merlin in his. Merlin had submitted his will to Arthur’s passionately, joyfully. It was that memory that allowed Arthur to slip one small, unobtrusive push in beneath the monolith of Uther’s command.
Do nothing. Don’t move a muscle until your mind is your own again. Do nothing.
Then the lift doors closed and Arthur was gone.
Merlin stood motionless in the empty department store until his own mental defenses finally snapped free from the monstrous smothering of Uther’s will. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor in a jumble of limbs like an abandoned plaything.
Only then did he understand what had actually happened. He screamed in rage for his loss.
***
As a physical edifice, Division had none of the ornate Westminster grandeur of normal government departments.
Merlin stood in front of the massive stone building, looking up at the plain façade. Inside, he knew the corridors were the same endless dull gray. He had seen himself walking up and down them until he knew them well.
In the months since his one memorable day with Arthur, Merlin had relearned the art of laying low. Confining himself to a single room far away from his old flat, he had also relearned all the powers he had suppressed before he met Arthur.
He hadn’t needed to leave the room. His psychic push quickly grew strong enough to make anyone outside bring him what he needed. Soon he could pay them in scraps of newspaper and tin foil that wouldn’t lose their disguise as notes and coins until long after they left their new owner’s possession.
He Watched. He saw Gwen, trapped at Division, unhappy but safe enough under Morgana’s protection. He saw Arthur, stony and obedient as sworn, trying and failing to heal his comrades as they thrashed and burned and died from Nimueh’s drug. Arthur, for all his powers, was still not naturally born to them.
When Merlin had gained enough of the potential power that had so terrified his mother, he left his room, bought a suit, and came here.
There didn’t seem to be a doorbell. He supposed he should knock.
A wave of his hand opened the heavy front doors, revealing the dingy vestibule that stood between Division and the outside world. Merlin was glad to see that it was Lancelot who stood sentry before the inner doors.
A flash of guilt-ridden relief passed over Lancelot’s face, replaced quickly with disbelieving anger. "Merlin, what in God’s name are you doing here? Get out, before Lord Pendragon finds out you’re alive, never mind on his doorstep."
Merlin grinned with happiness at seeing the true Lancelot he had liked so much. "Actually, I was hoping you’d announce me."
The other man’s jaw went slack with shock. "Did he send you mad? Morgana said you were well, but--"
"You can tell Lord Pendragon that I am here to serve his family. He’ll find me much more useful than he previously thought. You might mention in particular that if he wants any more of his super soldiers, killing me would be very unwise."
Lancelot closed his mouth, but it twitched with unhappiness. "Merlin, are you sure? You don’t owe Arthur anything more than you’ve already given."
Merlin stepped closer and whispered, half in his ear, half in his mind. "I’ve seen everything change, Lancelot. I’ve seen us take down Uther, take apart Division from within and make it something better. It’s Arthur who owes it to me."
When he stepped back, Lancelot studied him for another minute, then stood aside. The inner door swung open. Merlin smiled again, imagining all the Watchers in the world going mad at once.
Except one, of course. Just inside the doorway, Morgana stood and smiled at him. "I’ve been expecting you," she said.
"I know," Merlin replied and stepped forward into his destiny.
***
END
All comments welcome!
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,577
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Elements of mind control within a consentual sexual encounter
Summary: Merlin has spent his life running from the Pendragons, but destiny has other plans.
Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3
Sometime later they had parted, though not by much. Arthur had cleared the shelves of their towels and linens with one flick of his fingers. "Egyptian cotton," he said with satisfaction, though Merlin couldn’t see why that was so important.
They lay on the pile of it after wiping off the worst of their mess. Merlin lay on his stomach and soon he felt fingers easing back into the place Arthur’s cock had only just left. He shifted and clenched around them. It felt good, the way Arthur’s fingers stroked inside his channel, now slippery with Arthur’s come, though he knew he must be rubbed raw and torn.
"That’s going to hurt soon," he mumbled into the towel under his face.
"No, it won’t," Arthur answered. Merlin felt the push settle in his brain, accepting it gratefully. "It won’t at all."
Arthur pulled his fingers out, bent to kiss one buttock almost reverently, then settled on his back next to Merlin. He left space between them, but every now and then Merlin felt a ghostly touch on his skin. It made him smile. Despite his upbringing, Arthur was turning out to be surprisingly tactile.
"What did you mean," Merlin said sleepily, "that Nimueh was the reason you lost your mother?"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably next to him. "I suppose there’s no reason you’d know. Nimueh is--or was, thanks to you--my father’s chief research scientist. She’s always looked for ways to make Division more powerful. My mother was one of her first subjects."
"But why? How would your father allow that?"
"She volunteered. My father was very proud. After she died, he held her up as a paragon of loyalty and dedication."
"How old were you?"
"Three."
Merlin frowned. "You’ve had this drug for that long?"
Arthur rolled his head toward Merlin with a strange look. "You really don’t know anything, do you? Didn’t you ever wonder why it was only Bleeders that came for you the last time?"
"Er. To kill me, I was assuming. Is that meant to be a trick question?"
Arthur was already rolling his eyes. "And did it never occur to you to wonder, even in your obviously limited intellectual capacity, why there have been no attempts on you since then? Not in over two years?"
Merlin gave a twitch of one bare shoulder. "I thought we were getting better at avoiding the lot of you. Or maybe that you’d finally figured out that for all my powers, none of them were developed enough to be of any use or threat to Division."
"Is that why you don’t use your powers?" Arthur’s gaze turned curious now, with a touch of pity Merlin didn’t want. "Trying to avoid our notice?"
He shrugged again. "My mother always told me not to let anyone know what I could do. After she died, I didn’t want any of it anyway. Never really needed it until you showed up."
"Merlin." Arthur sounded too gentle, and Merlin looked up at him sharply. "Despite all appearances, you are extraordinary, and we’ve known that almost since you were born. There was never any chance you would escape my father’s notice."
Merlin propped himself on his elbow to look at Arthur. "But I’m of no use to him. Why else would he stop looking for me?"
"I’ll admit, you’ve done a fine job of appearing useless up to this point. But my father doesn’t need you as a soldier."
"He’s you for that, I suppose. Then what?"
Arthur reached out and traced the inside of Merlin’s arm where the blue veins stood out against the pale skin. "Your blood."
It came together in a rush. As clear as a vision, he remembered lying on the pavement as the Bleeders’ shrieks pierced his head, blood trickling from his ears, through his fingers, dripping onto the ground.
He felt sicker now than he had then.
"He couldn’t catch you, wasn’t sure he could turn you if he did," Arthur went on. "But Nimueh promised that all she needed was a few drops of your blood and she could make a million of you, all under my father’s control."
Merlin struggled to speak. "The drug is made from my blood. From me."
Arthur smiled without humor. "You made me what I am, Merlin."
Slowly Merlin turned over onto his side, curling in on himself. His nakedness suddenly made him feel chilled and vulnerable. Arthur turned onto his side as well and moved closer. He didn’t touch Merlin except to rest his chin on the top of Merlin’s head.
"I’m sorry about your mother," he said.
Merlin nodded a little, and they lay in silence for a long time.
***
He didn’t remember the approach of sleep until he woke up with a towel crunched up under his face and a sheet draped decorously over his hips. He stirred and sat up. Arthur, already dressed, looked over at him from the door.
"He’s coming," he said, eyes blank and bleak.
Merlin rubbed his eyes before reaching for his clothes. "Who did he send? Is it someone you can reason with? Or at least clobber so we can run away?"
"It’s my father."
"Yes," Merlin said patiently as he pulled on his shirt. "I realize that your father can turn anyone--"
"No," Arthur said with considerably less patience. "I mean my father is coming personally to inform me of the error of my ways."
Merlin stopped in the middle of doing up his zip, a sensation of dread swamping his usual low grade unease. "Shit."
"Yes, well put." Arthur shifted with what Merlin could already identify as uncharacteristic nervousness. He started to say something else, but Merlin never heard it.
Bring my son to me. Bring him, or I will not let you live.
When he could hear his own thoughts again, Merlin realized he was on his knees with his hands clutching his head. Arthur was watching him sadly.
"It’s time to go," he said. "If we try to hide, he’ll send you mad."
"Can we get out of the building?" Merlin pushed himself to his feet and staggered a couple steps. His brain felt like Uther had taken a shovel to it, even from afar.
"We can try," Arthur agreed.
Merlin hurried past him to examine the door. "What did you do to this? Never mind, I have it. Come on."
Arthur followed him out the door and down the corridor. Merlin stopped at the junction between shop and corridor. "Back way or out in the crowds?" he asked.
"Big a crowd as we can," Arthur answered mechanically.
Merlin had an urge to shake him. "Don’t give up before we’ve tried. Your father can’t just take you away. I’ve escaped him before."
"And you will again," Arthur said. "Move faster."
They slipped back out and into the crowd of oblivious shoppers. Merlin wound his fingers into Arthur’s shirt to keep up with him. They were nearly to the escalators when every warning instinct Merlin had began screaming.
A step later he collided with Arthur’s broad back as Arthur stopped dead.
"Hello, Arthur."
"Father."
Merlin stepped up to Arthur’s side, heart in his throat. Uther Pendragon looked larger than life, even standing there amongst the shoppers carrying off their tea cosies and underthings. Lancelot stood next to him, stern and ominous.
This moment had been the stuff of nightmares for most of Merlin’s life. It was hard to imagine how a man like Uther had produced the Arthur Merlin had gotten to know in the last several hours. Uther was capable of anything, and the urge to protect Arthur rapidly overcame Merlin’s terror, as well as his good sense.
"He can’t make you do anything." Merlin pitched his voice loud enough for Uther to hear, reminding himself that there was little Uther could do to them in such a busy public place. "You’re stronger than him now."
"Merlin, you idiot, shut up!" Arthur hissed.
Uther only smiled. "I am most pleased to hear of his strength, as that was the purpose of this ordeal. As for the rest, I have never forced my son to do anything. His own honor is what compels him."
He could see Arthur’s throat work and realized that as much as this was Merlin’s personal nightmare, it was just as much Arthur’s. Merlin touched his arm and concentrated on meeting Arthur’s thoughts. It was not a push, only a whisper into his mind. You’re brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.
Arthur’s eyes flicked to him in a moment of surprise. Merlin was surprised himself to realize how much he meant it.
Then Arthur’s jaw tightened and he took a single step towards his father. "It is my honor that compels me to stand against you for the things that you have done."
"Arthur," Uther said on a long sigh. His disappointment settled around them, an invisible but unmistakable presence. "I can see that this is going to be more difficult than I had hoped."
"Father, please--"
Uther ignored him. A stout ginger woman was hurrying past with an armful of bags. Uther looked at her. She stopped in her tracks.
"Leave this place at once," he said, sounding almost conversational except for the underlying menace.
She turned around immediately and got on the escalator, bags rustling as she hurried down the steps. She was lost to view as other shoppers crowded onto the escalator behind her. Some of them had bags; some were still holding their unpurchased items.
Cold fear crept over Merlin again. The entire store was emptying around them. Uther had not pushed just the one woman; he’d pushed everyone in the building.
A woman went by pushing an empty pram. Merlin looked around frantically until he spotted her forgotten toddler weaving precariously among the stampeding adult feet.
He dashed forward and scooped her up. She struggled in his arms, still gripped by the compulsion that had overwritten everything else in her small mind. For lack of any better option, Merlin shoved her into the arms of a grandfatherly man. He did his best to push an image of the pram woman into the man’s mind.
"Find her mum as soon as you get outside," Merlin told him before letting them go join the last of the departing masses.
"You should have taken her yourself," Arthur said in his ear as they watched the last people disappear.
As silence finally echoed around them, Merlin half wished that he could have. But this was his fight, too. He wasn’t sure he could leave Arthur now if he wanted, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
It seemed easier, somehow, to stand at Arthur’s shoulder as he faced his father. Far below them, the doors to the street slammed shut behind the last person and locked of their own accord.
"Will you come home, Arthur?" Uther spoke idly, as though resuming an interrupted conversation at a cocktail party.
"No." Arthur clenched his fists at his sides and watched Lancelot warily.
Merlin also looked at Lancelot, heavy, significant looks that tried to convey the message that this would be an excellent time for Lancelot to snap out of obedient soldier mode and go stand by his friend. He winked and waggled his eyebrows, but Lancelot remained stoic at Uther’s side.
"I had intended to spare your life as thanks for saving my son." Uther was looking at him, Merlin realized abruptly, like he was a particularly stubborn cockroach. "But I fear you will only continue to cause me trouble. Kill him, Lancelot."
Merlin tensed, expecting to get blasted off his feet yet again. He tensed further when Lancelot reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He leveled it at Merlin.
Instantly, Arthur leapt in front of Merlin, hands out in defensive posture. Lancelot did not pause as he brought the gun up higher over his head.
He let go of it. The gun kept rising until it had an angle on Merlin over Arthur’s head. Arthur managed to get his hand up just as bullets rained down on them. Merlin added his power to Arthur’s to create a thicker shield.
"Run," Arthur ground out. "You idiot, get the fuck out of here. Please."
"I can defend myself." Running had always been his specialty, but Arthur wasn’t the only one who had changed his ways today. He couldn’t move the gun, not when Lancelot’s power held it fast, but bullets he could handle.
"Not against Lancelot. Not when he’s like this. Trust me." Arthur spared a glance at Lancelot, who was reaching into his jacket again. "Damn. Hold off this one."
"This what?" Merlin asked, but suddenly the bullets were his sole responsibility.
Arthur was striding toward Lancelot. A flick of his wrist and the second gun Lancelot had been drawing flew to Arthur’s hand.
Lancelot dived just as Arthur fired. The gun over Merlin’s head snapped back into Lancelot’s hand. He returned fire on Arthur as he slid across the floor.
Arthur took a dive of his own, and a second later one of the high chandeliers crashed down where he had been standing. Merlin grabbed it and sent it flying at Lancelot. He didn’t want to hurt the man, just slow him down until they could find a way to immobilize him.
Lancelot was concentrating on Arthur. The chandelier took him by surprise and sent him head first into a display of fine china. Arthur followed up by hurling three large cabinets to bury Lancelot under a heap of shattered glass and splintered wood.
The whole mess exploded outward a second later. Merlin barely shielded himself in time to deflect the deadly rain of splinters and shards.
When he looked up, Lancelot had risen from the wreckage, bleeding from cuts over his face and hands. He looked angry.
Suddenly Arthur flew backwards until he was pinned at the juncture of wall and ceiling, clutching at his throat. He had lost his gun and was rapidly losing his strength. Between the illness, Nimueh, and the sex, Arthur had no more reserves to call on. Except Merlin.
"Lancelot!" Merlin searched the floor until he spotted Arthur’s lost gun. "You don’t want to do this. Arthur is your friend. You’ll hate yourself if you hurt him."
Lancelot ignored him. With a deep reluctance, Merlin made the gun rise up and turn towards Lancelot. It wobbled in the air. Merlin didn’t have much energy left himself, and his newfound control was suffering for it.
"Please, Lancelot, you’re a better man than this," Merlin pleaded. He brought the gun right in front of Lancelot’s face to make sure he didn’t miss it. "Stop this."
"Why don’t you stop it?"
Merlin’s head jerked toward the voice to find Uther standing next to him. Uther lay one black-gloved hand kindly on Merlin’s shoulder.
"Why don’t you stop it?" he said again. "It’s very simple, my boy. Just let Lancelot kill you and all of this unpleasantness will be over."
And suddenly Merlin understood everything. Enormous relief swept over him. All he had to do was walk over to Lancelot, let him put the gun to Merlin’s head and shoot him. Then Arthur would be safe.
He smiled gratefully at Uther, who gave him another kindly pat on the shoulder. Filled with peace, Merlin turned and walked toward Lancelot.
"Merlin, no!" At the other end of the room, Arthur slid down the wall to the floor. Safe, just as Uther had promised. "Father, stop!"
But why would they stop? It all made such perfect sense.
Lancelot had plucked his gun from the air and stood waiting. Merlin stopped in front of him and beamed. "Thanks, mate."
The other man inclined his head graciously. "Of course," he said and raised the gun to Merlin’s head.
Distantly, Merlin heard Arthur shouting again. "Stop! Let him live and I’ll go with you."
"You’ll go anyway," Uther replied.
Lancelot cocked the gun next to Merlin’s ear.
"If you kill him, I’ll fight you every day until one of us is dead. Let him go, and I’ll be your perfect, obedient soldier. Everything you ever wanted in a son. And I’ll help you make a thousand more of me--I know how to save people from the drug now."
Uther lifted his hand. Lancelot paused with his finger on the trigger.
"I swear it, Father. On my life."
"It is his life on which you are swearing."
"Yes, I know."
Merlin waited peaceably to see what would happen. Finally, Uther sighed.
"I should not have to strike bargains with my own son. However, in the interests of efficiency, your terms are acceptable. Drop the gun, Lancelot."
The gun clattered to the floor next to Merlin’s foot. He felt a vague sense of disappointment. He had been so close to ensuring Arthur’s safety forever.
As Uther swept past toward the lifts, his voice slipped into Merlin’s mind reassuringly. You still can. When we are gone, pick up the gun and shoot yourself. All will be well.
Merlin smiled happily. And all would have been well, except that Arthur touched his shoulder as he passed to join his father and Lancelot in the lift.
Arthur did not have the power to overwhelm or erase his father’s brainwashing. But not so long ago, he had been welcome in Merlin’s mind and Merlin in his. Merlin had submitted his will to Arthur’s passionately, joyfully. It was that memory that allowed Arthur to slip one small, unobtrusive push in beneath the monolith of Uther’s command.
Do nothing. Don’t move a muscle until your mind is your own again. Do nothing.
Then the lift doors closed and Arthur was gone.
Merlin stood motionless in the empty department store until his own mental defenses finally snapped free from the monstrous smothering of Uther’s will. His knees gave way, and he collapsed to the floor in a jumble of limbs like an abandoned plaything.
Only then did he understand what had actually happened. He screamed in rage for his loss.
***
As a physical edifice, Division had none of the ornate Westminster grandeur of normal government departments.
Merlin stood in front of the massive stone building, looking up at the plain façade. Inside, he knew the corridors were the same endless dull gray. He had seen himself walking up and down them until he knew them well.
In the months since his one memorable day with Arthur, Merlin had relearned the art of laying low. Confining himself to a single room far away from his old flat, he had also relearned all the powers he had suppressed before he met Arthur.
He hadn’t needed to leave the room. His psychic push quickly grew strong enough to make anyone outside bring him what he needed. Soon he could pay them in scraps of newspaper and tin foil that wouldn’t lose their disguise as notes and coins until long after they left their new owner’s possession.
He Watched. He saw Gwen, trapped at Division, unhappy but safe enough under Morgana’s protection. He saw Arthur, stony and obedient as sworn, trying and failing to heal his comrades as they thrashed and burned and died from Nimueh’s drug. Arthur, for all his powers, was still not naturally born to them.
When Merlin had gained enough of the potential power that had so terrified his mother, he left his room, bought a suit, and came here.
There didn’t seem to be a doorbell. He supposed he should knock.
A wave of his hand opened the heavy front doors, revealing the dingy vestibule that stood between Division and the outside world. Merlin was glad to see that it was Lancelot who stood sentry before the inner doors.
A flash of guilt-ridden relief passed over Lancelot’s face, replaced quickly with disbelieving anger. "Merlin, what in God’s name are you doing here? Get out, before Lord Pendragon finds out you’re alive, never mind on his doorstep."
Merlin grinned with happiness at seeing the true Lancelot he had liked so much. "Actually, I was hoping you’d announce me."
The other man’s jaw went slack with shock. "Did he send you mad? Morgana said you were well, but--"
"You can tell Lord Pendragon that I am here to serve his family. He’ll find me much more useful than he previously thought. You might mention in particular that if he wants any more of his super soldiers, killing me would be very unwise."
Lancelot closed his mouth, but it twitched with unhappiness. "Merlin, are you sure? You don’t owe Arthur anything more than you’ve already given."
Merlin stepped closer and whispered, half in his ear, half in his mind. "I’ve seen everything change, Lancelot. I’ve seen us take down Uther, take apart Division from within and make it something better. It’s Arthur who owes it to me."
When he stepped back, Lancelot studied him for another minute, then stood aside. The inner door swung open. Merlin smiled again, imagining all the Watchers in the world going mad at once.
Except one, of course. Just inside the doorway, Morgana stood and smiled at him. "I’ve been expecting you," she said.
"I know," Merlin replied and stepped forward into his destiny.
***
END
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Date: 2009-09-19 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-22 07:30 pm (UTC)